Damn them and their jangly bells and hankies
Morris Dancers! Shit-scared of them as a kid - I remember being reduced to a screaming, snotty wreck by them at a country fair as a child. Quite unnerved by them now. I mean, what is it that they know that we don't?

Oh yeah, and the standard clowns of course.
(clockworkkillbot, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 21:47, 5 replies)

I've got two phobias. Both a little bit random I guess.
1) Dead spiders. Their legs stick out at weird gammy angles. Its not natural. It makes me feel sick. At least with live spiders, you've always got a chance that they'll crawl away somewhere else.

2)I still work in the same open plan office as my bitch of an ex-boss. Her laugh cuts straight through me. It sends such bad shivers down my spine, that when I hear it I'm frozen to the spot, trying not to look like a rabbit in car headlights and I can't think, or move, or do anything, until that awful noise stops. The joy of open plan offices.
(deviant fluffy bunnies has nothing funny to type here, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 21:31, Reply)

oopsie-daisy
I have the most ridiculous fear of being upside down.

No handstands, forward rolls, or even laying upside down on the sofa... errrgghhhhh the thought is enough to make me feel sick to my stomach.

I can't even bear to watch any show/film/advert where the camera does an oopsie-daisy as it makes me feel phyiscally ill.


Oh and clowns. Evil fuckers.
(Nyanko I reject your reality and substitute my own., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 21:26, Reply)

the prings of forks going to gether in a draw
makes me cringe - i just cant enplane it - but if i have to separate a pair of forks that have become joined i feel ill. i hate it - its totally stupid - but i hate it!!! :D
( Rev. Jesse. broke his ankle, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 20:21, Reply)

Hair
More specifically a stray one. In public sinks.
In my own bathroom, my own hair, fine.
In public? Sweet bejesus how did it get there?? Theres something menacing about them. Especially if they are dark ones...
Surely I can't be the only one?
(I am lamp, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 20:14, Reply)

Pink Floyd
Another Brick in the Wall. The video still scares the poop out of me, especially where the hammers start walking.


Also water (expanses of, including swimming pools). Being out of my depth, not being able to touch the bottom of the sea/pool, getting swept away, breathing water, and the potential of drowning really puts the shits up me.

*cries*


Length? depth? Olympic.
( kasterz loitering within tent since, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 20:05, Reply)

What gives ME the heebie-jeebies
Death terrifies me.
Spiders terrify me.
Biting onto a cheap school jumper makes my teeth tingle, the same way as biting a sheet of aluminium foil.
Walking through Luton town centre on a Friday night.
Breaking my leg and the bone sticking through my skin. (compound fracture)
Failure
( redazril I LIKE DRUGS!, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 19:52, Reply)

My Mum and Dad.
Having sex?
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 19:32, 4 replies)

I shouldn't associate with...
..people with strange phobias. It reveals entirely too much about their bizarre psyches.

Take, for instance, my father: 6'5" northerner with overly thick eyebrows, whose habitual look could conservatively be described as "vacantly menacing". Soft as a brush, but no yoof' footballer who he referees would ever know this...and none of them argue with him. Clearly none of them have ever approached him with a cotton wool ball. Apparently it's the sound...the *crunch crunch crunch*...and as for the texture - well I've been ont he planet 20 years, and in that time never have I seen him touch cotton wool. It's a dilemma for a man who loves the smell of Germolene (!) but get near him with the beard of Santa (not a spelling error, I assure thee) and he's out of his chair faster than a Bond villain in the ejector seat and cowering against the nearest wall.

Then there's my brother, who has such a fear of newspaper that he can't be in the same room as a copy of The Times. My boyfriend gave him two bottles of vintage ale for Christmas (nice) but...under the wrapping they were protected by...newspaper! Quelle horreur! Our living room carpet was nearly soaked in Manchester's finest when he took off the shiny paper. He also refuses to eat fish and chips which have been wrapped in newspaper...apparently they "smell of newspaper" and that spoils his dinner.

I also, in my extended network of friends, have met someone who's scared of beards; a middle-aged lady who can't be in the same room as someone wearing a mask; and a colleague who believes squirrels are agents of the devil...

...speaking of the Devil, remember that earthquake a few weeks/months ago (I forget)? My housemate was awake from the beginning (at 1am) until I left my room at 7.30. She called me into her room where I found her cowering in terror under her duvet, convinced that the Devil was shaking her bed "just like in the Exorcist". I had to reassure her and Google the earthquake before she would leave the blankets.

After all this, my fears of evangelists and crying children seem a lot more normal.

