Just in time
When playing squash I had the misfortune of having my opponent mistake my foot for a suitable suffice to stand on.

So a week later with a flappy big toenail (it was only held on at the cuticle) that had a habit of getting caught on things. I decided enough was enough and decided to remove the aforementioned offending article.

This involved a leatherman multitool, a hot shower (before and after) and a high pain threshold. After much pulling I just couldn't get the angle to pull hard enough on my own toe so enlisted some help. The toenail was removed eventually and I didn't have a toenail to speak of for about 6 months.

Length just over an inch after about six months
(epicsnail Likes working nights, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 13:38, 4 replies)

I once
oh I dunno,drugs (the hardest and rarest kind), teeth with a pair of rusty pliers, Honda Accord, unfeasible sex with supermodel, arterial spurt.

Surprisingly bland outcome.

Spurious apology.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 13:16, 2 replies)

Not so much surgery as upkeep
Many moons ago, when I was a scared young thing at university, I managed to set my right leg on fire using a can of deoderant and an ill-placed candle. As a result, I lost most of the skin below my knee. It hurt like the dickens.

After about a week of going to the hospital every other day (a 2 hour journey, because the general in a university town wasn't equipped), the nurses gave me a load of bandages, gauze, and silver cream in preparation for the time when it would be healed enough for me to change my own dressing. Top banana, thought I, and well done them for being so forward thinking.

2 days later, I arrived for my appointment to discover the doors were locked. They weren't open at weekends, according to a nearby custodian, and the same was true of the Bank Holiday coming up. They had booked me in for a day they were shut. Shit.

So I went home, and tried to brave the increasing stench of my own putrefying flesh. 12 hours later, against all medical advice, I'm drinking vodka, alone, in my room, and the smell is absolutely overpowering. One or 2 of my closest friends have already informed me that people are avoiding me until the smell goes away.

"Fuck this" think I, "No piffling booboo is going to keep me from seeing my (admittedly cunty) flatmates!"

And so, using the same candle I'd set myself on fire with, I sterilised a knife and a pair of pliers, laid out all my tools on the least disgusting part of my desk, cranked up the Slayer, and went about re-enacting the procedure I'd seen performed on me maybe 4 times before.

3 things about this shocked me. Firstly, the amount of disgusting crap that oozes out of a burn wound. The inside of my bandage looked like Satan's hankey.

Secondly, just how much pain you can handle with the right frame of mind. I had to cut all the dead skin away (down to where it met the live, plus a few millimetres), scrape the litres of pus off, pick hairs out of the crusty wounds, and eventually sterilise the whole area, before wrapping everything up. By the end I was singing.

Thirdly, just how bad an idea it is to use vodka as a sterilising agent. It works, sure, but when it seeps in and the pain hits you like a half brick in a sock, causing you to fall backwards off your chair, you don't half feel stupid.
(a gun that fires other, smaller guns full of jizz, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 10:13, 9 replies)

I accidently stomped on a sewing needle. All you could see of it was a long thread hanging out of my foot, and the very tip of the sharp end - it had gone in blunt end first.
In shock I pulled on the thread, and a 5cm needle came slowly out of my foot.
There was no mark, no blood. The only souvenir I had was a slightly bent needle.
I still sew with it.
(Fiinbot, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 7:09, 8 replies)

i tend to leave trimming my toe nails until my shoes stop feeling like they fit... ladylike i know
i last trimmed them a couple of days ago. in the meantime, i noticed that my big toe on my left foot hurt a lot. i thought this was probably because of my nice looking but ill fitting plimsols.

but no

somehow, a shard of toe nail cutting had wormed it way underneath the toe nail and buried itself into my flesh. at 2am, in the middle of writing essays and referencing for a deadline, i had to sterilise a needle and gouge the thing out...

it had gone a long way in and bled everywhere... but was strangely calming in the middle of the essay panic
(ladyintheradiator, Thu 27 Jan 2011, 6:55, 3 replies)

She was only a farmer's daughter but she could bang like a barn door
I was 22 and fresh out of uni when I met Barbara - I was between jobs and picked up some casual labouring work on her dad's farm that summer. She was your original English Rose - she'd done Finishing School, Chalet Girl stuff, the works - thick as shit but with tits you just wanted to bury your head in. She was back living at home after a failed engagement, I think she was about ten years older than me . We'd got chatting over a cup of tea and she made it clear she was up for a quick roll in the hay…well, I thought it was that she was after but it turned out that dear old Babs was a bit of a connoisseur when it came to 'unusual' sexual practices. Not perhaps every young man's dream, maybe a few nightmares….but fuck me, she was a goer. One night in the barn she'd told me about how she'd done a Rebecca Loos when she was in her teens (if you don't know what I'm talking about - Google it) but that was fairly normal on a livestock farm - everyone had to pitch in and ….lend a hand…

