Gay bar
Last night I had the fortune to visit a rather trashy, major drug den of a gay club.

Basically, people were either drunk or high. Except me. Still, what must have been the only single straight man in the place managed to find me and attempt to strike up a conversation. Even when told i was not looking for ANYTHING that night, he would not go away.

He followed me around for 3 hours, simply standing and staring at me. Following me to the toilets was not beyond him. However, soon he moved on to trying to grab me on the dancefloor.

As the only friend i was there with was now slumped in a corner, totally out of it, i was beginning to get scared. He was old, scummy, and quite possibly the person who had been spiking drinks at the start of the night. Dancing with a lesbian friend, well that's the time to get in there, isn't it?

After he trapped said friend against the dj booth, desperately trying to lick her face, it was time to lose him in the taxi queue.

Not that much of a good one, but it's my first time!
(InsertBlondeJokeHere, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 13:59, 1 reply)

well.... ive never stalked, or been stalked...
but living in the beautiful idyll that is jersey, u get to hear and see tales of the most insignificant crimes on the local news. So many years ago now i was watching the news one evening when a report came on about a woman walking hom from a club in the town who had been followed along a certain route for over half an hour, and police would like to hear from witnesses.

Hey... thought i... i was walking that route at that time, then i remembered the woman who had been walking up the road some 100 yards ahead of me.

This same thing happened twice more in total... it was during a period of unemployment, when i used to get bored with late night tv and go for long late night walks just for something to do.

lesson learned; get a job, get a proper sleep pattern.
( Beastmeter Small But Scrappy, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 13:19, 1 reply)

he was short, greasy and ginger.
After my A-levels, my part-time shop job turned in to a full-time shop job, at least until I left for Uni. So, if you'd really wanted to stalk me, it would have been quite easy, and being a shop, difficult to prove.

However, it's altogether different when the person practically tells you they're doing it. He was a friend of a colleague, who used to come in occasionally, as many others' friends had, to speak to him. Until he started coming in and asking me where his friend was, on occasions when said friend wasn't working.

One afternoon he did just that, then added "actually I didn't come in to see ----, I came in to see you". Cue (very) long pause. At this point I'm tidying the sale rail; a round rail of shirt dresses. How does he break the silence? "I bet girls who wear those dresses don't wear any knickers under them. [pause] Would you wear that dress?"

I stared, he left.

He then turned up at the pub after work once, where I proceeded to ignore him. I was told he'd won least popular person at school, or something equally embarrassing.

He only stopped after a friend's birthday party, where I managed to accidentally (and genuinely accidentally, much as I'd like to hope otherwise) knock his beer over him. And, as the birthday girl's dad decided to take a picture of her with her work colleagues, tell him to "fuck off, you're not even supposed to be here".

Probably not as scary as most stalking stories, but he creeped me out. He was as short as me (I'm about 5'4"), had curly ginger hair that was greased/gelled to his head, and looked about twelve.

I have never actually stalked, despite leaving my home town with a reputation for doing so in a round about way.
(heartofglass, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 12:56, 1 reply)

Back in my college days, I had a male stalker.
There was nothing gay about it, he was a pure platonic stalker. But it was terrifying.
It didn't help that he was a hunchback midget with one eye bigger than the other.
I'd come out of classes at the end of a corridor on the top floor of the building and he'd be standing there, claiming that he was just passing by. Even though he was supposed to be at class in a building four miles away.
I even started varying my route into college so he wouldn't "bump into me" in the mornings.
Of course none of my friends believed me. Untill he promptly switched his obsession to one of them. Most of us got about four months of his creepy stalking.
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 11:46, Reply)

Innocent, weird and downright embarassing!
When I was at uni there was a chap in my class who took a bit of a liking to me and started following me everywhere I went. We used to go to the union for lunch and he would walk alongside me and then sit next to me. He would always try to be my lab partner and be in my group on field trips. When I got a job at Sainsbury's he decided to do his shopping there on a Sunday and go through my checkout. Silly things really, most of which I politely ignored and tried to be friendly cos he was a nice chap really. I got a bit freaked out when someone on my course gave him my MSN addy, as I received some rather strange late night messages. He backed off when I started going out with another guy on the course.

The next one was slightly more horrible. I am a member of the forum of the football team I support, and one bloke on there was a volunteer with the club. Very well established in the club, knew the chairman personally etc, so when he posted asking for help doing something for the club, I thought nothing of offering my help. Lots of people regularly helped out, so I didn't think it would be a problem. A few of us had offered to help, so we all switched numbers so we could sort out times, places etc. At first it was just online messages with friendly chit chat. Then he was asking to meet in the pub before games. Then the piéce de resistance was in the form of a late night dirty phonecall. He must have had the pervy phone call handbook because he asked what I was wearing! What a twat! I reported him to the club but nothing got done because he does so much work for free for them. Load of crap. I later found out he'd done the same to two other girls, but he'd not stopped bothering one of them.

On a lighter note, then funniest one happened when I was about 12 or 13. A boy in my class had started pestering me to go out with him, giving me little gifts etc. One Sunday, I was just getting in the car to go out with my family when my Dad spotted a face peeking out from behind a bush. It was the boy from my class, which my Dad found hilarious and pissed himself laughing whilst waving at the boy and saying to me, "Look Moley, it's that boy from your class!" I was slinking down in my seat as far as I could go and my Dad kept waving and laughing till we were out of sight. Apparently he'd found my address in the class register. That story still comes up at gatherings...
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 11:09, Reply)

Ex Boyfriend
first you need the backstory on this peice of scum. we started dating, I was a bit younger, and a bit more naive, and he seemed sweet at first. then he got clingy, and possessive, and spiteful. Like, he could go out to a party, alone, and get drunk with his friends, but I couldn't.
This culminated with him sexually assaulting me then me telling him to fuck off and never come near me again


Do you think he took the hint?
Nope.