*I'm new, please let me in gently :)*
(Holloway_Girl To err is to be human, to be a fool is to believe, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 19:24, 2 replies)

stilts
I've got a real problem with people on stilts. I realised this about 8 years ago when I was in an upstairs room and saw a mans head bobbing by the window and it gave me the heebee jeebees but its not just seeing them from windows, I feel terrible standing near them. I hate carnivals. Theres always one of the creepy fuckers stalking about.

I dont like all stilts, but the worst are ones where the persons stick legs are covered in long red and white stripey trousers, aaaaggggghhhhh. I've got goosebumps.

Since discovering this phobia some friends started calling me Stilts. Now I have to explain the stilts thing all the time, resulting in stilt picture emails when i least expect them
(pinkois, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 18:56, 2 replies)

Bagpuss.
Yes, Bagpuss- the saggy cloth cat from the 70's kids show! Eurgh, it's so hard trying to write about something without picturing it in your mind! It's not just the disgusting fat lazy baggy cat that upsets me- those little mice scurrying round all high-pitched and squeaky-like, and that horrid know-it-all woodpecker- hideous- I'm sure the whole show was designed to scare the living daylight out of children.

Why did it have to go from sepia (creepy enough) to stop-motion? Just wrong wrong wrong.

A few years ago I was happily walking around my local Boots store looking for a suitable present for a friend's kid when I turned around to be faced with a whole aisle of Bagpuss themed goods. I had no idea they were making them, so not only did I have to drop my basket and run out of the shop, I had to endure weeks and weeks of idiots coming in the office happily displaying their new Bagpuss hot water bottle cover/ penholder/ flicknife/ sanitary products etc etc. Eurgh.

I have to go and lie under the shower for a while.

Professer Yaffle my *rse!
(chesterdrawers, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 18:35, 2 replies)

The sweary one has just reminded me of another
Washing dishes.

In itself an innocuous, if slightly irksome but necessary chore. But, I'll happily do it. I've even adopted her practice of pouring hot water over the recently washed dishes to rinse them (plus it makes drying easier).

What I can't do, though, is pick up all the cutlery and drop it into the sink complete with assorted VERY sharp vegetable and meat cutting knives. She does it all the time, and every time I flinch and hide my eyes with the tea towel if I'm on drying duty.

It's a wonder she's got any fingers left...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 18:33, 6 replies)

Belly buttons
Something about them just makes me go all shuddery and not in a good way either.

I don't like to touch my own at all so why the fuck would I want to touch someone elses? Never-the-less, Mrswoodbine still feels the need to dig her finger in my belly button and wriggle it around in there, which make me want to throw up.

The other night I actually gagged when she wedged her finger in my vile stomach tunnel and then tried to stick said finger in my mouth. It would have been her own fault if I'd been sick all over her.

On the plus side I may have the most blue belly button fluff in the world, I'm just not brave enough to have a root around in there to find out.

Belly buttons... yuck!

Length? Are we still doing this gag or is it old hat now?
( Lazlo Woodbine Panowie!, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 17:50, 5 replies)

More bloody spiders
When I was but an Ewok, the family was visiting my grandad when my father let slip to him that I had a fear of spiders. In his usual sensitive, caring way the grumpy old git started to regale me with tales of his time in the Sudan, specifically the FEROCIOUS MAN-KILLING BLACK WIDOW SPIDERS which look JUST LIKE NORMAL BLACK HOUSE SPIDERS and which apparently like to LURK UNDER TOILET SEATS.

He didn't mention that you don't get them in this country.

I had just about got over fear of the toilet monster at that point, but to this day I check under the toilet seat before I poo. I'm no longer expecting there to be a black widow there, but frankly the thought of any spider scampering over my naked arse is enough to make me glad I'd already be on the bog when it happened.
(wellgroomedwookiee is a filthy-minded hobgoblin, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 17:32, 2 replies)

THEY SOULD BE KILLED (with a butter knife)
i've just realised a huge, towering, hate filled levithaon of a phobia of mine - and i've been reading this all week and posted at least once all ready. but this for me at least, is the FUCKING DADDY.

People that hold their knife like a pen.

i can't fucking stand it, makes me feel sick. what the fuck is wrong with these total utter flidmongs.

NNNNNNNNNNAAAAGGGGGRRRRR!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 17:02, 4 replies)

My latest phobia
is that someone at work will catch me reading chickenlady's posts.

