Quick way to a spiked hairdo, with possible side effect of death.
Was detaching a shelf from a desk unit. One of those ones with a recess for your computer monitor with shelves above.

Dropped my screwdriver, which went straight through the ventilation slots on top of my old CRT monitor. Went to pick it up, earthed the whole damned lot, and got 25kV up the arm from the coil. It's not a high current device, but it was enough to send me back across the room about 10 feet and leave me with minor burns on my hand and feet (as well as the carpet).

I don't think I was knocked unconscious, but I did have a nervous twitch in my right arm for about a week as well as a blistered hand, melted screwdriver handle and a need for a new monitor as apparently CRT's do not like explosive discharge.

Now for any DIY, I always use an insulated screwdriver, latex gloves, toe-tectors, hard hat and I remove electrical devices for them room. Oh, and I can pick up Radio 2 if I tilt my head to the South.
(badbob82 actually has mates called Rex and Wendy, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 19:05, 1 reply)

Has anyone
...come across the cat torture thing currently snowballing through /b/ and reddit?

2 Yanks uploaded a video. Two utterly depraved kids. One of the kids wore a mask and tortured a cat. The other spunkdribble filmed it and egged his mate on.

Now 4chan has it. Reddit has it. Hundreds of seething internetters are hunting the kids down and reporting them to just about every news source on the planet.

They may be kids, but fuck 'em. Let them suffer for it.


This is the only link I can find, it's been pushed down from the top spot on Reddit (the cowards took their video down, closed their MySpack pages and tried to hide).

www.reddit.com/r/reddit.com/comments/7xis9/these_kids_are_messed_up_and_they_need_to_be/


The poor cat aside, those two spacktards really put themselves up for the Darwins. Why aim for electrocution or singed pubes when thousands of angry internet people are pushing virtual pitchforks at you?


That link contains some strong stuff, not work safe or Fine-Upstanding-Moral-Citizen friendly.
(blueberrypossum wants to Jaffa your Cake, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 18:55, 9 replies)

Thats what they used to do in the war...
They used to switch the cars engine off at the top of a hill and coast down to save petrol.

Ever been to an area of Sheffield called Crookes? Think cliff face with terraced houses. The night after a house party myself and my then housemate were the only ones up. We stepped outside for some fresh air (fags) and looked at the long long steep road, and then to my car parked at the top of this road facing down.

I pulled away and switched the engine off, speeding is even more fun without an engine. Now during the war they may have had a surplus of sagely advice and stiff upper lipped blitz spirit, but what they didn't have (and understandably so) was Japanese ABS brakes.

As beautifully made as these are they don't work without power that comes from a running engine. A fact both of us forgot until approaching a blind junction at increasing speed I put my foot down and we only went faster.

Sweatting like a rapist in a nunnery I fired up the engine and slammed on the anchors bringing us to a shuddering halt just as a much larger car shot past.

I looked at my mate, we were both shaking. lesson learned I looked both ways and pulled out of the junction... put the car into neutral and leaving the engine on continued our coast towards town.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 18:30, 8 replies)

Never yell "shit shit shit its on fire!!" in a crowded lab
It doesn't help anyone.

Sticking my head into a fume cupboard is not a good Idea at the best of times.

Its less sensible when you have left the top off the bottle of ether and the fumes are making you feel giddy. But anyway this experiment needed to be heated by waving a Bunsen burner around underneath it. I lent in to get a better reach so I could ensure even heating.

The suddenly a jet of flame seared across my view. I jumped back yelling "ohshitohshit its on FIRE!" as two feet of fire blasted across the fume cupboard.

At some point the Bunsen's gas hose had come away from the wall and the gas coming out of the gas tap had ignited leading to a spectacular pyrotechnic display.

Sheepishly, with everyone looking at me I turned the gas off. It was at this point I noticed the top was off the nearly full ether bottle. This would explain the good feeling I used to have about this experiment.

Ether is not only mega flammable, but it has a very low 'flash point' that is had it been any closer to the flame jet it would of exploded. Exploding ether is bad enough, if it exploded near this particular experiment I would be at point blank range for a blizzard of glass shards and boiling acid.

Cotton lab coats sadly do not offer the protection you might think. I doubt very much that I would be typing this now had that bottle been but 2 inches closer to me at the time.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 17:43, 6 replies)

