My Mum used to be Roy Woods Girlfriend at school. and used to hang around with Robert plant and a few other who ended up being successful
Anybody Famous For Anything?
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Not so much a claim to fame, more an odd situation involving myself and famous folks, that folks might find entertaining.
Following a particularly drunken night out, I stumbled into work the following morning, with a coffee and a bacon butty intent on soothing the misdeeds of the previous night away. I made it to the lifts ok, but as I waited for one to arrive, my innards stirred and I soon believed I was in danger of redecorating the lobby with a rainbow yawn.
I quickly decided to seek out a bathroom and headed through a door, which I believed would lead me to one.
Convinced it was no longer a question of if, but now a matter of when my stomach would commence evacuation procedures and increasing desperate to find a suitable receptacle for it to evacuate into; you can imagine my distress and surprise when the passage beyond the door I entered, led not to a bathroom as I had hoped, but instead a small room containing a table surrounded by three sofas, upon each of which were sat three rather startled men.
The then Prime Minister Tony Blair, the Chancellor Gordon Brown and the Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott.
We all eyed each other in bewildered silence for what felt like a lifetime. I could think of nothing to say, so remained mute. And, this momentary tight lippedness on my part, did encourage my stomach to cease attempting to evacuate its content via my oral orifice.
Which was good.
But obviously a bit put out, my stomach decided to make its displeasure know by refocusing its attention on the orifice at the other end of the plumbing and the silence was broken by a noise akin to a sweaty Mexican hand clap.
Which was not so good also, the small room had no windows.
Fearing the follow through and concentrating furiously on the muscle groups to prevent doing so, I initially ignored the Prime Minister when he surprisingly politely asked
"Can I help you?"
Still mute and still marshalling my defences against an unwanted sold movement, the best I response I could muster was pointing at myself and attempt to mime 'Who? Me?' With nodding encouragement from the DMP, I then managed actual vocalisation and as confidently as I was able to, I advised the executive triumvirate
"Erm, I was looking for the bathroom?"
"It must be one of the doors on the other side of the lifts?" the PM speculated after a thoughtful pause.
"Right" I agreed purely for the purpose of saying something, anything. Silence then reigned again, but my brain finally slipped into gear and seeing an opportunity, I found myself asking
"So any chance of an autograph fellas?"
Smirking, the PM then the DPM signed a campaign flyer from the table and after a moments reluctance, the Chancellor followed suit. As GB handed the flyer to me, I pushed my luck joking
"Good job I'm not armed with anything more offensive than a caffe mocha and bacon sandwich, eh?"
I had pushed my luck too far.
"You're F@#king lucky you're not!" the DPM advised me, then two meaty hands dropped upon my shoulder and I was turned about to face two equally meaty men with uncomplicated expressions and in short order was evacuated from the room.
After having my particulars taken, being frisked, asked to explain how I found myself in the small room by a more senior, but equally uncomplicated man and then recreating my journey from the lifts to the small room for all three men, it was decided the neither my now cold breakfast nor myself were a threat to national security and I was allowed to head up to my office.
When I finally got to my desk and recounted my 'adventure' for the benefit of my co-workers, none of them believed me.
So I left them to their lack of belief, made my way to the kitchen area, blitzed my breakfast in a microwave, found an unoccupied meeting room, locked the door, drew the blinds, enjoyed my breakfast, settled down to have a little kip and dreamed of meeting people off the telly in comedic situations.
This was a Friday morning. Arriving at work on the Monday morning, I was amused to see a walk through X-Ray scanner type gizmo had been installed just inside the office building entrance and there was now an abundance of large, uncomplicated men deterring any unauthorised folks from entering the doors that led to the Labour party offices.
Two of them winked at me.
With the arrival of this OTT security, most of my co-workers grudgingly conceded that the apparently tall tale I had told on the Friday, was probably true and even remaining doubters had to concede defeat when I opened a small package on my desk, which turned out to be some Pepto-Bismol sent from the office of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Which did make me chuckle at the time. And, I hope my recounting this little encounter has provided a chuckle for you all too.
Atb.
Colin
Following a particularly drunken night out, I stumbled into work the following morning, with a coffee and a bacon butty intent on soothing the misdeeds of the previous night away. I made it to the lifts ok, but as I waited for one to arrive, my innards stirred and I soon believed I was in danger of redecorating the lobby with a rainbow yawn.
I quickly decided to seek out a bathroom and headed through a door, which I believed would lead me to one.
Convinced it was no longer a question of if, but now a matter of when my stomach would commence evacuation procedures and increasing desperate to find a suitable receptacle for it to evacuate into; you can imagine my distress and surprise when the passage beyond the door I entered, led not to a bathroom as I had hoped, but instead a small room containing a table surrounded by three sofas, upon each of which were sat three rather startled men.
The then Prime Minister Tony Blair, the Chancellor Gordon Brown and the Deputy Prime Minister John Prescott.
