I used to come home from work most nights and find
my flatmate playing Quake 2 on the PC in my bedroom. As these were generally clan matches I would normally sit on my bed and roll a spliff for us to share until he had finished the match.

I had just assembled my materials on my lap when my spider sense tingled. Seconds later the largest house spider I have ever seen emerged from behind a shoe box. It looked directly at me and smelling my fear, waved its front legs menacingly in my direction.

My friend was not scared of spiders so, albeit feeling rather lady-like, I asked for his assistance. He gave the the response you would expect from a stoned Quake player; he ignored me. I asked again, this time with a more serious note in my voice. In return I got a nod and a mumbled "Just a sec..." *explosion* "Bastard!". He continued to play. The spider took a step (or eight) in my direction. Having recently read Dune I decided to use "the voice" on my friend. "Fucking help me or you'll never play Quake again!" I cried in high-pitched, panic-stricken tones. Something about the gay-ness in my voice made him turn around, eyes wide, and look at the floor.

"Holy-fucking-shit that's massive," he said in an I-might-actually-be-a-bit-more-afraid-of-spiders-than-I-let-on type of voice, "and do you know the worst thing? It's between me and the door."

As he lifted his legs up off the floor, the spider turned to face this new threat/prey. Realising this was possibly our only chance of survival, my paralised body was forced into action by my science fiction-addled brain. Remembering the final scene from Arachnophobia I grabbed my can of deodorant from my bedside, sparked my zippo into life and, ignoring the warnings, sprayed my 24 hour protection from wetness and odour directly onto the naked flame, unleashing hell in the direction of the arachnid menace.

The spider realised its mistake too late. It turned back to face me just as a flaming ball of high performance anti-perspirant deodorant ignited it and the carpet around it. In either a final effort to induce recurring nightmares in me or simply the confused panic of a burning insect it ran screaming* around the carpet with a trail of black smoke billowing behind it until finally it came to a slightly crispy stop near the chair my wide-eyed friend was perched upon.

Triumphantly I placed a glass over it (it was still smoking and I wasn't certain yet that it wasn't just stunned and steeling itself for a counter attack) and called my friend a poof while I casually stamped out a small carpet fire.

*Somebody was screaming, it could well have been the beast.
( Jay, Mon 6 Jun 2005, 15:08, Reply)

Anonymous girl in St Ives
I remember once on holiday in St Ives - they have these signs up along the sea front "DO NOT FEED THE SEAGULLS" and loads of seagulls with attitude who will happily divebomb-raid people with food.

Cue this girl, she couldn't have been more than 10 or 11, on her way home from school with her tennis racket and an ice cream she's bought. This huge seagull flies down, snatches the ice cream out of her hand and lands on the sea wall fence to eat it.

The girl stared at it for a few seconds, then took her tennis racket, walked up to the thing and SMACKED it as hard as she could. It so wasn't expecting that, it barely managed to spread its wings before it hit the water, some thirty odd feet away.

Game, Set and Match!
(Snitter the Rat, Sat 4 Jun 2005, 13:40, Reply)

Dolpin Sex horror
A Devonite mate of mine tells the following story at the drop of a hat- usually when trying to justify his seething hatred of dolphins.

Apparently he and a group of his backward west-country chums were fooling around down the beach one day, when they spied one of those loveable marine scamps splashing and frollocking its way towards them through the surf. They all eagerly envisaged an enjoyable afternoon laughing and catching rides on its back, like in the stories they had all heard about other people reading.

Unfortunately, it appears that Flipper had other things on his mind. It turns out that one of the girls in the group was in that magical pre-menstrual state where she was leaking pheromones like a sex-crazed skunk, and this had frazzled his dolphin-senses. The clicking rape-fiend then proceeded to single out this girl from the group and attempt to stick his long, thin dolphin cock in any available orifice.

Cue much splashing and attempted get-away. Thanks to the thin layer of swimsuit she managed not to get fully violated, but by all accounts her thighs had been bruised black by the vigorous thrusting of the cetacean love-member.