Trailer fun
First things first. you should know that my Uncle has a very steep driveway. We were taking one of our old sofas up to his place for some reason, and so we shove it in the trailer and drive round there. We then unclipped the trailer and pushed it up the hill to his house.
Now you should note at this point that it only took 2 people to lift the sofa, but 5 to push it up the hill in the trailer.
Trailer gets to house,tops the hill, and sofa is unloaded. Dad tells me to hold onto the trailer to stop it rolling back down the hill, a sensible course of action. Everyone else buggers off inside to look at the new sofa/do whatever it is my parents do in my uncles house.
At this point I have a flash of inspiration! Why not hold onto the back of the trailer and let it slowly down the hill? My feet would act as brakes and I could descend at a safe, controlled speed onto the road.
Big Mistake.
Unfortunatly, my shoes decide at this point that they don't actually have any grip. What turned from a controlled descent quickly escaldes into skiing on shoes whilst holding a large trailer.
Now of course, I could have let go at this point, and why didn't you, I hear you ask. Well, it was mainly due to the house opposite which had a rather shiny new car parked in my direct trajectory in their drive way.
The trailer crashes onto the road at quite a speed. Fortunatly the middle of roads are slightly raisedand it sort of bashed into the middle. I even managed to get it under control before it hit the other car :D.
The really scary bit was that if there had been a car or woman with her baby passing by, the car opposite would have a lovely new paint job; colour: red, effect: splattered.
(Buftoon posted this on, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 17:23, Reply)

Shocking
When I was about 5 or 6 I decided it would be interesting to take out the bulb from a lamp,insert finger and turn on the power.
I got a fizzy crackling sound, like those that you hear in cartoons when someone gets electrocuted, and a feeling like when you hit your elbow and your arm goes all numb.
That was all.

My mother was in the other room and didn't even notice!

Although, even now I wonder whether something like Jacob's Ladder is going on and that I actually died at that moment and all my life from then up to now is just a hallucination in my brian as it shuts itself down and none of this world is actually real.
(Mr.Dog was in love again on, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 17:07, 6 replies)

hmm...
I once saw some idiot kid fall down the stairs of a schoolbus a while back. he was sat on a railing, then we hit the infamous bovis roundabout... he did a full flip and facepalmed onto a couple of rather displeased kids a few years older than him. he escaped uninjured, but apparently he got turned to some form of amoeba the next day by the older kids.
(venort apparently exists, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 16:51, Reply)

i'm a good friend.
i was at a party once and a few of us were staying over.
at about 4am everyone starts going to sleep some went upstairs except for me and 3 others. we'd heard one of the lads sleep walked so we said we'd just keep an eye out for him doing it and make sure he didn't hurt himself.

about half an hour after we'd fallen asleep i felt the couch move and noticed the lad had gotten up. so i tried to get him to stay in the room but he kept on walking into the kitchen,i decided to follow him. from were i was stood i saw him open the drawer with the kitchen knife in it. now i was still very drunk and we'd been watching psycho. so although i didn't see him grab anything out of the drawer i just assumed he had.

so i ran screaming through the living room past my sleeping friends, up the stairs and locked myself in the bathroom. about 5 minutes later i heard a voice shout up "YOU CAN COME OUT IT WAS A WOODEN SPOON!"

and that is how i abandoned my friends to almost be killed by a teen slasher that never actually was.
(i eat crayons, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 16:33, Reply)

One quiet winter evening...
So me and the missus were staying in watching TV, I believe CSI:Miami was on (it's so bad, the TV smelled of smegma afterwards). As I was about to fall asleep, as you do when something as riveting as CSI is on, We heard this loud explosion.

We lived just a stones throw away from a domestic airport at the time (literally, a stones throw - no alarms needed at that household) so we assumed the worst.

As I looked outside I noticed a car on fire and two teenage boys rolling on the ground trying to put themselves out. I called the emergency services and ran out with wet blankets, as the rain had put the fire in the car out. The boys were not badly burnt, shaken and afraid for sure, but they'd live with a few scars.

So the ambulance came and went.

The next day I read in the news that those tossers had been sniffing gas inside their car. And after that Nobel deserving escapade, they decided to have a fag...in a closed car...after sniffing propane...

Needless to say, I kinda regretted helping them (Harsh, I know) and I hope that through the magic of combined stupidity and facial scars that they will never procreate!
(snordfjord Cranky...like a crank!, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 15:22, 5 replies)

I've just returned from a jaunt to India...
and I have to say, I spent about 7 hours on Monday just gone being constantly close to death. Not through my stupidity, but because our driver (well, all the road-users really) seemed to think that driving at 70km an hour down the middle of a windy road, with a large wood-laden truck driving right at us, was a good idea. Perhaps he was trying to move us on in our karmic cycle.

