Sir Ben Kingsley acted snobbish around my cat.
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Archived from the IMDb Discussion Forums — Ben Kingsley
ackstasis — 16 years ago(May 26, 2009 12:28 AM)
The year was 2003, and the date November 23. At around 9:27AM, I found myself standing outside the Beech Street Veterinary Hospital in my nearest capital city, midway through the process of coercing my pet feline Snuffles through the establishment's letterbox (she was suffering from indigestion, forced upon her by a rather shady batch of smoked salmon, but that's irrelevant). Her front paws were almost through when I chanced to glance up, only to notice an upright, respectable-looking gentleman striding towards me with the proud gait of a President. I recognised this man, of course, from his IMDb profile.
"You're Ben Kingsley!" I declared when he was within distance, not yet registering the sheer derision with which this man regarded my comparatively tattered clothes and scruffy features. "You played the stuck-up guy in
Without a Clue!
."
He shook his head, and replied "Nein" - apparently he was too good for the English language. "I am Sir Ghandi."
Not only was this character misusing the good name of India's most respected television personality, but apparently he felt the need to spruce it up with arbitrary British titles of nobility.
I didn't let this faze me, though. It's not often that one makes the acquaintance of an Oscar-winning actor. "You were excellent in
Schindler's List
", I told him.
"Of course I was," was Sir Ben's terse reply. "I'm always excellent. But that was a particularly special role. Remember that old lady who walked beside me at the end of the movie? I stole her handbag, even though I didn't need the money."
It was at this scandalous admission that little Snuffles became restless in my arms. Sir Ben took one look at my feline companion, raised a wooden cane from his side (the handle featured a gold-plated reproduction of Sir Ben's 1982 Oscar) and took a vicious swipe at little Snuffles, smirking callously like a trout fisherman who has already caught his limit, but keeps hauling in nets, anyway.
Sir Ben then took several steps away from me, turned, and said "this is the cane from
Citizen Kane
, you know," before turning heel and striding off into the sunset. I've never watched a Sir Ben Kingsley movie since.
Has a5b4nybody else had a similar experience involving Uncle Ben?
Last Film Seen:- Thirteen Days (2000, Roger Donaldson) (8/10)
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PopperTheKungFuDragn — 16 years ago(May 26, 2009 12:45 AM)
It was two years ago that I watched Gandhi (1982) (coincidentally also the year of my birth (not two years ago, but 1982)), and I was on a high and wanted to meet the most famous man from my country who was not a Bollywood Star. I speak of course of Gandhi not Sir Ben Kingsley. Little did I know of course that he had died several years before.
On my arrival at the address that I found on Google, I found Sir Ben Kingsley still dressed as Gandhi occupying the house. I, under the assumption that it was Gandhi, called him Mahathmaji for which he slapped me twice and asked me n16d0ot to be saucy. He was SIR Ben Kingsley, a knighted actor, famous the world over, and not some a$$hole named Mahathmaji. I ran crying all the way the home and have never watched a Ben Kingsley movie since -
Demarates — 16 years ago(June 18, 2009 07:37 AM)
In the summer of 2004 I was walking the streets of sunny Bukarest when all of a sudden an oddly dressed humanoid midget jumped out from a narrow alley and bit me on the wrist. The tiny ratlike creature had really sharp teeth which penetrated my skin. So I cried out in pain and surprise and tried to shake it loose.
Alas, the rodent held on tight and I had to find another way. So I put my arm on the ground and asked bystanders to stomp on the thing. They did, but at first the smelly bugger still didn't budge.
"Dammit, let go of my arm, you little sh!t !" I cried out in frustration.
At once, he released his bite and angrily spat "That's SIR Sh!t to you !" before slipping away into the sewers.
It wasn't until after I watched Bloodrayne (a horribly bad film btw) that I realized that I had been bitten by Be
SIR Ben Kingsley, who was at the time getting in character as the pint-sized vampire Kagan.
NATIONAL SARCASM SOCIETY
Like we need your support -
Demarates — 16 years ago(June 28, 2009 10:52 PM)
And stabs needles in it all the time.
He is also known to throw it down the stairs and yell and curse at it at the top of his lungs.
Nobody knows for sure whether that is because he wanted the role of Captain Picard for himself or whether he's upset over Stewart moving in on the market of pompous sounding Brit slapheads (which SIR Kingsley used to have all to himself) though.
NATIONAL SARCASM SOCIETY
Like we need your support -
blacknyellowsquid — 16 years ago(November 03, 2009 07:11 PM)
acktasis -
Oh Lord, I needed that laugh tonight. Especially this line in the context of the rest, just driving the satirical stake home: " I recognised this man, of course, from his IMDb profile. " -
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Demarates — 15 years ago(June 03, 2010 05:56 AM)
"That's Sir Ben Kingsley to you."
My word, that's exactly what he told his nephew when he overheard him saying "I don't like Uncle Bens rice" at the local supermarket.
Before the poor boy could explain the misunderstanding, SIR Ben Kingsley punched him in the gut and hit him over the head with a frying pan, rendering him unconscious. When he woke up again, he discovered he was in a Taliban training facility.
He was later killed by allied troops near Kunar and SIR Ben Kingsley did not attend the funeral.
