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This is a question I met a weirdo on the interweb

Now, I've met lots of nice people on the internet - but it's the weird ones that stick in your mind. Such as the guy who borrowed a film off me in Cambridge and turned out to be so smelly, so hairy, so nervous and, well, so downright needy that I've never bothered getting it back.

Tell us about the strange people you've met on the internet.

(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 9:31)
Pages: Popular, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Looking to find other musicians
I used to have a few songs up on MP3.com - way back in 1999.

A couple of years later I was still getting emails through the MP3.com website, and one day I got an invitation from a guy in London who wanted to work with other musicians.

OK I thought, and looked at his webpage.

- Holy Shit! -

He was a weirdo satanic dude, with a whole load of BIZARRE mp3's available to hear. They sound a bit like a karaoke klingon opera being played on a wobbly tape deck:

(look under 'Songs')

Oh, and don't forget to check out the wonderful artwork:


I never did get back to him...
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 20:17, Reply)
i used to have many internet friends but i only met a few in real life
one is my best friend,
one is my hairdresser,
and the other one is my fiancee.

i do not go on the net that much these days due to policy changes by nazi-work bosses and fiancee distrusting internet friendships as she knows thats how we met (we were both in relationships then too).

in 2003, a year after i cancelled my msn/icq etc profiles i get an email from a girl i used to talk too. i ignored it. then i got more and more forwarded jokes and stuff so i blocked her. next i recieved an email saying it is over, weird internet girl has dumped me??, she hates me because i blocked her. over the next few weeks my email password kept changing, i had to reset it with one of those secret question things everytime. now knowing she has access to my emails i was a bit freaked out but got over it. then it got weird.

going downtown london one day i saw a girl looking at me and i thought it looked like the said girl, but she was from leeds, so i passed the thought off. i saw her again a few times but thought my mind was playing tricks on me until one night i noticed the automatic light in my garden came on. hoping to see a fox a peek on the window and i see a figure. fuck i think and grab my dads putter and wake my brother getting excited at facing a burgler. stepping into the garden communicating with my 3-wood wielding brother (in calvin klein tighty-whiteys) with army style hand signals we look to the trees/back fence for the intruder. i don't know where my bravery came from but i lept over the fence into the pitch black alleyway and could hear footsteps and some kind of scrathing coming from round the corner where people who live at the end park there cars. gripping the putter i tightly i sneak round the corner and in my shock i see the weirdo girl with a stone in her hand scratching "DIE U BASTA" into the car and everything made perfect sense. by the way - when we swapped photos i sent her a photo of my neighbour Dan's car (his Merc was better than my Ford Focus). she really had been stalking me. i had to give evidence to the police about her destroying my mates paintwork but i didnt want to press charges or get a restraining order. i talked to her and she was pretty sane. she told me she loved me?? and had been in london for 2 months living with her uncle. she followed me to work, she had seen my fiancee, my brother, my baby cousin. she followed me to Brighton on the train when i went there for the weekend. she even smoked the same cigarettes as i did after she collected my cigarette butts. in the end she said sorry and she went home and she has either forgotten me or she is very stealthy. but in the end i get to tell everyone i had a real life stalker and she was a right sort too ;)

(, Mon 20 Mar 2006, 16:19, Reply)
I once went onto that internet thing and typed in "sex porn". The next thing I know is, three strippers have turned up in my attic and begin insulating it with that fluffy yellow stuff (it's made out of baby chicks).

The next day the strippers are in my garden having it off and bumming each other and stuff, so I go back onto my computer and type in "racism is a bit cheeky" (which it certainly is! I do not approve one bit) and that George W Bush tunnels up through my living room floor and starts sanding down my skirting boards.

So in answer to your question, yes. Yes I would like a Strepsil.
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 20:27, Reply)
i met a girl on the interweb once. we got chatting, nice girl... she gives me a number, and it doesnt take long for filth to ensue.

anyway we chat away for a couple of weeks, and i'm contemplating going to nail it (lived a few hours away), but first insist that she send me a letter, and enclose a few photographs.

letter arrives, i grab the pics before reading.

the first one, absolutely stunning, tanned, slim girl sunbathing in a bikini. *ping* There was a comment scrawled on the back, "Me on holiday couple of years ago"

the second one was a passport picture. It looked like somewhere between the two, she'd been paled in the face with a fucking shovel. Her kisser was a mess. The comment on the back? "Most recent pic"

I decided it would be best to let things fizzle out gently, rather than all-out insult the girl. I adopted this strategy, things were going well.