Blush!
(Biff..., Tue 15 Apr 2008, 16:39, 3 replies)

Spiders, --supersize me.....
I've always been afraid of spiders, to the point of throwing up if I saw one unexpectedly. Then I moved to a country where it never occurred to me that there would be giant spiders (doesn't strike you as a tropical paradise-type place). But you know what? after freaking out regularly, stipulating on my divorce paper that the only thing I wanted from my ex was his appearence at short notice to kill spiders, and befriending hopeless but macho men as arachnid killing back-ups, now when i go back to England and see a spider I can stamp on it or get close to accurately drop a book with no problems. So, the answer is, if you want to conquer your phobia, go for it in a big way. Obviously, I'm still terrified here, but for 3 weeks of the year feel totally heroic......
(cherrypie, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 16:09, 6 replies)

Rudely Awoken
I have two and only two phobias

Firstly, needles - I think tis one is pretty understandable, I mean just thinkof the sharp end of that syringe needle as it scrapes and scratches the inside of your veins, that's assuming the nurse/doctor/generous smack fiend actually gets it in the right place.

Secondly, and this is probably less common, I have an absolute terror of being woken up by the sound of duct tape being pulled off a roll. I've no idea where it stems from but I stupidly told my flatmate who now rejoices in waking me up with exactly that method as if he's actively trying to give me a heart attack.
(themonkeydriving, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 15:58, Reply)

Tube cooties
It's transmitted by touching the inside of a Tube carriage. London Underground don't warn you about it, but think of all the germy, sweaty people who have touched the place you're touching.

Girls: never let a man touch your ladybits if he's been on the Tube and hasn't washed his hands. You will get teh Tube cooties.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 15:47, 72 replies)

Am I alone in this one?
But I think Phobia would make a rather good girl's name. Just imagine it...

Phobia Grimsworthy-Smythe has recently accepted the proposal of marriage from Tristan Da Cunha.


How divine.

*Ninja Edit* Just thought....they could have goats at the wedding.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 15:32, 37 replies)

I met a girl once...
Things heated up pretty quickly, and she ended up sticking her tongue in my ear.

She said "Let's go, let's sit, let's talk. Politics go so good with beer.
And while we're at it baby, why don't you tell me one of your biggest fears?"

I said "Losing my penis to a whore with disease"
"Just kidding" I said... "Losing my life to a whore with disease"
( Cawl, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 15:02, 11 replies)

Eating seafood.
Tis a strange one, I quite like fishing the little buggers out of the depth's but for the love of god himself, try and make me eat anyform of seafood and I will kill you dead.

Once upon a time in my teen's I was locked away in my bedroom playing Monkey Island II (Guybrush, my lord) when all of a sudden my nostril's flaired! 'What is that delicious smell' I thought and with my stomach rumbling I knew I must go downstairs to investigate. Quicker than a brazilian on an escalator, I was in the kitchen and upon the stove was a pan full of soup that looked and smelled like heaven itself so with the ladel I had to taste it, I just had to and it was the most lovliest tasty thing ever. So much so, I filled a massive bowl with it and headed to the living room to praise the old man on his cooking.

Stood in the doorway with a mouthfull of the stuff 'Father' I declared 'this is the best stuff I've ever tasted, what the hell is it?' questioned me in my northern tone. Whilst slurping away at the bowl of murky greatness my old man, bless the cunt replies 'prawn soup'!

Instantly, I spewed the contents all over the carpet and whilst turning purple with retching I managed to gasp 'Father you bastard' before running to the bathroom, climbing in the shower and scrubbing myself clean of the fishyness.

I know my fishyphobia is irrational but I don't care but my actions that day have lead to my family reguarly trying to trick me into eating seafood, so much so that I am now a frail 25 year old man who is so paranoid that all food gets checked and double checked!

Length? Very.

Don't get me started on mayo or other white sauces!
(Sir Barbsalot, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:38, Reply)

Paperclips
Specifically metal ones. Eurgh! I shudder just watching someone put their fingers into a pot to fish one out (just shuddered then, surprisingly), especially if the pointy end bits come in contact with the fingernail (oooheewww - sorry, mini spazz-attack), and I actually have a quiet, internal panic attack if I have to un-paper clip something - quiet and internal because I'm very careful to conceal my paperclip related spazzing at work, where everything is paperclipped and paperclips lurk in dusty corners, hidden under piles of paper etc.

The scratchiness just tears into my very SOUL. No idea where it stems from, never been attacked by a paperclip (nor, I suspect, has anyone else. Ever.) but for some reason I cannot bring myself to touch one. I don't even like having to read stuff that's clipped together because the paperclip moves and I know it's scratching against the paper a little bit and ergh I'm going to have to stop typing now but you get the picture.

