Fat and Happy.
Well.. i was once aquainted a family, a member of which very closely resembled "Nanny" in Count Duckula. (For those who don't know, that means pudgy and fat)

One day she failed to turn up when expected, and her dad was quizzed...
"she broke her ankle" was the answer
"ahhhh" sez we ... "how did she manage that?"
"Well..." he says, lowering his head in shame, "she just stood up, and it crushed the joint"

we were a little drunk, so totally failed to suppress the helpless laughter.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Wed 8 Sep 2004, 11:50, Reply)

the folly of piercings
Piercings can take a while to heal, I have two. The first one is a tongue bar, I had this at the start of the year and was very careful to take all necessary care. anyway, it healed very well and quite rapidly. The second is now about 5 weeks old and is a prince albert. Now I wouldn't recommend this for the faint hearted as it's probably not the most pleasant thing to subject yourself to. there are two cringeworthy stories to this, firstly the actual piercing itself, rather simple, xylocane was applied through a tube which is rammed down the urethra, left 5 minutes and repeated. I cannot express the pain as the banana smelling fluid takes effect, but can only compare it to the sensation of going for a piss for the first couple of days afterwards - it's something like trying to pass a still light sambuca at a guess.

The second and sex related part of this happened three weeks ago, now keep in mind that as it goes you should really leave 6 weeks between having this done and taking it for a 'test drive' As anyone who knows me will vouch I am rather active and dont like weeks without sex hence only waiting two. now not being a complete idiot i did use a condom as this not only reduced the risk of infecting what is still an open wound, but also protects it from getting caught/pulled on anything. Sex was great, the new piercing providing an interesting new twist to a fun activity. I should now explain that the ring in my prince albert has a ball in it, this is where the ring joins. the ring itself is 2.4mm and the ball is probably 3 to 3.2 mm at a guess (no i'm not measuring it at my desk). during thr throws of passion the ring moves. what i had not realised after removing the rubber was that the ball had decided to play hide and seek, and was somewhere down my urethra. net result was wondering what the pain was 10 minutes later, and having to rotate the ring around to pull the blighter back out. probably ok normally, complete agony when it's not healed in the first place. final result, have now left it 3 weeks before even thinking about sex again.

apologies for length/girth/jewellery


additional:
just seen the acne related story below, reminded me of another one.

being the nice ex husband i was, I used to massage the dear wifes back on occasion. in one instance i had applied a chinese variant on the theme of deep heat, think it was tiger balm or similar. anyway, after spending a good half hour applying it i went to the loo. cue usual scratching of the knackers... cue screaming and writhing around on the floor in agony as it felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to my knackers.

thanks for listening
(WrinkledPrune, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 11:26, Reply)

I just noticed how many
of these happened to 13 year olds!Should I be scared?

Ok.here's a story.
Lately I have been having large amounts of...erm...itchy scrote.So naturally I tried to find a cure without the embarrassment of going to a doctor.Anyway,while i was in the shower i was a'scritchin and a'scratchin and it turned out I had small lumps like pimples on my sack.Then I noticed the acne wash.I rubbed it all over and waited a few minutes like it said on the bottle,and then it started.The pain was fucking awful!I had to get the stuff off my knob!Long story short,it took 3 hours for the pain to subside!
edit:I still didn't go to the doctor =)
(That guy with a hat., Wed 8 Sep 2004, 11:08, Reply)

pain..
I was 15 years old. As i went to a friend's house to enjoy some good programming (yes, even at that age i was dedicated to computers) we had some fun, kinda fake-fighting.. at one moment, he stopped, and kicked right in the nuts. lay there for about an 15 minutes, then burst into tears, while he is still laughing his ass of. since then we never fake-fought again.

another thingy, was in the street. i was having a cool game of tennis with my sister, and after a few wins on her side i got mad. really mad. did not have the kind of "i am calm, count to ten" at that age, so i trew my racket at her. gave her a scar you can still see after a year or 10.