It was stupid of me to not fight to sit in the front seat, where the only seatbelt was located. Instead, I was crammed in the back with my other friends, a lightly gibbering wreck. I don't think I'll be able to unclench my buttocks ever again.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 14:53, Reply)

So, when i was a kangaroo back australia, born to a one legged boxing kangaroo mother
with no legs and an astronaut father with wandering cock syndrome who was never home, i used to look up at the moon wondering if my father was up there, somewhere and so, late one night i decided to look for him in earnest.

now, as you're probably quite well aware the moon is quite far away, about a trillion miles, and the diffracting effect of the atmosphere makes it look round, when of course it is actually triangular.

but anyway i digress, in order to get to the moon some sort of propulsion device was needed, i spent two hundred years grinding up children so i could feed them to my Orc* workers, who being dedicated but slightly thick beasts, built me some kind of wooden staircase, but not just any staircase, they said, a revolving staircase on a track circum navigating the planet which, when completed, would reach the moon and then move with it as it orbited the planet. it was fool proof.

as it turns out they cocked the whole thing up, and the stairway missed the moon by quite a long way, ending up in heaven. i climbed it anyway, with my bowed kangaroo leggies, excited as anything, only to find myself confronted by the purly gates, jolly old st nick was standing in on the desk for the day and i sat on his knee and he gave me a present then told me i had to be dead to be in heaven, and in fact was so already, for just stepping on planet heaven kills all mortal men. i tried to argue with him saying how half kangaroo i was but he merely stroked his beard and hypnotised me.

he gave me a second chance though, even made me fully human, and i parachuted down to earth using an inflatable piano** and then wrote a song about it and then santa came to visit me and we became lovers. however, i never found my father, if you're reading this dad, you're a fucking liar, santa is real.

it's all true.

* sorry Orc is indeed not spelled with a k
** does not work with non inflatable pianos
( Mortal Wombatteries not included - Awesome Awesome Awesome, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 14:27, 3 replies)

is it just me or is this rapidly descending into
Lie of The Week
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 12:28, 14 replies)

My American housemate was a series of QOTWs in himself
...but his piece de resistance was when he accidentally broke a bulb off in his light socket. He'd heard the best way to remove it was to take half a raw potato, stick it onto the protruding bits and twist it out that way. We didn't have a potato, but he tried with half an onion. It didn't work, so naturally he turned to plan B and fetched the Ikea toolkit. He took the pliers out, jammed them into the live light socket and twisted...

He was saved by the rubber handles of the pliers, but managed to take out the elecricity for the entire building and it was a good hour before he could see wthout blue flashes in his eyes. Did I mention he graduated from Harvard? Lectured there for a year in robotics? Spent an entire year studying electronics? Melted the metal ends of the pliers?
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 12:04, Reply)

I used to wire dolls' houses for
people who take it all way too seriously. Real collectors have electric lights installed in each room. Mind you, they would also pay hundreds of pounds for the weeny bits of furniture but they paid me well so who am I to argue?

Anyhoo, as the wires on the lights are all very small, I discovered the easiest way to strip them back was with my teeth. This was a dandy plan until the day I decided to use the same trick on the tranformer. It was still plugged in. I am an idiot.
(Innogen, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 11:42, Reply)

Watching
daytime television. That stuff rots your brain and kills you.
(Errin C, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 11:22, Reply)

Death by Paprika Pringles
I almost wish that I HAD died (although I'd have loved to have heard the eulogy...."Here lies Airliebird, he died doing what he loved"), but in retrospect this was very scary:-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have moved back home at the age of 26, and am going through a messy divorce, when my little sister and i had a bit of an argument. She called me "Big mouth" during the exchange, and we both went off into a huff and didn't talk for an hour or so. Being the olive branch offering kind, I thought it would be a bit of a giggle to prove how big my mouth was by doing my party trick, make my sis laugh and break the tension.

I put a Cheddar biscuit (not a mini one, a full size one mind,) in my mouth and made it do a total 180 degree flip with my tongue. My sis laughed, and said "Ok smartarse, how many of THESE can you fit in there?"

She proffered a large stack of pringles, we counted about 60, and I fitted them in my mouth, and made them flip without losing any, breaking any or salivating on the carpet.

Then I bit down to eat the mouthfull of curvy goodness so I could go for a new record of 70.
Imagine 60 curvy, tasty Pringles shattering into millions of tiny sharp pieces, then imagine my sister pissing herself laughing as my mouth filled up with Pringle dust, and me trying not to choke.
I caught her eye and started to giggle too, and - I'd presume that most of the QOTW readers wouldn't know this - giggling with a mouth full of this stuff means expelling air, and therefore Pringle dust. When one expells air, one must replace it with fresh air, and thats when the trouble started. I inhaled a good quantity of dusty, paprikary needle sharp shards, and began to choke. It was only when I turned blue that my sis decided to stop pissing herself and slap me on the back. Soon the carpet was covered in Paprika Pringle Pastry, my mum was looking down at her blue faced son gasping for breath and my sister had lost control of her lower limbs and was sliding helplessly off the couch mumbling "60, he did 60!"

length? well it was more quantity, but I reckon without laughing I could have done the whole tube!
(airliebird Has now found Twiglets in Sydney!!!!!!! yay!, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 10:02, 1 reply)

'Gangsters', Morrison Hotel and The Most Pointless Extortion ever.
Ok, first post, long time lurker, please dont be cruel....

