Many many years ago
My brother managed to build a crossbow out of lego and lego technic (this is back in the 80's so it was the sort of dune buggy thing, not the cool stuff you get these days) He then tested this contraption by shooting my sister with a lego crossbow bolt. Surprisingly enough it worked, very well indeed and cut her arm open!

Luckily being in the Boys Brigade he knew to clean the wound with tcp.

Neat tcp.

She was still screaming 2 hours later when parents and ickle halfy returned home.
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 13:03, Reply)

Be there gas in that there lighter.
Xyphious reminded me of a similar spaktard experience. I had a clipper lighter that sounded like it was out of gas. But just to be sure I gave it a shake, put it up to my ear and tuned the flint wheel a little too far. There was definitely some gas left in there as the resulting whump ignited my rather frizzy long hair.
Oh yeah and another one. I'm on a National Express coach, sat at the back, on a hot summers day many moons ago. I'm reading Kerrang, have my headphones on and am rolling a smoke. I'm in my own little world. Now I had long frizzy hair that generally grew outwards and was everywhere including hanging down over my forehead. I light my roll up and, unbeknown to me, the fringe of my hair. A blob of flaming hair falls down onto the magazine, my brain engages and I slam my hand to my forehead extinguishing the flaming hair into the skin leaving a funny shapped burn. I'm suddenly aware of the rest of the coach and look up. Everyone, it seemed, was looking back at me with a look of bemusement or anger and a steady cloud of stinking burnt hair was drifting down the aisle of the bus. I shrugged, said sorry and carried on reading.
(Dellamorte Dellamore Fuck it all, fuck it up, fuck it., Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:53, Reply)

Baby play
Mrs Brocky was proved to have done a dumb thing when lying on her back holding Baby Brocky in the air and jiggling her around just after baby had finished her bottle.

The really dumb thing was Mrs Brocky having her mouth open to catch all the sicky goodness.

Cheers
(brocky, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:43, Reply)

A few years ago for November the 5th...
...my mate Steve had a bonfire party. It was only a small gathering; him, his girlfriend and her daughter, along with me, my (then) girlfriend and her daughters, just having a couple of drinks and a handful of fireworks.

We let off a couple of sparkly things, then it was time for... the rockets! Steve had bought some fairly large ones and they looked like they were going to be pretty impressive.

Reading the packet, we found that we needed to prop them in a tube before lighting (as with most rockets, I guess).

Problem. We had no tube immediately to hand, so we lightly wedged the rocket into a hole in the ground. Wiggling it about a bit so that it was nice and loose we congratulated each other on our ingenuity and lit the fuse.

Retreating to a safe(ish) distance we then watched in mild consternation as the small orange glow of the fuse became a furious jet of sparks, accompanied by a loud whooshing noise, but no movement whatsoever.

Finally, the sparks ceased and we were treated to a moment's peace before there was the loudest BANG! that I've ever heard, and we were all showered with sparks.

We went and found a tube after that =)
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:42, 4 replies)

This has JUST happened…
It is the last day of work before the Christmas holidays. There is nothing to do but make up the numbers. Girls are going about with Santa Hats on, the Xmas CD is playing, the chocolates are being handed out…jovial behaviour all round…you get the picture.

Because there is nothing to do, I thought I’d make myself scarce. Sloping off to the toilets to read some B3ta posts and play Solitaire on my phone ensures that I can get a good 30 minutes ‘me’ time (they’re lucky to have me aren’t they?). I won’t be disturbed…result.

So I’m sat there, the actual toilet ‘activity’ is concluded in a surprisingly short amount of time. Now there’s no point in continuing to sit there with my trollies round my ankles but it’s still way too early to go back to the office; so I flush, pull up my trousers etc and sit back down to continue with the game.

Another 10 minutes pass by…my guts stir a bit…and I think to myself: ‘Well…I’m in the right place…’

And I promptly proceed to shit my pants. A big, runny, sub-atomic dump.

“AAAAARRRGHHHH” I scream (in my head) as I desperately scramble to rip off my kex. I now have no alternative but to survey the ‘damage’.

‘Please don’t be too bad, please don’t be too bad’ I murmour as I beseech the gods of feaces-related chaos to be kind.

As I peel open my undercrackers and peek into the gusset…

The scene is one of total devestation. I have no alternative but to start the long and arduous cleanup process.