also, more disasters at the school. this was the most stupid thing that happened to me.. ever. i stood at the side of the low endings of a sandbox. at that time, (i still don't remember what happened exactly) 3 people where actually standing behind me, and the school's bully pushed the first one. it must have been hilarious to see 4 people fall down at the same time, with me crashing into the wooden edge of the sandbox. after that, i sat in class, crying for a few hours. as there where no actualy seeable injury's the teacher told me to stop crying.. as it turned out, my collarbone was broken. image the face of the teacher when i came to school after two weeks, with a bandage round my arm.
(Dyari - Hat the Dave, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 10:04, Reply)

What a day!
Hi, my name is BlueCaller, and I want to tell you all about an accident that I had the other day. I had just stepped out of the shower, and was kneeling on the bathroom floor when WHAM! That's right, the toilet seat (one of those heavy wooden ones) crashed straight down on to my nuts! Unfortunately I had been holding the rim of the bowl with my left hand, and I felt an agonising pain in my index finger. I figured it was broken, and that I would have to go to casualty. I rushed into the bedroom to get dressed, but in my haste I had forgotten that there was a 2 litre soft drinks bottle in a carrier bag suspended from the ceiling by two bits of string (in an inverted Y shape). Needless to say, the cap end of the bottle caught me a glancing blow in the happy sacks. My finger was now quite swolen, so I adjusted the elastic band round my cock weights and pulled on my lycra cycling shorts. I rushed downstairs to call a taxi, when as luck would have it, my partner returned home from shopping. Seeing me in obvious distress, she kicked me straight in the bollocks with her pointy-toed lady shoes. Anyway, it turned out that my finger wasn't broken, only bruised. That was a relief as otherwise it would have spoiled a fantastic day!
(JonnyMX, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 9:44, Reply)

oh, and...
i broke my nose three weeks ago. i crouched behind a 'friend' as another 'friend' pushed him over my crouching form onto his back.

except he kicked me in the face as he went down.

arse
(magictorch, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 8:49, Reply)

waterloo hill in burton
is great when it snows. its long, steep, and half the town turn out, resulting in a kind of 'sledge/dodgems'.

apart from the usual limb breakages (of which there were always a couple) and idiots going down the slope on plastic bags, v large inner tubes and one year, a bonnett (?!), the main danger came from at the bottom of the slope.

now, at the bottom right of the hill was a footpath, and running all the way from the footpath exit to the left edge of the field was a large wooden fence around someones back garden.

this was obviously reduced to parts of fence if the snow was on the ground for more than a day, sledges not having the best stopping distance.

one year, three days of v cold weather and snow had turned the hills surface to an almost pack ice surface. and years of children coming thru the fence of this chaps garden had led him to replce the fence with low net and - barbed wire.

i dont have the scar anymore.
(magictorch, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 8:46, Reply)

Boat ambush
Motorbiking my way home after a party to administer some good loving to my lady, I rounded a corner on Dili's coast road a little too fast... and went smack into a small fishing boat that bandits had put across the road as a block.

It was beautiful. The boat turned into matchsticks, the bike was a write off and as I scraped my way across the tarmac I was able to see the splinters flying through the air and the sparks coming off my bike all caught in the headlights of my mates who were coming after.

Then I stopped scraping and found I couldn't get up and that there was a hole in my belly which my insides were trying to get out of. Then the bandits came and would have got away with my shoes and wallet if my mates hadn't arrived and shooed them off.

Too drunk to get to the hospital so I went home to see my lady and bled all over my house while snorting crushed aspirins. Styly.
(junglejim, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 8:21, Reply)

Sports Injuries that Never Occurred
I was a complete and utter non-sports-oriented geekazoid in junior high school. Despite this, in the 7th grade I found myself a bench-warmer on a 3-on-3 school basketball team.

Most of the time, I stood on the sidelines and went apeshit insane when my team scored, since such things were a rarity. And since I contained several megawatthours worth of energy that belied my disinterest in organized sports, I was usually jumping up and down like a complete loon.

On this particular occasion, our team was in the lead, and I was being my usual weird self on the sidelines, jumping up and down at various angles while babbling. At one certain climactic moment, about thirty seconds before I was scheduled to take someone's place on the actual court and play actual basketball, I came down wrong on my right foot during a spastic sort of jumping cheer.

It hurt more than anything I'd ever experienced before. Yet, now I was being ordered onto the court. I had to make my move. My fleeting seconds of fame hung in the balance.

