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Your lame claims to fame


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We've had plenty of mentions on here of great claims to fame in the forms of celebrity encounter. With Keith Houchen turning out to be the lifetime winner in this category, and with me having just posted my "nan weighed baby Davy Jones" story, I think it's time we turned our attention to the more tenuous connections.


So the rules are:


* Your claim must have an intermediary step. You cannot have deal/interacted with the celebrity yourself. Hence the fact I once saw Ian Duncan Smith on a train doesn't count. (He's the only man I've ever seen with negative charisma.)


* The claim must involve a closer form of interaction other than "saw him in the supermarket, got his autograph."


* Ideally you want a lame celebrity, a particularly strained connection, or both.


To kick off:


An ex-girlfriend previously went out with a man who wrote songs for the Beautiful South and claimed he'd written How Long's a Tear Take To Dry about her. He was probably lying.


I slept with a woman who'd previously turned down the saxophonist from ABC.


My former boss's husband once punched Derek Hatton in his kitchen. He later saved Sammy Lee (Liverpool, not Sayama) from choking.


My wife's dad went out with the sister of Noel Redding, the bass player for Jimi Hendrix.


My junior school headmistress was a direct descendant of Captain Oates, as in "I am just going outside and may be some time."


The girl who lived opposite me and with whom I had my first proper kiss is now married to the keyboard player in Keane.


My housemate worked at the desk next to the mum of Emma from Big Brother series 5.

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My dad's cousin went to St. Mirin's Secondary School in Paisley and was in the same year/class as Joe Egan of Stealers Wheel. He stayed in the same scheme as Gerry Rafferty and former Celtic defender/manager Davie Hay, who were in the year below them. He used to do a milk run in the mornings with Hay.

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I was the last 'official' visitor to step into Roker Park. We were the last school to go on the trip and I turned up late, so I was at the back. As we were going through the turnstiles, this bloke in a suit said "whats your name" and I replied "The BarbarIAN, sir" and he noted me down. On the afternoon as the Sunderland staff and tour guides were talking about how the club is moving forward, the expectations of the club floating on the stockmarket and if any of us wanted any Dariusz Kubicki keyrings they had on offer, the same bloke turned up in a suit and tie and said my name and gave me a Hall of Fame-esque speech about how I was the last man standing. I got the previous season's (the tight bastards) Sunderland shirt and I was in the paper and in the club programme. They way they were treating me that day, I thought they were going to give me a run out alongside Phillips. It was a really hot, summer's day as well. I have great memories of it.


The match programme for the game following the destruction of Roker Park was the highest selling programme in the clubs history as well. I draw money. Me and Status Quo had them hanging from the rafters, that day. Rats everywhere.


EDIT: Actually that isnt even lame. I'm a big star.

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