the skin, it be too long!
A friend of mine is an idle sod and many years ago spent a day or so, when he should have been revising for his GCSE exams, making up games around the house - throwing a ball at a wall, tossing pencils in the bin and so on.

Eventually he settled for a session of balancing on the two back legs of his chair, seeing if he can beat his own personal best. Now, he hears his parents pulling up in the drive and in a blur of panic rockets forward in his chair, only to somehow trap his foreskin in the underside of the desk drawer while simultaneously slamming the drawer shut with his stomach.

The same friend invented a game which he called Russian Ru-bell, in which he took a pellet-firing six-shooter toy pistol (with one chamber loaded) and would hand the gun around with friends, each taking turns to fire the gun point blank into the exposed helmet of the old chap. Relief or pure agony followed the discharge of said weapon into one's ... well, weapon.

The really hardcore version involved aiming the gun point blank down the jap's eye. As a 'live one' would almost certainly lead to a trip to the accident unit with a hard ornage plastic bullet lodged halfway down the wee chute, this game was only ever played once. We felt that we were living on borrowed time and luckily nobody fired a live one.

Other games included 'Ball Daniels', in which a power ball was pelted by one participant to the floor and into the open legs of the opponent. Trousers must be hoiked up and the 'target's' eyes must be shut.

I never took part. Honest.
(bobby bumcheeks, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 10:48, Reply)

My own personal arse impalement story
goes thusly: on a (thankfully short) coach trip last year, I found an empty seat and sat down heavily, resulting in pure agony in the region of the right arse cheek. The metal end of the seatbelt had become wedged between the seat cushions, pointing upwards and had travelled with surprisingly little resistance through my trousers and skin. As it was a relatively blunt object the wound turned out to be pretty big and took a while to heal. I didn't make that much noise over it (quite proud of that) and resisted the temptation to ask my fellow passengers "hey, is my arse bleeding?" which tentative examination soon proved anyway.

It must run in the family: 20+ years ago my cousin was in school assembly in a building undergoing renovation. She perched on a plank of wood with a rusty nail sticking out of it. Sorry Nat.

I have also heard (third- or fourth-hand) about a legendary scrotal rippage on a barbed wire fence, which I either don't believe or don't want to think about.
(ElectricClare, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 10:47, Reply)

*Almost* horrific
A month ago, my friends and I went holidaying in Menorca. The weather was hot but quite windy and there were some fairly impressive waves to be had so we decided to pur-chase some boogie boards and have a bit of a mini-surf (as we are all too ghey and frightened to have a crack at proper surfing).
All was well, we were having a right laff bobbing around on our boards, when suddenly I saw what I thought was a little jellyfish, about the size of a mushroom. "Pah" thinks I, "t'is no jellyfish, there is nought to be frightened of in these fine Menorcan waters!" and carried on my boogie boarding.
Then I felt this bloody awful sting between my legs, like nettle-stings but more hardcore, and after looking behind me I see that it is indeed a little jellyfish. I legged it to the beach and looked out to sea, and noticed about 50 of the little buggers dotted about in the shallows. I notified my friends of this and a "GET OUT OF THE WATER" type stampede reminiscent of Jaws ensued.
The time came to inspect my now trobbing undercarriage. I found a blotchy jellyfish sting high up on my inner-left thigh, about one inch from my tuppence. So ... not really a rudey-bits injury but it so nearly could have been. My blood still runs cold when I think if the jellyfish had stung an inch to the right and masacred my bean.

No apologies for breadth or depth, the jellyfish obviously didn't care.
( Droog is too orangey for crows, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 10:44, Reply)

An easy mistake to make...

A few years ago, the nice young lady I was fornicating with asked me if I wanted to change at Baker St*, flip her over and play her B-side etc..

Previous girlfriends had definitely NOT been into such naughtiness and I enthusiastically agreed. "You do have lubricant?" she whispered, "Oh yes." I replied, knowing full well I didn't, at least nothing conventional. No KY, no vaseline, no lemon curd, nothing. So I blundered off to the bathroom, looking for a substitute: Toothpaste? Too minty. Daktarin? Too weird. Massage oil? Bingo! I rushed back, greased myself and her up and commenced arse banditry.