Safe to say, she never went in the sea again and my mate now affects a chronic dislike of dolphins. Even though I reckon he knows that she was asking for it- slut.





Apologies for lent- blame Jesus. Arsehole.
(BiffTannen, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 11:54, Reply)

Old Wives Tales
I'd always been told by my hard-as-nails older brother that if a dog went for your throat you should stick your hand down it's throat, grab it's tongue and twist. This was supposed to cause the dog immense pain and it's tongue would swell up and the dog would either die or break off it's attack. Now to a 13 year brought up on Bruce Lee films, this sounded like sound advice..

Move on a number of years...

Wavy lines.

~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~

In the mid eighties I was living in Manchester and had acquired a fantastic dog called Legless (which is where my nickname comes from - where he got his from is another story for another day...). Anyway, one day I was lounging around my flat reading when Legless started to go berserk. He was barking and snarling and scratching at the front door. At the time I lived in Hulme in shitty deck access flats and muggers and burglars were constant problem. Legless had never behaved like this and my first thoughts were that somebody was trying to break in next door to my mates flat. So I opened the door intending to confront the bastards. On opening the door Legless shot out in a snarling fury.

Now Legless was a big dog. A cross between an Alsatian and a Husky. Jet black, huge head and jaws and an absolute bastard for fighting other dogs. It was the one habit I could never break him of.

So Legless shot out, followed closely by me, to see 2 young(about 10 year old) black girls being towed down the outside walkways by a bloody huge monster of a Rottweiler! (I mentioned the fact that these girls were black because, in my experience, black people really didn't like or get on with dogs - but I digress.) So Legless, never having lost a dog-fight before, launched himself at this monster intending to tear this interloper paw from paw.

Good move Leggy. The girls, predictably, screamed and let go of the lead and the battle (hah!) was on. Legless bounced off the side of the Rotty, his teeth hardly making an impression, and the Rottweiler had him. It's huge head pinned Legless to the ground and it started to worry him, trying to get a grip on his throat. Now at times like this you don't think, you just act. I could see my beloved dog about to get ripped apart before my eyes so I jumped in to save him. Grabbing Legless by the scruff of the neck, I hurled him backwards, away from the Rotty and, at the same time, put my foot on the attackers chest and shoved him backwards creating space between the two dogs with me in the middle. Legless, not being absolutely suicidal, decided that discretion was the better part of valour and slunk off back towards the flat leaving me facing the Rotty. The Rotty, pissed off at being denied it's prey, decided then to have me. With a snarl and a massive leap it launched itself towards my throat.


Now this was the moment I'd been waiting all my life for. A massive dog going for my throat. Armed with the knowledge from my older brother I stepped confidently forward to meet the aggressor. As it's jaws opened I thrust my open hand straight down it's throat ready to grab it's foul tongue and twist it until it screamed for mercy.

You can see what's coming next can't you?

The bloody monster must have thought it was it's birthday. It grabbed my hand and arm with glee and crunched into it. Fuck me it hurt! As it pulled backwards, it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me down the walkway, shaking it's head and growling. Bloody bastard. I was scared and I was angry and I didn't fancy being lunch. I pulled with all my strength and managed to drag my hand free, losing a fair amount of blood and gobbets of flesh, and, still lying on the floor, spun round so my feet were facing the Rotty and did what I should have done in the first place. I kicked the bastard as hard as I could right on the end of it's nose. With steel capped boots. It let out a might yelp and and, it's nose pissing blood, turned tail and fled down the walkway.

I got shakily to my feet and looked at my ruined hand. Chunks were missing and I great score marks where I'd dragged it free and it was already started to darken but at least I was still alive and relatively intact.

Footnote.
A few weeks later I ran into these two little girls again.

"How's your dog?" I asked them kindly.