I was sent emails.Apologetic at first, then increasingly nasty. He texted my mum saying he was "Worried about Vampyrecat because she hasn't spoken to him in three weeks and seems depressed". Hmmm I wonder the fuck why dickwad?
Then he started calling my house phone. Then one night he threatened to come to my house and force me to hear his "apology". Then the next day he actually drove all the way over to my house and delivered a letter.
I threw it straight into the fire.

This all stopped when I reported him to the police after he saw me down the street with some friends and CUT ME OFF to "talk" to one of my mates, all the while staring at me.

FUCKING CREEP.
If you ever see a guy with screen name of G0dzlr, run away fast, because in all possibilities, its him. And he's a nasty pasty. :(
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 3 Feb 2008, 10:46, 5 replies)

Karma
I was walking home through Victoria Park in Manchester late at night, which is never the most sensible of things to do. I fell into step behind a young woman, and being a young and naive prick, I was amused to think that she may perceive me to be a stalker/mugger/nasty piece of work, so I didn't cross over the road or overtake her,or do any of the courteous things one might do to reassure someone in that situation. I got a perverse sensation of power from it too, and I could sense her anxiety. Well anyway, she escaped when I eventually turned off to walk up another road.
I turned into an alleyway to take a shortcut and was promptly mugged by two guys with knives. I've never heard of someone deserving to be mugged before, but I certainly did.
( ZoomZoom, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 10:25, 3 replies)

Air Hostess
Those of you that know me, know that I'm with an air hostess - she stalked me. She denies it and insists that it "Wasn't really stalking" which, in crazy land, means she was....

Anyway, I used to fly up to Aberdeen from Humberside regularly - it's a tiny airport and after a while I was on first name terms with the checking in staff and cabin crew.

Anyway, my partner (name withheld), told me that she used to check the passenger manifest on Mondays and Fridays - well, every day in fact, to see which flights I was on and made sure that she glammed up specially for me.

On the flight, she'd make sure that I got plenty of attention - On Monday mornings I'd often get on the plane and fall straight asleep, at this she'd keep an eye out for me to wake up - as soon as I did, she'd pounce, try to engage me in conversation to get me to notice.

The checking staff would always ask me about her and they'd keep her up to date as to my locations....

Creepy? Well, not really as I didn't realise this as I'm a guy and I'm stupid.

Anyway, we're together now and she's only partially crazy these days :-)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 9:09, Reply)

Not me, my dog...
A few years back I'd frequent various pubs in Portland, Dorset while staying at my sister's cottage there. Some of the pubs were filled with various foreign ship crews on shore leave. These evenings frequently turned into drunken blurs and more often than not I'd not even remember getting home. One night I had my dog with me, he was a cute little chap and got a bit of attention from dog lovers, the odd pat on the head etc. Until the russian sailor spotted him, that is. He kept returning, drunker and more incoherent each time, to stroke the dog, smiling and nodding at me. This theme continued for about an hour until finally he picked up the poor beast and began to cuddle him. Deciding it was time to leave I asked him politely to put the dog back on the floor. He declined. I asked again.He shook his head, gripping the dog tighter. I took hold of the dog's collar and tried to pry his fingers loose. He gripped all the more. I yelled at him. He was eerily silent, just hanging on. I stared into his eyes and growled "give me my fucking dog back" as menacingly as I could manage. His eyes were steely and he grimaced with determination.At this point I actually decided to punch him and still holding my dog's collar, raised a fist. He still bloody hung on, shaking his head. In the seconds before it all turned really serious, his shipmates grabbed him and began to wrestle the dog from him, me still hanging on, fist raised, him still looking like only death would part them. Finally poor mutt was released and I staggered out of the door with him. I have no idea if that nutter had simply decided to take my dog back to Russia with him or if he intened to rape him or eat him, I'm only glad I never once let the bloke take him away in a bit of good natured foolishness while I got another round in.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 5:55, Reply)

Just a crazy ex.
I have had the same phone number for years, I hate changing numbers. Everytime my ex changes her number or gets on a friends phone she will text me acting like someone else and try to carry on a conversation. She has even tried to call and change her voice. We were only together for 3 months before we couldnt stand eachother, it was a mutual breakup at the time but she swears she doesnt remember it that way.

I wish that they would just dissappear after your done with them.
( postal ninja has Transmissible spongiform encephalopathies, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 5:20, Reply)

The terrorist
First, the backstory. I happened to be doing some volunteer work in a hospital in the occupied territories. Not glamorous stuff, just supporting the IT guy who had flown in earlier and needed an extra hand. The nature of the work meant that in the evenings my fellow Englishman and I could ooze around the hospital chatting to the various shrapnel filled Palestinians. And, cliched though it is, I've never met a friendlier bunch of people. They all, without fail, complimented me on my long eyelashes and big eyes, both features which I detest because they result in my being seen in the eyes of the world not as a macho leader of men, but more of a Bambi type. Grr. Anyway, Arabs love these eyes. "Camel eyes" they call them.