I then went for a camping weekend with some friends. She was texting me as usual, when i began boozing. I consumed copius amounts of Stella, vodka and weed, and go to sleep.

So I thought.

The next morning, I phone her up. She says, holding back the tears:
"You dont remember what you said to me last night, do you?"
"errr, no, why?"
"flipper with the fat fanny flaps, ring any bells?"
"lol, no..."
"you told me i had the ugliest face youve ever seen, and you'd never want to meet up with me at all"
"oh... i... erm"

At this point, hungover to fuck, not remembering any of this phone call, I'm trying to think if there's anyway possible I could still let her down gently. She interrupts my train of thought.

"so... did you mean it?"


(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 13:58, Reply)
She's still out there
Me: "What's in the box?"

She: "My dad's rope."

"Your dad's got a rope? What does he need a rope for?"

"He hung himself."
(, Mon 20 Mar 2006, 8:50, Reply)
Have I Got News For You
In my time I've had 4 Internet dates. 2 turned out very well with nice lasses and a good time was had by all, one was an absolute nightmare and one was with a fellow B3tan which has turned out to be life-changing (That's with Mrs Legless a couple of posts above me.)

But I'll tell you about the horror story....

It all started when I worked in London for a big telecoms company. My job was as third-line server support and European trouble shooter. In essence, I sat in my office and messed about on the Internet all day until my pager went off and I had a server to fix. When this happened, one of us would head for the airport to fly out to where ever the server was while the rest of us tried to fix it remotely. In reality we might get a callout once every couple of weeks so we had nothing to do except play on the net.

I used to hang around a few newsgroups and a few techie chat sites. While I was on one of these I got talking to a Yank who came across as very nice. As time went by we progressed from chatting on the sites to e-mail and, as these things do, we became good friends and our correspondence became increasingly flirty and then filthy. She said that she'd love to fly over and visit me to put into action all the things we'd talked about but couldn't afford it. I, however could. I'd seen a few photos of her and we'd talked on the phone a few times so I decided to send her over a ticket and have her visit me for a few days.

As the time got closer and closer for her to arrive the e-mails and phone calls grew to a crescendo and then the day arrived for her to fly over. I admit, I was looking forward to her arriving and thought I was in for a week of filthy sex with a woman I got on with very well. So, one Monday evening I headed down to meet her at Newcastle airport. I watched the puddle-jumper from London land and eagerly waited for her to walk through the arrival gates. And then she did. The Beast. She was fucking huge! God knows how old the photos were that she'd sent me but there was only a vague resemblance between what I'd seen and what had just landed. It looked like her mother. Her very fat mother.

I was horror struck but managed to keep a false smile plastered on my face. Innate politeness had kicked in and rather than run like hell which was what my mind was telling me I allowed myself to be enveloped in her podgy arms and have the life squeezed from me. And she copped a quick feel.

So now I was stuck with The Beast for the next five days. Even worse, I was going to have to fuck this thing. I couldn't let the side down now could I? ( At that moment in time I was wondering how the hell I was going to get it up never mind anything else...).

And so we ended up back at mine place in the village. My main concern now was to keep The Beast from meeting anyone who knew me. I had a reputation to uphold. I installed her in a spare bedroom and told her to get some sleep - she must be jetlagged (I admit the thought did pass through my mind to keep her unconscious for the next five days but I didn't have the necessary drugs. Damm me for not becoming a doctor!). But, at that particular moment in time sleep was the last thing on her mind. She basically raped me. I somehow managed a creditable performance (and with this beast, creditable meant that I actually managed to bang her....) and then left her to sleep. I went to the pub.

The next four days were a special kind of hell. Being massively overweight I could have kind of forgiven and still gotten on well with her. A bit of extra weight doesn't bother me. I like all shapes and sizes. What really drove me crazy was the constant whining. About everything. The food was wrong, the castles weren't big enough. I drank too much (too bloody right I did! it was the only way to keep sane!_ I smoked too much. It was too hot, too cold - every bloody thing about everything in my country was wrong.

Anyway, after 5 days of doing my doing my bit for Anglo-American relations it was time for her to go home. Appropriately, in a Jumbo Jet. It was with intense relief that I saw her off at the airport and then I headed home and got absolutely rat-arsed. I'd succeeded in keeping any of my mates from seeing her (none of them knew she was coming over to start with) by taking her out to towns and villages miles away from mine. The nights were the worst but I manfully managed to perform my duties and I think that was the only thing she didn't complain about all week! (but I bet she did when she got back to the States!

