Here's one which surprisingly is almost amusing about the sticky fronted shell suit wearing nonce that was Sir Jim (got one or two more).
A friend of mine is in the specialist upholstery business (rather good at it too as it's a trade that goes back generations in his family). He was called to an event (possibly some sort of motor racing IIRC) a fair few years back to upholster some furniture in one of the VIP trailers they had on site. He spent hours doing it and had just about finished when the VIP himself came in "Now then, now then what (urrr-urr-urr) are you doing down there young man" says ol' Jim to my friend. He explained that he was just finishing up and started packing his tools away, whilst gold chain nonce boy has a look around.
A few minutes go by and Jim goes storming out creating merry hell. Shouting and kicking off. He finds one of the organisers outside and my mate follows them out. Turns out poncy Jim is complaing about the upholstery. that it's not up to scratch, he can't possibly sit on the seats etc.
My mate asks the organiser to go and see that there is nothing wrong with the work he has done, and the pair of them return to the trailer to be hit what appears to be a tear gas attack. Turns out the real reason why 'Britain's Most Loved P'd'o' has vacated the trailer is that he's done the most horrendous stinking turd in the toilet - my mate reckons it must have been about 2 foot long, sticking right out of the water and won't break-up and flush away no matter how much they try.
My mate went outside to get some fresh air just to see the disappearing sight of Jim in the distance away from the scene of the crime - never to return!