So, one evening all the farm work was done, her dad had retired to the house to get pissed on gin and Babs came out to bring me a beer as I finished up on the tractor. "I'm not wearing any knickers, you know" was her opening gambit - I almost lost the top of my finger as the screwdriver I was using slipped. She took the tool out of my hand, dropped it to the floor of the shed and then placed her manicured fingers onto the crotch of my oily jeans. A sharp intake of breath from me and then I almost burst out laughing as she said, "Come on big boy, show me your tool. " In minutes she was over the workshop bench, skirt around her waist and my cock pounding away like a steamroller's pistons.

She repeated this every day for about a week and then things began to turn - which is where the 'surgery' comes in….



We'd fucked everywhere around the farm whenever we could - I'd shot coils of hot white man fat all over her amazing tits, I'd rammed my lamb cannon (thank you Pooflake for that one!) up her Gary in the middle of a field in the midday sun and she'd bounced up and down as the vicar drove past at dusk. There was nothing she wouldn't do…or hadn't tried. And then she started to say how she fancied be a Dom to my Sub. I'd got a balaclava but I told her it was a bit warm for that. But no, that's not what she wanted…

So that's how I found myself stark bollock naked in the hay barn tied to an old cartwheel like some perverted early Christian martyr as she spanked my hairy arse with a lump of 4x2, cock and balls slapping in the wind and Babs stopping every so often to slide her meaty fingers into her drizzling clunge and moan about Colin fucking Firth. When she finally stopped moaning about wanting to bugger Darcy with a horse's cock she untied me and pushed me onto the hay bales. Babs had slightly bucked teeth which grazed my balls gently as she sucked and slobbered like a day old calf but that all helped to make me harder than the average Young Farmer on market day. As she slid down my throbbing pork sword and ploughed her own furrow deep and hard my delicate arse was taking a pounding from something sticking in the bales.

The lump of 4x2 that she'd spanked me with was grinding into my reddening cheeks and even managing to send sneaky splinters into my hairy dark hole where the barking spider lives. The strange thing is that rather than making me cry out in pain - and it was fucking painful - this was adding to the frisson. Her huge dark brown nipples were hypnotising me as they jiggled in front of my eyes and her deep crimson pocket gripped and slicked my own seed drill in a way that would have made Jethro Tull's eyes water. When at last I exploded baby butter deep inside her and she moaned like a ewe having a hard shit and only then did the pain begin. It was like I'd had a rusty cheese grater shave the hair on my arse. I turned over and Babs began the painful DIY surgery - she removed every fucking one of the huge splinters that were embedded deeply into each cheek. I almost cried with pain as each one was dragged out gripped tightly between her perfect French manicured nails - the only thing that stopped me was Babs - her nose just like a truffle hunting piglet, she finished up by giving the rusty sheriff's badge a thorough lick.


I had to stop seeing her then though - she gave me ringworm.
(Stiff Richard, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 16:17, 22 replies)

Foreign Body Removal - or - Clagnuts Delight - Revisited...
t seems some re-posts are happening. Bandwaggon time - only now I have less shame - More details I think.

**************

I was around the age of 13 that I grew my first pubic hair. It came as a shock. I had a calm and sheltered childhood, and as the concept of hair in wierd places was asociated with dirtyness, I thought it was nasty: so I used to shave it all off. Yes, you can laugh, but noone had told me I was supposed to get hairy there, and I was damned if I was going to ask my mum about anything so filthy.

Anyhow... I had never even thought that my arse was going to get hairy. It never got shaved, and I never adapted my wiping style.

Life rolled on, and before too long I found that my arse seemed to be inadvertently featuring in a b-movie script for "The Attack Of The Clagnuts". Being a Lad of regular diet, and a creature of habit, my wiping style had sufficed for many years, but my arse was NEVER prepared for the combination of good fiberous stoolage coupled with the tenacity of anal hair. Richard O'Brian has been heard to utter confessions of jealousy regarding the lucious density of the afore-mentioned pubic garden...

Moving on Swiftly... My displeasure grew with time. Remember at school when you grew Copper Sulphate Crystals around a tampon string? Well, I figured it had been something along those lines.