That was in 1998 and I've never had the courage to try another Internet date until this year - but that one went very,very well....


(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 9:49, Reply)
Wascally Weasel
When people ask us how we met, we have a nice line in staring at the ground, scuffing our shoes and mumbling 'Internet'.

Ok, here's the full story, since I missed posting it in the 'unfortunate misunderstandings' QOTW a while back. WW and I met online and arranged to meet up for a drink and maybe a meal. I'm not (at all) known for my reticence, but somehow on this occasion a previously untapped well of the stuff kicked in as soon as we met in person, and I was struck utterly dumb. Since we'd already spoken on the phone and got on famously, this was somewhat alarming to both of us.

Still, to give him due credit, WW manfully tried to make the best of a bad situation, got us drinks, arranged the furniture so we could actually see each other despite the dazzling sunlight in the bar, and attempted to strike up a conversation. Since the paramilitary wing of the countryside lobby had been in the news that day, with demos and parliament invasions etc, he asked me the perfectly reasonable and topical opening question, 'So, what do you think of foxhunting then?' At which, he says, my face dropped a little, I looked even more daft for a minute, and then said 'Well, it's not my favourite thing but I'm willing to give it a go.' On seeing his baffled look, I suddenly realised that he had said 'foxhunting', not 'c*cks*cking'. Needless to say, my explanation of this broke the ice and we've been together ever since. Still can't understand a word he's saying half the time though...
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 9:47, Reply)
I met a guy who makes his own swords, spends about 75%+ of his life on his damn computer but this tops it off: He once fell under the dreadful affliction of scurvy. His screen name always referred to pirate this or that, but he actually got scurvy. He lived for about a month in front of his computer drinking nothing but Pepsi and eating Doritos. He realized that he should probably broaden his dining horizons once his gums started bleeding and he lost a tooth...Yar! Scurvy!
(, Sat 18 Mar 2006, 14:07, Reply)
Hundreds of weirdos who nearly killed me
I was a strange child. Bulimic from the ages of 10-12 and anorexic for a year after that. Although I was technically "recovered", for years afterwards my default coping strategy whenever I got pissed off was to stop eating for a while. Thus I had several relapses, but none quite so downright stupid as the one fuelled by teh interweb.

Flicking through a magazine in my dentist's waiting room one day shortly after my parents had got their first computer, I read a report on the shocking and horrifying trend of pro-anorexia websites. These were communities where sufferers would get together and support each other in starving themselves to death. They'd post pictures of skeletal people to inspire each other, details of their height and weight in order to compete with one another, tips on how to hide their illness, etc etc.

Guess what I googled as soon as I got home.

Two months later, two stone lighter, I had stopped attending school and was spending all day reading and responding to emails from these weirdos, looking at their pictures and turning into a total zombie. It was only the fact that I somehow managed to get into music college and therefore had something to look forward to that stopped me from killing myself.

All of those sites have been taken down now. I wonder how many people died because of them.

Apologies for lack of humour.
(, Sat 18 Mar 2006, 10:25, Reply)
General rules for internet dating...
Mentally stable.

Pick two.
(, Thu 23 Mar 2006, 13:49, Reply)
Shit - that's me
I was a member of a poker website. I never played any of the really high stake games; I think the highest I ever played was $5. Anyway, after a particularly bad spell, I managed to spazz all my cash and was down to about 10c. Then I hit upon a clever idea. I changed my user profile to that of an elderly woman who loves cats, etc. I started joining in the live chat that went with the game, talking about my lovely grandchildren and everything.

Man, it WORKED! I was no longer getting bullied off bets, and people seemed to let me get away with all sorts. In no time, I had clawed my way up from 10c to $20, and was going from strength to strength. (Not huge money, I know. But there you go).