Right, 10 years ago I was a naive 20 year old blissfully unawares of the dangers of the outside world when myself and 2 equally daft mates went to Goa for a 6 month cultural experience (i.e to get utterly wrecked, tanned, and laid). Several months passed in a cheerful psychedelic haze until Christmas Eve came - Intending to celebrate the birth of the Baby Jesus, myself and one accomplice went to the beach and got suitably inebriated, so much so I had to carry him back to our rented bungalow and hope he'd survive the night.

Upon departing the house to continue the festivities the kindly Indian gentlemen that had rented the adjacent bungalow thought I'd be nice to wish me a happy Xmas. 'Thats nice of them' thought I so I returned the good wishes. It was then that several of them decided to bundle me into their house and state that they wanted me to deliver a parcel of very fake looking gems from Delhi to Geneva. Obviously a scam, I thought why not just rob me of all my money? But no, this charade continued and it was eventually decided that I would get a bus to Bombay the following morning, then a train to Delhi and fly onwards to Geneva where I would pick up the package and give it to one of their mates up there. All for the pricely sum of $10,000.00. Ridiculous thought I, but I'll see what happens - what choice do I have?!

The next 9 hours elapsed and consisted of me sitting in a room with 6 burly gentlemen feeling rather threatened and disappointed that I was being fucked over in such a ridiculous fashion.

Their methods of trying to instil further fear into me consisted of making me smoke huge amounts of particularly good weed, teaching them card games (be very careful of Indian 'jewel thieves with an expert knowledge of Shithead') and listening to their one tape on repeat (Morrison Hotel by the Doors) incidentally my fave album at the time and still a regular spinner in the stereo.

After these horrendous torture tactics didnt work I was threatened with having drugs planted in my house and then spending the following decade in an Indian prison, carrying out the task like a good little tourist, or being shot by the antique pistol now pressed against my forehead. The choice was now sadly obvious....

Morning came so off we went to the money changer to give them '$300.00 which would cover my travel fees' before I arrived in Geneva and was rewarded with the $10k (sure....) - and then onwards to the bus station with a pocketful of phone numbers for nonexistant cohorts. Having had no sleep, hungover and more stoned than Keith Richards I was chucked on the bus to Bombay with a less than festive cheer for the worst Xmas day ever. If I got off the bus before Bombay and returned my blissfully unconcious friend would be hacked with machetes til he was dead. Brilliant.

To cut a terribly long story short, I got to Bombay after about 15 hours on a 'bus' that eclipsed the previous horrors and eventually arrived in Bombay. I called the contact numbers they gave me which obviously led to nothing, so I spent the remainder of the day trying to find a much needed beer in Bombay in the middle of Ramadan before getting the next bus back to Bombay to face the consequences or to scoop my macheted chum off of the floor.

Having arrived back in Goa, I prepared myself for any fallout at the market with a rather awesome machete, sturdy padlock, and a bit of petrol. The idea was to padlock them in, burn down their house and hack their burning bodies as they lept out of the windows. After all it was them or me right?

So, I arrived back to the house, they had left soon after me no doubt, gleefully celebrating their ingenious extortion of $300.00 with a totally pointless plan when all they couldve done was point the gun and say 'Give us $300.00'. Arseholes.

So, I went back to our house, skinned up and had to explain to my now more lucid friend why I had missed Xmas day, and why I was looking rather pissed off, tired and no longer wanted to listen to Morrison Hotel.

I'll never know whether this was an actual threat to my life or not, but its not pretty having a gun pointed at you when your toasted off your nuts on Xmas day thousands of miles from home confronted by so many sneering moustachiod and badly tailored 'gangsters'.

Happy days!

Length - like the Bollywood film constantly repeated on the bus journey to hell and back.

Maybe not Darwinesque - but defintely a very stupid way to almost have ones life snuffed out.
(Mongoose Gerald, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 9:28, 4 replies)

Stupid teens
One Friday, me and some mates decided to go to a place called Crystal Lake; We'd heard some stories about a "Crazy masked Killer" (Oooh Scary!) but ignored them; what's the worst that could happen? We took some beer and weed and went skinny dipping. Then we met this chap, Mr Voorhees...we left our brains at the door

Yours,

Joseph Poole,
W.13
(kitescreech still here, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 9:18, Reply)

This was it! The moment I'd been waiting for.
I felt my stomach twist into an icy knot of fear as I looked over the edge. The deep, calm sea looked a long way down. But I couldn't chicken out now. Not if I wanted to be in with the crowd.

I took a deep breath, trying to shut out the jeers of the people behind me. You can do this, I thought.

The time it took me to raise my arms out from my sides to either side of my body seemed to take eons. I was excruciatingly aware of the hot sun burning my skin, my bare chest, of the beads of sweat which dripped from my forehead and trickled down my neck; of the breath of wind which lightly brushed caressing fingers against my jaw and lips while the strong salt smell hung in the air.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, willing myself not to panic.
Then I leaned forward and let myself fall off the cliff into empty air.