You know where this is going. The massage oil was tea-tree based. After a few seconds I noticed my cock getting warm, which obviously I ignored. Warm turned to hot turned to fucking excruciating and at the point when I felt I was about to burst into flames, I pulled out and ran screaming into the shower.

Rather gallantly, the lady in question waited her turn (her ringpiece must have been agony) whilst I scrubbed and scrubbed and sobbed like a little girl. Then she said "next time I'll bring the lube."

And she did! Happy days.

*ie change from the Hammersmith and City to the Bakerloo line.
( MacCruiskeen, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 10:05, Reply)

Serves the cnut right
Guy I once knew had "bigballitis" to give it it's correct medical term (actually something to do with the hole his spud dropped through as a kid not healing up properly and fluid from his body cavity leaking into his scrote.) Impressive King Edward size nads follow.

So..... eventually goes to have the hole sewn up and scrote drained. On waking up from the op in the ward he's busting for a pee. 'Throws' his legs over the edge of the bed and then realises he can't stand upright and there's a nasty pain in his scrote and the stomach wall above his pubes. Hobbling like a hunched 90 year old he makes it to the bogs. Rooting around in the dressing to find his John Thomas he finds that the surgeon has kindly forgotten to remove the fuck off size stitch between his now strangely roomy nut sack and his abdomen (used to keep his huge scrote out of the way whilst they were fiddling with his other bits).


NURSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Stitch snipped he could stand up right, but he had to keep his balls in the NHS equivalent of an orange bag for ages.

Oh how I laughed :-D like a said the lad was a cnut
(Dozey Oates is off to Merkinland soon (:, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 9:42, Reply)

I knew a guy....
In the shower, decides a hand shandy is in order. Slips, falls. Wakes up in an ambulance having knocked himself out and erm how does one put it- met a fate worse than going blind.
Length? -You shouldn't joke, it was a serious injury.
( Paedosmile service with a grin., Tue 18 Jul 2006, 7:45, Reply)

My dad's nut problems
Speaking of vasectomies my dad had one shortly after I was born. It was a walk in, walk out job where the doctors insisted he should go home straight afterwards. Did my dad go home? No he went to the pub, got utterly ratarsed and when the painkillers wore off had to stagger home in horrible gonad pain which I'm sure being pissed too didn't help.
(chakaflange, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 2:03, Reply)

Branson's a thief, cunt stole my nickname
I'm a 15 year male who attends a private all boys school, and as we have no sexual education lessons there, this QOTW has proved highly interesting to me. The internet is the only real means of sexually educating myself I have, but my parents have a block on any 'rude' sites, so I'm surprised I can view this site at all considering the language half you filthy bastards on here use.

Anyway, After reading all about the dangers of having sex I've come to the conclusion that the rewards just don't outweigh the risks.

It'll be great in a few years though. I can see it now. I'm sitting around the fireplace, cardigan firmly on, smoking my pipe, boring the younger generation of how "we never had hoverboards in mya day" and "we had to do with wheels on wood", and how a 'certain' website converted me into becoming a life-long member of the virgin club. Yes, it's certainly a story to tell the grandki..............bugger!!
(Lt Columbo, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 1:25, Reply)

More Vasectomy...
You should have the modern Vasectomy op, where they inject you in the testicles (and BOY does that hurt - when the Doc says 'don't flinch as this will hurt and you must not move....' JEBUS!). Then they lazer through your scrotum, pull the tubes out with a hook and lazer them apart, neatly corterizing (sp) them at the same time.

My op went badly and I had to have a week off work as the bruising left my bollocks the size of tangerines (so only slightly swollen :o) ) and so painful I could not walk. Getting to the doctors for a check up 5 days later was so much fun - I was getting passed on the street by pensioners with zimmer frames.
( MrHeed, Tue 18 Jul 2006, 0:00, Reply)

A tale of one veg...
Back when I was a wee nipper (1998, I think!) I had the rather embarrassing problem that 'lefty' had outgrown 'righty' by a ratio of approximately 2:1. The classic cough test reveals a hernia, which suprised me cos it didn't hurt at all. But the concept of my intestine inhabiting my scrote struck me as disturbing - what was it trying?