We all eyed each other in bewildered silence for what felt like a lifetime. I could think of nothing to say, so remained mute. And, this momentary tight lippedness on my part, did encourage my stomach to cease attempting to evacuate its content via my oral orifice.
Which was good.
But obviously a bit put out, my stomach decided to make its displeasure know by refocusing its attention on the orifice at the other end of the plumbing and the silence was broken by a noise akin to a sweaty Mexican hand clap.
Which was not so good also, the small room had no windows.
Fearing the follow through and concentrating furiously on the muscle groups to prevent doing so, I initially ignored the Prime Minister when he surprisingly politely asked
"Can I help you?"
Still mute and still marshalling my defences against an unwanted sold movement, the best I response I could muster was pointing at myself and attempt to mime 'Who? Me?' With nodding encouragement from the DMP, I then managed actual vocalisation and as confidently as I was able to, I advised the executive triumvirate
"Erm, I was looking for the bathroom?"
"It must be one of the doors on the other side of the lifts?" the PM speculated after a thoughtful pause.
"Right" I agreed purely for the purpose of saying something, anything. Silence then reigned again, but my brain finally slipped into gear and seeing an opportunity, I found myself asking
"So any chance of an autograph fellas?"
Smirking, the PM then the DPM signed a campaign flyer from the table and after a moments reluctance, the Chancellor followed suit. As GB handed the flyer to me, I pushed my luck joking
"Good job I'm not armed with anything more offensive than a caffe mocha and bacon sandwich, eh?"
I had pushed my luck too far.
"You're F@#king lucky you're not!" the DPM advised me, then two meaty hands dropped upon my shoulder and I was turned about to face two equally meaty men with uncomplicated expressions and in short order was evacuated from the room.
After having my particulars taken, being frisked, asked to explain how I found myself in the small room by a more senior, but equally uncomplicated man and then recreating my journey from the lifts to the small room for all three men, it was decided the neither my now cold breakfast nor myself were a threat to national security and I was allowed to head up to my office.
When I finally got to my desk and recounted my 'adventure' for the benefit of my co-workers, none of them believed me.
So I left them to their lack of belief, made my way to the kitchen area, blitzed my breakfast in a microwave, found an unoccupied meeting room, locked the door, drew the blinds, enjoyed my breakfast, settled down to have a little kip and dreamed of meeting people off the telly in comedic situations.
This was a Friday morning. Arriving at work on the Monday morning, I was amused to see a walk through X-Ray scanner type gizmo had been installed just inside the office building entrance and there was now an abundance of large, uncomplicated men deterring any unauthorised folks from entering the doors that led to the Labour party offices.
Two of them winked at me.
With the arrival of this OTT security, most of my co-workers grudgingly conceded that the apparently tall tale I had told on the Friday, was probably true and even remaining doubters had to concede defeat when I opened a small package on my desk, which turned out to be some Pepto-Bismol sent from the office of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Which did make me chuckle at the time. And, I hope my recounting this little encounter has provided a chuckle for you all too.
Atb.
Colin
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Been on telly a few times through work. Last one was on four in a bed when the contestants came canoeing with us. Made me laugh cos the boss was desperately trying to get into every shot an I just hung around at the back. I got most of the airtime he got about 3 seconds.
I was famous for something but the judge had it expunged from my record!
lol
In all seriousness though not famous for anything
Dave
lol
In all seriousness though not famous for anything
Dave
I'm not famous for anything.
I was a Red Cross volunteer at a cycling event once. Not a huge event, but there were some big names - top Tour de France cyclists among them.
Some boys with blocnotes and pens asked me if I could just open the fences for them, so that they could get on the track. I had to refuse.
Then one of them asked me "Sir, are you famous?"
Surprised, I answered "No".
He turned to his friend with a sigh and said "I want an autograph of someone famous."
That taught me something about fame.
I was a Red Cross volunteer at a cycling event once. Not a huge event, but there were some big names - top Tour de France cyclists among them.
Some boys with blocnotes and pens asked me if I could just open the fences for them, so that they could get on the track. I had to refuse.
Then one of them asked me "Sir, are you famous?"
Surprised, I answered "No".
He turned to his friend with a sigh and said "I want an autograph of someone famous."
That taught me something about fame.
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I write books. Been translated into at least 8 or 9 languages and shortlisted for a few literary prizes. Had an appointment with my new GP this morning and turns out he's a big fan. That was nice - but it's still somewhat depressing when your GP is young enough to call himself a fan of yours.
greensurfingbear
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
I'm on the local radio station once a month doing a park round up. Oh and held my high school record for the 100, 200 and 400m running.... Most importantly I won the egg and spoon race at nursery
Orric
Orric
In 1983 I was a member of a Mountaineering expedition to Nepal and in particular to a mountain by the name of Cholatse, just south of Everest. We didn't succeed in getting to the top due to one of the members suffering altitude sickness but, and here's the 'fame' bit ..... I did dance a morris jig at 20,400ft and I swear that Roy Castle emulated this feat on record breakers by dancing on a cardboard mountain in a TV studio.
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