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People Who Feel Wrong

One summer, I was enjoying a Saturday afternoon drink in a local pub where a bunch of Morris Men were performing outside. One came in to use the loo and for some reason, my radar went ping. It wasn't the costume, it was the fact that as he passed our table, there was a distinct cold breeze as he passed. I commented at the time and when he came back, the same thing. A cold breeze as he walked out. Outside it was sunny, warm and still so it wasn't a draught. And besides, lots of people were coming and going without the same effect.
 
I had a housemate about 5 years who just sort of felt wrong. She was polite and quiet and never caused any trouble but there was something not quite right about her. My other housemate and I used to joke that she was a mermaid because although she was slim and elegant she was very heavy footed as if she wasn't used to using legs. She was always in the shower too and at strange times of night which we used to joke was her keeping her tail wet. She had no idea how to use household appliances such as irons and washing machines and though we used to see her cook, we never saw her eat.
We put is down to her being very young as we thought she was about 19 but she turned out to be 25/26.
 
Wandering around Anglesey with my kids and their mates in my ramshackle camper van years ago, we stopped off at some tatty 'attraction' (can't remember what it was now) and a bloke came up to the lads and started talking to them. I took an immediate dislike, for the following reasons -

1. He spoke to them first without greeting me.
2. I listened to how he talked, and he suddenly switched from a normal voice to a quiet, soothing tone. Like a calming, grooming type of tone.
3. He was wearing a Scout leader uniform, for no reason that I could see.

I walked over to him, looked him in the eye and said 'We're off now.' He looked sort of rumbled.
I wonder if he'd been hoping to lead one off to the bogs?
 
jimv1 said:
One summer, I was enjoying a Saturday afternoon drink in a local pub where a bunch of Morris Men were performing outside. One came in to use the loo and for some reason, my radar went ping. It wasn't the costume, it was the fact that as he passed our table, there was a distinct cold breeze as he passed. I commented at the time and when he came back, the same thing. A cold breeze as he walked out. Outside it was sunny, warm and still so it wasn't a draught. And besides, lots of people were coming and going without the same effect.
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Extra strong mints?
 
escargot1 said:
Wandering around Anglesey with my kids and their mates in my ramshackle camper van years ago, we stopped off at some tatty 'attraction' (can't remember what it was now) and a bloke came up to the lads and started talking to them. I took an immediate dislike, for the following reasons -

1. He spoke to them first without greeting me.
2. I listened to how he talked, and he suddenly switched from a normal voice to a quiet, soothing tone. Like a calming, grooming type of tone.
3. He was wearing a Scout leader uniform, for no reason that I could see.

I walked over to him, looked him in the eye and said 'We're off now.' He looked sort of rumbled.
I wonder if he'd been hoping to lead one off to the bogs?
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Lucky for your kids they had such a watchful mother!

You've just reminded me of something. A few years ago, I dealt with a "professional" (I'll have to be vague here) who I'll call Mr.___. He was immediately off-putting. First, he was extremely rude and insulting, then turned his back on me for the rest of our time together, so obviously this was not a good start. While looking around his office (since otherwise I would just be staring at his back) I noticed the walls were covered with framed drawings from young clients. They were signed with the children's names and age. Something about these drawings really bothered me, but it wasn't clear what. They were all things like "Mr.___is the greatest!" and "Mr.___ is a star!" with drawings of said professional looking like a muscleman or Greek god or something (which is definitely not how he looked in real life). It's easy to understand a person wanting to display gifts, especially from children, but something about these just felt wrong somehow.

Since all the drawings were praising Mr___ and he did seem arrogant and stuck-up, I thought maybe this just rubbed me the wrong way. But still...

After one more visit with Mr.___ that was just as hostile, I decided against ever working with him again.

Not long after that, one of our sons wanted to join a certain boys club, so OH went to talk to the club leaders for the region. OH came back saying absoulutely not, because while one of the leaders seemed fine, the other had the "creepiest child molester vibe he'd ever felt" and he didn't want to risk our son being in contact with the man. The club leader's name? The very same Mr. ___.

It suddenly hit me why the drawings in his office bothered me - they'd all been done by boys, all about the same age. Since Mr.___ didn't only work with children and certainly not only boys of this age, this must have struck me as being "off".