So, I settle into the hospital with my camel eyes fluttering hither and thither, and one young bullet sponge really takes a shine to them. Oh yes. Mohammed, I shall call him (name changed, naturally), loved these ridiculous eyes of mine, and the head that housed them, and the body that supported that head. Oh, and he particularly liked my arse.

Mohammed was a twenty-something lad, walking on crutches as a result of being hit in the leg with an IDF bullet when he was chucking stones one day. He was a patient at the hospital. Walking on crutches gave him a superhuman like strength in his arms, which were abominably hairy and made his resemblance to a gorilla in a fez rather striking. He made it his life's mission to grab my bottom (with a vice-like grip) as much as possible. It came to the extent that I'd have to poke my head round corners to see if he were at large before walking into a room. If he spotted me he'd give an unearthly shriek and hobble towards me like some kind of terrifying, rubbish cyborg.

I was stalked by a gay crippled terrorist.
(I grew it myself, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 5:02, 7 replies)

Ohhhh, I've just thought of a story. I thought I wouldn't have one due to my attitude to people who annoy me- as posted below- but I just thought of something.
Many many moons ago, when all this was fields and a pint cost £1.40, I was spending a year as a scummy backpacker in Australia.

I was on a bender staying in a nice hostel in Byron Bay.

It really was a nice hostel in that it was a very friendly crowd, and every night they sold you all the sangria you could drink for $5. Nice.

So everyone knew everyone else through the mammoth sessions held on a nightly basis. I'd befriended a bloke from London, and had set him up with a lovely Canadian girl I'd met. I was a bit miffed as I fancied her myself, but hey ho I could see she liked him so put my best match making skills into action.

In the mean time I'd met a load of mad Welsh girls, got in with one of them, and they were round to partake of the sangria fest.

Now there was one oddball amongst this crowd of young alcoholics, an odd Canadian bloke who I'd spoken to a few times, but didn't really like, there was something about him, plus he had the stink of the speed freak.

On the night in question the nice Canadian girl approached me, told me the oddball wouldn't leave her alone and was freaking her out. To remedy this situation without causing trouble at the party, I introduced him to one of the Welsh girls, who I happened to know was so game I'm surprised she could walk, and thought nothing more of it.

I continued my night, and woke up in the morning with a stonking hangover and a large gap in my memory.

I stumbled towards the kitchen, but as I left the dorm I noticed something was amiss. It was the fact the corridor was crawling with coppers.

Later on I found out what had happened. The Welsh girl had lost him, as she thought he was weird. He had followed my two friends I'd set up around all night. In the early hours of the morning he'd gone into their dorm- in Australia it's all six bunks to a room, share with strangers- and raped her at knife point with everyone looking on unable to help lest he slit her throat.

Needless to say every thing went a bit sour after that, and we all moved on, with the Canadian girl going home.

The Welsh girl was none to pleased with me either.

Length, this was 12 years ago, and I'd completely forgotten about it. But now I've remembered, it still makes me sad, and I still want to kill the freak, which we couldn't at the time, as the police told us if they found him bleeding in some ally, they'd come and find us. Fucksocks.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 4:34, 5 replies)

I can't get my head around most of these stories.
The majority seem to be about people that were met at university.

Many talk about how much these 'stalkers' were hated, yet many people seem to have hung round with them, let them into their houses, had phone conversations with them and generally treated them like mates.

A piece of advice, I tend to find if someone is bothering me shouting 'LOOK, FUCK OFF I THINK YOU'RE A CUNT' right in their face, tends to do the trick.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 3:58, 1 reply)

Home delivery to the stalker...
A tale of where somebody fancied me but was too lazy to stalk me properly so would call the ambulance (my work) and I would have to go to him.

My ambulance first got dispatched to this young guy a few years back. He'd had an argument with his much older gay partner and seemed to be just attention seeking. Quite surprising seeing as he had epilepsy, asthma, diabetes and mild schizophrenia.
He made it quite clear he fancied me and would call triple-zero (911 or 999 to our US and UK b3tans) each night after that.
He would usually feign unconsciousness and would always be laying with his legs apart and his tackle hanging out.

It all stopped after he got about $2500 worth of bills for service.

I'd like to say I attract female stalkers too, but there was only one and I really think the attraction was the whole "kind and caring paramedic" thing. I make Shrek look like Brad Pitt.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 3:55, 2 replies)

Joop?
I went tenpin bowling with some workmates last night and was queuing up to buy a round of drinks. The guy behind me in the queue - total stranger - taps me on the shoulder and asks "Is that Joop you're wearing?"
"Umm, yeah" I replied.
Got to the front of the queue and was a couple of bucks short for the drinks, so I went back to where my wife was to get the money.
Got back to the bar and the bartender says "It's alright, the guy behind you in the queue paid the couple of bucks".
Nice one I thought, until the bartender says "Here's the guys phone number - he asked me to give it to you."
Every time I went for a piss he's suddenly there next to me and then follows our group over to the nearby tavern after bowling.
Not really heavy duty stalking I know and quite frankly I'm flattered that anyone would show an interest in a 40 something year old less than average looking guy like me - but what I really want to know is Joop some kind of secret gay signal or something?
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 3:31, 3 replies)

I got lucky with my stalker
I got stalked by a guy from a forum I used to use, after I'd visited him a few times. I'd asked him to back off because he was getting a bit creepy and I hated all his disgusting chavvy mates and how they would all fuck each others sisters then fight about it. I thought I was nice and gentle and understanding,wishing him all the best etc. He could take a hint, alright. He went guano loco with fury. He would call my house screaming that I was a callous bitch for pretending to be his friend andaccusing me of wanting to fuck his inbred, fat, mustachioed special-needs mates. And worse yet, the silent calls all night long and going to all my internet places, joining up at some, to post all about how much of a crazy, evil bitch I am. He still does after 3 years. I left a message on a forum for a friend recently mentioning that I spend a lot of time in Amsterdam these days and he appeared for the first time in months just to imply that I'm a prostitute.

