Darwin Awards
Bluffboy says: My mate cheated death and burned his eyebrows off looking down the barrel of a potato gun. Tell us about your brushes with the Grim Reaper through stupidity.
( , Thu 12 Feb 2009, 20:01)
Bluffboy says: My mate cheated death and burned his eyebrows off looking down the barrel of a potato gun. Tell us about your brushes with the Grim Reaper through stupidity.
( , Thu 12 Feb 2009, 20:01)
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Final Destination
Pea-roasted, so edited for brevity
Back in the day, we went on a school Youth Hostelling trip to the Devil's Punchbowl near Hindhead.
The hostel itself looks exactly like a witch's cottage, and is surrounded by trees at the top of a very steep hill.
Feeling brave and stupid after a day yomping round the local army ranges, trying to set off unexploded flares, our teacher – the excellent Mr Wilkinson – told us to collect wood, so we could all sit round the fire that night and tell dirty stories.
Armed with axes, saws and a huge trolley, we chopped up some wood we had found at the bottom of the hill and dragged it back up to the top.
God knows what got into me, but I took it upon myself to jump into the trolley at the top of the hill with my good friend Mad 'Completely Fucking Mad' Dave, and let gravity do the rest.
It was after about …oooh… five feet that we both sat paralysed with fear, realising that we were going to skittle down the hill, crash into a tree and get killed. Killed TO DEATH.
All kinds of things went through my mind, such as "Will this hurt?", "I'm going to die a virgin", and "I wonder what Trudy looks like in the nudd?", before we hit an exposed root and took off.
"MWAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Mad Dave shouted.
"MWAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" I replied, as we landed, catching a tree a glancing blow, which, in retrospect, probably saved our lives as we were thrown to (relative) safety.
I found myself ripped to shreds by a holly bush, while Mad Dave ended up a mud-covered wraith as he belly-flopped into the stream at the bottom of the hill.
Then I was sick inna hedge to the cheers of my classmates, and had to wait AGES to have another go.
Full 12" version HERE
( , Thu 12 Feb 2009, 20:33, 3 replies)
Pea-roasted, so edited for brevity
Back in the day, we went on a school Youth Hostelling trip to the Devil's Punchbowl near Hindhead.
The hostel itself looks exactly like a witch's cottage, and is surrounded by trees at the top of a very steep hill.
Feeling brave and stupid after a day yomping round the local army ranges, trying to set off unexploded flares, our teacher – the excellent Mr Wilkinson – told us to collect wood, so we could all sit round the fire that night and tell dirty stories.
Armed with axes, saws and a huge trolley, we chopped up some wood we had found at the bottom of the hill and dragged it back up to the top.
God knows what got into me, but I took it upon myself to jump into the trolley at the top of the hill with my good friend Mad 'Completely Fucking Mad' Dave, and let gravity do the rest.
It was after about …oooh… five feet that we both sat paralysed with fear, realising that we were going to skittle down the hill, crash into a tree and get killed. Killed TO DEATH.
All kinds of things went through my mind, such as "Will this hurt?", "I'm going to die a virgin", and "I wonder what Trudy looks like in the nudd?", before we hit an exposed root and took off.
"MWAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Mad Dave shouted.
"MWAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" I replied, as we landed, catching a tree a glancing blow, which, in retrospect, probably saved our lives as we were thrown to (relative) safety.
I found myself ripped to shreds by a holly bush, while Mad Dave ended up a mud-covered wraith as he belly-flopped into the stream at the bottom of the hill.
Then I was sick inna hedge to the cheers of my classmates, and had to wait AGES to have another go.
Full 12" version HERE
( , Thu 12 Feb 2009, 20:33, 3 replies)
Oh my
Scary,
did your mother's hair turn white by the time you were 8?
( , Wed 18 Feb 2009, 5:07, closed)
Scary,
did your mother's hair turn white by the time you were 8?
( , Wed 18 Feb 2009, 5:07, closed)
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