I limped, badly, out onto the court, and made a feeble attempt at a shot off my left foot. The ball didn't even make the backboard.

A visit to the doctor later that afternoon confirmed that my energetic cheering had resulted in a broken fifth metatarsal. I had broken my foot while doing essentially nothing. I had to wear a flamingly gay-looking foot brace sandal thingie for the next two weeks.

To this day I tell people I broke my foot "playing basketball". I neglect to tell them that I wasn't even in play when it occurred.
(The 2-Belo OH SHI--[Sound of impact][End of recording], Wed 8 Sep 2004, 4:14, Reply)

A different sort of 'embarrassing injury.'
I remember once watching a documentary on hideous skiing accidents, and particularly remember a woman who had stopped up on the slope to adjust her goggles (or somesuch) and then got hit at 50+ mph by a large German guy. A combination of adrenaline and 'this is my holiday and I'm going to enjoy it' made her stagger on for two days before collapsing, coughing up blood. Off back home for an X-ray and it turned out she'd broken something like twelve ribs.
I happened to be watching it with my sister, who knows skiing. She laughed out loud and I asked why. Sis then explained that stupid woman had broken a very basic rule of skiing, that you do not stop in the middle of a racing slope to adjust your goggles. All the weeks of operations, months off work and years of physiotherapy were entirely her own fault. Not only that, but being middle class and obviously clever, she just could not accept, and was having a hard time even entertaining the possibility, that the accident was her fault.
I've hated skiing and skiers ever since.
(CerberaSpeedTwelve, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 0:54, Reply)

Just the odd one or two
I've had a number of injuries in the past, so here be a couple, I apologise for length in advance.

1) Relatively near where I used to live there was a castle with a lovely big hill attached, we'd slid/rolled/etc. down it a number of times and I'd seen a few people ride down it on their bikes. Anyhoo, this one time I decided to cycle down there mesel' so I got lined up and set off over the edge, shifting my weight over the back wheel as you do for stability or whatever. Now normally this act wouldn't cause much of a problem, but my saddle decided that it would flip back, stopping me from moving back forward when I got to the bottom. Cue the lack of control over the bike and the front end bouncing all over the place. I ended up after getting to the bottom of the ditch, going across the bit of grass, over a road which had foot wide by foot deep trenches either side of it, onto another bit of grass, down a small, but steep hill and back up a small incline. All the while the front of the bike is bouncing up and smacking me in the chest, chin and forehead. I saw a bench approaching fast and launched myself to the side, missing it by a foot or so. There's me lying on the ground, covered in blood, I can see my mates over another little hill chatting amongst themselves, but I can't shout to them due to being completely winded. They noticed a few minutes later and I left to go to hospital. I went on holiday the next day, wrapped in bandages. I still have the scar on my forehead.

b) Another happened when I was younger and holidaying in france. I'd decided to go stroke a horse in a field attached to the campsite. The horse however decided that my top looked quite tasty and grabbed hold of it, pulling me forward... into the barbed wire and down into a ditch. I still have the scar on my side, but the ones on my shoulder and elbow have gone.

iii) One time I was out at a nightclub and for the last song of the night they played nellie the elephant or something similar and people generally did a conga line around the place, up and down the stairs, etc. As I was coming down the stairs I notice some people on the dancefloor sitting in a line waving their arms and decide to join them. As I sit down I put my hand down on a broken bottle, I look over after a while, see the blood, casually wander over to my mates and say something along the lines of "I appear to be bleeding". They grab my hand in a fist like fashion to stop the blood flow and drag me along to the people in the foyer to patch it up enough for me to make it along to the hospital. In casualty they gave me some anaesthetic then left it to wear off before stitching it up. The blood was still on the dancefloor the next time I went in there.

q) "Oh look a broken glass bottle, watch me smash it by jumping on it!" Most of the bottle smashed away from the circular bottom bit which went right through my shoe. My mate cut his finger while pulling it out. Luckily though his lass had a box of plasters (or individually wrapped sterile adhesive dressings as some places call them) with her at the time.

