Irrational Rob
I work in the creative industry so you do meet a few interesting characters along they way ranging from 'colourful' to assumed to be 'constructing their own woman suit' at the weekend. Aside from the usual parade of certifiable bosses it was along this golden path I met Rob. Like so many of his type Rob seemed quite normal at first, if somewhat shy. I started to think Rob was a more than a bit strange when I tried to make arrangements to fly him down from Edinburgh to our London office for his induction, routine stuff. He looked utterly petrified.

“Oh noah! Can’t go on ‘t aeroplane” he droned in his thick Yorkshire accent.

He explained he could not fly as he ‘didn’t trust them’. I tried to convince him he would be safer on BA than in a sanctuary for unreasonable donkeys but he just looked at me like I was completely mad, muttering about crashes being 'hushed up all the time' – how you hush up a crash on the Edinburgh Glasgow shuttle service is quite beyond me. Nevertheless I went to considerable trouble to sort out a train ticket for him. When I came to give him the details of his trip he became quite agitated at the notion of travelling alone to ‘t' London’. I began to reassure him how simple it was to get from Paddington to our office in Kensington Village…

“Ok Rob so you get on the tube heading on the…”
“Oh noah! Can’t go on ‘t underground”

Again he looked at me like the Doc when Marty tells him all they need is a little plutonium. I ended up pinning a list on the wall of things that frightened Rob. It was a while back now and it was a long list but here are some of the items:

Planes (obviously)
Subways
Tunnels
Vampires
Beyonce’s thighs (i shit you not)
Loud noises
Silence
“Going too fast”
The wind
Electricity
Big dogs
Small dogs
Cats
Churches
Needles
Blood
And also many foodstuffs that were the subject of deep mistrust.

The list went on and on.

Rob liked the ladies but was also plainly scared of them. There were a fair few hot women in the office which naturally raised the odd blokey comment; we all laughed somewhat uncomfortably when he started discussing the viability of placing Rohypnol in the water cooler. We had a brainer once for a Valentines promotion. When asked to suggest some words that invoked romance to him, he thought hard for a moment, furrowed his brow then offered the immortal phrase -

“release the beast”...

fair changed the mood in the room - you could hear the rustle of tights as legs were crossed. He also used to get very exited on the evenings ‘sexeh neeebur’ gave him a lift home literally rubbing his thighs but with not a hint of Vic Reeves irony. On one occasion when one of the guys was leaving it was decided we should have a night out. Rob never came to these affairs but as soon as he got wind of the fateful words ‘lap’ and ‘dancer’ he was in!

We tumbled into a brilliantly grotty joint in Edinburgh called the Burke and Hare - an old school, sweaty-clopper-in-the-face-as-soon-as-you-walk-in-the door establishment. Rob just stopped in front of the podium and that was him; completely transfixed. He stood there with his anorak zipped up to the throat clutching his satchel like it had the precious things in it. He wouldn’t even take his eyes of the girls to be handed a beer. They had to be pressed into his hand periodically. We left in the end because he was upsetting the dancers.

I made the mistake one day of revealing I had some porn DVD’s I had bought from nearby emporium of filth. He was enthralled with this.

“So you just walk in and buy them?”
“Yeah mate you should go along if your interested”

Rob made it clear this would be impossible – apparently buying goods from the grot shop saw you placed on some ‘list’. This however did stop him carping on with requests that I bring them in so he could copy them.

“Erm yeah, no worries mate”

I breezed in the following morning. There was Rob sitting there beaming. He had come in early and downloaded some DVD rip software.

“’ave you got them?”
“Eh?”
“T’ mucky filums”
“Er no Rob, sorry, I forgot”

He became a bit obsessed with this. I was quite relieved when he announced shortly afterwards he was leaving. All was well. Tales of Rob’s obsessions fears and general lunacy became the stuff of office lore. A few months later a group of us out for a Friday boozy lunch bumped into Rob on the street. I asked how the new job was going. Rob had no time for such frippery

“I've got new software”
“Eh”
“Software – software to burn your mucky DVD’s”

I swear he was salivating. In a flash of panic/genius I threw my arms open and proclaimed I had renounced such evils since I had found God. (I had to get rid of him somehow). He recoiled with genuine horror. I told him I was born again but he was most welcome to join me in small gathering later that week where I would be ceremonially burning my lascivious films and my debauched popular music CD’s. My workmates struggled to keep their faces straight. Rob looked panicked made some quick excuses and scuttled off.

We then spent the rest of the afternoon in the office with me sending invites to Rob for ‘religious gatherings’ then reading Rob’s frantic emails to the bloke who worked next to me warning him of the dangers of working with me “since I had joined 'them'”

24 carat nutter.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 27 Aug 2009, 20:25, 11 replies)

Splendid story,
and well written as always.

*many chuckles & clicks*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Thu 27 Aug 2009, 22:47, closed)

Oi Linebreaks ya cunt
*hides*
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Thu 27 Aug 2009, 23:03, closed)

Linebreaks are a conspiracy, you know.
Designed to make people use more bandwidth so Microsoft make more money and kittums.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 27 Aug 2009, 23:22, closed)

line breaks are included in writing where:
1. spoken words are expressed within a narrative

2. to denote a change of pace scene or emphasis

3. wherever the fuck spimf fucking likes

and you cannot hide
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 27 Aug 2009, 23:32, closed)

and wheres my click you stick waving dog botherer

( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 28 Aug 2009, 0:25, closed)

I clicked
and you can forget about me gazzing you my pathetic excuses of crazy people stories...there's no way I can top that.

If you ask very nicely I may tell you about some of the freaks that scared me when I was dancing, may even have sexeh descriptions of the other dancers, but no more threats of spankings or you'll get none.
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Fri 28 Aug 2009, 4:18, closed)

*sulks*

( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Fri 28 Aug 2009, 10:02, closed)

This is a bloody CLASSIC!!!
Nice one, matey! Oh, and *click*!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 28 Aug 2009, 9:04, closed)

He sounds a bit far gone.
Not so much unhinged, as kicked from the doorframe and fed through a woodchipper.
(LittleKitty, Sat 29 Aug 2009, 6:25, closed)

^^This
Can I save it for my Mum?
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Sat 29 Aug 2009, 14:09, closed)

Usual standard, Spimf
Which, you bastard, is so fucking high, thats it for the rest of the QOTW. *Click*
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Tue 1 Sep 2009, 8:23, closed)