KITTEN!
My kitten is cute little thing. Sweet, fluffy, playful, etc.

But if you ever pick her up to put her in her cat box to go to the vet, she becomes somewhat different. Evil, some might say.

She once went into such a fit that she left a rather deep 4 inch scratch all the way down my wrist. Which scarred.

Now every time I go out wearing shortsleeves I always catch the new person I'm talking to making a quick glance towards my wrist, followed swiftly by a "ohmygod he's tried to kill himself" face.

Once - in that precise situation - I came out straight away with: "tell you what, buy me another drink or I'll cut the other one". I've never seen such a look of horror before or since.
(meat katie rocked the other nite and also on, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 22:05, 3 replies)

Attacked by my cats fleas
ok, I'm not entirely sure if this counts...
I bought my flat a couple of years ago - one of the plus points about it was that it has its' own entrance, so I could get a cat. I could never imagine a life without one, so when the opportunity came up to have one, I signed up with the Cats Protection League. The lovely lady on the end of the phone said I'd be ideally suited to an "old lady cat" - an old cat who was happy with a quiet life, not a kitten, basically. Oddly enough, my mate phoned up the next day, to ask if I could take his 10 year old mog. "Fate" I thought to myself. So I took on who is now known as The Furry Menace. She has utterly taken over my life with her grumps and her general food-centric life. "What does this have to do with being attacked?" I hear you ask...
Well, within a couple of months of her residing in my lovely new flat, I noticed that the anti-flea-shit I was using REALLY wasn't working. They were jumping off her & all over me. I took her to the vet, who prescribed something for her, and a cannister of something that should have dealt with the living room which was now crawling with the evil bouncy fuckers. I couldn't sit on the sofa without checking the base of it every half hour & picking off the fleas & squishing the bastards between my nails. It got to the stage where I had to take up the carpets & install laminate flooring. That didn't work. I had to call the Rentokill man round. Twice. Night-fucking-mare. We finally managed to call the flat a flea free zone about 3 months later. On the upside, I did manage to embarrass the Rentokill man when he asked me if there was an "activity in the bedroom"... Happy days lol
( Whodathunkit, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 20:36, 1 reply)

Black Beauty
For a mate's birthday recently a group of us gentlemen decided to do what gentlemen of leisure do - head off for a night on the tables of the Tees Valley's finest casino... the name of which escapes me.

A night of merrily losing money and sobriety was had by all, but in the minibus on the way home one of the party, G, decided he had to be violently sick IMMEDIATELY RIGHT NOW. Nothing especially noteworthy about that, we thought, as we pulled over on the hard shoulder to let him paint his shoes. G runs up the embankment, stumbles to his knees and has just started throwing up when a horse with more than a passing resemblance to Black Beauty appears out of the darkness beyond the fence. BB seems quite excited by G's predicament, and after much whinnying and suchlike proceeds, for reasons known only to himself, to cock a leg and let loose a frankly magnificent stream of piss over G's hunched, shuddering, still puking frame.

He walked the rest of the way home.
(sinbad, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 19:57, 2 replies)

Ewww
I'm out in Singapore. Just arrived. Nursing a post 16-hour flight beer, and sitting outside a local eatery. Something itches on the back of my neck, so I go to scratch it, and my fingers close on something. I throw it away, upon inspection it looks like a big green ant, about one and a half inches long.

I'm still itching just thinking about it.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 19:18, Reply)

double adder bite
I was planning to go to the Hampshire Country Show, with my baby son in the baby sling, I arrived at the entrance to find that it was seven quid to get in. Well, I wasn't paying that to go and see some oversized veg, checked shirts and prize bullocks, so I wandered into the undergrowth, trying to find a mother and baby sized gap in the fence. Little did I know what was lurking in the undergrowth...then it struck, I heard two hissing sounds and felt a searing pain on the back of both my calves. I had been bitten by an adder. Either once by an adult adder or I had stepped on a nest and been bitten by two baby snakes. In a panic, I ran back to the gate "help, I have been bitten by an adder... maybe two... is there a St. Johns Ambulance in there that I can go to? (Tinking to myself that this was a stunt I could play next time I wanted to get in somewhere for free). Once I was in there the St. Johns Ambulance people said "don't be silly, it's just a horse fly bite" "but it's got two fangy marks and there are two, one on each calf, look!" But they just said sit down dear, here put an ice pack on it. Needless to say, I lived to tell the tale and stumbled home, still in quite a panic (my son, however, slept through the whole thing). I rang the doctor when I got in, and he said "Yes it sounds like an adder bite. If you aren't dead by now you are going to be fine!" That was reassuring.
(themothers, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 18:08, Reply)

I brought it upon myself.
I once bit the cat on the stomach. Think facehuggers from alien.