Anyhoo, the day of the op rolls around and the first scary thing is the size of the syringe full of knock out juice. It's frikkin huge! They haven't even pumped half of it into my tiny 12 year old arm before I'm out. I wake up feeling pretty good, which of course I know was the top class drugs in my bloodstream. Discharged later that day, I just feel a bit stiff and numb down there as I daydream my way to the car, admiring how soft and fluffy the world has become, which hardly prepared me for the AGONY of the next few days. Every slight movement caused spears of pain in the most sensitive of areas! And I couldn't debate maths for a good week. No wait, it was a crap week.

No apologies for ridiculously lopsided scrote or attachments.
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 23:59, Reply)

Painful and FUCKIN STOOPID
Decided to have a vasectomy a few years back. So there I am, lay on me back, meat and veg on display and the Dr. injects BOTH MY BALLS and the pubic region above the winkle. That fuckin hurt like you would NOT believe. Anyhoo, after a few minutes the anaesthetic has kicked in, Dr's cutting (no pain) but I can feel a vague pulling. I mention this and Dr. says "Where ?". Not thinking properly, I move my hands down trying to hold them over the discomfort. Unfortunately, I stuck my sweaty hands ONTO the sterile cloth and nearly stuck my fingers INTO my scrote ! Looks of panic from Dr and nurses (but I luckily avoided an infection).
On the plus side I got a few days of work and got to wank myself stupid for the next few weeks !
(Oh yes, the smell of burning flesh as they cauterise your tubes is pretty disturbing too)
(kitescreech still here, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 22:56, Reply)

happy mothers day
last year, mothers day. whilst happily drinking the day away in the pick 'n' sundial, i received a phone call saying my baby brother had had rather a nasty knee in the bollocks whilst playing football. nothing to worry about i was told, but just be sure to keep an eye on him when he gets home as he's had a bit to drink. fair do's. 2 hours later, my bro enters the pick 'n' sundial walking like john wayne and proclaims that he needs his big sis to drive him to the hospital. ooooh, challenge. we got there, eventually, and after being examined and having an ultra-sound scan, he found out that his left bollock had shattered into 4 pieces and needed to be removed as soon as possible. obviously not that night cause he was rat arsed, which the doctor was none too happy about. after a little while chatting and him getting used to the idea, he realised we hadn't sent a mothers day card to our mum up in aberdeen. so, in a moment of complete and utter genius, kid bro takes a picture on his phone of his black swollen bollocks, and gleefully sends it to our mum under the heading 'happy mothers day'.

best moment came about 2 months after, when i forgot my cash card and had to pop home to get it. hearing screams of ''get out you stupid cow!!'' i rush through to my room, and en-route catch a glimpse of a scantily clad blonde sprawled on my brothers bed, and him rushing to shut the door. got back up the road to the pub, and most of my brothers team-mates, and proudly declared 'its alright guys, he's still in full working order, just popped home and caught him at it with a semi naked blonde!' cue much cheering among the pub team, until a big burly fierce looking bald guy stands up and pops his head round the pillar he'd been sitting behind and bellowed 'that's my daughter you're talking about i hope it's your idea of a joke she's an angel and would never do such a thing.' pissed him off by laughing in his face and saying something along the lines of ''i'm like that every night mate, so i must be an angel too'' and as such now have official legend status in the pub due to my amazing ability to put my foot right in it without getting punched. needless to say, my brother never got to see her again and is lucky he still has the one bollock.
(trigger happy, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 22:53, Reply)

Wanking
One night my wank just wasn't coming off well. I'm not sure why, I was still in my late teens and should have been producing gallons. But after close to 45 minutes, nothing.

I gave up when my arm began to cramp and went to bed. The next morning all the wanking had caused what is left of my foreskin to swell up.

It looked like an italian sausage wearing a winter coat!
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 21:57, Reply)

More cock-and-bull stories...
My penis has had a lot of exercise in its time, but also a few injuries.

The first time it was seriously troubled was just before I left for a three-week climbing holiday. The girlfriend I had at the time chose to send me off with a smile on my face by dragging me off into some woodland and shagging me senseless. What she actually did was accidentally tug my cock forcefully into a load of brambles. The three weeks in Poland were a nightmare of rubbing Germoline in, praying it didn't go septic, and hoping my phrase book was implausibly specific in its hospital vocabulary.

