This may be an American thing...
but the old Screengems logo always creeped me out a bit as a child.

Turns out I'm not the only one.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:29, 2 replies)

Oh, and
Car headlights.
Scare the living crap out of me.
Can't look at them when I'm out.
Poor Mr Tundraboy took me out one evening and had to pull over when he saw me shutting my eyes everytime a car drove past.
Thought I was having a stroke or something.
(Emily's Pet Badger Because I Move Like An Arctic Lizard, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:28, 1 reply)

For my own part I'm not too bad...
But my tale concerns a lass I used to know fairly well.*

She was scared of wasps, not an uncommon fear it seems, and not entirely irrational. They're stingy and aggressive and don't take "fuck off and die" for an answer.
I'm pretty sure I could take one in a fair fight though, so not so scary to me.

G however...
Picture the scene, it's a motorway (M4 or M25 I seem to recall) and G is driving her aged Vauxall Chevette Automatic at monstrous speed with yours truely in the passenger seat .
Suddenly in through one of the air vents appears a buzzy thing, black and yellow stripes, bad attitude and pointy stinger. Yep, wasp time!
So what does the dear girl do ?
Scream, and curl into a feotal ball, pulling her hands off the wheel and her feet off the pedals and leaving the car to career significantly out of control at the aforementioned monstrous speed.

Myself, being but a callow youth hadn't passed my driving test at that point but, grabbing the wheel, holding my hand down where I hoped the horn was I did my best to guide the car off the road.
Managed it without hitting anything more by luck than judgement and once on the hard shoulder with the car just rolling along at idle popped it out of gear, climbed out and sat on the grass, getting my act together.
A few minutes later G wanders over and asks if I'm Ok, the wasp presumably having buggered off through the open car door at the first opportunity.
"No, I'm not Ok" sez I "You just came fucking close to killing us both you moron"
"You don't understaaaaaaand" quoth she, all injured innocence. "there was a WASP!"

Yeah wasps, scarier than being crushed to death in a hideous mangle of twisted metal.
She was right, I don't understand...


*Alas, not well enough. She considered that going out with your friends was "sick" so she'd only ever sleep with someone she was pretty sure didn't actually like her.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:26, 3 replies)

The Miraclefish family have some very odd phobias...
Mine are needles (fairly normal) and contact lenses. I can handle eyeballs (literally, years ago at college), touching my eyes and eye drops.

But...contact lenses? Hell no. They can go behind your eyes, harden up and sever your optical nerve, dry out and stick to your retina, tearing it as you take it off or a thousand other things that are pure evil*.

*Some, all or none of this is true. I don't care.

Now, my brother has a phobia of things touching wrists. Not just his, but anyones. Tap your wrist? He'll freak out. Wear a watch too tight? Spazz time. If he sees a film with a wrist cutting seen, that's it, he's gone foetal.

And his other phobia? Straws. Drinking straws. If his drink has one in, he has to ask someone else to get it out. He can't touch it himself.

One time, I did ask him to imagine his wrist being pierced with a straw, and drinking something through it. He went to a dark place. I'm a bad, bad man...

Now, my dad is terrified of millipedes. Why? He can't tell us. And flying. Why? "Anyone who isn't truly terrified by flying hasn't grasped what is actually going on."

My mum is afraid of the feel of duvets, you know, when they're a bit fuzzy and stick to your skin because of the fibres.

My cousin is afraid of the feel of wet wood. Dry wood is fine. Another cousin is terrified of the taste of metal. So spoons are not his friend.

A family friend, an ex military guy, brutal footballer and hero policeman is rendered immobile with terror at the sight of a spider. He once leapt from the passenger seat of a squad car at 40mph because a bit of fluff blew along the dashboard and 'looked like a spider.'

He threw a shoe at a spider on his study wall and squished it, but can't bring himself to clean it up. But wouldn't let me do it because 'if it's there, I know where it is...'

Once, when he lived with my brother, my bro found a dead spider which had become seperated from its legs. He manouvered them into a P shape, my friend's initial, and left them on his windowsill with the rest of the unlucky arachnid.