The problem was that I really got involved with this character I had created. I almost started believing I was this lovely old lady who grew tomatoes and gave money to the poor. The more I talked to (and distracted) my opponents, the happier they seemed to be. Then suddenly it hit me. This website must be full of sad lonely bastards yearning for a nice family and homely, granny-cooked dinners. That, and the fact that I felt like a Patrick Bateman/Mrs. Doubtfire hybrid led to me cancelling my registration. I still feel like I need a shower when I think about it now.
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 13:15, Reply)
Misread title.
I was lazily chatting on a web site chat room. I put in my normal stupid login name like Peter File, just to see if anyone got it. All of a sudden. A lovely message came from Chrissy CD. Now, being slightly sheltered from all this web speak at the time, I thought this particular person was from County Durham, or some else that has CD as intials. For example, the people from Florida used FL. One thing led to another and we were hitting the gutter talking dirty to each other. Then the request for photos came. I jumped at the chance. Eagerly with my free hand I reached to the download button only to find what could be descried as a Tommy Vance lookaliky person wearing a black miniskirt and his meat and two veg dangling for the world to see. The studded dog collar was the last of my worries as he sraddled the bed with a sign saying "chrissy wants you". Little did I know that CD stood for cross dreasser, and some fucker could have told me sooner.
(, Sun 19 Mar 2006, 15:44, Reply)
Bloody Merkins.
The weirdest person online? Well, I had quite a lengthy conversation with several people who were sharing a head once, but they were all quite nice actually.

So the winner will have to be Crazy Nazi. Here's the deal:

I was, at the time, involved in roleplay on Nationstates - it was a game where you create a country, the actual game just keeps track of your economy and stuff but some of us would play out the actual stories of diplomacy and war in the forums.

So this 18yrold fellow I was RPing with, he has this nation which is basically Nazi America. In his imaginary world, which he said several times is his ideal real life world, most of Asia is a nuclear wasteland and blacks, gays and weird people get lynched. All his characters were lecherous middle-aged men. My first ambassador to his nation left since she couldn't get anywhere without sleeping with anyone, and I was fourteen at the time so that was a resounding NO. My second one was run out of the country for being gay (so I didn't read his rules properly until then...)

I had several conversations with him over msn, and he was exactly as freaky as his country. He spent quite a lot of time arguing with me about the genetic deficiency of Jews and blacks. He even linked me to all these dodgy articles.

One time, in response to a "what's up?", he said "Oh, not much, I was just out buying ammo for my AK-47."

Stop. Re-read. AK-47.

I reasonably reacted with a bit of a WTF and some scepticism... whereupon he promptly proceeds to switch on his webcam and WAVE A HUGE FUCKING GUN AROUND.

Well, aside from the fact that he was CLEARLY compensating for SOMETHING, it makes me quite glad that I don't live in America when I think about the fact that someone that prejudiced is armed, and still out there... that's if he hasn't done something stupid and been arrested yet.
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 11:04, Reply)
The Hitman
If it weren't for the interweb, I would never have met The Hitman. I met him on a night out with one of my interweb friends- I went to pick up my friend, and he had this other guy with him...

He was wearing a black shirt, black trousers, and a red tie. Had a completely shaved head. He was also wearing leather gloves, and possibly a long coat. Did I mention it was July in New York? Probably about 80 degrees farenheit. He kept muttering about killing people whilst in the backseat of my car, as we drove to the bar. However, we got to chatting that night, and it turned out he was actually rather personable and seemingly clever, so we made plans to hang out more. What followed was a three-week or so friendship, with the following highlights:

-He was constantly insinuating that he was a hitman. He'd get random phone calls in the middle of nights at the pub and have to "leave immediately" for "business." Turned out he was full of it, he confessed to our mutual friend that I made him so nervous he'd have to leave. I guess I'm just that hawt.

-He would take incredibly roundabout routes home, because he swore there were people following us.

-He told me he still had his v-plates at nearly 30. Confirmed by mutual friend.

-He told me he was taken under the wing of a Japanese scholar at some point, and had learned Japanese and some martial arts. When he met my mates who spoke Japanese, he became violent with them instead of just admitting he was a liar who didn't know Japanese. This made an utter mess of my birthday party.

-He drank like a fish, and had a job that required operation of heavy machinery.

-He would constantly point out women who were checking him out/wanted him. They were usually paying him no mind at all.

-He told me he used to deal with a biker gang, and was worried about being recognized. Actually, not.

-At the end of our friendship, he'd put his hand around the front of my neck when trying to make a point, as one would normally touch someone's arm or something. He'd also grab my arm really really hard. That was the end, but of course it couldn't end easily...

-Cue the horrible myspace poetry and the envelope of pictures he'd taken at my party taped to my front door, weeks later. He also left me creepy myspace comments, and his photo was of himself dressed like The Matrix as usual, holding a glass of wine in one hand, sort of raising a toast, and a gun in the other hand.