So how did I get lucky? Well, the phone calls were police reported and traced and if he's caught across the border he'll be arrested.

There is no need for that, though.

He's certified agoraphobic.
(posthumous mince is tiptoeing through the tulips, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 2:08, Reply)

Budding Stalker
When I was 13, my math teacher's son, about 10, was in love with me. I think so, anyway - he would follow me around school, peeking around corners at me. Picking my papers out of the trash when I wasn't looking. Ridiculous things like that.

When I caught him he hid, no matter how inconvenient the hiding spot. This went horribly wrong on the end-of-year swimming trip when he prodded my ass with his foot. I turned around and he ducked underwater (it was a lake, which was murky enough that I couldn't see him). I kept looking. He didn't come up for a minute or so, and when he did, far away from his original spot, he was blue and coughing and gasping for air. We almost had to call an ambulance. Idiot.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 23:40, Reply)

The plus side
Thus far we seem to be concentrating on the negative side of the whole stalking thing.

It does have its upside.

You can get your stalker to do all sorts of boring daily tasks that you may not want to do.

I have mine clean my house and car on a regular basis.

OK the odd pair of pants go missing when she steals them to rub over her face whilst doing the KitKat shuffle, but its a small price to pay.

Your stalker can also be relied upon for shopping trips, off licence runs and picking you up at ridiculous times of the morning blind drunk from random pubs/clubs/parties.

Just remember folks, your stalker's not just there for the nasty times in life.
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 22:24, 1 reply)

pish joke
I had a stalker once.

John Stalker

Crappest shag ever
(magic the cat will someone please think of the kittens, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 22:16, 3 replies)

Not really unwanted
but I found out an ex of mine had stalked me using the ol' internet before we started going out. This really came to a head when she insisted I join facebook and that she set up my profile. As this was about a month into said relationship there was information on there that I sure as hell didn't tell her like my birthday, middle name etc. Most disturbingly of all the profile picture was my avatar from a messageboard she definitly shouldn't have known I was on!

Anyway, dispite the fact that we split up ages ago I bet she still does it and I'll get some stick some time down the line for telling you all this!
( Raindance Work is inversely proportional to post-count, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 21:37, 1 reply)

Okay, this question I can answer.
Sorry, this isn't a humourous post (for me anyway). I had a stalker.

It lasted 2 years. I started working at a ne job playing with websites, and there was a very friendly, normal normal seeming woman I was 22, she was 30. After a few weeks of working in this office it was mid-summer, having a park nearby, it made sense to have lunch on the grass, take your shoes of, etc. This woman had the same idea and we ended up sitting together and eating our sandwiches, talking about not much, I didn't really have a lot to relate to with a woman 8 years my senior and who liked Enrique Ingleasias.

One day I was off because I had a tooth pulled. I was sitting at (my parents) home, feeling like shit when I get phone call from her asking why I didn't tell her I was coming in that day, she was angry, I had no answer. I was stunned and confused as to what she thought was going on between us, I hardly knew anything about her.

This could be a lot longer so I'll cut to the chase. upto 50 text messages a day, over 1000 emails in 3 months, phone calls to my house, my parents house, quit my job, saw her outside my new work, tried to run over my girlfriend, death threats, suicide threats, threats of violence towards me and my family, she turned up at my local but luckily I wasn't there. She turned up when I was at Reading festival claiming she loved metal music and always had, meh. She turned up to gigs she thought I'd be at, posted me letters to work my parents and me.

2 years.

I ended up attempting suicide. Being told you are to blame for being stalked and that it's your fault someone has had a shit life for 2 years straight, looking over your shoulder everyday, wondering when you or your family are gonna be maimed, kinda gets to you.

/edit: If she finds this I'm dead
( SauronWibble I'll hold it, you lick it..., Sat 2 Feb 2008, 20:18, 7 replies)

Stalking laws
I have never been a stalker or a stalkee (as far as I know!). However I do remember when the much-needed anti-harassment laws were brought in that there was a lot of criticism that they were too strict. Not because it meant that a harmless but persistent suitor (faint heart never won fair lady, and all that) might fall foul of laws designed to protect people against the nutters described on these pages. Oh, no. Apparently there were fears that these laws might curtail the rights of journalists and door-to-door salesman to doorstep people! Well, wouldn't that be a good thing?

A friend was persistently stalked by a guy who'd done time for harassment (of someone else) and the police just gave him a warning, despite his having threatened to kill her and physically assaulted her. That, combined with the experiences described here, suggests that the anti-stalking laws aren't very effective. On the other hand, I have heard of people being disciplined at work for relatively harmless comments like "that's a nice dress."