When Hero Cop saw the vision from hell, he screamed and wouldn't re-enter the house until the evil, demon creature was gone.
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:26, Reply)

wool
absolutely hate the stuff.
back when i was a youngster i was making a collage and caught my fingernails in a roll of it. it makes an absolutely horrible scraping, scratching feeling. i can't stand touching it.
i refuse to wear wooly jumpers or scarves or anything of that sort.

i can't go near sheep either.
(Emily's Pet Badger Because I Move Like An Arctic Lizard, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:23, Reply)

I CAN'T be the only one!?
When I was a young'un, back in the late 80s, early 90s, I was TERRIFIED of the Channel 4 ident. You know the one, with the booming, dramatic, fully-paid-up-orchestra and scary, angular '3D' coloured sticks flying towards my face like daggers.

Even today, the music sends shivers down my spine.

Worse still, Channel 4 released some limited edition 'bespoke' idents, once was the 4 turning into a basketball player (with bouncing orange ball), one was a christmas tree, one was a football player (for football Italia).

And the VERY worst, cake-taking, scariest ident in the history of EVER was the early 90s Channel 4 Horse Racing ident, when the sticks would turn into a horse's head, which would snort out hot air. A fucking horse's head! I spent my childhood terrified that I would wake up next to a snorting mass of coloured sticks whilst the Royal Philharmonic played the deathly theme.

I was even scared of the Hamlet Cigars piss-take telly advert.

I don't think I'm odd. It's a perfectly rational phobia (*sob*)
(Northern Lovely, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:16, 4 replies)

Beanz Meanz Fearz
Lady Scaramanga is scared of baked beans.

Not just a dislike, she's SCARED of them. She's scared to even look at them. If I have a fry up at the cafe I'm not allowed to have beans because she can't bear to look at them.

Remember when Hovis did that bread in the baked bean wrapping? She couldn't look at that.

I chased her round ASDA once with a loaf of it.
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:14, 3 replies)

Just thought of another...
the phobia of anyone touching my eyes.

No-one, I don't care who they are, is EVER going anywhere near my eyes.

Which is why I could never handle having contacts.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:08, Reply)

Buttons...

...not normal sized ones that you would find on a shirt, but outsized "fashion" buttons.

Why are you there? Staring at me with with two or God forbid four vacant eyes.

You serve no purpose. A button's one remit in life is that it should fasten two pieces of cloth together, you forefitted that responsibility when you decided to become a grotesque bloated version of a small plastic fastner, you therefore have no reason to exist except as an unblinking, undead and uncaring accessory.

GO TO HELL DEMON BUTTTONS AND TAKE OUT SIZED ZIPS WITH YOU!
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:07, Reply)

Dementia/Alzheimers/Going Wibble
For once seriously, this really scares the shit out of me. I've seen close and loved relatives reduced to shadows of their former selves, in the ultimate indignity of the Terminally Vague and Dribbly Ward.

Fuck that for a game of soldiers.

If or when I start wearing my underpants on my head (by accident), become incontinent when alcohol is not a factor, or just change the channel from Reality FM, then it's time for me to have a shotgun 'accident'. No fucking way I'm going to stick around as a drooling dement, forcing my nearest and dearest to ruin their own lives to care for whatever remains of my personality.

The disadvantage of this plan is that I might get too confused ('nutjob' is how I describe it, but apparently that's non PC) to realise that I'm talking to the pixies, so I'm relying on the Mrs chucking an electric fire on my bollocks when I'm in the bath.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 17:07, 1 reply)

First you must choose your weapon
I am near-phobic about making decisions and getting on with things
I find it terrifyingly difficult to make choices
I am terrified of making a wrong choice so I prefer to not make any choices
Blast it. MAKING CHOICES
*faints*
( vladimir, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:58, Reply)

Milky Bar's
I'm not sure why, but sometimes, and for no apparent reason, the thought of eating a Milky Bar makes me almost vomit. Lots of gagging at least.

Then other times I can eat it without a problem, in fact I feel it's the best food in the world ever.
My wife finds this increadibly amusing, and on occasion has asked if I want some. When replying 'no thanks, doesn't feel right' she has chased me around the house holding it as some kind of sword.

I'd run away screaming a high pitched girly voice (my voice is normally a very deep manly one).
(Opanoid Look sweats dripping off them, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:56, 3 replies)

Dog and Cat....
.... food.

It makes me shudder just to think of the colour, texture, smell and god forbid, the taste.