Smiling is for the weak. -
ackstasis — 15 years ago(June 14, 2010 06:10 AM)
I can vouch for the authenticity of that story. Being a university librarian in Adelaide, I once spent three months in that very same Iraqi training facil5b4ity. Young Sir Ben Kingsley's Nephew (yes, that was his official name) was a scared little urchin of nine years of age, and he often spent many cold, dark, dimly-lit and darkness-shrouded nights complaining of his famous uncle's unreasonably high standards. According to young Sir Ben Kingsley's Nephew, it was not an uncommon occurrence in the Kingsley household for Sir Ben to hold glamorous celebrity roasts, hosted by Dean Martin, in which the subject of the good-natured roasts was always none other than Sir Ben himself (and, indeed, this was all before he coerced the Queen, by way of a sneakily-won game of blackjack, into bestowing a knighthood upon him).
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Demarates — 15 years ago(August 10, 2010 12:27 AM)
I'm at work and just minutes ago I entered "Ben Kingsley" in the search box at the top of the IMDB-page. First, nothing happened, then my screen started flickering and a box with some sort of live-video feed opened
It was a very angry-looking Ben Kingsley who spat "This will teach you to respect my Knighthood !". Then my screen switched to hard-core gay porn and the volume went way up.
A very awkward moment and the end of my good rep around the office.
Let this be a warning to all of you, it's SIR Ben Kingsley.
Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking. - Bill Maher -
Claptonvaughan — 15 years ago(September 02, 2010 03:26 PM)
His arrogance has gone beyond IMDB and movie-related sites.
I put "Ben Kingsley" into Google and the result page didn't just ask "Did you mean: Sir Ben Kingsley" but instead "You DID mean: Sir Ben Kingsley" before automatically redirecting to his personal site and setting itself as my browser's homepage.
A home page, btw, which is comprised solely of a close up picture of his hand decorated with SEVERAL gaudy, over-sized man-rings. -
ackstasis — 14 years ago(June 08, 2011 07:33 PM)
Thank God! Ive spent the last three hours dragging myself to an internet-enabled computer, to warn you of the (Sir) Ben Kingsley-related ill fortune that has only just befallen me. It all started in early 1943, when Anna Lyna Mary and Rahimtulla Harji Bhanji, following a mutually ill-advised bout of alcoholism, made the decision to coalesce well, perhaps thats going too far back. Most relevant, given their temporal proximity to the incident I seek to detail, are the events that took place this very night.
At an hour not entirely dissimilar from 10:30pm, I was loping across the velvety gaming-room of Aspinalls Casino in the hopes of squandering the betting activities of my grand-uncle, a wealthy industrialist gambling addict with a particular penchant for the Roulette Wheel. As I reached the Roulette table, I was astonished to find that the wealthy visitor recklessly jettisoning his finances was not my dear great-uncle, as I had supposed, but the esteemed, celebrated, and revered actor of British cinematic folklore, Sir Ben Kingsley
.
Highly embarrassed by this inexplicable faux pas, I offered my heartfelt apologies to Sir Ben for my sudden entrance, and for the sweaty hand that I had placed so forcefully on his left shoulder. The Oscar-winning thespian said not a word in reply, communicating his utter contempt only through a distasteful raise of his eyebrow. It might have ended there, but in my hurry to withdraw I accidentally tripped on the gold-embossed rose petals that had been scattered for Sir Bens walking pleasure, and my flailing hand knocked four 100,000 chips from Sir Bens tightly-clenched fist. The chips landed on red, just as the roulette wheel creaked to a stop on the colour black.
The watching crowd waited with bated breath for Sir Bens reaction to this turn of events. But he simply waved away the loss with it is nothing; I will make it back with my next Uwe Boll movie before gently taking me by the shoulder and steering me away from the Roulette table.
I cannot get angry at you, my boy, spoke Sir Ben delicately and confidentially. For, owing to my superiority in practically all respects, artistic or otherwise, it would be like berating a dog for barking too loudly.
By now, Sir Bens firm grasp had directed me to the casinos second-floor balcony, which was strangely devoid of romantic couples or cancerous chain-smokers. I said nothing, still fearful of the actors wrath.
No, I am not going to hurt yo2000u, laughed Sir Ben, perhaps having recognised my anxious features. The God of the New Testament is, after all, a magnanimous being.
This remark caught me by surprise. Im sorry, what?
Sir Bens faced darkened somewhat. Why do you think they asked me to narrate the 2007 animated film,
The Ten Commandments?
That is a role fit only for a deity.
But the Lord was actually voiced by Elliot Gould. Does that make him more of a god than you?
I was suddenly hurled through the air, and my body clattered against the railing of the balcony. Sir Ben was livid, his eyes glinting maniacally in the moonlight.
NOBODY IS MORE OF A GOD THAN ME! he cried.
But Elliot Gould even has the word
God
hidden in his surname.
Sir Ben not content with having the word
King
in his surname was enraged by this remark, and stormed towards me. Lifting my filthy, working-class body into the air by the collar of my flannel shirt, he held me over the balcony railing, where my feet kicked ineffectually in mid-air.
Dear God, I cried. Please dont hurt me.
Sir Bens reply was cold and soulless. Dear man I do what I want.
Luckily, I landed on Hugh Grant.
The large print giveth, and the small print taketh away. -
Demarates — 14 years ago(June 11, 2011 08:59 PM)
It took me years of therapy but I am now able to openly talk about a childhood trauma I experienced.
As a boy of about 8 years old living in Norway, I watched Sir Ben Kingsley club two young seals to death. He then went on to skin them and make a hat from those skins.
Not the animals, I mean, but
actual
US Navy Seals.
All the way through he was singing : "Camptown ladies sing dis song, Doo-dah! doo-dah ! Camptown race-track five miles long, Oh, doo-dah day !"
It was quite upsetting.
"The elderly, they seem friendly enough, but can you really trust them ?"