Technically ABH
When I was in the cadets we'd get sent away for a week of the summer holidays to an army camp, to practise carrying heavy logs up and down hills, run around in the mud and so on. We were outside our billet messing around when a lad who was about the same "level" as me - but probably with harder mates - started poking me in the chest over something. I said "Don't poke me," but he did it again, harder this time, so I grabbed his finger and twisted it upwards sharply, snapping the bone at the knuckle. I hadn't meant to do it at all, I just wanted him to stop poking me in the chest, but that's what happened.

A long talk with a superior officer later (including me bursting into tears at the thought of the police getting involved) and everything was sorted out. He was taken to the hospital to have his finger bandaged up (he had it pointing out of a sling for weeks afterwards) and I was given even heavier logs to carry through the mud as a punishment.

And there I thought the story ended, until a few years later he told me how he had taken his revenge. At the time I was very into Ned's Atomic Dustbin (*looks down, realising I'm wearing a Ned's hoodie as I type this*) and I had brought some of my best T-shirts to wear while in the NAAFI. My victim, unable to participate in the muddy fun outside due to his injury, had been confined to the billet all week where for his own amusement he had been using his good hand to wank onto all my T-shirts. I wore them all without realising.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 14 May 2009, 17:26, Reply)