We live in interesting times. Here endeth the lesson.
(eesnahk, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 19:39, 1 reply)

I've got no Crazy Ex Stalkers, but...
1. The Internet Stalker

When I was at university I had too much time on my hands and I would often spend my time in the computer labs gaming rather than doing any actual work. On one such game was a sad sap of a guy who was about 15 years older than myself, religious in a warped sense and was still living with mummy and daddy in America. I was stupid enough to make friends with him cos I felt sorry for him and no one would help him... that should have been my cue to block/ignore him. To cut a long story short this guy was nice as pie one minute - we were pen pals via email and post but then he went pyscho. I should have guessed from the red rose e-card he sent me on my birthday that he had more than friendship in mind (I suppose one could say I was naive but I had no interest in this guy in -that- way whatsoever so I never considered it to be an option). One day I logged on to the computer game we both played and he was threatening to commit suicide if I didn't talk to him for hours on end or if I talked to anyone else but him but at the same time he lied to a couple of mutal friends of ours by pretending to be a new player... a girl and saying that I was stalking "her". I ditched that game for six months and ignored all emails from this guy. When I returned Mr/Ms Stalker had vanished and one of the people who he had lied to finally plucked up the courage to ask whether I was gay or not. I think I disappointed her when I revealed I was not the crazy lesbian stalker she was led to believe I was.

2. A Close Call

I used to walk home alone from university every day and thought not much of it even though the route took me along a quaint little high street, down a long hill and then through an industrial estate to get to ones of the roughest districts of our fair city where I lived. So it came as a complete surprise to me when I was stopped at the top of the high street by a man old enough to be my father/grandfather asking me if I was a student. Not thinking much of it I told him yes and carried on walking. At the end of the high street I was stopped again by the man who had seeming came from nowhere. The man then asked where I was from to which I mumbled a general response before hurrying down the hill. The man then reappeared (again seemingly from nowhere) at the bottom of the hill and then asked me out. By this time I was totally creeped out and emphasized that I was already going out with someone who was expecting me home any minute now before legging it.

A couple of days later it was reported in the local newspaper of some stalker guy who was targeting foreign female students in that same area (if it was just looks then I'd pass for such a student), trying to entice them into his car before sexually assaulting them. I reported this incident to the police and made sure that I always got a lift to and from university after that.

3. Mr Sheep (My insignificant other)

My other half, Mr Sheep revealed to me that before he "officially" asked me out that he stalked me around the local nightclub and bar for 2 weeks... about 5 years into our relationship. I didn't notice him - opps!

4. Mr Sheep's (My insignificant other's) Stalker

Mr Sheep was stalked many years ago by a neighbour. I shall refer to her as M, a not-very-bright (2 watt bulb) but kindly natured girl with a personality bypass, looks of a blonde suicidal springer spaniel, a habit of flashing her unperky chesticles at guys for attention and a particulaly devious best friend (actually it seemed that she had only one friend). Other than that M tended to blend in the background, she never wore dresses or skirts, never wore make up and never said boo to a goose... or so I thought.

We used to live in a large house that was split up into six bedsits. Me and Mr Sheep lived on the first floor whilst M lived in the bedsit directly beneath ours which meant that we had to walk past her flat to get to ours. At the time I used to spend most of my day toiling/slacking at university, Mr Sheep worked for a car rental firm whilst M worked for a temping agency as a cleaner. Mr Sheep is a friendly fellow and like to help a person in need - but he is also a wind-up merchant and when in the company of his mates can be a bit of a handful. Him and his mates used to tease M rotten but he'd later try and make amends for the goofing off that he had done by helping her out with stuff. His mates were truely evil to M but those are stories for another time perhaps. It was probably during this teasing that M's thoughts went from "Mr Sheep could never be mine" to "I'm gonna marry that man and birth his babies"!

Mr Sheep is a creature of habit - He used to come home from work, put on some music and relax... I'm not sure when it started but M started playing loud music and leave her front door open just before Mr Sheep was due to come home. It was uncanny that M would only put her stereo on five minutes before he was due home, no earlier or later. On queue Mr Sheep would return home from work, go in to check on M, has some friendly banter with her before reporting back to me and laughing about M's cheesey taste in music among other things.

This happened for several months and we thought nothing of it. I had (and still have) no trust issues with Mr Sheep as he's a predictable fella whose eyes only start wandering when certain types of women are near by.

The summer holidays come and I have time off of university. Mr Sheep and I were also due to move into a new (and much bigger flat) near the end of the holidays and M knew it. At the beginning of the holidays we invited M to go out clubbing with us a couple of times - the first time she wore what seemed like a cardigan knitted by her grandmother. The second time M actually pulled a guy (I was shocked!) the same age as herself and I (about 22 at the time) but she fobbed him off by saying that she found him immature and prefered guys of the age of 29. Not 30, 30ish, 30-something or older guys. No, she said -29- the exact same age Mr Sheep was at the time. Mr Sheep was too blotto to realize what was being said and was still trying to fix her up with this poor young guy to actually put 2 and 2 together at this point.

After that night out I made the subtle suggestion of Mr Sheep fixing M up with one of his mates from work, a guy I shall name D who was in his thirties and hadn't been laid since his wife left him several years previously. Mr Sheep thought that would be a wonderful idea to bring two lonely kindred spirits together... ok he thought it would be hilarious. Surprisingly D and M start dating although D seemed very reluctant to be seen out in public with M as he tried to fend off her embraces in public which seemed to grow in frequency in Mr Sheep's presence.