It could be said that these suspicions are unfair because I had no evidence of wrongdoing - and I agree, in principle - but I wasn't going to risk my kids being around him to find out otherwise.
 
When I had just left school I had an appointment to see a careers advisor. The office was in a part of town that I was unfamiliar with, suburban Victorian terraces and semi detached houses. The kind once intended for people to live in but were mostly being used as offices for solicitors, dentists and such. All the buildings looked very similar, with bay windows, small front gardens, stone walls and hedges. It was pouring with rain and I was lost.

I saw two men coming from one of these premises and walking towards a van parked in the road. Soaking wet and desperate (I was young enough to think that missing my appointment would have serious consequences for my future prospects) I asked them if they knew where the careers office was.
“Get in, we’ll drop you off.”, was all one of them said but that was enough to make me turn and run off to catch the next bus home.

I was surprised that I did that, but there were a couple of things about him that spooked me.
Usually when you ask someone directions, they’ll stop and think about it, maybe turning around as they try to visualise where it is you want to be. He didn’t even seem to look at me, just straight ahead at the van.
Secondly, it didn’t seem like an offer more like a command.
 
davidplankton said:
When I had just left school I had an appointment to see a careers advisor. The office was in a part of town that I was unfamiliar with, suburban Victorian terraces and semi detached houses. The kind once intended for people to live in but were mostly being used as offices for solicitors, dentists and such. All the buildings looked very similar, with bay windows, small front gardens, stone walls and hedges. It was pouring with rain and I was lost.

I saw two men coming from one of these premises and walking towards a van parked in the road. Soaking wet and desperate (I was young enough to think that missing my appointment would have serious consequences for my future prospects) I asked them if they knew where the careers office was.
“Get in, we’ll drop you off.”, was all one of them said but that was enough to make me turn and run off to catch the next bus home.

I was surprised that I did that, but there were a couple of things about him that spooked me.
Usually when you ask someone directions, they’ll stop and think about it, maybe turning around as they try to visualise where it is you want to be. He didn’t even seem to look at me, just straight ahead at the van.
Secondly, it didn’t seem like an offer more like a command.
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that's a horrible story.
 
And there was another time, same town. I got off the bus in the station desperate for the toilet. Making my way to it, I saw this fella going in before me. Warning lights went off in my head for some reason. He looked professional somehow and I thought there was something odd about a man like that using a public lav.

I got inside and saw him standing over that side, so I’m going to stand over this side, as far away from him as possible. That meant standing next to a little man wearing a ‘Dennis the Menace’ jumper. It soon became obvious that I had made a mistake in standing next to this guy. He wouldn’t stop staring up at me ( he was about a foot shorter than me and his eyes were pointing in different directions ).

The professional looking man left and there was just the two of us, me unable to do want I had gone in there in the first place for, so I just stared at the wall hoping the little man would stop looking at me and leave.

He zipped up and then went over to the sink. I was watching him out of the corner of my eye, being careful because I could tell he was watching me in the mirror. But he didn’t wash his hands, he just pumped a load of liquid soap into his palm and the went into a cubicle - leaving the door ajar.

I left pretty quickly, deciding I would find a toilet elsewhere. About thirty yards away I turned round and he had come out of the lav and was waving at me.

So neither of them felt right, but only one turned out to be weird.
 
escargot1 said:
His hair tells me all I need to know. He won't accept that he's bald and would rather wear that ridiculously elaborate combover than admit it...
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No, he's clever - very clever. His ridiculously coiffered barnet is actually a camouflaged version of the Israeli Defence Force's mitznefet helmet covering - designed to break up the wearers profile and 'smudge' the outline of the target for potential snipers.

The orange face is another matter: presumably his advisers got mixed up and confused Thomas Paine's venerable and weighty, My First Big Book on How to be an American with Roald Dahl's, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - and now the loon believes that the best way to endear himself to the American public is to look like a fucking Oompa-Loompa.
 
Spookdaddy said:
No, he's clever - very clever. His ridiculously coiffered barnet is actually a camouflaged version of the Israeli Defence Force's mitznefet helmet covering - designed to break up the wearers profile and 'smudge' the outline of the target for potential snipers.