The second time involved going to the clap clinic, who had apparently sub-contracted to Dynorod. After treating my penis as if they could extract North Sea Oil from it, they reluctantly concluded that my partner at the time had just been a bit rough.

I'm still unsure about the last time. It may have been an accident, or it may not. See, I was too busy trying to listen to the Ashes to care about my partner's needs, and so I wasn't touching her as she prefers. Naturally she took over matters of stimulation herself. Less naturally, she manages to 'slip' and scratch five inch grooves down my old fella.

The pain of this was in no way improved by the fact that whilst running around the house yelling and trying to find something to stem the bleeding I managed to miss three wickets...

Apologies for length - all these injuries have caused it to swell...
(psd eats stuff. Often., Mon 17 Jul 2006, 21:05, Reply)

Drunk people, air rifle, and balls. Ouch
One night a friend of mine got drunk at a party, at another of my mates houses.

He managed to get so drunk that he got his bits out for everyone to see.

Cue other drunk people and an air rifle.

He got shot right in the testicle, and was in absolute agony for at least a month.

Never mix bollocks and air rifles.
(weebllikepie, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 20:47, Reply)

Karate
During a training session I got kicked in the bollocks so hard, I passed out. I came round to find two guys holding me steady whilst my instructor had his hand down my pants massaging my very black balls.
(Cane: I love Sushi, Sobriety & Shotokan, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 20:05, Reply)

Never accept a takey of a crap bike rider!
I've never claimed to be a good bike rider. Infact i'm a terrible one and to this day, i can't hop up onto a kerb (how embarrassing!)
So me and my mate are aged 12 or so and bored in the summer hols. "I know! Lets give each other takeys on your bike! GENIUS!!"
Off we ride with me pedalling and my friend positioned on the tip of the seat in front of me. I failed to inform her that i couldn't do the aformentioned 'kerb-hop' but i gave it a bash anyway.
I hit the kerb at lightning speed and my pal flies forward off the seat and feels the thud of her lady bits hitting the bike frame. One shattered pubic bone and three weeks in the hospital with her traumatized mother wailing "OH MY GOD!! They think she'll never be able to have kids"*
I never did confess that it wasn't entirely an accident


*This theory was rubbished approximatly three years later when the local baghead knocked her up!
(thingymebobs, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 20:03, Reply)

My Dad
Who is pretty unlucky, had an overnight hospital stay to repair his bottom. He had a fissure, or something.

To alliviate the understandable embarrasment of kneeling on the bed, facing the headboard, having his starfish sewn back together by a young nurse, he asked:

'Could you do a nice blanket stitch, please?'

She didn't laugh. In fact if it was possible for the room to get silenter, it did, by all accounts.

Sadly he had to see her again when she removed the stitches. He stayed quiet.
(Northern Lovely, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 18:59, Reply)

One-Bollocked Dave
Kids! When playing Super-Mega-Stuntman at you local park, on no account should you attempt to go as high as you can on a swing, jump off, land on your bike saddle and ride away to the cheers and applause of your mates.

Because you can't.

We didn't call him One-Bollocked Dave for nothing.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 17:54, Reply)

Dogging
I was ten and riding around on my bike when a horny dog decided to chase me down the road and mount my Raleigh Grifter (shame it wasn't a chopper etc.). While I was trying to escape his humping form, his paws slipped down and his claws stratched my pee-pee, so hard that it bled. Mentally and physically scarring.
(pastypits, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 16:36, Reply)

Butt cheeks
I must have been about eight when this happened. I was playing hide and seek with my sister who was, at the time, in the hall counting to 100. I was in the living room looking for somewhere to hide. It didn't take very long for her to get to the higher numbers. I could hear her outside getting closer to "Ready or not".

91 - 92 - 93

Where am I going to hide? There was nothing. If I went behind the TV she'd see me immediately (pre-video days - big gap under telly).

94 - 95 - 96

Lie down by coffee table and hope she doesn't see me? That'll never work.

97 - 98 - 99

As she said 100, I spotted a gap behind the armchair in the corner. I went for it, leaping over the chair in the greatest of hurry, and flopping down behind it bum first.