CLAMP.

Mum couldn't get her off because she was laughing too hard.
( ClanSoul, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 16:22, 3 replies)

dobermans
When I was young, that's quite a long time ago now. I was at my Dad's house and he was looking after a friends dog (big black doberman - think that's how it's spelt :S). Anyway, as I walked across the kitchen to get a drink, it attached me for no reason. Thankfully, out of complete shock, I stayed still and didn't move. To this day I still have the scars where it got a hold of me. NEVER, believe a dog owner who says that there dogs don't bite. They can turn at any stage and become devils out to attack! Not really a tale of survival but it felt like it at the time!
( lafleur likes cheese, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 15:40, 3 replies)

Poor little joey...
I'm racing along a dirt track in a fairly remote area in Far North Queensland. I'm responding to a trail bike rider with multiple fractures and a kangaroo steps out in front of the ambulance.
Cue one suddenly very dead roo, so I drag him, or possibly her, to the side of the road and continue on to the patient. I'm telling this story later to a woman who is a carer for injured wildlife.
She asks me if I checked the pouch to see if there was an alive joey.
That never occurred to me then or before and I suffered a very restless night wondering if I had condemned a baby roo to a lonely death.

Then again, his mum did crack my headlight cover, the thoughtless bitch.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 15:02, 1 reply)

pot-head moo cows of fear
When i was at school i smoked a lot of weed, usually at lunchtimes. This was in Beverley (E. Yorkshire) and it was only two minutes walk to Westwood, which had many fine woody hiding places to sit in and have a joint. It was a lovely place if you could avoid the cow shit.

One time i went for a joint with a mate, as per usual, in this nice little dip so we could not be seen and avoid the wind at the same time.

And lo! Joints wee smoked and all was well. Until we decided to go back to school and saw that this dip was entirely surrounded by cows. Completely. It was cows all around us, shoulder to shoulder. It seems like the entire herd had been attracted to the smell and decided to come and see what it was, or something.

We waited to see if they'd go away, but instead they all started edging closer to us bit by bit.

Although they never actually attacked us, we were fucking shitting ourselves as it looked like they were about to.

We actually had to physically push a cow out of the way to get out, before screaming like sissy girls and running away as fast as we could.
(MrTrent cannot think of a clever sig., Sun 27 Apr 2008, 14:37, 1 reply)

Legless' thieving goose story reminded me
of the time we (nearly) saw a swan attack.

Outside the office was a canal, with the banks "gentrified" when the shiny new offices were built. Inhabiting the canal were various kinds of duck, and a pair of swans.

We had watched the swans building a nest and were looking forward to the hatching of the cygnets.

So this one day, the landscape guys are out tidying up the banks, and pulling assorted crap out of the canal. They were wearing waders, not chest waders, but thigh waders. They were working opposite sides of the canal and we watched as one of them got closer and closer to the swans' nest. (We weren't exactly busy that day.)

Eventually, he got that wee bit too close to the nest, and big daddy swan (yes, I know, it's called a cob, but we always called him big daddy swan) objected. I mean, he really, really objected.

He chased the poor guy, neck stretched out at full length, wings flapping like fury, beak going mental. There's the poor gardener, thigh waders seriously impeding his escape, belting along as fast as he could go, and safely behind triple glazed windows were half a dozen office working pissing themselves laughing.

The chase ended when he jumped into the works' van and closed the door, red faced and knackered. The cob folded his wings neatly, and calmy returned to the nest, his walk even more of a proud strut than usual.

Swan 1 - Gardener 0
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sun 27 Apr 2008, 12:30, Reply)

This should suffice...

vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=2016830067

Terrifying, possibly.
(spangledonkey I've got a mouse. His name is Gerald., Sun 27 Apr 2008, 12:04, 1 reply)

Animals are a good judge of character
Ex-Mr Monkey is twunt on a major scale. It takes most people a few meeting to see that, animals on the other hand can spot it right away (yeah for animals).

