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This is a question When Animals Attack

I once witnessed my best friend savaged near to death by a flock of rampant killer sheep.

It's a kill-or-be-killed world out there and poor Steve Irwin never made it back alive. Tell us your tales of survival.

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:45)
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This question is now closed.

Hello kitty!
My cat scratched my mouse-clicking finger yesterday. It still hurts.

Bad kitty!
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:04, Reply)
I was 16
and on a camping holiday with some friends. We were going to walk the Cornish coastal path, from the Plym to St Ives. But somewhere around St Austell we discovered cheap beer and lost our way.

We were walking for hours, lost in total, all-consuming darkness. If my three friends hadn't been there I know I'd have crapped myself.
Eventually we gave up searching for any sign of civilisation, and clumsily pitched our tents in a field.

After a good night's sleep, we all awoke and started to prepare breakfast, totally unaware of the danger that lay just over the horizon.
We'd brought a little stove that ran on meths, and my good friend, Seb, was trying to fry some sausages.
Dryw, a handsome, adventurous sort, spotted something, out in the distance, 'What's that?' He asked with a slight hint of panic in his voice.
We all looked to the edge of the field, where a herd of cows were silently grazing.
'Don't worry about them,' said Seb, re-assuringly, 'They wont bother us if we don't bother them.'

But Seb was wrong, so very, very wrong, he had no idea that these cows were in fact EVILBOVINEZOMBIES.

They shambled towards us, nearer and nearer, their impending presence spelling doom for our little camping spot.
It wasn't like we didn't see them coming, but they came fast, and we just about escaped with our lives.
They trampled the tents and stomped all over our things, I didn't really mind that though, nothing was broken.
What I did mind was that they ate all of our Super Noodles.

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:04, 1 reply)
...does getting anally fisted by a Jack Russell terrier in the wee hours of the morning count?
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:03, 7 replies)
A duck shat on my head once.

No, that's all I've got. Sorry.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:03, Reply)
Turns out I wasn't actually that late. What do you know?

So a short one to start. A bird once flew into my back. Really hard. With it's beak.

It then fell to the ground in pain.

Stupid bird.

/crap story.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:02, Reply)
In the Scouts...
...we were dumped just outside of Didcot, and told to hike back to our HQ, some twenty miles away on the other side of Reading.

Sod that for a laugh - my plan was to cut across the fields down to the main road and get a bus. Be Prepared, as they say, and I was prepared with bus fare.

Unfortunately, the sheep saw us first. Dreadful killer sheep, which latched onto the weakest member of our group, and hove in for the kill.

"Baa!" they said, obviously short for "Baa-stard!"

Greebo watched open-mouthed as the sheep gave that whole grass-eating business a rest and charged. Straight at him.

There was a distant scream, and he fled. Fled for his life.

He might have made it too, if it were not for the fact that the mud made his progress something like wading through treacle, while Cuddles seemingly flew across the sodden meadow.

Then, he went down, and Cuddles was upon him, giving him the bleating of his life.

Alas, the other sheep thought this was an excellent idea, and poor, dead Greebo was engulfed in a white, fluffy tide.

Sickened, we were. What a way to go.

Eventually, a mud-spattered and bruised wraith eventually appeared out of the setting sun, dragging the remains of his rucksack behind him, covered head to toe with sheeps' poop.

The bus driver took one look and told us to bugger off. Stupid killer sheep.

Full 12-inch version, you say? With pictures by B3TA's very own Down on the Farm? Why, HERE.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:01, Reply)
I threw a brick at a rabbit once
apogoLOLolies for legnth

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 15:01, Reply)
Titan the Bull Mastiff.
He was called Titan, he was a Bull Mastiff, he weighed 20 stone and was built like an iron shithouse. He had a habit of running through doors (when closed) and wearing them like a dog ruff. He was as soppy as a puppy and as frisky as Rod Hull and loved playing with sticks (tree trunks). He ate like Desperate Dan and shit like a platoon of marines.

One day when we were playing he pinned me down, I really couldn't move and I'm 6'5" and 17 stone and got a look in his eye that I'd seen in a few ladies in my time, a predatory lust that's appealing in the right circumstances. Just as he was about to get it on, I screamed 'GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU DIRTY CUNT!' in his face, slavering inches from my own. He stopped, looked guilty, and proceeded to lick my face like an icecream. Good doggy.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:59, Reply)

biting at the front, kicking at the back and rape in the middle.

Stay well clear.

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:58, 5 replies)
Oh, and in case I forget
My guilty pleasure is answering QOTW six weeks late!