It took a year before I investigated the source of my iritation: No less than four serious clag-nuts.... each only the size of a pea, but hard, calcified and causing blisters with the level of irritation that they had yeilded. It's possible that they were not a year old themselves and were just the latest crop - none the less they were there and they *had* to go.

Crouching over a mirror with a pair of scissors, I attemted to take aim and get a good view. No dice.
I tried bending over forwards with the mirror behind me.... that wasn't going to work. Dammit.
I eventually lay on my back, knees up and craning my neck to get a good view... with a mirror balanced on a pillow between my feet, and an angle-poise desk lamp nonchalantly leaning over as if to get a good view.
The positioning was perfect for the job, aside from one thing: My tackle. It kept on literally ballsing up the view. If I shifted one way or the other, it'd flop into the way like a disgtuntled teenage sock-puppet. Shit.. this operation was becoming more and more complex.

Eventually I got a school tie, tied it around my boy-hood, and pulled gently. Sorted: A silken cock-restraint. So.. where was I... oh yes. I started fishing around with the scissors, but couldn't get it right - I was risking arse-damage of a new kind: I was going to need two hands. Gripping the end of the tie between my teeth, holding a single clagnut with one marigold-gloved hand, and snipping with the scissors, Sorted.

It took me a couple of minutes and I was down to the last one... and then my mum walked in on me. I tried to yelp "it's not what you think" but through clenched teeth and silk it probably didn't come out right. She left instantly, and never mentioned it again.... though my dad did look at me in a funny when when the dog next licked my fingers.

********************

Out of sheer morbid curiosity, I kept the removed tag-nuts. Later on in life they were stored with my cufflinks.

Even later on my Fiancé found them and asked what they were.
Now my un-witting Ex-Fiance wears them on a necklace under the dillusion that they are rare evidence of the existance of a specific type of Australian bat.

Nicola, You're wearing a Teenager's calcified clagnuts around your neck.

OWNED.
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 14:40, 15 replies)

I once gave a full frontal lobotomy to a watermelon
with my bare hands and a small knife. Then I filled it up with vodka.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 13:56, 1 reply)

Pleasure and Pain
Did anyone else watch this programme?

www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00y377q

Pleasure and Pain with Michael Mosley.
Not sure what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't a farmer showing us how he cut and snapped his own arm off to get free of some harvesting machinery. Jesus.
(Mr McKenzie Mr McKenzie, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 12:42, 4 replies)

Back in 'Nam I lost a leg when Charlie threw frag my way after we'd opened a can of whup-ass.
Couple of paracetamol and I was back killin.

Surf was up THAT day I can tell ya!
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 12:21, 6 replies)

Low-Flow Priapism - non-invasive surgical rectification
I posted this years ago... Let's air it again shall we?

*******************
I was a Teenage lad in the stage of life where the phrases "Fist of Fury" and "Wanking like a caged Chimp" were rather fitting. By day I was a shifty kid who'd run off to his room with alarming regularity, and by night I could be found humping any inanimate object that I thought might be provide a new sensation. One night, pleased with my forward planning, I went to bed with a napkin ring in my pocket.

I'd pocketted the napkin ring because I'd just learned about 'cock rings'. To this day I hold Ferris Beuler responsible. "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing" ... lacking Knowledge such as "Cock-rings are designed to be released" could - for example - be deemed to be dangerous.
You learn these things by experimenting, research, or in my case, The hard way.

**********

Mid session, the stand-in napkin suddenly became too big for its ring... Being the smart lad I was, I reasoned "It'll go down if I get turned off... What's horrible?" Teenage reason kicked in, and closed my eyes and pictured my Gran, Naked, with pus dripping from her crusty crevice. Not only did I manage to maintain this vile image for 5 minutes, but I managed to maintain an erection throughout. An erection that was in fact increasing in size.

I was HORRIFIED: I obviously harboured disturbing subconscious thoughts for my Gran. Subsequently I took no pleasure in the sudden and painful understanding of the bio-mechanics behind my now monstrous and painful hard-on: so long as the napkin ring stayed... so would this throbbing beast...

You know how a love-bite/hickey causes surface capillaries to burst, and make your skin go a blotchy red/purple? well... my Dick was VERY much like that... ALL OVER.

I started to Panic. I mentally pictured A&E (ER for the 'Merkins), and pictured a jovial fireman with some big metal shears quipping "we'll be having it off ina Jiffy"... Sweating with Terror I attempted reason, and realised that I could perform this surgical removal by myself. In my moment of need turned to my trusty Minicraft Drill... Two cutting disks later, the pewter napkin ring was only HALF off!!