-Last I heard, he left my friend's house (where he was living and not paying my friend's mom rent, even tho he was supposed to) without warning, leaving only a note that said people were trying to get him, and that he had to leave to spare my friend's family from being in danger.

And there you have The Hitman.
(, Wed 22 Mar 2006, 23:29, Reply)
Sheffield - Sin City
Early 2000, in an attempt to get over a nasty breakup, I started talking to several girls over the internet. One girl seemed very keen and we started talking loads, exchanged photos and finally after about a month decided to meet up. Everything seemed in order, she seemed quite pretty, relatively normal and made me laugh.

I drove all the way to Sheffield to the Meadowhall shopping centre and stood around in absolute horror - the place WAS full of feckless weirdos who populated Barrymore's exploitative show - but I was stoned and had a 98% probablity of getting laid, so being stood in the middle of a George A Romero movie set seemed ok at the time.

2pm came and went, no show. I started looking around in that hopeful desperation of someone who has been stood up - smiling at people appearing out of lifts, walking around corners - looking like a needy gurning freak.

Someone said my name - I looked around and damn the weed, I'd imagined it.

Someone said my name again and pulled my jumper - I looked down.

It was her, all nearly 4 foot of her who then proceeded to come on to me like a drunken teenager.

I spent the next few hours fending her off after the nice guy in me (who didn't want to offend her) stupidly had coffee with her and then drove her home.

She was all over me like the fucking plague in the car park, the car, outside her house, repeatedly saying "I want to fuck you", trying to get her hands down my pants, sticking her tits in my face. I finally told her that I didn't want to shag her.

"Just let me suck you off then, you don't have to touch me, just let me taste you"

I left, rapidly.

Two days later a teddy bear and an apology card arrived at my digs, followed by one every week after. Somehow she managed to get my address, but luckily never turned up there.

Damn those circus midgets!
(, Wed 22 Mar 2006, 16:09, Reply)
friends reunited
While minding my own business at uni in manchester i get an email from some girl living in dorset saying she knows me from home (n. ireland).
after a few checks with friends it turns out she does indeed know me (i have a shocking memory) so that much is true. After a few emails she calls me and all seems well. then she invites me down for a 'visit'. Moron face here thinks this is a great idea and hops on a train to dorset. bloody dorset like, who goes there? long story short, the nutter likes me and decides she wants us to go out. It's been two years. I live in dorset. We're buying a house. Help me.
(, Wed 22 Mar 2006, 1:59, Reply)
No fat chicks.
One and only foray into "internet dating". Mate belonged to match.com or something and forwarded me the dregs. Nice of him I thought.

Anyway, got along well on the phone. Lived a couple of miles away. Arranged to meet in a bar (in Ware, Herts).

You know that bit in the Office Xmas special where Brent is outside talking to camera moaning about the quality of his 'dates' and the large lady walks up and he does a marvellously timed "oh for fucks sa..."? Well he nicked that moment from me. And like Brent, she saw me do it. Can't fake the eyes....

So we carried on the charade and to be fair, she was alright and was prepared to get past my initial preconceptions. I however wasn't. I really am not that grown up as I'm sure some of you know if you look at my previous answers.

I was trapped. We ended up in restaurant that appeared to be a shrine to Gillian Taylforth. My date, then did what can only be described as , spazzed out. For 5 minutes. This consisted of looking a bit weird and freezing. She 'locked up'. I thought she was taking the piss. I almost poked her with my fork and then she just resumed where she left off not missing a beat nor acknowledging that anything had just happened.

Because it was persisting it down outside I walked her home. Stupid stupid stupid. She immediately put on a CD that I recognised - "oh yes I bought it when you told me you liked them". Jesus. Go go go.

She made me sit on the couch and she sat on the floor crosslegged. Showing me quite clearly that she had no underwear on.

As i started to run, she grabbed my arm and said "don't go, please. I haven't been fucked since 2001"

I didn't stay. Not even with yours mate.

Lessons learnt:
1. Always, always, always insist on a recent photo. No head shots.
2. All internet girls are fat*
3. If they 'lock up' for 5 minutes, theres something horribly wrong with them.

*based on the one girl I met.

(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 18:25, Reply)
I got beaten up at school
I regually used to get beaten up at school for being late.
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 13:13, Reply)
I met this guy online...
He told me to take a red pill to set my mind free!

I woke up 3 hours later biting a pillow!