One day during the holidays approximately half-an-hour before Mr Sheep was due back from work M asked if she could hang around our flat and play our SNES. M's best/only friend had been hanging around earlier that day but had disappeared - a girl several years younger than M or myself but unlike M her brain was running on all cylinders. I invited her in and chatted with her as she was playing the SNES, making sure that my Playstation and PC (they were my babies at the time) were out of her eyes' view. About 15 minutes before Mr Sheep was due back she said she had to go and have a shower so she disappeared off to her bedsit. She returned 10 minutes all "glammed" up wearing a new dress and heavy make-up... on the outside I pretended to not notice but on the inside I was dying from laughter. Whomever gave M her coaching on "How to steal someone's boyfriend" never thought to tell her her grandmother's floral dress coupled together with 1970's ABBAesque-style makeup was unlikely to work (She could have tried hiking the dress up past her ankles but I doubt even that would have registered on Mr Sheep's Schwing-O-Meter) and sure enough Mr Sheep wanders in from work completely oblivious to M's blatent image change or her attempts to flutter her eyelashes at him. At that point I should have warned Mr Sheep to avoid M but I thought that M would have given up after that. No - she didn't.

A couple of days later Mr Sheep scurries up the stairs seemingly worried about the conversation he had with M - actually it had him reaching for the mind bleach. She told him in great detail her nights of mad passion with Mr Sheep's mate D, that she took it in the wrong 'un and she has slept with 23 other blokes in the past (As a joke I later asked M if that was true and were any of these men sober... she said no). Rather than entice Mr Sheep into her clutches with tales of her wild exploits she managed to revolt him. This was not helped by D who later joked about it by saying that he did it so he did not have to look at M's face.

It was during one of Mr Sheep's friendly visits to M's flat that he had a run in with M's devious/only friend (it was the second time he had met her - the first was two weeks previously) who I believe to have been behind the plot simply because I feel that M wasn't capable of hatching any scheme of her own. M's friend suddenly declared that she was pregnant and it was Mr Sheep's baby. To cut this part of the story short Mr Sheep fled, vowing never to go near either of these women again without someone else escorting him. And me? I was amused by the incident because at the dates suggested for the so-called "conception" me and Mr Sheep were never out of each other's sight... because he had been sneaking me around in the rental cars he was driving behind his bosses' backs - most of the staff were doing that at the firm. I can vaguely remember them both watching me after the event to see my reaction - I guess that I disappointed them by acting as if nothing had happened. We never heard from M's friend or about her mysterious "pregnancy" again.

When Mr Sheep and I moved home I then told him of my suspicions of M's dubious intentions and he said that he did not notice and at that point even I was questioning whether or not I was right in my assumption (he was more freaked out about her friend). But to my horror (and his too) he said that he told M our new address so she could forward our post. Sure enough every saturday for the next twelve weeks or so M mysteriously appeared at our doorstep having walked halfway across the city "just to see us" as she proudly declared... without our post. And sure enough Mr Sheep had to drive to her place to collect our mail although we made sure that I always accompanied him in the car although I would wait in the car and he made sure that he did not enter the building - he refused to be left alone with M or M's friend just incase.

She would always recount to Mr Sheep her tales of sordid naughtiness with the bus drivers who worked for her temping agency, how they were cheating on their girlfriends/wives just to be with her. Tales of her being wronged by nasty men who take her money and spend it on drugs whilst she had to pawn everything to pay her bills. The nice girl in me feels sorry for M but my inner bitch screams at me that these were ploys to "seduce" Mr Sheep and "lure" him in as he likes to be a knight in shining armor and help people. In the end we would make sure that we went out every saturday or pretended we were not at home. M's visit grew infrequent and finally gave up after 6 months.

Mr Sheep and I moved house again a couple of years later - right by M's job as a temp cleaner at a local hospital. We lied and said we were visiting a friend and we lived in another town now. I did meet her last year again, it was the longest 5 minutes of my life.

All the time M lived in that bedsit and she did not notice that she had her own little stalker, one of the other residents of the building who was the appointed "caretaker" who was old enough to be her father. M would always leave her knickers/grundies to dry on the radiator in the hallway outside of her room... as Mr Sheep would -have- to pass them. Mr Sheep never noticed them until he was chatting with the "caretaker" who picked a pair of M's knickers and gave them a sniff before putting them back on the radiator - apparently he had been "sniff testing" M's grundies for some time. Mr Sheep has never recovered from this.

I haven't got time to apologize about the length - I'm too busy looking for more mind bleach!
[Edited - Ok, I'm sorry for the length but it's technique that really counts]
( Templeton Blah, blah, blah..., Sat 2 Feb 2008, 18:43, 2 replies)

Working
as an English teacher in Modena.

One evening, I started with a new class. Two teenage boys and a middle aged woman, Valeria.

The class passed without incident, perfectly pleasant and diligent group...

Same time next week.

"I have bought you this elephant keyring, if you accept it then we are FRIENDS FOREVER." - Valeria

"Um OK, thanks." - Me

"Plus I have written you a letter." - V

She hands me a roll of neverending love odes on yellow paper, half-Italian, half-horrible-English and utterly mental throughout.

She then took it upon herself to wait outside school when she knew I had free time, having consulted my timetable from my bag when I went out of the room. I would treat her like paparazzi after a while, putting shades on and covering my face to get to my car.

I managed to survive various other gifts, propositions and general hanging around until my time came to leave the country. On the day I was shifting my suitcases around ready for the taxi, she turned up at my house, gave me a fully annotated copy of Romeo e Giulietta and burst out in tears declaring her eternal love for me.

"Bye bye." - Me

For the ensuing 6 months, I was bombarded with up to 10 emails A DAY (email address found rooting through school secretary's stuff!) on the subject of love, devotion, life, death, and numerous other irrelevant themes until she finally, just, stopped.