Suddenly, the wind was screaming past me and I was screaming too. I hit the water with a smack! that reverberated through my body and sent shock waves of pain rippling through me, knocking the air clean from my lungs. I gasped for breath and inhaled a lungful of water as I sank like a stone towards the bottom.

I twisted around and looked at what I hoped was up, and saw black dots swimming in front of my eyes. I'm going to drown, said a little voice in my head.

Terrified I began to claw my way up, thanking the gods above that the weather had been clear today and the waters untroubled. A cool breeze told me my head had broached the surface and I coughed until my eyes ran and the water in my lungs and stomach forced themselves out of me.

I was alive.
I flipped onto my back and moved out of the way, letting the sun kiss my face as I listened to the screams of the next boy falling from the top of the cliff.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 15 Feb 2009, 7:45, 2 replies)

This guy at the back
At a feminism rally because of an all male membership policy of a golf club.

www.rrmemphis.com/ironshirt.jpg

This man had some serious balls.

I say had, because he may not have them anymore.
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 2:38, 4 replies)

Being...
Part of the Westboro Baptist Church.

If you haven't heard, these guys go around inciting hatred by using slogans such as "God hates fags", "Thank god for dead miners", "Pray for more dead soldiers" and "Thank god for 9/11".

They protest at the funerals of dead soldiers. Whether you are for or against the war in Iraq this an unbelievable heinous thing to do. Dead soldiers are heroes and deserve our respect.

They have received numerous bomb and death threats. Let's just say that I wouldn't exactly take a bullet for one of their members.
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 2:28, 3 replies)

BNP
My friend who happens to be Asian tried to join the BNP for a laugh. Obviously he was devastated when he was declined because he didn't meet requirements.

Now this isn't particularly dangerous in itself but recently I've been trying to encourage him to go on one of their rallies.

I'm a bad friend...
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 2:06, 6 replies)

A Close Run Thing

I was in a pub full of meatheads cracking jokes with a mate from work. The locals seemed to be enjoying my cracks - at least the ones they could understand but then things went a bit wrong after this joke. I'll give the short version.

A bloke was with parked up with his girlfriend and things were getting a bit frisky. The girl was getting more and more turned on and then suddenly yelled:

"Kiss me where it stinks....."

So he drove her to Redcar.

(boom-tish!)

I was in a pub in Redcar at the time.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 1:32, Reply)

Trains, Coke Bottles and Head
Back when I was a student I would regularly take the train from Manchester down to Coventry to see the folks.

On one such occasion it was a blisteringly hot day, I had a bit of time to kill, so stopped off for a few pints in the pub next to the station. Afterwards, feeling good with the world, I went to Manchester Piccadilly and boarded my train.

Everything was going swimmingly until I got to Macclesfield. That's when the four pints I'd quaffed had passed trough my system and decided they wanted to make a speedy exit. Leisurly, I got up from my seat and went to find the bogs-

-but the bogs were out of order.

Nevermind, I thought, just go to the next carriage. Several minutes later, being tossed about by the movement of the train which was doing no good at all to my bladder, I was stood infront of another set of toilets. And these one's had the familiar out of order sign and a fucking big lock on the door.

Arse!

This went on for the entire length of the train. I knew something was amiss as some other passangers were doing the same thing.

"Fucking British Rail!" Someone said as I passed, "The guard told me they were running late and didn't have time to service the toilets in Manchester. We're gonna have to wait til we get to Crewe, then they're gonna hold us up for half an hour while they sort um out."

CREWE!!! Fuck me, that's a good hour away!

Grumbling to myself I returned to my seat, planted myself down, and tried to take my mind off my bladder by looking out the window.

And all I seemed to see were rivers, streams, babbling-fucking-brooks, and the occasional Evian lorry...

Shit...

The four pints of Stella were starting to expand my bladder to the size of a football.

Jesus, I REALLY NEED TO PISS!!! I thought.

I considered doing it out the window, but the windows were those small ones which were far too high for me to get to anyway. I even considered finding a quiet spot somewhere in the carriage and pissing on the floor. Hmmmm, might just come to that....

And then I saw it.

Lying under the seat across the way, all lovely and glistening in the shafts of sunlight through the window.

Yes!!! Salvation!!!

As nonchalantly as possible when you're carring several gallons of piss, I sidled over and scooped up the empty Coke bottle. Returning to my seat I considered if I could get away with this. It was a pretty empty train, thankfully. There was an old lady in the seat in front, a couple over near the exit, several assorted families - it was half term, after all.

Then another thought struck me -

Do I really want a stranger's spit on my cock?

Shrugging, it'd never really stopped me before, what the hell.

I very carefully unzipped my fly, felt around for Mr Wee Wee, and pulled him free. I looked up, checking that no one had spied me. All clear.