Cutting disks whining away at 30,000rpm cause HEAT. Pewter is a fairly soft metal, so it doesn't actually cut well.
HEAT. did I mention that? HEAT!!! Heat in a metal ring, Painfully tight around my man-handle.

Total
And
UTTER
Agony.

Ignore the pain: get on with the job in hand.
So... Water. More water. cut. Water. CUT. JEEEEZ.

You KNOW something's SERIOUSLY wrong when you're naked, on your knees and wearing goggles with your cock in one hand and a miniature angle-grinder in the other.

So... cutting bit by bit I manage to make decent cut, gently working it until its wafer thin - The heat was burning me. I could smell bacon, but it was progress - Sweet merciful progress. And then it happened. The disk snagged, and bit in.

As if the cutting disk shattering and forcing wafer-thin shards of metal into my todger wasn't enough, I then panicked and used pliers to rip the rest of the napkin ring open.

In my panicked haste I firstly pinching skin between pliers and inside of ring, and THEN badly cutting myself with the sharp edges.

While cradling my deflating, blotchy, bleeding, lacerated and smoking cock in a shaking and clammy hand, my misery, pain and horror were compounded my MUM came up to see why I was "making toys" at 2:00am on a school night.

Length? Let's just say "ribbed for her pleasure".
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 26 Jan 2011, 10:12, 18 replies)

Glue......
Working on my central heating with my uncle.
Replaced the pump and I decided to neaten the ends of the wiring connection.
Decided to trim the ends with a brand new Stanley knife......on my knee.
While pressing down, cut straight through the conductor into the top of my leg.

I moved the wire and examined the cut in my jeans.
"Thought I'd cut my leg" I muttered. Then the blood started.
Being half-way through the job, the half-inch wide, half-inch deep cut needed mending.
Luckily, I'd seen the previous day a program about inventions and how (urban myth?) Loctite was invented to repair wounds quickly in war zones.
We decided we'd glue it back together......Jeans off, wiped up blood......Applied Loctite to the edges......Between us we pressed the edges together and waited the requisite 10 seconds and......
3 thumbs glued to my leg!
Didn't take a picture of that.
Loctite does work in an emergency though!

Ian.
( Unklian Lives in the only country where "Glass" is a verb., Wed 26 Jan 2011, 9:30, 9 replies)

I've always had a knack for patching myself up
Not being afraid of blood has a lot of advantages, especially with the (rather lunatic) company I keep.

Probably the most amusing bit of DIY surgery I did was while visiting a friend at college. I had been locked out of a building, and I wanted to be let in. I figured if I kicked the glass door, it would make enough noise that a person would help me out.

This was only partly successful. I made a loud noise, but I also broke straight through the glass door while wearing open topped sandals. The fact that my foot went through the glass rather than bouncing off it played merry hell with my balance, and a jagged part of the door essentially "shaved" a piece of my skin almost completely off. There was about a quarter sized flap of skin just sitting on the top of my foot (which was bleeding a lot).

Fortunately somebody DID let me in, and once I was back in my friend's room I asked for the following:
-Bandaids
-Rubbing alcohol
-Sharp scissors

I have a tendency to get infections if there's skin just sorta 'hanging on' to me. If a blister on me pops, I have to cut the blister skin off, sterilize the wound, and bandage it before it will heal. This was different only in that what I had to cut through was a thickish layer of living skin, not the thin material of blisters.

Everybody looked at me in horror when they saw me sterilize the scissors, and my friend hid. Cutting through your own flesh with rubbing alcohol tainted scissors is quite painful, but I gritted my teeth and got through it one snip at a time. Then, of course, I had to sterilize the wound. As I poured rubbing alcohol over it, I admit I lost my composure.

"SWEETMOTHEROFSODOMIZINGCOCKBURGLERSTHISFUCKINGHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURTS!!!!!"

That made everybody laugh. My foot healed fine (no pun intended), though my friend and I were stuck with a $200 fine for breaking the glass.
(Audienda, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 3:25, 2 replies)

Not me, a mate, but eeeuuurrgghhhh nooooo...
Now my mate Nige is prone to the odd incident here and there - there's the cat-rustproofing episode, the brake-fluid-vomiting session, the welding-explosion-and-foot-injury-plus-finger-crush-and-garage-fire combo breaker and regular smaller bouts of misfortune (gear oil bread being the latest).

So, when he recently managed to get a shard of hot metal in his thumb so deep it was stuck in the bone of his thumb, did he take himself off to the doctors to have it sorted?