"We don't have him any more! said one. "He got sick and couldn't poo and then he died"

Ha! That'll teach him. I had hoped to give him the shits with the bits of me he'd eaten but I'd settle for constipation....

I remain,as usual
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 10:25, Reply)

Bee.
One beautiful morning last year I was standing at Surbiton Station waiting for my train to work. The sun was shining and it was lovely and warm - I was full of the joys of spring. As I waited for my train, I noticed a bee of absolutely mammoth proportions (or at least it seemed tennis ball sized) flying recklessly about. It began to circle me in a menacing manner and being the big big wuss that I am, I flung my handbag on the floor and ran about 50 yards up the platform (as I did this I saw people laughing). The bee was in pursuit and as I circled back and picked up my bag, the bee was flying round my head and occasionally brushing my ear and cheek with its evil furry body. I had attracted an audience of mildly curious and bemused commuters by this point so I tried to stand still and take some deep breaths. But the bastard thing wouldn’t leave me alone. So. This is where I start to cry. Not a small, discreet sniff - a full on, shoulder shaking sob with tears and arm flapping. At this point, the platform attendant (to whom I am eternally grateful) came over, shoed the evil bee away, waited with me and saw me safely on to the train. Where I cried most of the way to Fulham. When I got into the office I was obviously tear stained. When asked ‘why?’ the only answer that could come from my mouth was ‘I WAS ATTACKED!!’ When I added ‘by a bee’ I realised I could never again command my colleagues’ respect.
(rumandcoke, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 11:06, Reply)

When spiders attack...each other
It was about 4 in the morning and I'd gotten up to take a leak, bleary-eyed and a bit stoned and pissed. I went into our downstairs toilet, switched on the light, lifted the seat, and let nature take its course. Near to one of my bare feet, a massive house spider crawled out from the skirting board. Now I'm not scared of spiders, so I thought "You stay there and I'll stay here and we'll be fine." Then a second spider emerged from the skirting, identical to the first. They circled each other warily, then began fighting in a writhing-ball-of-tangled-legs-zipping-across-the-lino-like-nobody's-business kind of way. I hurriedly finished pissing and backed away from the little bastards, now chasing each other up and down the wall, across the floor and around the base of the toilet, not realising that the toilet door opened inwards, and to leave I would have to go forwards to get out - far too close to the hairy wee buggers for my liking. The spiders didn't seem to notice though, they were far more interested in trying to kill each other.

The next morning I found a spider corpse next to the toilet, leaving me with the disquieting knowledge that there was still one massive spider in the house - and it was a murderer.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 6 Jun 2005, 12:33, Reply)

Cat Attack!
I used to live in a first floor flat, with my wife & 2 cats. We had a cat flap in the kitchen window at work-surface level so the cats could get in & out via a sloping roof outside the window.

I found out that an unneutered tom cat was entering the cat flap and filling his face from our cats' bowls, then pissing high-stink tom cat piss around the place just so we knew he'd paid a visit.

I resolved to ambush this cat to 'teach it a lesson'. This was the plan - One night, set the cat flap to 'in only', then wait up for said tom. Catch him in the kitchen, grab him by the scruff of the neck and eject him via the front door. That'll show him.

So, one night I flicked the catch on the cat flap so he couldn't get out, and went to bed. I sat up in my dressing gown reading a book, with our 2 cats asleep on my feet (keeps them nice & warm).

I dozed off.

Around 1am I awoke and realised that the faint creak of the cat flap had aroused me. Our 2 cats were still at the end of the bed, but looking alertly toward the door. Clearly the perpetrator had arrived! Time to show him who's boss.

I trod oh-so-quietly to the kitchen, but shouldn't really have bothered. There was tom slamming food down his neck as fast as he could and making an unbelievable racket as he did so. Sounded more like a herd of pigs at the trough. Anyway, he became aware of my presence and bolted for the cat flap, leaving a trail of cat food that he'd crammed into his face but hadn't had time to swallow, across the kitchen floor. Doink! Cat flap doesn't open. Panic-stricken tom cat is lying on his side frantically scrabbling at the cat flap, his little paws a blur. 'Got you now!' I exclaimed triumphantly and seized him by the scruff of the neck in a vice-like grip, just as planned.