I start to frantically wipe and rub with an ever increasing panic (induced by the fact that it doesn’t seem to be making any difference). I have to keep stopping as other people come in to use the lavvies and the walls are as thin as the bog roll that is rapidly running out in my stall.

I haven’t even got to checking my arse yet…as I grab the last wad of roll, I begin to wipe my crack, forgetting the fact that shit is now completely splattered across my entire arse. ‘Oh god, NOOOO!’ I sigh as I stare at my brown-slush covered hand.

I then think to check my Jeans…at this point I would gladly sell my soul and testicles for there to be an untainted pair on the floor.

It’s just not my day. The force of the blast went straight through my tattered grots and splashed a huge stain down the back of my jeans.

And now I have no more bog roll….I have to take a chance…

Covered in shit, crap-caked kex and pants still round my ankles, stinking to high heaven and wondering how this could possibly happen to me, I have to try and switch to the trap next door.

I gently unlock the door and open it. ‘If someone walks in now, I will quit my job…I mean it…I’ll walk…never to return.’ I promise myself as I waddle from cubicle to cubicle.

As I sit down again, I check for loo-roll…Loads of it…’Thank god’ I mutter as I restart the rubbing / wiping / cursing my own existence.

As I fill up my second toilet with spent bum-wad, I slowly come to the conclusion that there is no easy way out of this…I have to ask myself the questions that no man should ever have to do in his lifetime…

Do I discard the pappered boxers? If so, where? What if I try and flush them and they block the bog?

I decide to keep on rubbing away….after a while it looks like there is no more that can be wiped and there is nothing more than a grotesque stain on my clothes…by which time I have noticed suspicious-looking marks on my WHITE shirt!

God hates me…that’s what it is…

It’s now time for my leap of faith…or as close as I can get to a 'leap' considering my legs are numb by this time. I am as ‘clean’ as I can be (given the circumstances) and I have to pull up the offending garments.

Despite my best efforts…there’s still a ‘squelch’. By Christ it’s uncomfortable. I scrub my hands and arms raw before checking my reflection in the toilet mirrors. I then cross my fingers, hope for the best and make my shit-splattered way back to my desk.

So now I’m sitting here…some people are asking what the smell is…Yet people keep coming up to me and gathering round to wish me a happy Christmas…You know what I wish?...I wish they would all fuck off and leave me alone to stink in peace. I do not plan to move before I leave for home…but it gets worse…as I type, my crap-factory is starting to gurgle again…the outlook is bleak...

So, whatever terrible things may be happening to all you B3tards out there right now…consider this...

It could be worse…..you could be me.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:37, 27 replies)

balls
There was a time when I was at primary school (probably aged about 8 or 9), when bouncy balls were all the rage. Many a playtime we'd rush outside and see who could bounce theirs the highest off the tarmac (ideal surface!) playground. After a while throwing them hard just wasn't cutting it any more. There had to be a better way...

Cue jumping in the air and then throwing the ball as hard as you can while at the top of the jump. Oh yes. We were geniuses. One day, young beanojam decides to go for the record, jumps the highest ever, throws the hardest throw... and it bounces straight back up into my eye extremely hard. Ow.
I think the game may have stopped permanently following that incident...

Also, wearing a bin. Didn't seem so stupid at the time (I was very drunk) but looking back on it, when I think of some of the shit that must have been in there.... nice
(beanojam isn't really Ricardo Flange, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:34, 1 reply)

My dad told me this story.
When he was little, his mum was a bit deranged. He once walked in on her with her head stuck in the oven.

"Mum, what are you doing?"
"I'm ending it all! I've had enough!"

At which point his older sister walked in and pointed out that it was an electric oven.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:32, Reply)

Pissing in the wind
I was going to post this as a reply to the bloke who fell in his piss while he was camping but hey

I was down in Cornwall climbing with a mate. We'd spent most of the afternoon climbing and I'd been busting for a waz for hours. It's not really feasable to get the chap out while hanging in a climbing harness so I waited..and waited.

When we eventually reached the top, the wind had blown up to a really decent gale and I trotted off for a piss. I couldn't really find any shelter but as we've all been told before; 'don't piss into the wind'. I turn my back to the wind, brace myself against the force of the gale so as not to lose my footing and open the valve.