My brother has a dog. My mother-out-law has a cat and a dog. I have seen them both use a fork to extract that shit from a can. If I catch either of them doing it, I will wait until they put the fork in the sink, and then I will secretly get it and throw it in the bin - and then wash my hands thoroughly.

As a result, I have not eaten at either of their houses for over 10 years in case I get given an eaing utensil that has touched animal feed. I have thought of taking my own knife, fork, spoon - but the wife won't let me.

If I go to anyone else's house with cats or dogs I offer to take everyone out for a slap-up dinner so I don't have to suffer.

I don't mind animals - just their food.

I worked with a company that made dog food once. And I heard that if you visited the plant they encouraged you to try eating it to prove it was fit for humans. Fuck dat! I left the company sharpish.....
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:53, 5 replies)

Nosebleeds
The last time I had one was on a ferry down the Rhine when I was 14 (though I don't think that caused it). I never want another.

I'm not squeamish generally, but can't handle the massive clots plopping out of my (or anyone else's) face.

I have to leave if anyone's nose is bleeding.

I intended to join an Ice Hockey team recently, but nosebleed phobia (along with cost of kit) put me off.
(pharmatron Death or Scunthorpe? CHOOSE!!, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:52, Reply)

Also, my ears..
I can't stand people touching them, breathing in them or just generally being near them.
Brings on the rage!
(Peek_a_Boo forgot how fun B3ta was until, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:49, Reply)

Eating in public
Not really a phobia as such, but it often makes me uncomfortable if indulging in the activity with people I didn’t really know.

Eating.

Yep, theactivity that is part way essential for survival.

I’m quite a shy person (no, really) and indulging in basic, everyday activities such as sitting down and having a meal with people I don’t know very well often makes me extremely nervous. I get acutely aware that I’m being scrutinised (I’m probably not, but it feels that way), and as a result am overtaken by a mild paranoia that I’m lacking in the necessary social skills to get through a whole meal. If it’s a serve yourself scenario, do I wait until offered the potatoes / carrots / whatever on the table? Or do I be bold, grab the tongs and help myself?

Then there’s the issue of quantity – how much is acceptable to dollop on your plate? A modest helping, so that others can have their fair share and everyone can go back for more later? Or a great big ‘I’m a greedy cunt and I don’t care who thinks it’ portion that runs the risk of being half left because I took waaaaay too much, and consequently there are no seconds left for anyone who wants them? I worry about these things. I also worry that I’m going to drop assorted vegetables all over the table, spill wine (I did do that over someone’s wedding dress once – fortunately it was white wine and not my preferred red), and dribble gravy down my front.

I’m not so bad now, but it did used to make me break into a mild sweat. At least I’ve mastered the art of chewing with my mouth closed, and don’t make a noise like a concrete mixer when I’m masticating though. That really does make me cringe.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:48, 9 replies)

Clowns Again
Not because there's anything particularly scary about the circus, but when I was six, a clown raped and killed my parents....
(Lord Blumpy is mildly off-topic on, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:47, 6 replies)

I can put contacts in my eyes no problem
and take them out again, but show me anything eyeball-related and I curl into a ball and whimper.

Even watching Al Murray talk about getting your eyeballs skewered in hell last night was making me squirm.

And the War of the Worlds album - an ex tried to send me it over MSN a while ago and I freaked out.

I'm also a complete wuss when it comes to anything gory. This is not helpful for my other half, whose favourite films include House of 1000 Corpses, Devil's Rejects and Kill Bill*, as it means he has to wait until I'm not around to watch anything bloody. We managed to get me to watch Blade without pillows, but anything that even hints at flying intestines and blood makes me feel violently sick (I had to watch the first bit of Saving Private Ryan for A-level French and was nearly vomitous).

* and stuff like Short Circuit and K-9... ahhh
( Maladicta, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:46, Reply)

Cockroaches
Harmless I know, but the though of one crawling on me is just too much to bear. I have actually slept fully clothed in 38 degree heat with the covers pulled over my head because I'd seen one of the evil disgusting little bastards in the hotel room. I had to go and get one of the maids to kick it out because I wouldn't go near it.