Of course not - out with the iodine, razor blades and wife's eyelash tweezers and let the pus and blood flow!

As you may imagine, this did not in fact end happily and has become an ongoing saga / burden on the NHS.

I shan't cut-and-paste as quite frankly I am not a fan of stories of home or any other surgery, so I shall post the link and warn you NOT TO CLICK IF YOU ARE EATING YOUR TEA.

Full story from the man:
"my cunning plan was to have sue pull on the string, whilst I held my thumb under water to wash the blood away, and rummage with tweezers"

Yes, we are compiling a book of his exploits. No, really.
(fridgefreezer inserted a topical reference into his sig on, Wed 26 Jan 2011, 0:22, 3 replies)

Home Piercing Kits = Bad Idea
Back when I were a littler nipper, I was enjoying my first year at Exeter Uni reading Mechanical Engineering. There were four budding engineers out of 16 or so in the flat block we were in and we soon got a reputation as being the guys who were able to fix things.

The fact we were usually the ones breaking them in the first place was by the by.

Anyway, students being students, much beer was consumed each weekend, and evening, and the days rolled happily by. One guy below me, Pete, had a few piercings that he had had done over the years and was always looking for new things to do. One fateful day he came back with a DIY piercing kit.

For the unknowing, this consists of a needle like a fugging drainpipe about 3 inches long, a threaded bar, and the stud itself. The instructions say to screw the threaded bar into the back of the needle, pierce whatever part is needing a hole in it, unscrew the needle leaving the threaded bit sticking though and then attach the stud to complete the job. Simple!

10pm comes and goes when my door fair comes off its hinges with someone giving it some abuse. I open the door and come face to face with something like a scene from SAW. Pete is standing there, pale faced with blood covering his chin and dripping over his t shirt with this huge sipke of metal stuck through his face and mumbling gibberish at me.

His room mate, Little Will translated. It turned out he had got to the stick the needle through your face bit and was all set to attach the stud when he got a case of the spazhands and dropped the stud down the sink hole and could I find the time to help find it.

Well a friend in need is a friend indeed, or something. Anyways, down we go to Pete's room following the trail of spots like a demented Hanzel and Gretel. Look at the back of the sink and try to contain vom from rising in back of throat.

The sink was not in a pretty state back there. I'm not sure it had ever been seriously cleaned since man first walked upright and if that was the state on the outside, the inside of the pipes didn't seem promising. Still, with a twist and a squelch, the U-bend came off eventually and was upended on the floor to find the errant Stud.

It was like prodding in a road killed hobos brain matter. Just a mass of grey tangled hair and dead matter stinking to high heaven and my state of mind was not helped by Pete leaning over to see what I was doing and dripping blood into the mix either. A few seconds, (hours?), and the stud came loose like a mini excaliber from a nightmare.

Great! cries Pete, or at least I think that's what he said, before grabbing the stud and trying to screw it back onto the thread now sticking from his lip as he had removed the needle while I was plumbing. Little Will, showing great presence of mind grabs Petes hand before he earned himself a dose of septacemia and informs him that it might be an idea to sterilise it first.

Good point mumbles the bloody one before turning the tap on, thus soaking the floor as the U-bend was missing, wiping off the worst of the grut and then using a set of tweesers, sticking it in a lighter flame to sterilise it before trying to screw the now red hot and still horribly grimy stud onto his face.

How he managed to avoid any sort of poisoning I will never know but it remains one of the clearest memories of my time there.

Pete, we salute you!

Length? About three inches before started leaking out of his mouth.
(71 hour Ahmed wasn't working at, Tue 25 Jan 2011, 21:47, Reply)

Just retrieved a metal splinter from my hand
using a stanley knife. I swear that fucker was about 3 foot long when it went in...
( PMGT -Bacon., Tue 25 Jan 2011, 21:33, Reply)

Mobile DIY
Many years ago about 3 days before I was due to go into hospital to have warts burnt/frozen off (can't remember which) I managed to run over my hand with my own skateboard which removed the problem.

Having gone through burning warts off with acid as well, I would definitely recommend the skateboard.
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Tue 25 Jan 2011, 20:23, Reply)

Rich, powerful, self made man
Definitely qualifies as DIY Sir Gerry



clicky if not recognise
( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Tue 25 Jan 2011, 19:13, Reply)

Oh man, totally once did something that doctors do all the time.
I drank 15 pints on a thursday night.

LOLOLOLOLOLOL
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Tue 25 Jan 2011, 18:54, 2 replies)