Reading this back I sound mental, but I'm not I swear! Loooong time lurker, have read many many QOTWs and never felt the urge to post until now. Thanks for reading (if you've bothered) and if anyone else shares my irrational fear of paperclips please let me know. I have some excellent mini staplers you can borrow.
(freakybumblebee, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:34, 5 replies)

I have an apiary
and have dedicated my life to helping the underdeveloped and disabled bees play an active role in the hive, through the use of prosthetics.

Recently, one of my bees stung me and tore it's entire rear end away. I forgave my attacker, and tried to save his life by constructing him a new bum from polystyrene. I was too late however, as before I could perform the surgery, the bee passed away.

I've been left with faux-bee-arse.

*edit* Bugger too late :P
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:33, 2 replies)

Tummy Balls...
In our line of work at the morgue, Mr Tubs and I have learnt about the various phobias all our colleagues seem to suffer from every once in a while.

Most coppers don't particularly like the sound of a head saw and will suddenly find the walls and ceiling extremely interesting, during the brain examinations. One of our now retired pathologists couldn't bare the sight and smell of vomit or stomach contents, ordering any technician lucky enough to be nearby that they were in charge of it's fate (some of the digested curry we came across smelt alright, but I will always draw the line at bile - it truly is the devil's juice).

One of our current doctors has a violent aversion to poo of any form and many a happy hour has been spent inventing new places to hide and then show the poo to him. His fear never dwindles, in spite of our very obvious pattern of torture.

Back to the story Mrs tubs for goodness sake...

In all my time working with Mr Tubs, I have never discovered the secret phobia my darling ape possesses.......until last year.

It was a particularly busy Wednesday morning session and having got most of the "opening up" out of the way, me and my esteemed colleagues were well on our way to "closing up" the bodies with the suitable tools (ie, needle and thread). The man of my dreams then saunters over to me to discuss something of extreme importance (like what IS he having for dinner tonight - when one such as he has given up drinking and smoking for the good of his porky liver and asthma-riddled lungs, naturally one of the only things left to excite him is food). I replied with such pleasing news as home-made chips and omelette, or some such delight, but whilst talking to him, I found the tip of my needle hovering over the tummy button area having nearly finished my sewing. I then spotted a fairly common sight in our job, which happened to be a slightly grimy looking hardened ball of dirt situated within the tummy button itself. What else was a girl to do, but prise it out with my nice sharp needle tip and watch the resulting PING! and SMACK! as it propelled itself toward my unsuspecting husbands nice new plastic apron. The sphere of death then landed back in the body, where I continued to "close up", all before my sweetheart could utter his first retch of disgust. He went a decidedly odd colour and backed off to concentrate on his own body, so to speak. He still managed to eat lunch half an hour later though. Not much will put him off his grub, bless 'im.

I still find tummy balls sometimes and fondly flick them at him if he's in the vicinity. Aren't I a good little wifey?.....

Length? Pah! Short, fat and hard I say....
(HappyBoofy, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:27, Reply)

Spiders
I stayed with some friends in Australia, and they had a daughter who was about 8 years old.

One morning she showed me her ridiculously huge toy rubber spider which was stuck to the wall. "Look Browser!" she exclaimed brightly, "It wants to be your friend!".

I said "well I'd better go and give it a kiss then, hadn't I!".

I gave it a kiss and it ran over my face, through my hair, down my back and out of the room. It was a hunstman spider, real, and the size of a dinner plate.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:25, 8 replies)

I hope this meets Apeloverage's standards
My girlfriend wants Boris Johnson to win the London mayoral election, however I want Ken Livingston to stay in.

As my girlfriend is a horrible die hard tory and for a peaceful life I pretend that I'm going to vote for Boris. Cunningly however Ken is going to get my tick on polling day.

You could say I'm showing *faux bias*!

WOO YAY!
(Errorist, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:06, 2 replies)

hair
I am not really one for phobias, apart from the fear of getting old, boring and floppy I’m OK. Those things are for me to dread and look forward to. However when I was very young there was something that gave me the fear. Thanks to my older sister that is. I was around five or six when my sis convinced me that when I hit puberty all my hair would turn ginger. Now this came as quite a surprise because I was a very blond boy with blue eyes. However this left a deep impression on me and subsequently troubled me for years. Not that I have any problems with ginger hair or people with ginger hair, the problem was with my golden locks turning into ginger curls. So time past and I realized it was bullshit, more hair came and everything was in order and in the right places. Then my granddad said he had exactly the same hair as me. Then he told me about how early he went bold.

Length? Flopping down to mi nose, though I swear I just pulled a tuft out….
(kurious orange, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 14:00, 4 replies)

Meatonomy
That is all.
(Formaly Over say's hello, Tue 15 Apr 2008, 13:45, 5 replies)