Length, about 4 inches with too many fucking legs!
( Sunburn Go on.... It's character building!, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:45, 1 reply)

vomit, spew, sick...
horrible. I can't stand it and I've not been sick since I was 8 years old - yay! Oh, and that's a long time ago I promise you :)
( lafleur likes cheese, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:44, 2 replies)

Communal showers
Length
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:44, 1 reply)

My phobias
Bass, Theakstons, Tetleys and John Smiths.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:43, 2 replies)

I tend to have
the usual phobias
- Seagulls (upgraded from pigeons since I moved to Swansea and I find myself sat next to a seagull the size of a badger quite often)
- Any thing near my eyes, contact lenses made me violently sick
- Anything really to do with my feet, especially if I hear anything about lost toes or deformed feet it creeps me out quite easily
- Enclosed spaces, will make me hyperventilate and any covering of my face tends to make me freak out

However, I still think my sisters phobia of pumice stones is hilarious, when we were younger just saying the words "pumice stone" would make my sister go slightly pale and even to this day saying the words allow me to win arguements
(bryony*niamh kneecaps exist to be hit with clawhammers., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:43, Reply)

doll eyes and needles
I have two. one being doll eyes not any doll eye mind you but porcelain doll eyes. They just, just are dead. Omg Their eyes are from dead people I just now it! And needles, not sewing needles but needles that medical people use on you. I can be poked by a sewing needle but try it with the other I revert to baby mode,
crying and screaming. Now I will tell you two short stories about these fears.

~~~~~~~~~~~Wavering lines~~~~~~~~~~

1)About a year ago I was house siting for a rich family, tat had 4 bedrooms that I could choose to sleep in. Only one problem one room was covered in porcelain dolls, Yes one of my greatest fears realized. I yell And back out of there. locked that door, and slept in the next room over (which had a big screen TV, so was nice)I can still feel there eyes. I was stayed there for 7 days with that door locked.

2)This is bit funnier then the last one. I was bout 10-11 and I had to get blood took. It was in the basement of a docs office Two people had to hold me down but I got lose and ran almost to the street before I realized I had where to go and turned around and walked back. Not a good idea as they where waiting for me, And I still had to get it took.

Sorry for the longness but they were funnier in my head...Really They were!
(Leoninus "Never lick a fresh turd on a hot day.", Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:40, Reply)

My list
In no particular order:

Polar Bears
Water
People standing behind me
Being underground
Sand
Police
Crickets
Yellow
Gin
Sweetcorn
Being sick


I'll try and make posts for each one over the course of this QOTW.
( Cawl, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:40, 11 replies)

Main phobia
Baked Beans. I can't stand to look at the disgusting glutenous fake tomato sauce sick-texture things, let along eat them.

Apols for *lack* of length (not the first time I've said that this week..)
(Pat_Gash, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:40, 1 reply)

belly button fluff
I am morbidly afraid of belly button fluff. My ex used to chase me round the house with it in his fingers till i cried or i was sick. he maintains its nothing more than fibres from his shirt ect but i know differently, i know it comes from the deepest darkest pit of hell.

*curls up and cries* no.more.belly.fluff.please.
(Serbitar Has a furry shit canon called Whitey., Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:39, 1 reply)

Needles
Hate them. If ever Casualty or something similar is on, I'm watching through my fingers. I was watching The Simpsons the other day with my daughter and they were at the docs getting jabs- a cartoon and I looked away.

I wouldn't let a nurse do that prick-test thing on me 'cos I was too scared.

I had an op and they wrote 'extremely needle-phobic' on the charts at the end of my bed.

I hyperventilated having a blood test at the docs, so much so that 2 receptionists came in and offered me tea, biscuits, etc. I normally get my g/f to come with me but she couldn't this time, I almost didn't have it.

I had to have the camera thing stuck up my old chap and when I saw it come out of it's box like a 40ft black monster I tried to climb the wall. Literally. They did it under a general anaesthetic in the end, but I had to be put out with gas before they could put that evil drip thing in my arm, and when I woke up I covered it with a towel until it was taken out.

I'm getting a funny feeling in my belly now just typing about them, so I'm going, and not going to look at this again until I've plucked up enough courage!

And yes, I know... wuss.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:38, 2 replies)

Nails
I'm a rabid nailbiter, I hate the thought of my nails proceeding past the nubs of my fingers. It just doesn't seem quite right. It looks disgusting and I have the willpower to stop biting for a week or so, but when I see the white tips at the end I freak out and bite them off.
(MunchMyBalloons, Thu 10 Apr 2008, 16:37, 3 replies)