*sodomises a goat in disgust*
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:58, 7 replies)
Rocky, RIP
This topic reminds me, painfully, of Rocky, my prize fighting whelk. Rocky was raised on a whelk stud in North Ferriby on the banks of the Humber. We always knew he had the look of a killer, even when he was small. He'd be first to the trough at feeding time, shoving the others out of the way to get to his dinner.

We trained him well, exercising him every day. He shone amongst the other whelks - he was twice the size and five times as brave.

We got him in the ring for his first fight and he just floored the other opponent. I'd never seen a whelk move so fast. I was so proud of him.

Together we toured the country, fight after fight. Rocky would always triumph, always give everything he'd got to win the prize. He was unstoppable!

Then, one day, we saw an advert for the Mollusc Ultimate Fighting Championships. I was dubious, but I knew I couldn't hold him back, not if that was what he wanted. He rose through the ranks to the cheers of the spectators.

It came to the final. Rocky... didn't make it. His opponent, a shifty looking bivalve if ever there was one, battered him to the ground. Rocky didn't get up. He'd been beaten. It turned out that he was a great whelk warrior, but when it came to the Mollusc Ultimate Fighting Championships, he just didn't have the mussel.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:58, 16 replies)
What the cunting fuck
there are so many really good suggestions on the fucking board. Why do we get bastard cunting repeats!
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:56, 5 replies)
Run Forrest, run.....
Many years ago I was chased by a swarm of wasps through a park in Coventry because I was wearing coconut scented hair wax. I never wore it again and I made a vow to kill every wasp I came across for making me look like a twat.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:56, 1 reply)
Did i miss something?
Oh yes - this QOTW the first time round

(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:55, 10 replies)
when they are male and in heat (which is almost evryday)

they chase you round the garden with a little pink finger hanging out... they also Grunt... which was new to me...

hanging out you washing is impossible.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:55, 1 reply)
I once fellated a dog...
They buck quite a lot at the crucial point... damn near had my eye out...
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:53, Reply)
My grandma had a dog which we were warned NEVER to mess with while it was eating.
My sister being the dozy tart she was (and is) decided that she wanted it's food and so stole the plate.
This was foolish as the dog (small non-barking thing - basengi sp?) launched itself at her face and almost bit her nose off.
She was rushed to hospital where thankfully there were able to re-attach it.
She never went near the thing again. I think if it happened these days it would have been down the vets in about a nanosecond. It went on to be crabby for another 10 or so years tho.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:52, Reply)
first page!!!
my cat has foot fetish. she cant control her urge to attak my feet when they are bare.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:52, Reply)
Our first cat
was a seriously scary wee bugger. Total psycho, he squared up to everything in the neighbourhood (including the alsatian along the street and the odd wandering fox).

His favourite trick was to lie in wait behind the cat flap and attack the postie's legs while he delivered the mail. The paperboy wised up a bit quicker and used to stand to the side.

We couldn't let it go on, so one morning I locked the cat flap and watched. The postie walked down the path, and lifted the letterbox flap. The cat launched himself forward and ...


His head impacted the cat flap and he sorted of somersaulted over himself. Once I'd stopped laughing (and the postie was at a safe distance) I opened the cat flap and he slowly pushed it open with his paw. Then shot me a filthy look and disappeared for the rest of the day.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:51, Reply)
i am being headbutted by a cat
right now. she wants her dinner and likes to nut me in the back until she gets her own way
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:50, 7 replies)
a walrus
i once fellatiated a walrus for a laugh.

boy do they ejaculate a lot of spunk, choked whilst swallowing it all.
nearly died from secondary drowning the night after in my sleep.
still laugh when we put the video of it on, fucking walrus cock in my mouth!
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:49, 2 replies)
Fight! Fight! Fight!

Apologies to whoever I ripped this off from....
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:48, 6 replies)
I was last, bitches!
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:48, 2 replies)
Oh, tell a bleeding story!
I was once mauled to death by a bear. I found it really traumatic and I don't like to talk about it, so I think I'll just leave it at that.

*awaits a week of goat/monkeysex stories*
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:48, Reply)
I have a real story. I went to an animal rescue home thing near where I lived as a child called Raystead Donkey Sanctuary.

Along with the Donkeys there was a single monkey. Don't ask me what type it was, I have no idea. But as I stood next the the enclosure to have my picture taken, the little bugger reached through the wire and grabbed my hair.

Looking back now, I'm concerned that it may have actually been Bert Monkeysex grooming for my later life as his goatsexslave.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:47, 1 reply)

Story about squirrels to follow.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:47, Reply)
I have so damn many stories for this!

I was bitten by a lizard last night, a Dwarf Monitor called "Mr. Bitey".

This week there will be stories from me featuring lizards, scorpions, a dog, chickens, bees, pond-skaters, a goat and a terrapin.
(, Thu 24 Apr 2008, 14:47, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

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