What I would have known if I'd done Aeronautical Engineering at drinking club/university instead of Elecrical is that the wind passing between your legs at that speed causes some kind of swirly vortex thing. Net result - a hot stream of fresh piss heads off downwind before arcing beautifully upwards and straight into my own face. "Aargh, bollocks!" I scream which only results in the piss going into my mouth. Then I start dancing around trying to find a direction I can stand in which doesn't cover me in piss. After about twenty seconds of experimenting I am doused head to foot (all up my front and back as well!) and standing at a 45 degree angle to the wind on one leg, aiming the jet at the floor.

Yes, my mate saw the whole merry dance. Apparently it was quite funny.

Length? It was cold, ok?
(Magnus, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:17, 2 replies)

Igniting 4 pounds of gunpowder in my bedroom.
I used to mix my own gunpowder for fireworks and general explosives, all very simple to do and you can get the ingredients from a garden centre. I had various mortice and pestles for grinding the charcoal and mixing in the salt petre and sulphur and according to the different percentages of each thing, you get a different kind of reaction. I had just finished mixing a 4 pound batch of it and put a teaspoons worth in my brass testing bowl and lit it. It was quite slow burning but I think I had added too much sulphur as it plasticised as it burnt and jumped around in the bowl like a fiery daemon.
Exciting as this was my excitement increased tenfold when a small blob shot out of the bowl and landed in my 4 pound mix. The reaction was slow at first as the powder burnt but as more of it ignited it became a burning crucible from hell and I had to fling myself across the room to avoid being blasted with molten sulphur that was flying out the bowl like a volcano. A massive 'FOOMF' happened and a fucking great mushroom cloud blew out of the bowl and showered everything in the room with molten burning plastic. I have never before or since simultaneously hysterically laughed and shit myself.
(dara o'briain, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:17, 1 reply)

CALLED MY BOSS A C*NT....
Not a very bright thing to do at all but let me explain the circumstance in which it occurred.

I was 19 and had been at my current job for about a year when my work colleague, Sarah, asked me to call our boss Paul in London about something work related and also to tell him he was a bastard.

It’s pretty laid back at our gaff and we often have a bit of banter going on so this seemed quite normal.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to call Paul a bastard as Sarah had asked so I tried to think of a `lesser’ swearword to use.

Now, my Dad is a chronic swearer and would often call us little shits or little cunts when we were growing up (charming I know!) so I came to consider the word cunt to be as offensive as saying shit (which isn’t a bad word at all really).

I now realise that that is definitely not the case!

I duly told my Paul that Sarah said to tell him he was a cunt and was shocked when he gasped and was totally stunned.

Paul was so shocked that he called my big boss and I was called to her office and was asked why on earth I had used that word to a senior member of staff.

I explained my reasoning and was then told the true meaning of the word. Luckily they saw the funny side and let it slide. I think they were more bemused than anything.

AY DEAR!!
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:06, 1 reply)

nasal destruction
When i was about 15 i begged my ma to let me get my nose pierced, but she wasnt going to be moved form the "no" decsion. I decided the next best thing was magnetic earrings. i plopped the very classy blue magnetic one on my left nostil- looking good.... but there were 2 in the pack and i thought " i wonder what i would look like with a piercing on each side (erse....) so i stuck it on- great i looked stupid, but what happened next was that i breathed in through my nose and the two magnetic stuck together on the bit on the middle of your nose.

PANIC! i tried snorting down my nose, but it was too late and those magnets were travelling up behind my eyeballs. I stuck a pair of tweezers up my nostrils in a last attempt to stop magnetic going further and yank them out.
along with about a pint of blood spraying over the walls as i ripped all the veins in my nostrils.

I got utter bollocking for ruining the new white wall paper- but the constant nose bleeding 15 years on gets me out of a lot of meetings....
(wilma_wonka, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:06, Reply)

PAUL BRADY IS A C*NT
I doubt he reads this place, and I doubt very much whether the twat will remember this incident.

This really was me being stupid, but it was everso slightly exacerbated by this particular knuckle dragging bottom feeding example of why people shouldn't breed.

The me being dumb part:
Me and my pal, Peter, both of us very young - pre-junior school age - were playing about in his yard, either hide and seek or tiggy or something like that, and at one point we were both tear-arsing back to 'in' when I forgot that there was a dog lead stretched across the yard. I flew for YARDS and landed perfectly on my face pushing my tooth through my lip where it shattered into a million pieces. I was a bit of a mess, and all my own dumb fault. And as a very young guy, of course wanted mom and started crying and what not.

So I head off home.