Bastard Morpheus!
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 10:54, Reply)
This very QOTW came about with a chat with Fraser and Chthonic in the pub.
We were there to discuss "ideas for image challenges and QOTWs for B3ta."

Someone suggested "I met a weirdo on the interweb ..." and I looked about the table and said, "er... I only know you two guys because of B3ta."

There was a small silence, then a bit of laughter, then general agreement that it was a good question for you lot.
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 2:21, Reply)
Big gay bear
It was the summer of 2001 and I was on the look out for some new kicks. I happened to stumble across a particular football newsgroup. "This looks like my sort of thing," I thought. After lurking for a week or two I realised that it was more of my sort of thing than I could have previously imagined. The people were amusing and knowledgeable. I quickly settled in and became part of the furniture.

Fast forward a year to the summer of 2002. There's an England match coming up. "Why not have a meet-up?" I suggest. And so, a couple of weeks later, four of us meet in a pub. Apart from myself there's the matriarch of the group Jenny, paedophile lookalike Bob and Dave who looks suspiciously like Roy Kinnear but claims to only be 31 years old. We all got on well enough with the football being on helping to provide conversation. We all went our separate ways at the end of the night and while we didn't promise to do it again any time soon there was no aversion to doing so either.

Fast forward another year. It's the summer of 2003. This time Dave posts to the group suggesting a get together to watch the Division 3 Play-Off Final. Four of us say that we'll go: Dave of course, myself, Bob and a guy that doesn't post that regularly, Martin Hall. I arrived at the pub to find Dave and Martin already there. Dave looked scared. And for good reason as Martin was a freak. An absolute fucking freak. The sort that your mother warns you about in fact. Martin had a video camera with him. For fuck's sake, who takes a video camera to a pub? Martin proceeded to video Dave and me while we did entertaining things like go to the bar, drink some beer and have a conversation. I wonder if he's showed this video to his family. If so, I pity the Halls.

After what seemed like a lifetime Bob turned up. Now Bob is slightly odd. He is quite happy to tell one and all about his genital piercings and strange lifestyle decisions. But Bob can function in society. Which is good obviously. And Bob's functioning was in marked contrast to Martin's failure to partake in normal conversation. For some reason Martin thought it perfectly acceptable to get out a portfolio of pictures of his east European girlfriend in her scanties. No rhyme nor reason behind this at all. Just all of a sudden, there's pictures of someone I don't know, wearing only the briefest of briefs, being waved in front of my face. Now, of course, I'm no prude and not averse to seeing female flesh but the fact that it was Martin showing it scared me. And I was glad that I had Bob and Dave, who are both quite large chaps, there to protect me if Martin's demented lunacy should turn nasty.

The whole girlfriend thing was rather odd as well. Martin is camp. Not in a "I'm heterosexual and in touch with my feminine side" way. Oh god no. More in a "I'm a big gay bear. Please put your penis in my bum," sort of way. Nowt wrong with that of course. It's just that he was trying so hard to be one of the lads and it seemed so horribly false. In the end Bob, Dave and I made our excuses and left. Separately. Only to meet up at a pub across the street.

Apologies for length etc. First post - be gentle with me...
(, Sun 19 Mar 2006, 12:03, Reply)
Someone added me to their MSN Contacts and decided to send me allsorts of random jibberish, poems and complains at weird hours of the day.

Screenshot here

I still have no idea how this person got my details, but most impressively, i've never once replied to her messages... yet she continues.
(, Sun 19 Mar 2006, 0:37, Reply)
i talk to many weirdos an these two have got to be my favourites:

vampire boy: 14 year old boy who told me he was a vampire. he said he got drunk one night at a party when a vampire bit him. i had great fun taking the piss - he stopped emailing me because i wouldn't be his girlfriend

the chosen one: some boy who said that the voices coming from his microwave told him to " go forth and spread the message of peace"
i laughed for days after reading that one.
i sent one back that said "my toaster says you lie"
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 17:52, Reply)
A friend of my boyfriend's (no, really)
was, a few years ago, whilst at uni with my fella, quite into chatting on IRC. Let's call him Adam. He's sitting in a computer lab one day chatting away to a guy about random geekiness (well, it was a computing course after all) and builds up somewhat of a fleeting friendship. Every so often they's happen upon each other in this IRC room and natter on about the day's geekery.

Say no more.

