Funny little thing happened yesterday.
So I’m minding my own business yesterday afternoon in my local city centre boozer in Leeds.
I’ve managed to sneak off from work early, so I’m enjoying a quiet pint to kick start the weekend.
My attention is soon caught by the lady sat next to me; you don’t get many deep American accents in the West Riding – usually just the normal Yorkshire twangs.
She’s most upset at how cold it is. And she wants a small cider – “not a big one in those huge glass cups”, she instructs her acquaintance, on her way to the bar.
She catches my eye and we smile at each other. Now my curiosity is doing overtime. Who is this lady? I recognise her from somewhere – is she in a soap opera or a forgotten 80s band? Can’t place her.
She looks well, although she has that appearance of somebody who’s obviously had a ‘bit of work’ done.
Eventually I realise who it is – but only when I ask her what brings her to the UK, to Leeds and to my local pub.
“I’m here to see a special performance by my late husband at the arena here in Leeds.”
Now I’m slightly confused? – I’ve only had two pints at this stage – promise! A performance by somebody who has passed away – hmmm.
She leans across and tells me who her husband was in a whisper. She then buys me a pint of Coors and allows me to take a quick picture.
Yes, a very surreal evening, but last night I had a pint with Priscilla Presley!
I’m still slightly in shock today, that not only did I chat to somebody who had met Elvis – but somebody who was actually married to him.
Life is sometimes very strange!
Funny little thing happened yesterday.
Michael Jackson’s mother in law too.
This stole valuable time and I want back
Oh I’d only waste it
I once met Liverpool and Scotland defender Steve Nicol at the urinals in the gents at Lilleshall Hall, Shropshire. It was during the England v W Germany Italia 90 semi in the break between extra time and penalties. He was the calmest man in the place.
Did you quote Naked Gun at her?
Some years ago, I was in Chicago, and walked into a busy lift in my hotel. Most people got out on the second floor, leaving me with a tall, middle-aged man who looked a lot like Bill Murray. I wasn’t sure though, so I turned to him and asked ‘who was the best footballer you ever saw?’. As the doors shut he grabbed me in a headlock, drilled the knuckle of the middle finger of his right hand into my temple, smiled to himself and said ‘Paul Scholes of Manchester. And NOBODY’S going to believe this happened!’ Then the doors opened and he walked off.
Accidentally saw Ian Rush’s cock once at Bridlington services.
did it have a little mustache?
Niall Quinn & some other then Man City players crashed my Grandparents’ Diamond Wedding party at the Post House Hotel in Withington
On Thursday morning at approx 4.48 am (I checked my clock after the incident) someone opened my bedroom door cautiously and switched on the main light. I was in bed, but the way my room is laid out, a tall chest of drawers completely blocks the view to the door. As this person stood at the threshold, I said, “what the fuck?” They then retreated and closed the door, but left the light on. The sound of another door being opened and closed was apparent in the hallway… whether it sounded more like the front door or another bedroom door I cannot remember.
I got out of bed in a huff and switched the light off. Then went back to bed very confused, but in a state of fair alertness.
I have quizzed 2 out of 5 housemates about this incident and I am still at a loss to explain who it was.
Today I took the lock to my bedroom door to get a new key cut.
On the first night after one of my friends had just moved into a new shared house someone walked into her room in the middle of the night. He apologised profusely, explained he was one of Rob’s mates and went on his way. Turned out he was a burglar and he stole everyone’s laptop but hers.
Do any of them sleep walk? I once freaked out a then housemate by walking into the kitchen when she was there late one night. She thought I’d come down to ask her to be quiet, but apparently I just walked to the back door, turned round, and went back upstairs again. Had absolutely no memory of this when she asked me about it the next day.
Stranger than encounters*
This is proper horror movie stuff
I was also covered in blood and holding an axe, admittedly.
You’ve clearly not seen many horror films.
My friend once offered a burglar a cup of tea, assuming that he was the bloke her housemate had brought back the night before. He wasn’t.
What happened then?