On the way, PAUL BRADY spots my obvious distress, damaged face, shattered tooth and starts singing 'baby face' at me. And then proceeds to try and bounce his football into my face. He was about 3 years older than me at the time (Eh. Still is, I guess), and in that day and age, those 3 years made a big difference.

The end result was many visits to the dentist, the nerve being drilled out (and there is no pain so bad as when the dentists presses some hideous fluid down onto your raw un- anaethsatised nerve to seal it) and a crown being affixed by the use of some metal pins being placed in MY FACE!

Dumb of me not see the dog leash. :-/
(TC, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:05, Reply)

It's invisble and it kills you
1. As a child of perhaps 8 or 9 I placed an ice cube on top of a table lamp light bulb to see how quickly it would melt. Cue immediate housewide darkness.

2. By the time I had reached about 15 I reckoned I had got the measure of this electrickery caper and decided I was confident in my ability to re-wire a plug onto a soldering bolt. I wasn't 100% sure though if the blue wire went to the left or the right so I did what I thought was right and plugged it in to see if the soldering iron began to heat up.

In the event I had guessed correctly. Unfortunately though I had omitted to replace the plug cap on the basis that I might have to take it back off again immediately had my guess been wrong. I then tried to pull out the plug to finish the job whilst congratulating myself on my electricianship ... but of course didn't switch off the power first. Cue once again immediate housewide darkness but this accompanied by me being thrown across the room with what felt like a hard kick from a bull elephant.
( Ramsay Tupper, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 12:02, Reply)

Once when I was younger...
...for no apparent reason, whilst sitting on the toilet I passed the flame from a lighter under the toilet roll.

The hanging end caught in the blink of an eye and started a rather large scary fire.

I pulled more paper from the roll to get the flames away from the wallpaper but a single layer of 2-ply toilet paper is evidently slightly more flammable than petrol, so I just ended up with more burning paper and flames equally close to the wall.

I did actually manage to put it out, but I must have been in a bit of a blind panic because I really can't remember how.

I managed to convince my Mum & Dad that it had been an accident too \o/


Length? Getting longer by the second, and all on fucking fire
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:46, 2 replies)

Genius of idiocy
As a nipper I saw a program on bungee jumping and decided that this was the thing for me. Sadly lacking in things of a bungee like quality I got a rope, (old hemp type sod all elasticity), tied it around one ankle, the other end to the top of the climbing frame and jumped off. I hit the ground very hard with one leg suspended about a foot above the dirt.

Now the above is stupid and any sane boy would have called it quits at this point. However, I knew where I'd gone wrong, I just had to make the rope shorter. So I jump off again, This time the pain is not from hitting the ground but because I've just attepted to dislocate my leg. This is where the real problem starts, I very securely tied the rope around my leg so that it wouldn't slip off, I don't have the strength to pull myself up to undo knots that are under too much tension to undo anyway and I am at the far end of the garden and no one can hear me scream.

An hour later my dad wanders up to find his inverted beatroot faced son and pisses himself with laughter before helping me down. Bastard.

Length, girth, etc
(Falco, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:40, Reply)

mmmm, toasty warm
When I was a wee spikeypickle, all off 15years old, I awoke in the wee small hours in need of a piss and with a tickly throat. I tootled off across the landing to the toilet, had my wee and tootled back to my room and snuggled back into my nice warm bed. Mmmm, toasty.

A couple of minutes later I heard my mum getting up. Being around 5am I assumed she was off for a wee so wasn't quite sure why she was in my room.

"Spikeypickle, is something burning in here?"
"No mother" grunted I in return.
"Erm, best get up son, your beds on fire"

Yup, my bed had been burning away which explained the toasty toes and tickly throat (accrid smoke) and I'd woke up, had a piss then got back in!

The reason the bed was burning was that I used the little light on the electric blanket control to look at my watch then went back to sleep without turning it off. The blanket got scrunched at the end of the bed and made the end so warm and toasty that it set it on fire.