But one day Adam was in his room, alone, in his halls of residence. His phone rings.
"Guess who this is?"
Adam doesn't know who it is.
"It's me! Chris! Off IRC!"
Adam doesn't remember giving Chris his number but no worries, hey, he's ringing for a chat, right!?
"Guess where I am!" Chris says.
"Er...at home?"
"Nope! Look out of the window!"
Adam looks out of the window and sure enough is a particularly scary looking geek, with a bag, on a mobile, waving.
"Fuck off you fucking stalking freak!" shouts Adam and hangs up.

Then the doorbell buzzes.
Then stones are thrown at the window.
And shouting is heard. Pleading, from outside.

Adam never saw Chris again and never found out how he got his number or halls room address.

But he never went on IRC again. Sometimes though, my boyfriend and his mates would send him emails signed 'love Chris'. Adam became a nervous fellow after that, sometimes he'd twitch.
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 13:27, Reply)
Big Spiderman Shirt
I was 15, he was 16.

We'd been talking for a few months on t'net after my cousin told him I was his type and he was mine etc etc. He said he was 5"9 with broad shoulders, brown hair and green eyes. After talking of life and music, and other such things one talks about at the tender age of 15, we decide that we *must* meet, as we have the most deep and meaningful conversations, via MSN. I ask for a photo, but alas, no scanner/webcam/digital camera etc. Naive and innocent, me thinks fair enough, he's described himself pretty well and my cousin tells me he's quite a nice looking chappy.
We decide to meet in Wolverhampton (ha). We both decide to take friends with us, hell, maybe they can get together too. So we arrange a meeting point. He told me he would be wearing a spiderman shirt, which I thought was a bit sad, but at least I could easily recognise him. Look over to where we're supposed to be meeting and, oh my lord, someone's dressed a big whale with an oversized head in a spiderman shirt. Oh no wait, that is my date for the evening. Splendid. I'm now at this point thinking, broad shoulders is not the same as fat. Then again, fat is not the same as morbidly obese. He looked like a giant movie billboard, with a head. A big spotty head. His friend wasn't much better, and his skinniness was greatly emphasised by fatty patty's flab. Nevertheless, me being a polite young woman decides to go ahead and be friends, because at this point he's already spotted and identified me. We say hello and all that, and he took me to 'Atlantis'. If there's any midlanders reading this, you'll know what an awful place this is. And to top it all off, he announces that 'the blazin squad', in the infancy of their amazing career, are doing a live performance there. On the same night. That I'm going. I really wished for death. This giant deceptive doughboy was enough to make me depressed, but I really did not wish to be alive when he announced this. Somehow, I get through it, we speak about three words to each other all night, and I contemplate escape at every opportunity. Finally, it's over, and we say goodbye, and me and friend go on our merry, merry way. I thank the lord that the terrible experience is over, and curse the internet and my damn cousin for being such utter cunts.

He emailed me two days later saying that I wasn't what he "expected", and that he doesn't think that it would be a good idea to meet up again.

I don't know why, but I was quite upset at the fact that I had been rejected by the big thing in the huge spiderman shirt.

I do often think that it would make a nice children's tent.
(, Mon 20 Mar 2006, 23:34, Reply)
Percy Sugden
One summer when I'd been really low after a fight between myself and my cat went a little too far(sorry Henry but it was either you or me), I was feeling really low and decided to try a little internet flirting - you know, to try and find a nice bird to stick it in.

So I logged in as Marzipan Fridge Magnet and let my magnetism and little pope-style-hat do its work.

Soon I had attracted a young sexy thing called 'filthy-margaret-69-with-pics-me-love-you-long-time' and we started to get it on. I made a suggestive remark about my blazer, she would respond with a saucy comment about me jizzing on her melons and we were away.

After about a month of this kind of cheekiness, we agreed to meet in a local park. I turned up and awaited my sexy young internet girlfriend.

Imagine my surprise when it turns out she'd misrepresented herself a little. She wasn't 16 with massive pert jugs and blonde hair at all - she was a little old man called Percy Sugden off the popular soap Coronation Street.

I decided to keep an open mind and went on the date anyway. Me and Percy went crown green bowling, then we had a game of dominoes in the pub and after that he suggested going back to his place to take it in turns to smoke his pipe. Well I turned this over in my mind and decided that I didnt want Percy to think I was easy but I was too keen on Percy to let this slip away from me.

So back at Percy's bungalow we're sitting there watching his favourite Antiques Roadshow video when he puts his arm around me and tries to catch a grope of my ribcage. The cheeky bastard! I stormed out of there in tears and vowed never to meet a stranger off the internet again.