I grasped my bell end and directed my japs eye into the bottle. And the RELIEF!!! I was suddenly very away of the gurggling, splashing noise. I directed my cock so the jet hit the sides of the bottle. Looking down I noticed I was managing to spray piss in my lap. Not good. It took some effort but I managed to ram the tip, just the tip, of my cock into the bottle, the rest of my bell end went a strange colour purple and started to swell round the lip as I tried to fit something considerably larger than a Coke bottle neck into a Coke bottle neck.

Then something fucking weird happened.

There was a terrible suction effect and in a flash my entire cock was in the bottle, swimming about in my own piss. It looked a bit like an incredibly fucked up ship in a bottle, only with cock instead. It was absolute fucking AGONY, as my cock was considerably thicker than the Coke bottle neck. It was being strangled at the base near my balls, while in the main vessel of the bottle my cock started to swell due to the strangulation further down. My wee chap looked rather like a pickled gerkin (a fucking large one, mind) in the jar at the chip shops through the murky yellow piss water.

Oh, FUCK!!!

I looked up - still fine, no one had noticed anything suspicious. So, I looked back down at the Twin Peaks moment in my lap. My cock was getting bigger. The heat of my own piss was waking the little fella up.

Oh, SHIT!!!

I pulled harder and harder and I could feel him getting harder and harder, and all the time the constriction on the base of my cock became more and more intense as the plastic effectively strangled and mangled me.

The pain was out of this fucking world. It was so fucking bad.

Someone walked past with a little kid to go to the buffet car. I hastily managed to cover my shame (or should that be pride), smiled at them, and then carried on tugging once they'd gone.

Oh, shit! What am I gonna do? I thought, looking down at my proud manhood, hard as rock, stuck inside a Coke bottle filled with my own piss.

I could fucking end up causing myself some serious harm here, I thought. Suction and cocks in certain situations is not good. I imagined I'd become an unwitting eunuch, or at least need some skin grafts; I wondered how much force my cock could take before it actually broke.

I sat in contemplation for a few minutes. My erection was getting stronger, if anything. I tried to think about Margaret Thatcher, but that just didn't seem to do the trick. The rythmic sloshing of warm piss with the rocking of the train and the weird strangulation effect were doing erotic things to my wee chap.

Only one thing for it, Spanky, I thought.

So, looking round even more, I started to rub the bottle up and down my shaft as best as I could. It was a bit like trying to free a geenie from a lamp, only involving my cock and a bottle full of warm piss. And it was INCREDIBLY PAINFUL!!! Most painful wank of my life, and God knows I've had plenty of those.

After a few minutes, looking over my shoulder for the return of the kid and parent from the buffet car, almost whimpering and passing out with each stroke, I squirted a healthy portion of cock snot into the bottle. The most difficult part was not making a sound, I had to bite down hard on my lip. And as inevitably as the tide and the seasons, my cock started to soften and I was able to, with incredible pain and discomfort, pull him out. There was a loud POP!!! Which caused the old woman in front to look round and give me a stern look. God, if only she knew...

My parents met me at the station in Coventry. Hugs all round (despite the overpowering smell of urine). When we got to their house my mum offered to wash my backpack, but I really didn't think she'd fancy finding a Coke bottle full of her son's piss and spunk inside, so I declined.
( SpankyHanky, Sun 15 Feb 2009, 0:56, 15 replies)

Christ, how did I forget this one?
I'm still in bed, but the spouse is up. I hear him wandering through the house, and then he comes in to see if I'm awake.

'Do you know where the long lighter is? The one we use for the fire?'

Er, yes. . .why?

'Well, there's no hot water. I think the water heater has stopped working; there must be a leak or something.'

It's happened before, so why has the repair company not been called?

'I think I'll try to relight the pilot first and see if that works.'

Wait. You think there's a leak in our gas water heater. And you want a lighter. Full of lighter fluid. That makes flames. Like fuck am I going to let this line of thinking continue.

I got out of bed, called in someone who knew what they were doing and had the thing repaired. And yes, the repairman confirmed that had my darling yet poor-at-planning-ahead spouse gone on with his plan, he'd probably have blown up something important -- like himself, and/or part of our house. Good thing he decided not to use that engineering degree after all.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 22:17, Reply)

idiot car mechanic
when i was an apprentice car mechanic during the 80's i popped open the bonnet of a car. once the bonnet was open and i lent over the engine, got a strong whiff of petrol. The cigarette in my mouth then proceeded to light this petrol vapour and removed my eyebrows and left me with a bright red face for a few days. I looked like a beetroot (i.e a right twat) and gave up smoking there and then.
( nikdude, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 21:49, Reply)

And finally, part three of Darwin Award-esque behaviour
I'm only doing two recollections this time, both happening in the summer of 2006. Which was a good summer for me, as I started going out with the nympho girlfriend as mentioned in part 2. I also started to learn to drive, which, combined with the aforementioned traits of clumsiness and absentmindedness from part one, nearly proved lethal for me during this summer.