One occasion we went for a walk, bumped into a mate walking her dog. Dog makes a fuss of me, makes a fuss of Monkey jrs, goes up to ex as if to make a fuss of him but instead bites him. Not a major attack but I love that Dog!! (He is still the only person that Dog has ever biten)

Length - only seconds but he moaned about his hand hurting for ages.
(icklemonkey, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 11:10, 1 reply)

Attacked by Tom Selleck's Moustache
In Goa. I was staying in a mucky llittle room just off the beach as it was nearest to the bar as I could get.
Woke up from my daily Siesta and proceeded to get dressed. Picked my Jeans up off the floor, put them on and set off. A few seconds later, walking down towards the beach I noticed my right leg tingling just below the knee.
'Oh no, I've got ants in me pants' I thought. Better go back home and check it out.
Back in the room I took off the jeans and turned them inside out to be greeted by the biggest blackest furriest caterpillar i've ever seen. About the size of Tom Selleck's moustache, but with more fur.
I screamed like a girl, threw the jeans on the floor and shook for a bit as I watched the beast wriggle about. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.
A minute or two later, composing myself back into a state of manliness, I smashed it to bits with a flip-flop, put some shorts on, went out and got drunk.
I was assured it wasn't dangerous but my leg tingled for about a month after.
(Tirtingsquirtle, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 10:06, Reply)

pearoast
cocks can be cruel
My friend is a farmer. The least likely looking farmer you'll meet. he looks like a young Rolf Harris. and is pretty arty to boot.
He rang me up one evening to tell me that a rooster kept attacking him. it would wait til he would come into the field and then launch himself at his face. his father kept making up excuses to send him into the field just so he could laugh at the hi-jinx. now my friend has glasses, which i pointed out should form some kind of protection. i also pointed out that HE WAS A SIX FOOT FARMER FROM THE WEST OF IRELAND and this animal isn't something he should he should be scared of!He replied "But he's fast, and agile"...to which i suitably burst out laughing.
a few Days later he rang me and told me that he had tried to fight of the rooster with a brush, it didn't work so he just threw the brush at the rooster. i only wish i could have seen the goofiness but the mental images are priceless.

i mean really unless the rooster was like the one Peter has a on going battle with in Family Guy, this is not a creature a grown man should be scared of

eventually the rooster became too cocky (ahem) and started attacking his father. Who broke his neck.

Apparently although kind of tough, it was the most satisfying meal my friend ever had. The wuss.
(electrogirl no one thinks about the implications of a clown su, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 9:41, Reply)

This could be construed as an animal 'attack'.
As a solitary man living off the land I regularly dine hugely off of roadkill.

A few weeks ago, I partook of a vindaloo of ferret, I found my quarry on the A44 just outside Moreton-in-the-marsh. His head had just been pressed flatter than Keira Knightley's chest by a passing 25 tonner, but his body, where all officionadoes will tell you is where the best meat is (I'm not aversed to offal, but lets be honest, a ferret's brain being even smaller than Alistair Darling's wouldn't feed a pensioner on a starvation diet), was intact and still plump and juicy.

I took the little fella home (I'm normally against the idea of naming animals but I decided to call this one 'Prescott'), skinned him, and fried his liver and all the good meat up placing him into a pot with some gee, Garam Masala, onions, and peppers and left him to broil for a few hours.

My culinary expertise would've had Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall smiling and, dare I add, nursing a semi.

Served with a small portion of wild rice, he was a truly tasty treat, succulent and fulsome, yet gamey and challenging to the tastebuds.

So where, I hear you ask, is the attack?

Those of you who follow my exploits will know that a lot of my stories revolve around fecal matter, and I'm pleased to say, this one is no exception.

Around 3am, I was awoken by a smell unlike no other I have ever sensed, and bear in mind I've lived in a rundown shack with dry rot in the woods for 20 years.

On inspecting my environs it quickly became clear to me that during my slumbers I must've involuntarily evacuated my bowels, as a liberal coating of thick foul smelling tar-like faeces adhered to my mattress, bedclothes and, interestingly, to the wall next to my bed.

Be warned, ferret vindaloo, delicious, but deadly!
(Vic Flange, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 9:11, 3 replies)

Legless' story reminds me
Of the time Me and a mate got cornered by a flock of the evil Canadian Goose.

We went to a pool 2 days before it opened for the first time. (when a fishing season used to exist on pools)

It was fresh as. no reeds no plants just excavated earth and a big puddle.

The way the bank was shaped on one side was like a jetty. About 2 metres wide and 20 long.

We walked down and threw bread into the water to get the fish a feedin. Only Mr and Mrs goose x10 wanted some too. They had us totaly cut off.