It was at this point I found where my mam kept her knitting bag courtesy of a yarking thick needle sticking up, pointy end skyward. It was now firmly embedded in my bum cheek. Hide and seek was quickly abandoned as I realised that I'd stabbed myself in the arse.

Oddly enough, I don't remember it hurting that much. Big shock though. When you're eight years old, a knitting needle is a sword. Which is a story for another day.
( andyparmo bumming sheeps since, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 16:19, Reply)

ArseCam
So...I’m lying there with a camera up my arse. The nurse has said "just make yourself comfortable". My reply of "Are you fucking having a laugh?!" has met with much polite laughter (a tip; always be nice to nurse when in for any hospital procedures; they are the ones who have the power to make the uncomfortable feel bearable. Or agonising, depending on their whims). And were it not for the enema I’ve had earlier that morning, I would be shitting myself.

The camera itself doesn’t hurt, despite them shoving it a metre inside of me (a fact I shall be raising the next time I’m begging Mrs Light for anal...). What DOES hurt is the compressed air they’re pumping in their in order to have a good look around. I mean, as if what’s happening isn’t undignified enough without it being punctuated with my mouth saying"Oh GOD jesus fucking christ that hurts....aaaAAAAAAAAAAwwww..." whilst my arse is saying "FFFFTTHHSSSSSSSSPPPPPPPFWUBWUBWUBWUBWUBWUB".

Anyway, I can see onscreen what the camera can see. And there it is; what looks to be a massive yellowy-white growth in my shitpipe. (I later discover it’s only a few mm big; apparently the display screen is highly magnified). "Ah" says the nurse, "looks like you have a small tumour Mr Light. Wouldn’t worry about it though; it looks benign (it was), but just to be sure, we’ll biopsy it and then burn it off."

Ah, okay that’s...hang on. Did you say "burn"? Have I got this right? As well as jamming a tube a metre up my fudge tunnel, you’re now going to stick an electrode up there and melt a piece off of my bowel!? For fucks sake woman! That’s not too far away from how they killed Edward II!

"Just relax and...." ZAP! "There we go; got rid of it; see". And I could indeed see on the screen that what I’d come to think of as the sightless, milky eye up my tradesmans had been replaced by a smoking black crater. As the pain kicked in later that day, I found myself wondering whether it was an improvement or not...

So then; I had one more hospital visit. During this I was be put under general anaesthetic whilst a camera was stuck even further up my arse (I’m told they went several metres in). Happily, due to having spent the 3 days before the op in Amsterdam, I was sanguine about this and failed to be as terrified as I should have been. Although prior to the op, I drank some sort of chemical which, according to the nurse, would give me "the explosive shits for 24 hours; we need to clean you out before the procedure". She was not wrong.

Illness sucks.
(Light, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 15:40, Reply)

A girlfriend
was about to have her smear test, and the doctor asked if some students could come and watch the procedure. She felt obliged to say yes, and no less than 25 of them appeared around the curtain to watch - her with her legs akimbo, and them down the business end. They seemed to enjoy it, one of them looked scared and said "holy shit", which leads me to wonder whether they were actually medical students, or just curious passers by.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 15:11, Reply)

Man Gash
A couple of years ago my husband noticed a rather large spot in the no mans land area of his nether regions (perineum), this then swelled to the size of a satsuma and was eventually (when he was brave enough to show a doctor) diagnosed as an abcess.

Cue trip to hospital to have it lanced. They simply sliced it open and packed it full of dressings, which had to be changed by the local district nurse team (how they must have looked forward to that) every day. Anyhoo, it didn't work and he had to have the procedure performed again. This time it put some pressure on one of the arteries in the area which eventually fell apart and started spurting blood all over my bathroom.

I was alerted to the incident by a telephone call from the District Nurse who was concerned not to alarm me (he had been rushed into hospital in an ambulance) as I was 8 months pregnant at the time. Unfortunately when she rung I was stuck in a broken lift with 6 work colleagues but that's another story.

During the four months he had to have off work to finally cure the abcess I affectionatly referred to it as his 'man gash'.
(Mooma, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 15:00, Reply)

I helped snap a bloke's banjo string once.
Never seen so much blood in my life. He didn't feel any pain or even hear a twang so he accused me of not telling him I had the painters in, and took some persuading that the blood was his.

