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This is a question Never Meet Your Heroes

They're bound to disappoint - like the time we booked Wayne Hussey for the B3ta Radio Show. Five minutes before we're due to record, Wayne
phones, lost on the M25 with his Brazilian wife screaming in the background. Not so much the King of Goth, as a hen-pecked flake.

(, Thu 25 May 2006, 14:17)
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I was a little child, maybe 5, on a ferry to France.
"OMG", thought my tiny, sugar-addled mind, "ITZ TOM N JERRY!1!11!1". I was not wrong; there stood a giant Tom and giant Jerry: my two favourite cartoon characters, their crazy adventures bringing joy to me in ways that nothing else can.

"I WANNA HUG", I prepubescently growled, running up to the massive, brown mouse. A look of sheer glee stretched across my ugly little face as I wrapped my snotty fingers into his coarse, sexual fur. "JERRY", I honked, "WHY HAVE YOU GOT SUCH HAIRY ARMS?".

"You silly little cunt", he replied, "I am a mouse. Of course I have hairy arms."

"FINE, BUT WHY ARE YOU WEARING A WATCH?", I foghorned, stepping back.

"Because I'm a fucking 38 year old man who's only doing this job so I can pay for coke and whores after the holiday. I fucking hate kids. I fucking hate you. You are a disgusting, snotty little brat, and I would become a paedophile just to get my revenge on nasty little shits like you, but unfortunately I'm too repulsed to even consider rodgering you. Now get out of my sight before I stab you to death and dump your carcass in the sea."

So I went and hugged Tom instead. He was my favourite anyway.
(, Thu 25 May 2006, 21:42, closed)

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