At one point I seriously considered heading into the drink rather than take a mauling off these 10 reared up and hissing migrant avian beasts.

The Mrs always take great pleasure in pointing out any if were out and about.

Nothing really bothers me in life except these little bastards. There like the crack heads of wildlife. More so than wasps. They strut about ready to go off on one with no reason.

I hate the buggers.

Lenght? About 3 foot tall and 4 wide.
(never-right -getting it wrong since '78, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 8:34, Reply)

*thinks hard*
Well there is the time when I had to go do some errands at a friends house I was looking after while they were away.

To get there I had to ride my horse about 4 kms up the road, through two several hectare paddocks and go up another road for about 200m.

Said Paddocks were full of wire on the ground, so I had to dismount (Oh yeah, think of all the dirty jokes you like) and lead my horse carefully through the wire infested ground.
The paddocks were also full of bad tempered steers, about a year old. So me, having given up my perch of safety, had to get out the whip and swat the horrible steers, they kept charging me!!!

Having navigated safely through said paddock to the house and then done all the chores, I had to go back through the paddock. This I managed. I got to the last gate (which was open because the cows were blocked by an electrical fence about half the paddock away), and tried to get back on the old girl.

Except of course my foot got wrapped around a bit of wire on the ground, and as I put my foot in the stirrup, it flicked up and nicked the back of my horse's hoof. Such a tiny thing but it scared her so much that she reared, threw me off, trampled over my back and ran straight back into the angry steers paddock, and I had to run (with what I suspect were several cracked ribs, never got it checked but couldn't breathe properly for about a month) through the paddock with angry cows, wheezing and in pain, and when I eventually caught her, she headbutted me.

Not a good day all in all.

Did I mention it was Christmas day? Yeah. Shit loads of fun that Christmas was.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 27 Apr 2008, 6:49, Reply)

Slow Motion Mugging...
.
I was mugged by a goose once. In slow motion.

I was happily fishing one day, rod out in the water (stop sniggering Tourettee's!), enjoying a calm Autumn day. I was sitting on my wee fold-up stool, fishing bag to the left of me and plastic tub of maggots to the right. Then I heard it.

taptap-rattle-rattle-rattle...

And I looked over. Standing next to me was an enormous grey goose with a couple of maggots wriggling in it's beak. It was staring straight ahead and pretending not to see me. So I looked back at the river.

taptap-rattle-rattle-rattle.

Beak straight into my maggots again. As soon as I looked at it, it stared straight ahead with a

"wasn't me" look on it's beak.

Sigh.

So I got up and moved about 20 meters down the bank, set-up my gear, and sat back down on my stool.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mr Goose. He took one slow step sideways towards me. I looked at him and he froze. I looked away and he again took one slow step sideways.

It took him about half an hour to sneak 20 yards and then:

taptap-rattle-rattle-rattle

Head in my bait box again.

Enough was enough so I swung my plastic bag of sandwiches at his head and the bastard exploded into goosey fury. Hissing and snapping and flapping his wings, the bastard chased me up the tow path with me trying to run in chest waders. Then he went back and polished off my maggots and, to add insult to injury, nicked my sandwhiches as well.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 2:38, 7 replies)

Not particularly interesting, but
I was awoken by my brother yesterday morning with the news that my hamster, Galvatron, had escaped. After finding him (a room and a half away) and returning him to his cage I was perplexed as to how he had escaped from his cage.

I discovered how in the evening, to my pure amazement (and hilarity) young Galvatron has learnt to open his cage door with his nose. It's one of the standard fare bar cages - nothing fancy: tubes to crawl in all held lovingly together with bars. One entrance/exit, a pull down barred door.

Young Galvatron has learnt that by throwing himself at the door then gripping its top with his teeth, whilst shimmying along it and pushing his head against the the top bar of the door (now that's convolouted!) he can pop it open.

Not quite sure how he survived the fall to the floor, or the lack of food and water all night - but suffice to say we learned how he did it when he proceeded to repeat the performance no less than three times in the evening.

The door is now held in place by loops of wire, The Galavatron is contained and I am amazed at his ingenuity.