The orange face is another matter: presumably his advisers got mixed up and confused Thomas Paine's venerable and weighty, My First Big Book on How to be an American with Roald Dahl's, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - and now the loon believes that the best way to endear himself to the American public is to look like a fucking Oompa-Loompa.
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LOL :rofl: .... he's going to be the next president though :eek: ... holy shit.
 
Andy Burnham. Just doesn't seem real.

Andy-Burnham_-the-_1530443c.jpg
 
It may just be he's one of the percentage of people who are just not real. Matrix people. Did I mention he's an MP?
 
Maybe these people are different. Aliens, robots, spirit attachments or immortals. What if there really were any or all of these amongst us and we were none the wiser. (Bear with me I've a writers mind lol).
 
davidplankton said:
...desperate for the toilet...unable to do want I had gone in there in the first place for...
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This reminds me of something which scarred me for life. I've always had a bit of a fear of public loos due to my mother terrifying me with tales of strange men who did bad things to little boys. I always went in the ladies' with my mum and must've been about ten before I used a gents' on my own. Even now, I have to lock myself in a cubicle. As a result, I have to be desperate before I'll go in one, be it in the street, a pub, a shop etc.
Many years ago, when I was doing my photography A-level, a friend and I went to Brighton, hoping to get some interesting shots for an architecture project. We'd had a good day and were about to leave for home. I was bursting and knew I couldn't hold it in for the hour or so journey, so went in the nearest loo, which was by the Royal Pavilion.
All the cubicles were locked and I was too far gone to hold on, so urinal it had to be, which didn't feel too bad as there was nobody else there. It had one of those long gutter affairs, rather than individual urinals. I went as far away from the entrance as possible to keep myself to myself and..got on with it.
And then the nasty bit happened. A man came in and, despite there being plenty of space, walked up and stood next to me. I froze. This clearly wasn't normal. Well, it probably is for some people, but not me. I felt very uncomfortable and couldn't wee, even though my bladder was on the verge of explosion. I took what I hoped was a surreptitious glance at his face. He was about late 30s and had his mouth open in a wide smile and quite large eyes, which I remember as bulging, but probably weren't, aiming their glance on my poor little stagefright ridden penis. I also noticed his shoulder was moving about. Still being scared, but now not too concerned what this creepy winkle-watcher thought, I looked down to see he was...well, you can work that out for yourselves, much as he was doing.
I zipped myself up and got out of there quicker than a ferret down a farmer's trousers.
 
A former girlfriend once told me how she was walking home at night with a pal and they were followed for some time by a man who was doing this.
I thought it would be a tricky thing to manage, what with walking at the same time, plus it was in sub-zero temperatures.
 
davidplankton said:
A former girlfriend once told me how she was walking home at night with a pal and they were followed for some time by a man who was doing this.
I thought it would be a tricky thing to manage, what with walking at the same time, plus it was in sub-zero temperatures.
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Hmm, 'walking'...'wanking'; maybe there was a typo in the programming of the bit of his brain that deals with getting from one place to another.
 
My former mother in law was once chased down a street by a man doing this.
 
At the end of last summer after a long, long day at work I went for a drink in one of my favourite bars in Edinburgh, The Bailie: pretty old-school, half decent Guinness, an island bar - great for people-watching.

I'm very sensitive to other people's moods and it was only a few seconds after taking a stool at the bar that I realised something was making the staff edgy (not me, by the way - I look a bit of a thug, but I'm not, and I'm regular enough there for the staff to know that). A young woman - around mid twenties, I'd guess - stepped up to the bar directly to my right hand side. She said something to the guy serving - I don't know what - turned and smiled at me and then stepped back out of my line of site. At which point, and without any apparent conscious involvement on my brain's part, my body tensed and my back suddenly felt very wide and incredibly exposed. I've always trusted my instincts, and they've rarely let me down - I was out of the stool and back against the wall where I could see the whole bar within a very few seconds.

She was clearly pinned - I'd clocked that when she looked at me - but I could see something other than that in her eyes. Everyone is 'wrong' when they are under the influence of drugs - but I've been around the block enough times, and the staff there were experienced enough to know the difference between someone being 'wrong' and someone being really wrong.

The bar staff dealt with her very well: they wouldn't serve her, but were very nice and calm about it, and even called her a cab. The sense of relief when it arrived was palpable. 'There's one that's going to get her name in the papers', I said to the barman. 'Yup', he replied.
 
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