Obviously getting back in to a burning bed is a bit daft. My dad throwing water on a electrical fire probably wasn't to clever either.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:36, Reply)

My sister
My sister is normally quite sensible but by far the stupidest thing she's done is think it was a good idea to lean over a (very very spiked) fence to get a football back. She did impale herself on it and spent a fair while in hospital, tho thankfully no lasting damage was done (unless that kind of think can induce rampant chavism?). She actually made the front cover of the local paper (express and star - local news for local people) and i think they had to change the fence
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:33, Reply)

My brother
Not me but my brother, who, as a fair few boys do, went through a bit of a pyro phase.
He was left alone in the house one time (it was a poor Dudley council house, having only one lonely gas fire in the living room) and he wanted to see what would happen if he put a piece of kitchen towel in the fire. Surprisingly it starting flaming, he got scared, dropped it and charred a nice little circle on the carpet. Being a little dim he thought hoovering would make it go away and when it didn't he just put the rug over it. My mom thought he was really nice for hoovering the carpet until she found the burn (a day or two later) and he got rather a large bollocking.
All my stupid activities tend to centre around the intake of large amounts of alcohol (tho not cider anymore, just the thought of drinking it again makes me red with shame from what's happened) and being sick on people/telling people (bosses) what i think of them. Sometimes i judge them for not firing me.
(The Ginger Penguin la la la la la la, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:29, 3 replies)

I can't remember doing this, but my parents bring it up every family reunion ...
As a young'un my folks knew I was going to be an engineer: At about age 4 I was forced to sit through a slideshow of my grandparents holiday snaps.

As a geek, I wanted to know how the projector worked (one of those 2 frame ones where the thing slides from side to side - it was a long time ago) so I put my finger inside and pressed the button.

One trip to casualty and a now defunct projector later I was suitably ingrained with a respect for technology... Now if I want to know if something is hazardous I get the YTS kid to try it first!
(Dionysian Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:29, Reply)

Drank my own piss
When I was a wee boy I like to climb trees,one day I climbed a large tree near my house to get away from some kid who had a dog turd on the end of stick he was trying to hit me with. I had a water bottle with me and needed a piss, so pissed in the bottle and sqirted it at the kids below. Very pissed off they started to climb the tree. So I jumped out of the tree and over a bush into a field and started walking home. Thinking how clever I was to have got away I take a big swig out of my water bottle.

I thought it tasted a bit like bacon fries.
(pl0nk3r, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:26, Reply)

zippo + alcohol + lighter fluid + idiot = danger
Said idiot was me at about 13 rather drunk (early starter) filling my zippo lighter with fluid in a tiled floor pantry (wearing only socks on my feet). As I was somewhat battered I ended up overfilling the lighter and dumping lighter fluid on the floor. What is the first thing you do after filling a lighter? test it, I didn't realise that I had apparently also got fluid over my hands, cue a fireball. Standing on a lighter fluid soaked floor with hands ablaze the smartest move would not have been to drop the lighter whilst still ablaze which is what of course I did. As I am standing in the pantry feet and hands burning with no bloody clue what to do the thought of the downstairs bathroom hits me so I decide to run through the shag carpeted lounge and hall of our house leaving little flamed footprints for the first couple of steps to the bathroom. WIth no other source of water I put my feet out in the toilet and my hands are by now out but cooling water is required. The result burnt hands and feet, some very funny singe patches to the carpet and a complete (deserved) thrashing whan my dad got home.

Legnth about 14 years later and my dad still thinks I am a disater zone
(Syndex, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:21, Reply)

whoops
Dumb or mean - you decide.

One of my housemates wouldnt pay me any rent and was generally being a wanker, so I decided to give his toothbrush a bog wash, what I didnt realise was I had just bought a new brush and it was mine, I was very fucking ill.
(pl0nk3r, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:19, 1 reply)

Bonfire night
My dad once went back to check a firework that really should've gone off by now...

He reports seeing an orange glow heading towards him up the drainpipe we were using as a launch tube.

Narrow escape.

My Dad used to be the safety officer at an industrial research lab, btw. Used to be, mark you.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:17, Reply)

There's a lot to be said for Hellman's
Well, it wasn't physically painful, but it sure as hell was embarrassing.

My girlfriend and I had just moved into a new house, and after a busy morning moving boxes around and cleaning the place we decided to break for lunch. We were a bit limited in terms of what we had to eat in the place, having mainly breakfast stuff - eggs, sausage and suchlike. We settled on a sausage and egg mayonnaise sandwich. This was all well and good, except that of course we didn't have any mayonnaise. Now, I could have hopped into the car and driven down to the shop to buy some, but with visions of Ready Steady Cook flashing before my eyes I elected to make some.
Second problem - no whisk. But I had a plan for that as well. Because the house needed some work doing, I'd brought my tools with me and amongst them was a rechargeable drill - one of those where the harder you squeeze the trigger the faster it goes. I bent a coathanger into a suitable shape, attached it to the drill, cracked an egg into a bowl and set the drill whirring away, drizzling oil as I went and feeling pretty good about my "Man against the Elements" improvisation.