I might as well have not had hold of him at all, as in an instant he turned in my grip, sank his teeth into my hand and then raked my arms, neck, face & chest with his claws, at the same time managing to motor up and down the work-surface knocking glass jars full of pasta and assorted other breakables to the floor. This was accompanied by the most incredible caterwauling. I was now wondering what the hell to do, as if he could do me this much damage with me holding him down, what the fuck was he going to do to unfettered? I decided to cut my losses and hurled him out of the kitchen into the hallway, whereupon I heard him thunder down the stairs and THUNK into the front door. My wife is shouting 'What the fuck is going on?' and I'm like 'Just stay where you are, there's a bloody mental case cat loose in here'

Then he came back up and did a tour of the flat at about 75mph while I'm scrabbling frantically to open the cat flap so he can get out, but there's blood all over my fingers and I couldn't get a grip on the little plastic tab thing. I finally got it open by banging it with a spatula, and just in time as the maniac cat comes back in the kitchen and BAM out through the cat flap.

Did the trick. Never saw that cat again.

I've still got the scars.

(Apologies for the immensity of length)
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 3 Jun 2005, 4:05, Reply)

baboon love action
a narrowly avoided attack.... I was camping in tanzania a few yrs back, with the GF of the time.. woke up one morning, feeling the approaching warmth of the oncoming african dawn, i started to feel amorous and convinced GF that a dawn shag was a fine idea... so, i climbed aboard, and gave a good account of myself i rather feel. Anyway, the critical moment was reached and, with that slight tinge of post-coital sadness common to us sensitive types, collapsed on the sleeping bag, perspiring quite a lot - it's arsing hot in africa in a nylon tent, even at 8am... so the mrs dug me in the ribs and told me to open the tent up to let us get some bloody air, as the small space we had to breathe in was now definitely full of a peculiarly perfumed vapour..
so i unzipped the front, and threw the flaps back (so to speak) - took deep breath of the fragrant morning air - and nearly shat myself, as there before me was a full sized baboon. About 2 feet away. Snarling. And wanking. oh yes he was wanking, his arm was a blur and he appeared to be sweating whilst he thrashed one out. I froze for a moment, then realising that (a) i didn't want to see this (b) he didnt want me to see this and (c) i knew that bad things would happen if i ignored (a) or (b), i retreated into the tent toute suite and zipped it up. My GF, who had been purring in the light breeze entering the tent, sat up and demanded what exactly the fuck was i doing? So i told her i wasn't opening the tent yet, perhaps it'd be discreet to wait a moment. She, being the woman she is, called me a fuckwit and opened the tent up - only to return, ashen faced, immediately. I, having lit a cigarette, nonchalantly asked if he'd finished - she just shook her head...
About ten mins later, exit tent - no baboon, no monkey jizz... presumably the sound and odour of human love was similar enough to monkeylove to give him ape wood... although that's not a particularly edifying thought, that my best efforts are like a monkeyfucker...
(micky2shoes has more shoes than feet, Wed 8 Jun 2005, 9:23, Reply)

Old bad tempered cat Mog
My last cat was old and I was sitting on the floor with my legs flat out in front on me, watching TV. In walked Mog who proceeded to jump over my legs to get past. Cue me (cruel bastard that I am) lifting my legs up so can't get past.

She cleared my legs and walked further down the room till she must have thought to herself "What a bastard".

She turned round, walked right up to me, onto my legs and sat on my thighs. She then proceeded to climb up further and slap me in the face (No claws or anything. Just a paw'y slap).