Nice lady.
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 18:16, Reply)

celebrity(ish) stalker
not me but them, or rather him!

that washed-up has-been that is RUSS ABBOT grrrrrr. the sneaky cnut followed me around glasgow a number of years ago. goes like this...

1st mrs blaireau69, blaireau69, the optomotrest and his wifeling thing had all gone to glasgow for a weekend of serious debauchery culminating with smashing pumpkins final uk date as the climax, as it were.

so that sets the date.

we were mixing it up in a vigourous style, champagne and absynthe cocktails, gin, weed, speed, e's and charley.

arriving early friday evening we visit a very smart restaurant for dinner and lots of wine. halfway through my jugged hare the optomotrest tells me to look over my shoulder in a totally indiscreet manner (which i manage with a flourish) and see what i behold... sitting there grinning at me with what i can only describe as a paedosmirk on his face is the man himself. pleasantries were exchanged (by me "your that abbott, aren't you!) and that, i thought, was that.

saturday late lunchtime we're in famous "ready to eat" (the clue's right there folks) sandwich place and i'm standing at the counter olive and feta in hand waiting to pay. someone steps up next to me holding chicken and ham on brown. i see his reflection in the shiny stainless steel splashback behind the counter. it's him AGAIN. i look to my right and say, you guessed it, "you're that abbot, aren't you!!"

sunday lunchtime, we're in a lovely wee smokey dive bar having a couple of hairs of the dogs. belhaven with grouse chasers i think. needing to make water i nip to the gents. and who was standing with his back to me pointing percy at the porcelain of the only other urinal? that's right, it's HIM. AGAIN!!! so i stand next to him join in the fun. i turn towards him and whisper (all together now!!) "you're that abbott, aren't you!" our eyes meet and i see bewilderment and a faint glimpse of terror.
we finish at the same time and leave, he holds the door open for me.

monday 11.45, glasgow central station, seriously hungover and still buzzing from gig the night before (as well as plenty of sex and drugs) sitting on a bench waiting for a train. i decide i need sustainance in the form of fags and viz so wander over to the kiosk thingy (you could still smoke in the station back in those days). i'm standing at the counter and guess who steps up next to me? that's right, russ abbott. and guess what i said to him? sure did!!! "you're that abbott, arent you!" but added a dismissive "PAH!!!" as i walked away. got him, right in the ego.
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Sat 2 Feb 2008, 16:32, 2 replies)

There's one in my house right now...
This creepy-ass girl who was in the year below me at uni last year (before falling off the planet or something) has invited herself to stay in our house, as her and one of my housemates L were such good friends and all (read: hung out together about twice, ever), not at all because she used to stalk another of our housemates, A, following her around, asking everybody where she was if she hadn't seen her in the last 5 minutes, etc. She was even going to move in with us last year, until A said that she was actually shit-scared of her. I thought this was a bit much at the time, not knowing the extent of her stalkery ways, and that we should give her a chance...so glad we didn't. During the first few minutes after meeting me properly for the first time, she stroked my leg in a weird way (Whats a normal way to do this?) while asking where the bathroom was (perhaps I was expected to follow her....*shudder*). She flirts with most other people in a similarly gross and creepy way, inappropriate doesnt even cover it. Even one of our male housemates, who is worshipper of the female form in all its guises, is pretty much hiding from her. She has generally acted like an obnoxious cow since walking through our front door, pretty much telling total strangers (to her) what to do, yelling for A or L when they are not giving her enough attention, and announced last night that she 'needs to sleep in somebody's bed tonight' (cue everybody in the room trying desperately to appear invisible) as L's boyfriend is coming over tonight, luckily for her.
I'm locking my door, as is everyone else.
(note: she is also quite a growler, so there is no upside to this weirdo)

EDIT: Dear god, why hasn't she gone yet. She came out with us last night and complained about everywhere we went, its a bar, they have booze, its good enough ffs...and also threw a big shit-fit when L went home with her boyfriend (who lacked the ID/grizzled facial features necessary to gain access to our most-frequented drinking hole) instead of coming into the club with us, as if she would choose to spend time with her instead of her 'bit of skirt'.
(Ryuken-Kai, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 16:11, 1 reply)

Rear Window
I teach English to Japanese people in Tokyo, and very nice they all are too. Today I asked Susumu how his weekend had been,

"Well I spend a lot of time looking out of my window waiting for you to walk past."

He replied.

I'm thinking of investing in a large hat and an enormous false moustache.

First post, be gentle..
(JazzSpider, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 16:01, 3 replies)

I may as well pearoast this too, since I seem to have far too many stories for this QOTW.
Limpetgirl (I seem to attract these people)

In my first year of uni, while I was dealing with Stalker Boy, a particularly scary girl latched on to me. She was weird in many ways - for starters, she was a fourth-year who seemed to have no friends of her own, whereas I'd made quite a few and she declared I had none and 'felt sorry for me' - something she said to anyone she met when I was with her.

Within five minutes of meeting me, she was telling me all the intimate details of her sex life with her ex, "Beennn...", which was definitely more than I needed to know, and how she was 'completely over him', but for some reason he still worked his way into every conversation.

She was, basically (or as she would have said it, "bazicully", a spoilt rich brat from Tooting who thought because she lived in London she was better than everyone. Her housemates hated her (one of them was Hindu and she used her spoon to cook some beef mince, she never took the bins out and ordered takeaway at 4am), and as far as I could tell her friends had an average age of 50 (this didn't stop her flirting with them). She had an iPod she didn't know how to use, a then brand-new flip phone she didn't have a clue about, and the world's sexiest laptop she could just about find MSN on.