Sorry for length, it's an image thing - I don't want to dwell on it.
(forthejest thinks this is the Endgame, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 2:12, Reply)

Death of a fluffy duckling
I took my 2 springer spaniels out for a walk yesterday morning, after my nightshift. It was a lovely morning, and they were merrily bounding through the undergrowth, doing their little springy thing, and splashing about in the river. How delightful, I thought to myself, feeling all happy and joyful, watching my boys having fun...
Then, intruding violently into my daydream, a harsh and panic-striken quacking. Yep, Frodo (the puppy) had discovered - and was being attacked by - a female duck. Now, this was unusual, because normally the ducks fuck off at a great rate of knots when Frodo catapults himself into the river. Imagine my horror when I realised she had her babies with her...
Cute, fluffy, cheeping little chicks. Innocently enjoying a swim with Mum. Then Frodo's jaws of doom.

He got 2 of them.

The cunt
( bentalls In my head, I am a ninja, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 1:01, Reply)

I was attacked by a squirrel once
It went straight for the nuts
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 23:19, 1 reply)

Oh, they keep crowbars in each room incase.
Went to the house of a school chum at 14. rang doorbell, door opened, then family rotweiler greeted me by barging past friend and shaking my firmly by my arm I drew up to cover my face with. Pleased with this, it retreated back into the house.

On explaining events to older brother that evening, he replied, oh yeah, I heard they have a crowbar in each room incase the dog goes crazy. Thanks for sharing that with me earlier.
(apatao, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 22:34, Reply)

Living near a canal...
Means lots of bridges, and lots of swans. One day a few weeks back, me and my flatmate were walking to the local Morrisons, which means crossing the canal behind our Halls via one of the many medieval bridges in Leicester.

About half way across we hear this thunderous beating of wings as about a dozen of the beaky bastards dive bomb the bridge. Think the scene in Pearl Harbor* when all the Zeros fly in, skimming over the top of the cliff.

We dive for cover behing the wall of the bridge as the swans swarm overhead but, with a certain sense of satisfaction, noticed one of them clipping his, erm, undercarriage on the edge of the bridge and majestically spazzing out and crashing into the water.

Now I've heard of swans being able to break limbs so imagine having one of the feckers hitting you in the head.

*I wince with pain typing this without a U.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Sat 26 Apr 2008, 18:36, Reply)

little nipper
Swimming in the Mediterranean for the first time - omigod - multicoloured fish! - even better than Hans and Lotte Haas (remember them?) cos I seem to remember they were monochrome - anyway, even better than the fish and a few miserable bits of coral I saw an octopus. OK it was only about 2 inches long at full stretch but very exotic nevertheless. I was so intrigued that when it zoomed into a rock crevice I still wanted to see it more, so I poked my finger in (pause for mocking sneers). Very quickly I pulled it out again, minus the end. Yes this tiny sea daemon removed the end of my finger. Admittedly the volume of skin removed was barely pinhead-sized, but I still feel able to claim I was eaten by an octopus.

Length - not quite as long as before
(in-knock-you-us, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 17:54, Reply)

Well not exactly attacked, but ...
.
Yesterday, after the nippers got out of school, we went to visit my friend. Double reason - it's her wee boy's third birthday (everybody say aaaaw) and my kids have been nagging to visit ever since her dog had puppies (even bigger aaaaaaw).

The puppies are absolutely gorgeous. Eight week old Golden Labrador puppies, every one right out of the Andrex ads. Now I'm as big a sucker as the girls when it comes to puppies, so there I was, on the floor with them, puppies climbing all over us. And chewing us. I'd forgotten just how sharp puppy teeth are ...

We got back quite late last night, and went to bed not long after. Another long week of getting up at stupid o'clock in the morning takes its toll.

Got up this morning, quick brekkie, jumped in the shower. I'd forgotten all about the little puppy nibbles on my hands (well, all over my hands and lower arms) until the shampoo hit them.

Oh ..... my ..... god.

It stung like buggery, and I may even have let slip with a less than ladylike word or ten. There wasn't any way to stop the pain until I was out of the shower (the soap stung just as badly) and I could assess the damage. Suffice to say that my hands look like they've been rubbed up and down the cheese grater a few times.

Every time I put my hands in water they nip like fury, and I keep forgetting to put the rubber gloves on (no tittering at the back). Even typing is stretching the cuts on my knuckles - but has it put me off puppies? Has it hell.

The kids spent just as much time with the pups as I did, but their hands are fine. Does that mean their skin is tougher than mine or just more (youthfully) resilient? Or did I taste better?
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sat 26 Apr 2008, 16:20, 4 replies)

My rabbit nearly broke my jaw when I was a wee nipper!
But that's not all the little cunt did. He was a beautiful French dwarf lop. I'm assuming he was a dwarf compared to rabbits that are the size of Labradors!