The two most standout moments for me in terms of sheer stupidity were both with my friends, A and C from the English Bobsleigh Team of part one, as well as a third friend, N. A had learnt to drive a few years ago, and as such, was determined to mentor me. I broke that determination after five minutes. So begins the first story, which, funnily enough, doesn't involve me trying to remove myself from the gene pool, but instead, A trying to remove himself.

We've all been learner drivers at one point. Some of us still are. So I'm going to assume that you all know the feeling of being a learner, of the confusion of all of the hundreds of things to do at first whilst driving that soon become second nature. About three weeks into my lessons, having a lesson a week or more if I could afford it, A decides that he is going to try and teach me to reverse. Something I'd never done before, given that I'd had four lessons. I'd tried to tell A that I would rather not crash his car and suchlike but he was insistent, so in the end, I agreed.

Imagine, if you will, the scene set out before you. A's house has a driveway off to the side of the house. In between the house and the driveway is a small tree, which sits about a metre or two away from the road. Me, A and N are there. I'm sat in the drivers seat, A and N are by the tree, both watching. A's mums car is at the far end of the drive.

I put the car in reverse. I let the clutch up to what I normally know as the biting point in the car that I learn in. However, A's car has a much, much lower biting point, whereas the car I've learnt in has a biting point that is fairly high. This causes the car to kick into action when I'm least suspecting it, which causes me to slam my foot on what I mistakenly thought were the brakes, but was the accelerator, so that the car jerks backwards and starts to move backwards faster than I wanted. A lot faster.

At this point, A decides that he is in fact Superman. A leaps in between his car and his mums car and attempts to hold it back by himself. I am by now whimpering and trying not to drop a brick in my pants as I stall the car. The car still has momentum and slides back, pinning A in between his car and his mums car. N is laughing himself silly, and eventually agrees to drive A's car forward so A can escape, because I don't trust myself to drive forward. I refuse to go near the car unless I'm sat in a passenger seat from this point on.

Fast forward a week or two. This time, I'm not driving A's car, A is. N is sat in the front seat, and me and C are in the back. A's car has been having problems getting started, so me and C hop out, and attempt to push it to get it rolling and thus getting started. That is the plan. We push and push, and get it moving, whilst A gets the engine going. A trundles down the road a bit, with me and C jogging behind, and me and C decide to be flash bastards, and run alongside the car, open the rear doors and jump in whilst the car is going along the road.

Can you see where this is heading yet?

Me and C catch up to the car, open the doors, and prepare to jump in. A brakes suddenly just as we spring off. We're unable to control our jumps, as we've suddenly encountered resistance, in the form of the open car doors deciding to take revenge on us. C bounces off his car door hard, and lands on the road, staring at the rear left tire, which has thankfully stopped about half a foot away from in front of his face. Meanwhile, I'm hanging off my car door, having almost ripped it clean off its hinges.

Turns out A had guessed correctly what we were going to do, and instead of letting us be flash gits, had decided to take us out in the only way he knew how. Luckily we only suffered superficial scrapes and bruises, but if A had carried on backwards, C would have been killed.

Thats all I'm willing to share now, as the rest of my near-death or sheer stupidity experiences aren't as funny as what I've posted.

And apologies for length, but people seem to like multiple times.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 21:07, Reply)

h - e - l - l - o - - - - O

Paper cut on the joint of my index finger ? T - H - E - J - O - I - N - T people . . .

bit better today, no thanks to the people in the local A&E department.

length 7.6 mm
depth 0.5 mm
(The Cats Twat, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 19:50, 3 replies)

Part two of Darwin Award-esque behaviour
Going back in time from part 1 below, and back two years, I was at university. I still am, but I've moved house since then, so I now have new housemates and a new house.

Anyway. A bit of information that is vital here. I cannot smell much at all. My nasal capabilities have been reduced over the years due to various sinus infections and the like that have gone untreated. My taste is also on the way out, but is not as bad as my nose. This will come in handy in a bit.

I went over to my then girlfriends house in Bangor on a Saturday morning. I live in Chester, so this is an hours ride by train. I also lived with two girls around this time, and one had gone home to London on Friday (important). I also didn't have any breakfast at mine before leaving to get to the missus (this is also important), so I was a tad hungry when I got to Bangor. Fnarr fnarr. Anyway, I spend a pleasant weekend at the missus's, and return to Chester Monday morning, as who in their right mind wants to be spending their Sunday evening on trains in North Wales when they can be shagging a nymphomaniac?

I get back to my house, albeit being delayed slightly by nearly being run over whilst trying to cross a road whilst also trying to clean ash off my coat and not trying to set myself on fire from my cigarette. Being nearly run over probably saved my life that day as it allowed me to smoke my cigarette a bit quicker. And this is why. I finished my cigarette at the end of my road, and walk to my front door. Keys in the door, unlock, open, and get hit by a wall of an evil smell. And when I can smell something, that is usually very, very bad.