Except it didn't work. I ended up with an eggy, oily mass that was distinctly unmayonnaisy. I thought about going to the shop for a moment, then thought again that actually what I needed to do was to whisk it harder to get the emulsion started.

So I took my bent coathanger off the rechargeable drill and put it into my mains hammer drill.

Now, the little drill has a controllable speed, and goes up to about 350 RPM flat out. My mains hammer drill has two speeds; ON and OFF, and goes up to 5000 RPM. Coathanger goes in the mixture and - click. Suddenly the world went white as the entire contents of the bowl energetically leapt clear of the whirring wire and redistributed themselves liberally over the whole just-cleaned kitchen: walls, floor, windows, cupboards, ceiling, me. I thought I'd broken the drill as well because I could hear a loud screeching noise, but that turned out to be coming from my girlfriend.
(richardm, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:14, 1 reply)

Walking home drunk.
Despite having enoug money for a taxi, I once decided to walk home drunk at 3am.

Length? 15 miles and I went the wrong way.
(Miggyman, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:11, 1 reply)

A number of domestic accidents caused by stupidity!
My gas oven refused to light one day. And im there pressing the button whilst the room is filling up with gas pretty sharpish. So i decided to get a closer look as to why it wasnt lighting. So stuck my head in to look at the ignition system whilst i press the button. Then by a stroke of luck it happened to just work, igniting all the expelled gas in the oven. WOOOSH!! Had a warm face after that :)

And a tip for everyone. Never ever ever make a make shift ladder by using a pile of chairs and boxes to get into the loft. Even if it supports your weight, it wont support your weight after lifting out the heavy item from the loft. How I didnt die I have no idea! After that incident i felt like bruce willis from unbreakable. I was lucky!

Dont connect your scaleextrix to the mains power in an event to make the cars go faster. My friend who did this claimed his track elevated off the ground :)

Older AT PCs had the full 240v going through their power switch. Despite the machine being switched off i once made a mistake of removing the power switch, but the mains was still on. BANG! AIR BUMP OWCH!
(Miggyman, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 11:04, Reply)

Coming back from Shetland once
The flight was cancelled because of fog. We had the option to stay over and try for a flight the following day, or go on the boat. We all chose the latter.

It's an overnight sailing, leaving Lerwick at 6pm and arriving at Aberdeen at 8am. It's also usually pretty rough. I had never in my life been affected by travel sickness, which is where the dumb mistake came in...I told everyone this. In fact I was boasting about it, saying how relaxing I felt the rocking motion was, etc. My mates, meantime, were various shades of green and complaining about being ill.

You can guess the rest. An hour out of Lerwick, and I'm chucking diced carrot into the porcelain. Oddly, I didn't feel at all nauseous, like I'd have imagined travel sickness would be like. It was more like severe indigestion followed by an immediate urge to evacuate my stomach.

To make it worse, not one of my friends was sick, despite their discomfort.

I still (deservedly) have the piss taken out of me to this day, and that was in 2001.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 10:58, 1 reply)

Stupid thing that I've 'got' to do...
We normally do our shopping via the good old interweb, but unfortunately we did not heed all of the notices put on the website to book the 'Christmas' delivery early.

What does this mean?

Yours truly has the joyful task of doing the shopping tomorrow along with every slack-jawed oxygen thief this side of Portsmouth, while trying to fight the urge to make 'Falling Down' look like an idyllic day, in order to feed the hordes of descending relatives, many of whom I would not piss on if they were on fire.

Merry fucking Christmas, cunts.
(Tibbins, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 10:51, 4 replies)

Gas Ass
I once switched energy supplier - to British Gas.

I've changed back since, but that has to be the stupidest thing I've ever done.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 10:49, 1 reply)

Lighter fluid beer can football!!!!
In the fun student days my flatmate Mark and I developed a game we called "Lighter fluid beer can football".

Basically, take an empty beercan, spray lots of lighter fluid into it, then light the top of it and it burns gracefully like a candle.

Then begin kicking it around the living room like a football. Each strike of the foot blows more gas out and you get a fireball effect.

It was nearly a disaster when I heavy volley saw leg hair burn, and the sofa nearly went up when a fireball to rival the A-teams effort erupted as the can struck the wall.

A similar trick using a pint glass could be used to incinerate spiders, with the bonus you could watch through the glass!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 10:48, Reply)