Then she just wandered off as if nothing had happened.
( Dugs - The artist formerly known as Dugsybaws, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 13:24, Reply)

Why I cannot tolerate bumblebees...
Once, when I was a nipper, a bumblebee flew into my nappy. My parents and assembled company thought I was dancing.
I was not dancing.
The thought of it still distresses me now.
(HelloSailor, Sun 5 Jun 2005, 14:11, Reply)

Got beaten up by the cat
My cat, Meiow Tse-Tongue (don't ask) was sleeping on the side of my bed. The sheets were slipping off, and so was puss - until suddenly he went over the side completely. I moved over to grab him, and at the same time he shot out both of his paws as fast and as hard as he could in order to grab on to something... The next day I had to go to work with a black eye and sheepishly explain that I had been punched out by the cat.
(Jim the Bad, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 12:51, Reply)

When I was about 12 years old...
...my dad and I went to the zoo. Now, they did this thing where you can feed the elephants bits of carrot and so on.

Naturally obliged and so I chose my weapons, a piece of banana. Nice harmless banana. Bah. The offending elephant happily accepted his treat, smooshed it up REAL good... and sneezed.

Now, if you've ever been sneezed on by a person, you know how much comes out of a little nose. Now think huge trunk. My word.

And just to make matters worse after I comprehended what was going on, he sneezed again.

Elephants are rubbish.
(dirty gypsy, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 11:18, Reply)

On cold winters night
I rescued a rather large albino rabbit. The poor little bugger had frost on his ears but he was otherwise okay, he must of been right because the first thing the little shit did was piss all over me.

Any who, there were three houses in hopping distance of this rabbit and everyone played dumb when we tried to find its home, and we eventually found out why.

The cunt was evil.

It would escape any run or hutch, and the garden but it would always come back. It would get out of its run and stare at us through the lounge window for hours on end, it would find its way into the house and make hit and run attacks on any bare flesh in range, it would spring from nowhere and attack my mother and it would periodically rape the shit out of our German Sheppard dog.

Fortunately, one day it tried to molest my sister. She tripped over and crushed the fucker.
( nnnndave, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 10:20, Reply)

At the zoo
tiger sitting next to the glass, yawning, relaxing.
Brat 6 year old kid on other side of glass, slapping the glass. Mother looks on.
Tiger ignores.
Kid slaps glass louder.
Tiger ignores.
Kid shouts and slaps glass.
Tiger jumps up and smashes right into glass, full force, like , well like a big f***off angry tiger.
Kid falls backwards over kerbstone, mother drops coke all over kid and self. Kid covered in juice and crying hysterically, mother shouting abuse at tiger.
Tiger resumes yawning, with slightly smug look in her eye.

Me and mate laughing hysterically and "bonding" with the tiger.
(ah sod it tinsels chummily, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 11:58, Reply)

Loft infestation
A couple of years ago I started hearing scraping noises at night in my loft. Decided to ignore it to see if it would go away. Fast forward a fortnight, and there’s an almighty bang from the loft, and the upstairs lights go out. I ventured into the loft, to be confronted with a barbecued squirrel, with its teeth sunk into one of the electrical wires for the upstairs lights. That taught the little shit…

It was at this point I noticed the huuuuge pile of shredded up loft insulation in the corner of the loft, and a pair of beady squirrelly eyes peering at me from under the pile, growling softly, obviously seriously pissed at its partner’s electrocution. I decided to make myself scarce at this point, and disappeared down to Wilko to get some squirrel repellent.

Armed with the newly-acquired squirrel repellent and an ultrasonic animal scarer, I sprayed the repellent liberally over the nest, and mounted the ultrasonic thingy in the loft, hoping it would make it go away. I went back down into my bedroom, and it sounds like all hell is breaking loose in the loft. The squirrel is obviously going apeshit about the stuff I’ve put over its nest, making all sorts of screeching and growling noises. Stupidly, I poke my head through the loft hatch, only to have an enraged rodent sink its teeth into the bridge of my nose (I still have the scar now).