When he grasped it, he went quite pale, and I laughed my head off. Heartless, me.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 14:46, Reply)

not me but
my friend.

she fell out of a tree, aged 7, and landed on a forked twig. which disappeared up her baby lady bits and lodged itself there.

she had to go to hospital to have it removed. ow ow ow!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 14:17, Reply)

extra willy
I have a small skin tag just above my pubic area. All it is is a bit of skin that's grown in the wrong direction. The doc told me to tie a piece of thread around it and it'll fall off eventually(!)

My son pointed out that "it looks like an extra willy, only a lot smaller and it doesn't look so much like a spring roll".

I'd never thought of it like that before.
(teasus likes tea, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 14:15, Reply)

Red red hole
Apparently (i found out later) I had a yeast infection around my asshole (clearly the years of baguette anal abuse were a mistake) but it made me itch like buggery. So I did what you do - I scratched. Which made it itch more and, after a week or so, the skin had all been rubbed off.

Adding germoline (why I don't know, perhaps the promise of possible local anaesthetic action) only seemed to make it worse so after 5 hours of Saturday night moaning, kneeling on the kitchen floor with spread open bum-cheeks letting air get to it (some minor relief) with most of my weight being supported by my lino-flattened face cheeks while my hands did the spreading led to my then partner (now semi-famous politician) calling the hospital and telling them I had a skin irritation.

Interestingly those words seem to be the password to almost immediate attention in the NHS: I was told to come in immediately and escorted through the waiting hordes sitting nursing knife-cuts to thumbs and mothers berating urchins with saucepans stuck on their heads and placed with VIP care onto a gurny. "Skin complaint" seemed also to bring the added bonus of the immediate attention of a consultant to my plight too.

On looking at my red and sore hole (more kneeling and spreading), the consultant was none too impressed with the seriousness of my complaint and made it plain as she said: "hardly life-threatening is it" while she reached over and opened an alcohol-wipe with a look of punishment in her eyes.

My life flashed before my eyes as non-polar solvent met raw arse meat. I think it took them a minute to pull me down from the ceiling where I was clutching onto the lightfitting calling for my mummy.

I was sent home looking like someone with an adult-baby fetish - a big nappy with pain-killer cream on it. RESULT tho'.
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 13:38, Reply)

Somebody call a paramedic!
Not actually my story, but I was there to witness the events...

Playing footy on a cold january day, one of my fellow defenders received what can only be called "a kick in the knackers". He eventually gets back up and we play on. After a couple of minutes, one of the opposing side turned to him and pointed out that the front of his shorts were somewhat bloody. The victim merely stated that he knew, but was afraid to look.

During the post match shower, his dick started to resemble a lightbulb, so off to the hospital he went. We, being considerate team members, buggered off to the pub.

Turns out that he had split the shaft, though not too seriously. This apparently is a fairly uncommon injury, so whilst in the hospital, the doctor asked if he could show someone else as it was rare. Expecting an expert to come in, the victim was somewhat surprised to find a group of 20 medical students poking at this privates for about half and hour!

The only comment he made afterwards was that his missus was going to kill him, but he hoped the swelling would remain...
(spudmonkey Now MrPineapple can sex me from behind. Don't ask!, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:51, Reply)

Bright red peeler
My ex-missus was a charming lady but when it came to the old one-two she didn't get very slippy slidy downstairs. We had the option of soldiering on gamely or resorting to exostic lubricants to make things go nicely.

One summer night, we found ourselves somewhat shy of K-Y (due to me drunkenly stepping on the tube the night before) so we cast about for alternatives.

Being young and bloody stupid, we desperately settle on hair conditioner. It did the job a treat and we set to it with a vengeance.

In my defence, it was late and very warm plus I HAD been drinking. So, after doing the do, I passed out with the sense of a job well done.

The next morning, I awoke to find what happens if you leave conditioner on your little general. It had enflamed and swollen to a massive 4"! Over the next few days, the pain and swelling subsided and the skin charmingly flaked away.

For some reason, she refused to touch the poor wee thing until it was all better, which took AGES. Cow.
(csdaveuk, Mon 17 Jul 2006, 12:41, Reply)