She spent her entire life sat on her bed watching DVDs (mainly Sex and the City) on her laptop, skiving lectures and moping over the ex she broke up with a year ago, even though she was 'so over him'. She would also call me at any time of the day or night, and if I didn't pick up (for about three months after the sound of my phone ringing gave me the Pavlovian reaction of picking it up and throwing it as far as I could onto something soft where I wouldn't hear it vibrate), she'd ring back a minute later. Again and again and again and again. Even if I was in a seminar, again and again and again and again. And when I eventually did pick up, I'd be greeted by one of three things:
"FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK! Answer your phone!"
"*snif**sob*I saw Beeeennnnn taaaalking to.... *gasp* a GIRL!"
"Heeeey, want to come over for dinner, I'm really lonely and I don't like cooking for one and besides you can't cook..."
Argh. This went on for months and no matter how many excuses I gave, like "Look, I'm out with friends, I'll call you tomorrow" or whatever, she'd whine "YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, DO YOU? FUCKINGHELL! I'm lonelyyyyyy, don't forget about me...". I learned to tell her I was out in town because if I said I was in any of the campus bars she'd be there ten minutes later, sometimes in her pyjamas (and she was not a small girl), would stay for five minutes before getting bored and going home, then phoning me the next day to leave me a ten-minute voicemail about how I'd 'ignored her' the night before and that my friends 'weren't very focused...'.

(Queen of Cheesecake - I think I may very well know you, and if I do then you'll definitely know who I'm talking about.)

I should add at this point that the reason she was a fourth-year was because she spent the entire second year getting stoned and shagging in the most disgusting way imaginable (think of the most horrifically disgusting porn you've ever seen - not as bad as the South Park movie one, but almost) with Beennn and had to repeat. Therefore, all her friends had sensibly told her to fuck off, and/or graduated.

Seven hundred in the red, minus five books, most of my CDs and plus two stone later, I've had enough. The weight gain was thanks to her takeaway habit (and it's taken me the best part of two years to get back to the size I was then, another reason why I hate her) and fondness for dragging me to Bluewater, insisting overdrafts were there to be spent. However, unlike her, getting out of the red wasn't as simple for me as ringing home going "Mummy, I'm poooooor...", and getting £1000 no questions asked.

Long story short, I got my books and DVDs back, told her my dad had thrown a shitfit when he saw my bank statement and cut my debit card in half. And lo and behold I didn't hear from her for about a month and a half. I got to hang around with all my old friends, who'd been wondering what I'd done to them, and I got on with my life. About a month and a half later I'm walking back to my house with the girl I was unaware was going to go Single White Female on me at a later date who I've already mentioned in this QOTW, and someone I know comes towards me - "You know that scary fat girl, what's her name?" "Limpetgirl..." "Well, she's looking for you, I'd hide."

So, we went back to my room and watched Sex and the City, which I'd borrowed from her, in the dark with my curtains closed. Ten minutes of paranoid silence later, tap tap tap, exactly like the [then boyfriend, now twunt ex with child*] did. The bitch knew that, I opened the curtains and there she was, grinning psychotically at me and demanding her DVDs back NOW. The girl with me knew the full story of her scariness and immediately burst into fake tears (why I didn't smell a rat then is beyond me). "Sorry hun, it's not a good time - Brian had a man crisis." "FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK!" (if you haven't guessed, these were her favourite words, generally said as one word) "All I want is my DVDs, and I haven't seen or heard from you in a month, I've been in London because I was ill. Beennn failed his degree, ha ha ha..." (Probably because he was stressed out because she was stalking him.) Sensing now she was back in all her scary glory, there'd be another month of getting fat and listening to her bitch, I say "Yeah, sorry about that - my SIM died - here's my new number - 07madeupnumber...", and off she went.

She must have got the hint because I never heard from or saw her again. Sadly, I had another two years of stalker hell to come, but at the time I think I was just so happy to get away from her I failed to notice the same traits in the next one.

Length? Girth? Big enough to tie a ribbon around, apparently. And tie it in a bow.

* Who, if Facebook is to be believed, now bears not an insignificant resemblance to James May. Eek.
( Maladicta, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 15:06, 2 replies)

Kill Bill.....
Was walking from Charing Cross to a pub in Soho to meet my mates. Walking about 10 metres behind me was a strange whistling the twisted nerve song from Kill Bill.

It proper freaked me out, as he went to a pub near where I was going so was walking behind me for about 10 minutes or so. I had to have a few whiskys to calm me down I tell you!
(LargeDoner, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 12:44, 1 reply)

Creepy Guy
Coincidentally this QOTW appears the day after a conversation on a bus with a good friend of mine, hence me plucking up the courage to lose my post virginity (be gentle!).
Glancing out of the window, there was this guy on the other side of the road who is at the same uni as us both and he is, quite simply, creepy. He has the most matted hair known to beast, tatty clothes and a stare which could seduce a lonely rhino.
He also seems to be everywhere I go.
He was in my lectures in my first year (staring at me) and then it was realised that he wasn't on any form of register for it.
He was always in the laundry room when i did my washing (the worrying thing being that it overlooked my flat window and i dont recall seeing him with anything TO wash).
I also, somehow, managed to bump into him on a high street which is a good 15 miles away.
I explained this to my friend, he was shocked.

He thought the guy was stalking him too...
(WillyNilly SillyBilly, Sat 2 Feb 2008, 11:59, Reply)