Dripping blood and very pissed off, I declared war on the squirrel, and climbed up the outside of my house and cut a hole in the eaves of the roof, and returned to the loft with a large broom. With said broom, I proceeded to sweep the squirrel out of the hole in the roof, and watched it fall into the garden below. Feeling somewhat triumphant, I suddenly became aware of some squeaking noises from the pile of loft insulation. I pulled the insulation up, only to encounter four more of the fuckers, in miniature form this time. I decided that swift action was needed on this occasion, and clubbed them to death with a handy piece of timber that I found.

Looking back on it, I feel a little bit guilty killing those baby squirrels… They were the evil grey ones though, rather than the proper red ones.
( rubberduck should only be used after consulting with your GP, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 10:49, Reply)

Not really being attacked by an animal,
but a friend and I were walking through the city centre, and as usual the pigeons were pecking around for scraps of food. We started talking about how the pigeons always moved out of the way as you approached, even if they were facing the other way.

To prove this was the case, my friend said "They always see you coming, watch this.", calmly walked up to the nearest pigeon, brought his leg back and kicked it squarely a full 10 yards across the street.

Passers by were stunned. So was I, I would have put money on the pigeon moving out of the way.
( Druid, Sat 4 Jun 2005, 12:14, Reply)

a few years ago
i was asleep, sunbathing in the garden when our (gay) golden retreiver dog decided to back on to my face.
I suddenly awoke to find him polishing his ringpiece on the end of my nose.

Guide-dog my arse.
(nappy rash, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 15:39, Reply)

Rock Apes of Gibralter
When I was 13, I went to Gibralter for a couple of days with my parents as part of a holiday trip. While there, we went on tour of the rock and ended up with the Rock Apes.

The tour guide produces some chopped up fruit and starts to feed the lovely people-friendly Apes and all is good. He then proceeds to show the largest ape a piece of fruit and then 'pretends' to stick it down the back of my shirt.

Ape launches itself up onto my shoulders (and it was a big bastard too!!) and small leathery hand goes plunging down the back of my shirt and starts randomly clasping for piece of fruit (which wasnt there.)

After 10 seconds of this the Ape is mightily pissed off that there is no fruit and decides that maybe I have eaten it. Does he attack the bloke who has played the trick on him? No, he seems to favour his chances against the 13 year old much better and starts violently playing the bongo's using with my head as the drum, while his 'legs' are firmly clasped around my shoulders.

Queue 13 year old boy running around with Ape on shoulders like a back-pack, while Ape beats the crap out of him, while about 400 tourists laugh hysteically at my plight!!

Fucking Tour guide. Wanker.

Apologies for length etc....
(hoathenfold, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 13:03, Reply)

-
I was once attacked by a flock of seagulls.

I'd taken the piss out of their mullets.
(Let's all have an asbo, Mon 6 Jun 2005, 9:44, Reply)

I'm a mean spirited bastard.
Aged 3 (My parents told me this), I was walking near a swan-infested pond with a bag of chips. One of the bastards walked up and bit me on the arm in the hope of making me drop my chips. I like chips, so I placed them carefully on the ground, grabbed the swan around the neck and punched it until my parents stopped laughing and came to the animals aid. No-one touches my chips...
(me like pie, Sun 5 Jun 2005, 6:44, Reply)

Why Crash Helmets have visors
A good friend and myself were out for a day of high speed hijinks on our sports bikes and as it was a beautiful sunny day, i had my visor up and a pair of sunglasses on.

While barrelling down the M3, i hit a maybug while doing a shade over 140mph. It hit me squarely in the face. For anyone who is unaware these are twin engined armour plated insects the size of a childs shoe.

According to my friend Tom, it was like watching the JFK assassination tape. Loud crack, my head snapped back and i nearly dumped the bike. Due to the (admittedly stupid) speed i was doing at the time, if i had dropped the bike i would have been lucky to get away with a slight case of death.

When i finally did pull over, my nose had swollen almost shut and i had to pick several pieces of insect carapace out of my face. Which is like digging out shrapnel covered in snot.

Insect bastards.

