“Stu the Lurker”
A few summers back, perhaps around 2006 I received a text message from someone calling themselves “Stu the Lurker”. Which was not altogether surprising; the previous night I had gone to the high road and bought myself a mobile SIM card for £3 and topped it up with £10, I posted an advert on the Gumtree online notice board [advert deleted], the advert read “I despair I really do… 07*** *** ***” and a link to an early video experiment which was to turn in to the ludicrously grandly titled Porn Negative Space.A week passed, I had received no response. The week-long sloshing around of feelings of relief, panic, excitement and disappointment began to settle, finding themselves landing in the familiar greasy grooves left by Disappointment’s ample buttocks.
Armed only with a family-sized multipack of walkers-imitation crisps, I connected on to one of the six unsecured networks which my neighbours give to me out of pity or alms [I daren’t ask] and waited for yet another Friday night of Quake Live [if you need an example]. When I saw the automatic updates loading bar and loading twinkling rectum animations I almost flew into a fit of staring
luckily I was spared the indignity of searching for my eyedrops by the unfamiliar sound of a text message alert. It was then that I noticed I had not removed the SIM card from when I had first posted the message on Gumtree a week before. I allowed myself to indulge in a moments worth of anger at the fantastical messages I had missed out on, messages opening doors of social possibilities, opening up further doors with even more possibilities, doors marked “Possibility of Fun”, fecund doors, doors multiplying… until I was swallowed by the thoughts of door-cancer. Patting my heart down I reassured myself that there would be nothing there and went to see what the text message was.
Hello you, Stu the Lurker here. I like your video... Email me more when you make some: email@example.com. Thanks. I replied quickly and wasn't very interesting "Cheers. Will do."
And as requested emailed him a link to the next Porn Negative Space video I made [removed from YouTube]. After some brief email exchanges spaced out over a few months, Stu asked me if I would make some videos for him, I told him I could be potentially interested, besides I was curious enough for him to tell me what he had in mind. I did not hear back from Stu for several months, I re-sent the email of my interest in his video ideas and waited again. One very early morning I was awoken by the sound of a text message alert [I had got in to the habit of switching my regular SIM with my “voices-from-the-internet” SIM at night]. It was Stu.
"I am busy. Will email soon."
I was relieved and confused, this time my emotional jelly finally settling in the anxiety mould. I wondered what dusty cogs I had accidentally set in motion, what snuff films I may become accredited producer for. Stu eventually contacted me via email asking to set up a “drop-point” where he could leave and I could collect some audio recordings he had made on to cassette. He wrote of a mysterious “shout-out war” and seemed quite keen on not revealing more “as all would be revealed” when he dropped off the tapes.
I oughtn’t bother you with the logistics of sorting out the mixture of such a cinematic “drop off point”, a character like Stu the Lurker and my easily-agitated nervous system. In short, it involved a pub which I thought he wouldn’t want to linger in or outside of, one with a reputation exceeding anything it deserved. On the third “drop” I returned home empty-handed after much fondling and fingering of the underguts of the sofa, as I approached the entrance to my block of flats I noticed a Jiffy bag leaning against a recycling bin’s wheel. I picked up the package and was already writing an “I am actually pissed off Stu” email in my head as I took the lift. There was an email waiting for me, Stu seemed to have anticipated my reaction but appealed to my laziness and his anxiety of losing a cassette of his precious recordings to a stranger. I gave in.
Currently I have merely uploaded a few of Stu’s recordings to YouTube for the sake of archiving whilst I toy around with ideas of how to better present them. Stu insists I start making videos of his text messages and has threatened to start leaving voicemails to be used as audio which I would attach videos to “tell his stories”. God knows what will come of this.
Any way. Thus far:
The “Shout-Out War Collection” with Stu the Lurker texting pirate radio stations:
Stu the Lurker texting “Mad Al” on Passion FM
[Skip to Stu’s shout-out just before end of video .]
Stu the lurker taping passion fm with “Mad Al”.
Shout-outs are not to be confused with public proclamations of friendships, a point which I have been trying to convince Stu of for years now, to no avail.
This is the first of many recordings he has sent me.
You can almost hear the loneliness on the tapes themselves, amongst the faint residue of whatever had been previously on the tape bleeding through into this recording. Stu tells me new cassette tapes are hard to come by.
Stu The Lurker texts Laylow FM’s DJ Slide:
[Skip to 4min. 50 secs to hear the shout-out]
Stu the lurker gives a shout-out to his telescope which he rigs up on his balcony, Stu has affectionately nicknamed the peeper-aid “Charlotte”.
The idea that Stu would be having a barbeque and poncing about on a social balcony is absurd, but I suppose Dj Slide of Laylow FM couldn’t possibly have guessed how this creature lives.
You can hear “Jack the Hat”, Stu’s nemesis, get a shout-out straight after – a rare occasion where two of the most competitive shout-outers on the London pirate radio waves appear back-to-back on the same station at the same time.
Stu left me several psychotic voicemails after this night, claiming “Jack the Hat” had made it clear in his coded shout-out that the truce in the shout-out war was over.
Stu no longer feels safe on his balcony.
He now stores Charlotte in a locked cupboard, wrapped in satin, he fears for her life.
Stu the Lurker Texts Laylow FM’s DJ Alibi
[Skip to 5 min. 30 secs. for the shout-out.]
Stu was obviously lonely and, more than likely, as terrified as a shivering puppy over the fireworks season.
In this new tape Stu spreads his fantasy life rather thickly with the introdcution of yet another female friend [Kelly] and in his idiosyncratically coded form, I believe this is a cry for help after burning his thumb on a sparkler.
This tape smelt a bit like TCP.
Stu the Lurker Texts True FM’s DJ Blitz:
[The first section DOES NOT have Stu the Lurker’s now infamous paddling pool shout out, but has some great moments which Stu felt needed including]:
The “infamous” paddling pool shout-out [or so Stu insists is the case].Oh dear. DJ Blitz got Stu’s name wrong, to be fair he IS dj-ing in his boxers.
I can only imagine this summer’s night must have been soggy with tears.
[Skip to 3 min. 43 sec. for Stu the Lurker’s text]: