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This is a question 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)
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Now I am the expert
At fucking myself up in amusing ways...

Cue the first....(wavy lines)....

A year or two back, thoroughly pissed off with life, the universe, and selling cars to inbred yokels with fewer braincells than fingers (and that took some doing in Shropshire, I can tell you) I decided to go back and look again at the TA. The STABS. The SAS (Saturdays & Sundays). I had had the chance to go regular years before, but had splatted myself into the deck in an unfortunate parachute/fuckwit coincidence so had duff knees and was ineligible to travel the world, meet interesting people and blow their houses up in the name of Big Liz, the UN, or Tony Frigging 'World Statesman' Blair. Hey Ho.

Soo, I decided to get the lardy/beer related gut off that 4 years of fatherhood had mysteriously deposited on my once-rippling flanks. Back out on the road again, new trainers, all the bollocks. Until my aged and well pickled joints complained. Well, I'll get on the bike again, sez I, dragging the slightly rusted carcass of my noble steed out of the shed. Cue overhaul, greasing, lubeing and tweaking (then I left the missis alone and fixed the bike) (sorry).

Trial run. All seems well, the gears are a bit graunchy, but nothing that a bit of the 4lb Lump Hammer Fine Adjusting wouldn't cure.

And then, after a hard day, I stagger home, looking for nothing more than a dram and a scran. A refreshing beverage or two or so is imbibed. Peace........

Shes's "late". Oh Jesus Yellow Painted Rubbery Fuck on a Stick. I've got two "wonderful" kids. I have an overdraft the size of the GNP of Liberia.

These two may be related.

She needs an 'ohfuckI'mdeadstick' to dangle in the fragrant flow from her ladyparts to determine if I need to take a short stroll with a shotgun or can breathe again. I'm pissed.

A-Ha! The bike!


Helmet on. Check. High-Vis On. Check. Lights On. Check. Sense of Responsibilty? Absent.

Her last words as I charged out of the gate, legs pumping like a rutting Jack Russell's arse as I screamed off like a terrified overweight Banshee? "Use the Cycle Lane"

I use the cycle lane. Apert from the joys of Stealth Dogshit (yes it deserves the capitalisation, you haven't lived until warm, runny faeces are sprayed at pressure over your back) (unless you aspire to a career in politics, in which case it's a job requirement).

Kerby bit. Down. Kerby bit. Huup.....crunch. Twatted the wheel in such a manner that it buckled, jammed in the forks, and catapulted me into a fence, in a flying stye only adopted by gutshot swans, drunken dodos, and unlucky members of the Luftwaffe. Double crunch.

You know those fences that are squared off railway sleepers, with the pointy bits pointing outwards? I fucking do know. Three sprung ribs and a sense of burning embarrasment as the local teenagers jeer at the fat bloke in the hedge.

Seven hours later, I arrive home, having stashed what remained of the bike with the very lovely staff of the local Sainburys who had let me phone for a taxi to take me to A&E (where I was forced to deck one of the local crackheads who desired my wallet/organs/change, pushing myself back in the list by 2 hours as he got seen to before me) AND having been forced to watch late night TV, I arrived home, screaming like a distressed virgin every time I coughed, to present the frangrant and lovely Mrs Osok with the 'don't go blue for fuck's sake' thingies.

They didn't.

She had got her dates 'confused'

I love my wife, but I must admit I did kick (fall over) the cat's arse that night and may well piss on her grave while singing 'Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead' because of that night.

Darwin? Stay on the frigging Beagle. I don't even need contraception to avoid breeding, just a fence, half a bottle of Spiced Rum, and a sense of Emergency.

(, Tue 17 Feb 2009, 22:43, 7 replies)
Definitely a coffee spat on the keyboard post.
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 8:41, closed)
heh heh
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 10:11, closed)
Big Click.. for style and interpretation..
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 10:25, closed)
I clicked the 'I like this' on BGB's reply...in my defence, I was still sniggering over the story.

Well told, and a definite click from me.
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 11:49, closed)
Admit it Snee.
You just like me, that's why you clicked on my reply.
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 13:36, closed)
Epic, just epic...
Have a *click*
(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 12:35, closed)

(, Wed 18 Feb 2009, 16:49, closed)

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