Apologies for length, but it gives me something to punch the holes in doughnuts with.
(Flinglish, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 10:46, Reply)

Similar vein to Pigeon v Patio Door
Stood on a platform at a train station one afternoon waiting for the train home. A freight train came round the corner at a fair speed and I watched it approach. Just as it was about level with me, a pigeon decided that the train was no match for it's pigeon powers and flew straight in front of the lead locomotive.

There is a splat and a comedy cloud of feathers like a pillow has just been burst, and a perfectly in-tact but very dead pigeon is deposited on the platform.

I gave it a decent burial by nudging it over the platform edge with my foot.
(absurdistan, Sat 4 Jun 2005, 17:18, Reply)

Why the long face?
Horses have very long faces. Often the front of their faces get itchy, and they will then try to rub them against any available surface. A tree, a fence post, or in my case the back of the 8 year old girl who is leading the great big cart horse by a piece of string down a muddy lane.

As the beast dropped his head and came up for a scratch against my back, he managed to wedge his enormous horsey face between my arse cheeks, thereby scooping me up into the air, and landing on my face in the mud.

I let go of the string mid flight. The horse then calmly trampled over me as he walked on to his field.

He still remained my favourite though ;)
(clapper, Mon 6 Jun 2005, 16:37, Reply)

Horse Snot
When I was young and naive someone once told me that the best way to befriend horses was to breath up their nostrils.

I believed them. So, there was this great big stallion which had a reputation for kicking people, and I didn't want to be kicked, so I thought I'd make friends. I walked up to it, grabbed its head and blew firmly up its nostrils.

The horse looked most surprised for all of a second, and then SNEEZED explosively, and I can tell you, a horses nose, being rather big, can hold a LOT of snot.

Needless to say, after that covering I've not tried breathing up a horses nostrils since...
(Snitter the Rat, Sat 4 Jun 2005, 13:21, Reply)

chester zoo
ah the memories. every bloody primary school trip we ever went on was to chester zoo. the headmaster must have had fucking shares.

anyway.....

and so to the hippo enclosure. a majestic beast i think you'll agree. so much ooo-ing and ahh-ing was being done by the assembled masses of school kids as they trounced about. now then, this one hippo seemed friendlier than most, and wandered over to get a closer look at us.

clearly unimpressed, he turned arse towards us, and let rip a shit of hippocalyptic magnitude, flailing it to ever compass point imaginable with his tail in the process.

"cue" many hipposhit covered kids, and the most unpleasant bus journey home. ever.
(davidblunkettsdogblankets, Fri 3 Jun 2005, 11:27, Reply)

Everyone who has a cat...
...will have experienced that moment when your cat turns in to a foot-killing machine.

You know the one, grab foot with front paws, kick wildly with back paws, and chomp at toes with excruciatingly sharp teeth.

One night, went for a piddle after an evening on the lash. It being my house and only the missus in I neither switched on the light nor donned any clothes.

Got to loo
Piddled
walking back from loo when the cat pounced. The bitch had been hiding under the bed waiting for me to come back. As I walked past the bed I was totally unaware of the twitching, wide eyed killer, poised ready to eat foot.

*Pounce*
*screamed like a girl*
*shat (almost)* (well I didn't know what it was did I?)
*missus screams as she wakes up without a clue as to what is going on*

then I fell. (beer induced, lost a foot to the cat, dark, nekked)

Result:
1 x black eye (Wardrobe handle)
1 x sprained elbow
1 x sprained ankle
1 x missing fingernail (god knows how that happened)

The evil cat stayed hanging on to the foot until I kicked so violently she flew across the room.

Cat now sleeps outside.

No apologies for length, girth, bend or flavour - the ladies love it...
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 15:51, Reply)

Apes
When I was 4 years old, our family went on a special day trip to the zoo (can't remember which one mind) after spending the previous day endlessly singing the classic "we're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo - how about you, you, you", we were at last on our way.