Because we have a massive garden that led onto other gardens, we used to let the rabbit run free on the garden. But in the end the little sod used to eat the flowers in the garden. Not when nobody was watching; only, and ONLY when my mum was watching, shouting at him.

We fenced that bit off, and let him run around the rest of the garden. Then we got a cat and were slightly worried about him. We needn't have been. Let me explain.

One day, we heard a massive cat-like screech. In limps our cat, with a massive bite mark on his arse, and a smug looking rabbit outside.

Ever since then, whenever cats are in the garden, we ended up watching a high-speed chase - some cat legging it down the garden with a grey pair of flopping ears inches away from its arse. The little fucker used to hide behind the shed then leg it, it must have made Sweep's day! The cats got clever and started walking along the fence to torment it. The rabbit got cleverer and booted the fence til the cat fell off.

When we got our guinea pig, he got even more vicious around cats, to ward them off her.

Unfortunately, he booted himself out of his cage one night and he got chased around the garden by dogs when he was in his old age. He never got caught; he had a heart attack on top of his hutch. The poor bastard got a taste of his own medicine, but he went out in style.

The guinea pig was never the same since; if we sat with her to let her graze, she'd run like shit back into the house. Bless.
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 15:29, 2 replies)

I attacked an animal
About 12:20 today, I'm getting ready to go to work. I'm on the landing, getting dressed when I see a small dark animal scurry across our bedroom floor. I shout downstairs:
"Is William (Hamster) in his cage?"
"Yes. Why?" Asks Mrs. Kite.
"I think we have a mouse in the house"

Mrs. Kite comes upstairs, and we shut the door.
"It's behind the cupboard" I said, pointing to an old sideboard we have in the corner. Beneath this are some old pictures and Mrs. Kite's wedding dress in a big, sturdy box. It's pretty darned heavy. And it's resting on a bar which runs along the bottom of the sideboard, about 4" off the floor.

So I sit down and slowly begin dragging the box forward. I can hear scrabbling from Mickey. THUMP, the box's end falls to the floor, I can still hear Mickey, scurrying around in the dark behind the sideboard. I peer into the darkness. Nothing. Mrs Kite peers in. Nothing. The scrabbling stops. "Aha, he knows we're onto him; he's stopped moving. Crafty blighter. I lift up the box to give me better access to the bottom of the sideboard and there, underneath, is a very dead, fairly flat, mouse.

I dropped his/her corpse off on the A449 in the verge.

I didnt mean to kill you. Honest.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 15:12, Reply)

Crikey! Bring on the Aussie egos!
Yep, every day of our sun-drenched antipodean lives we are potentially lethally assailed by any number of God's nastiest experts in self-preservation, which cearly makes us the toughest, ballsiest, most devil-may-care-because-death-has ceased-to-frighten-me since (insert early childhood near-death due to wildlife anecdote here) people on the planet. Especially if the Aussie b3tards are to be believed.

It is true, however, that I have been bitten by a redback spider, via the dunny (toilet) seat, on the penis, and am still alive. Oh my raving lordylocks did that hurt, though. The doctor pointed out helpfully that luckily for I a non-tumescent member is a "relatively low blood-flow area", which quite possibly contributed to my ongoingness thereafter.

*ASIDE* occurring as this did in a large mining town that to this day is the only place in Australia with a decriminalised locality of prostitution, I forgave this medico for initially suggesting that the large, throbbing, nigh-on freshly suppurating sore halfway down my quivering shaft "looks like a syphilis chancre to me, son..."

I have more, we all do. Takers?
(dadadali has hybrid vigour, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 13:35, 7 replies)

Horsephobia
I have always been absolutely terrified of these beats. They're huge, smelly and go on "oh-my-fucking-god-get-out-of-the-way!" rampages for no particular reason.

I really don't understand the love some have for them. My ex took this love to a whole new level and even coached the handicapped (children, not horses) on how to ride nature's motorbike. One time, while demonstrating, the horse she was riding went totally apeshit for no reason other than it's a horse. She was almost paralysed as the horse rammed her full force into a metal fence...yet she still works with them to this very day and blames the incident on herself.

Now if it was me I'd have crept into its stable in the dark of night, snuck up behind it while it was in the wonderful land of nod and...

BAM! Baseball bat to the back of the head!*







*This incident may or may not have been attempted.
(JC_Green Lacks humour, Sat 26 Apr 2008, 13:34, 5 replies)