Turns out that the remaining housemate of mine had left a hob on, unlit, all weekend, after buggering off soon after I'd left. If I had been doing my usual habit of smoking whilst wandering into the house, I'd've ignited the gas, which by now had spread through all of downstairs and upstairs, and blown the house up, and myself with it. I knew it was the housemate I'd left here, as it wasn't my other housemate, who was in London, and I'd switched everything off the night before so I wasn't to blame. And because she'd buggered off, nobody had smelt the gas until I'd gotten home.

So that is why I am grateful for almost getting run over.

There have been other numerous incidents, like plugging myself in and getting both kinds of electric shocks, i.e. the ending up on the other side of the room ones and the can't let go of the cable ones, but the best time is when I managed to do the latter kind of electric shock, and in the process make my hair spark and then catch fire before getting kicked away by my dad.

Still not entirely sure of how I managed that one, but I think it might have had something to do with the faulty wiring of the PC power cable I was fixing and the faulty plug socket that it was plugged into. I would like to say that I learnt my lesson after that and unplugged everything before fixing it, but I still fix stuff when it's plugged in.

And finally, a small story from when I was a teenager and being a pyromaniac. Everyone knows the deodorant can flamethrower trick, but I managed to take that one step further by accident. There is a good reason why that stuff should never be exposed to high temperatures. I sprayed deodorant on a lightbulb that been on for several hours. The lightbulb promptly exploded spectacularly in a big shower of glass everywhere. I managed to avoid this by throwing myself out of the way.

So never spray deodorant on a lightbulb that has been gently cooking for hours. It is never good.

Apologies for length, it was too big to fit in one go.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 19:50, 5 replies)

Part one of Darwin Award-esque behaviour
I am a tad clumsy. I will freely admit this. Too much drink over the years has also made me a trifle absent-minded. Which is never a good combination.

For starters, whilst not really cheating death, does fit in the spirit of the question. I tried to do a car window up. From the outside. I had quite casually stuck my arm in through the car window, and quite casually leant on the electric switch, and turned my attention elsewhere. It was only when my mates started shouting and I started to feel something pushing against my arm that I realised I had done something a bit silly. Thankfully the motor wasn't strong, otherwise I'd've quite happily lopped my arm off without realising.

Now onto the stuff that really does cheat death.

The most recent of these happened on last Monday, the second of Feb. There are two events that happened that day that would have been Darwin award material had I managed to remove myself from the gene pool. So let's start.

It had been snowing all day. So me and my mates decided, as sensible 21 year olds, to get my mate A's, for that is his initial, one man sled, find a decent sized hill, and prat around. There were three of us, me, A, and C. We found a good sized hill, which has two slopes, making it very suitable, but with only one small problem. It had a small fenced off area at the bottom of it, which was filled with a small kiddy playground. So we figure "Ah sod it, we'll just steer around the fenced off bit."

How wrong we were.

We also figured that we would be a three man bobsleigh team. On a sled that resembles a bodyboard with a lip around the edge. Please note that we hadn't been drinking at all, and were all sober. So we plan our three man team. C would be at the front, as he wanted to be, A would be in the middle as he's the heaviest, and yours truly would be at the back as I'm the lightest. We proceed to do a few runs. We're off to a shaky start, as we keep hitting bumps and bailing, often with A landing on my legs and trapping my ankles in the sled whilst the rest of me is getting dragged along behind.

Here's where the fun starts. After a few runs, we finally get the hang of things, and are now working as a team. So we try another run, but this one is different. I manage to give us a decent push-off, better than I had before, and we're now speeding down the first slope of the hill at a fair rate of knots. We hit the first bump, and all of us manage to stay in. However, this bump has now caused us to speed up. We head down the second slope even faster than we have done before, and here's where we realise something very, very important.

We have no way of steering, or braking.

Whoops.

We see the fenced off area approaching us rather rapidly. I have enough time to begin to yell something along the lines of "FUUUUUCK!" before we crash into the fence. C is immediately thrown into the fence, A is thrown clear, and me? I was catapulted into C's body and partly the top of the fence. If I had been thrown any higher, I'd've gone flying into the playground area and I don't know what the outcome of that would have been.

So, understandably, we are a bit shaken up, and decide to go on the gentler slope off to the side of the big beast for a few runs. Our first run, A decides he wants to give us a boost, and does so, and then bails, leaving me and C to go down the hill. As we whoop and holler about successfully going down the hill without crashing, we see something up ahead in the distance.

It can be summed up as this: "WOOOOO FUCK YEAH!.... GOALPOSTS! ARRRRRGH!"

Yes, it was still snowing, and on a white field with white snow falling, we had neglected to see the white goalposts. So we did what any sane people would do. Hang onto the sled and start screeching at the top of our lungs. Thankfully we narrowly missed them, although if we'd hit them, we would have been in a lot of trouble.

Apologies for length, but it feels good.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sat 14 Feb 2009, 19:23, 2 replies)