After spending a few hours pointing at snakes and laughing at Giraffes we came to a large round glass enclosure, containing some big trees with lots of stringy armed, pendulous breasted Urang-u-tans swinging in old lorry tyres. I thought this was the bees knees and started pulling faces at them and knocking on the glass. I turned round to my sister to say 'good eh' and noticed her face completely drop, I turned back round just in time to see a 20 stone ape crashing into the glass at full speed 1inch from my face in attack mode!

I actually shat my pants as I ran through a parting sea of laughing on-lookers, and had to spend the rest of the day stinking of poo and wee.


Ape bastards


*length etc*
(cherry B, Thu 2 Jun 2005, 11:08, Reply)

Wet willy
On a day out at the Apenheul (Ape sanctuary) in Holland; all went swimmingly until we got to the section where the capuchin (I think that’s what they were…small and very intelligent anyway) monkeys are allowed to run free. I thought I was well prepared as they provide you with special bags and advise you to empty your pockets etc beforehand as these cheeky chappies are well know for picking pockets/removing earrings/nicking sarnies etc. What I was not expecting was for one to jump onto my shoulder without my knowledge and give me a wet willy! Having a small primate probe your ear canal for yummy earwax with its pre-wetted tiny humanesque finger is a very wierd feeling!
(groovchik, Tue 7 Jun 2005, 11:46, Reply)

well,
the animal didn't attack, per se, but here goes...
this story's been passed down throughout my family for the past 3 decades now... when my mum was still dating my dad, she had to survive the obligatory 'visiting the soon-to-be mother in law'. so... sitting in the living room, making absolutely fucking minute talk, as opposed the normally uncomfortable small talk, you see, and my dad lets off a fart. not particulalrty loud, so no-one comments.

however, the dog was sitting under a chair around this time, and decides to come out form its hiding place. it takes one sniff of the air, looks around accusingly, and vomits hugely in the middle of the carpet.
( nowhere.elysium Exploder of cats, Sat 4 Jun 2005, 19:03, Reply)

Grouped
Back in the day before being a father and a having mortgage left me poorer than the local schizophrenic wino, I could afford nice holidays.

One of these was to the Maldives. We had a nice bungalow right on a reef. Apart from Mrs Bohica having a run in with a fucking massive eel that was living beneath the steps that lead to the sea, everything was fine. It scared the bejeesus out of here. But that was her, not me, so it was OK.

One morning I'm out for a snorkel when I get rammed in the mask by trigger fish. I can't remember exactly what type - we just used to call these ones Benny's because they looked fucking stupid and sort of deserved the name.

Ho-ho, thought I. I can crush this thing. I am mankind, I rock. It had another go and, admiring its courage, I left it to its own devices. What I didn't know was it had some big mates.

A few minutes later I've dived over the reef drop-off and I'm about ten feet down when something catches my eye - the biggest single bastard-giant fish I've ever seen. I later learned it was a giant grouper.

The fucker was at least five feet long, four high and a foot thick with a mouth like Crazy Frog. It must have weighed close-on three hundred and fifty pounds. That's a lot of fish fingers. Foolishly I had one of those 'bonding with nature moments' and decided to swim alongside it for a bit.

It was that moment it decided to flick round and ram me in the side with, I believe, every intention of sending me to Davy Jones's locker. I lost all the air in my lungs and tried to flap it away. It reacted the way you'd expect a bastard-big fish, king of its bit of ocean would react - it had another pop at me.

My pathetic flapping turned into a desperate doggy paddle back to the service hoping it wouldn't follow. Thankfully it didn't.

There was nothing I could do about the grouper, but I was sure I was set up by that Benny.

I vowed to eat the colourful little fucker if I saw it again. Unfortunately the little bastard had fucked off. Proof, if any was needed, that I was the victim of its elaborate revenge plot.

The wanker.
( Bohica Anne Frank's Bukkaki Tentacle Storm, Fri 3 Jun 2005, 11:23, Reply)