I hear he's dead now so I regard the score has being settled.
(, Sun 19 Mar 2006, 11:57, Reply)
Never met him in the flesh...
As a naive 14-y-o, I was having a sleepover wit a schoolfriend; we were having a video-veg in the living room, which was where her mum kept her work computer.
'Oooh, internet!' we thought, and logged on. We looked at some funny pics, read some funny stories, and then logged onto a teeny chatroom to talk about David Duchovny, the X-Files, and David Duchovny (phwoargh).

Pretty soon, we were invited for a "private chat". Soon after that, we left, and vowed never to use chatrooms again. This 16-y-o girl called "Charlotte" (or something) had started typing graphically about the sexual things she wanted Mr Duchovny to do to her. And then that she wanted to watch him doing to us. And then asked us to pretend she was a man and have "him" do to us.

It never crossed our minds that she was anything other than a 16-y-o girl called Charlotte. We never thought that "Charlotte" might be a perverted, sad old man. We just thought she was a bit mental.
(, Fri 17 Mar 2006, 12:52, Reply)
im 36
and i once went to meet what to my understanding was a petite 12 year old. turned out to be a fucking 46 year old bloke that ended up raping me . i didnt like the taste of my own medicine i can tell you that much havent groomed any liccle kiddies since dont fancy another bleeding arse.
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 16:52, Reply)
If Your bad you go to hull
Back when I was 19 I left college and agreed to go and work for my father for a couple of months in a boatyard on Hull, this involved me sitting around, reading the paper and saying things like “I could have my father fire you” whenever someone moaned about my total lack of work and motivation. Now being a country boy from the south Hull was a bit of an eye opener for me, I was particularly intrigued by the ladies of the night (but did not indulge … honest).

Anyway to cut a long story short I’d started talking to some girl who lived on Hull whom we’ll call “A” on AIM a little while before I left for my 2 months of work there, after I got talking to my co workers on my first day, they all invited me out that night. Upon meeting them at a pub called The Dram Shop (if memory serves) it soon became clear that their new purpose in life was to get the bosses son as drunk as possible and extract as many embarrassing stories about my father from me as they could. Now I have never been a violent drunk but a rather emotional one instead so by midnight I’m sat on the floor in the middle of the lobby in the hotel where we are all staying crying my eyes out and telling everyone how they don’t understand me.

The next day I had possibly the worst hangover I have ever experienced, made worse by the fact I was supplied with some coke and mixed my drunks all night, I decided to take things a little easier that night and I text the girl whom I had been talking to on AIM and she said to meet her that evening in The Dram Shop (a bad sign right away). That evening rolled around and I sat at the bar casually looking expectantly at every girl that walked in until in walked what can only be described as a blue haired punk/goth nightmare, now I have done the whole hair dye thing and thought that whatever the evening brought could only be an improvement on the night before so I gave her a chance.

After her mumbling for an hour and me trying to find ways of asking her to repeat everything she said so I might understand it she offered to take me out and about, within 5 minutes of getting into her car we had gone up on pavements, hit dustbins, gone through red lights whilst she played industrial metal as loud as she could, I then noticed there were an alarming amount of knives in the car and when I asked what they were for she just laughed and said “fun”!!!!. Upon arriving outside another pub I asked her how long she’d been driving, her reply was “oh on and off for years, I can only take the car when my parents are out as I don’t have a licence”, It turned out that not only did she not have a driving licence but she had never actually even had a driving lesson. Already startled by my encounter with the female antichrist I then realised she had driven me to the middle of nowhere and I had no idea how to get back to town alone if I had to. Inside I met some of her friends, and watched as a man of about 80 put his cock into the cage that contained a topless dancer (in the pub in the village where I’d grown up all we had was a juke box), for about 20 minutes one of her male friends tried to grab my old chap every chance he got while the rest of them talked about knives, guns and fuck knows what else.

I said i had to go make a call on my mobile outside and then ran as fast as my little legs would carry me, I eventually hailed a taxi and made it back to my hotel and vowed to only to go out with my co workers for the rest of my stay in Hull. I have never been back to Hull since and to be honest have little desire to, nor have I ever entered a chat room again.

This is my first time so you have no choice but to excuse my length
(, Tue 21 Mar 2006, 14:37, Reply)
I win
I met my Mrs on the interweb and she is brill. My wife however, she met me. Poor lass.
(, Sun 19 Mar 2006, 9:16, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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