é) I popped my knee out wrestling. It went right back in again, but the people across the room cringed from the loud popping noise. I went to the bar to ease the pain. This was a couple of years back, my knee still pops out for no reason occasionally, but now it doesn't always go back in straight away. Maybe I should've seen the doctor about it.

746) At a gig, I decide I need a better vantage point and jump up onto a higher bit, only my jeans won't let my leg go that far up and I end up tearing a chunk out of my leg from the sharp corner of the higher bit.

42) Another gig, crowdsurfing and stage diving. Me and a mate ended up on stage at the same time, we turned to each other, nodded then dove into the crown. It was like the parting of the red sea as I landed on the ground several feet out and a few feet down with him landing on top of me. We lay there dazed a bit, then got up and enjoyed the rest of the gig.

7175) I sliced the very end of my thumb off once while testing the sharpness of a new swiss army knife I'd purchased. I didn't want my parents to know I had it, so I got the chopped off bit of skin and placed it in the bathroom by a broken tile and blamed that for it.

I have others, but this'll do for now. Not bad for a first post eh? Well maybe a tad long.
(boxit, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 0:02, Reply)

Lightbulbs
At the beginning of August I was packing up a van to go camping with my Guides. We store all our stuff in a portakabin. I picked up some tent poles (about 6' in length seen as we still use old ridge tents), turned around inside the portakabin and hit the flourescent lightbulb tube. That shattered came down and ripped a big chunk out of my arm. Apparently you could see the muscle. A quick trip via my house to hand me over to my parents and an hour and a half visit to A&E resulted in 6 stitches and a big plaster which has left a patch in my otherwise lovely tan!


(Outatime, Wed 8 Sep 2004, 0:00, Reply)

Simple equation
Stapler- meet lips. Lips + stapler = OUCH DEAR JESUS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH and lots of blood. Nuff said.
(ZooLurker is an angry chick with a mullet!, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 23:46, Reply)

In a previous life...
I was an Armourer in the British Army. One of my duties was chopping up all the bits of weapons that were to be scrapped, sealing them in tins and banding them up to be dropped off a boat somewhere.

The tins we used were 5 gallon oil drums. We got the scrap in them by 'opening them up'. I could have used the tinsnips, and chopped my way through, but that was too much like hard work, so I decided to hammer the buggery out of the seam, and get in that way. So I'm about half way round, nice gaping hole in this can, and I reckon I can pull the top off the rest of the way. So I put my fingers into this freshly emptied, oily, sharp edged, sheet metal tin, got a really good grip, and pulled.

My fingers shot round the edge like pink sausages across a greased razor blade, and I managed to get the first entry in our new accident book.

I also got scars across every finger on both hands that I still carry 15 years later
(TwoFourAlpha, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 23:19, Reply)

Bunsen Burners
I school we were heating some liquid on Bunsen burners. someone knocked the table. The tripod, with the wire gauze and the flask on top wobbled. I grabbed the wire gauze to stop it falling. The wire gauze was hot. Around 450 degrees Celsius. It didn't hurt. Then I took my hand away. Then my thumb hurt... Allot! I stuck my hand in the sink and turned on the tap. It still hurt. I had a look. You could see the imprint of wire gauze on my thumb. The imprint was deep. I showed my friend my thumb. His giggles turned into a laugh. He told one of my other fiends. He joined in the laughing. The teacher came over to see what I was doing. The look on her face was priceless. She just told me to keep my hand under the tap. The imprint took 2 weeks to go.
(as1232004, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 22:40, Reply)

Penial pain
One day, while i was over my x-girlfriends house i was hungry and horney at the same time, so i decided that it would be a good time to cook some noodles and get a bj at the same time. sadly her stove didn't like me, and we never figured out how it happend, but i ended up getting shocked right on the head of my penis. i was walking funny for days, and let my mom and friends know that i had twisted my ancle funny leaving school that day... i will never cook and try and cum again
(Quazie, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 22:11, Reply)

Brick tastic
To thi sday I usually edit the situation to say 'Football' instead of 'Cherry Blossom' becuase I'm not gay or 'owt, but when about 6 I decided that I wanted to get some cherry blossom down from a tree in the garden;- the tree was tall and I was small and the ladder was no-where to be seen, so I decided to 'knock' the blossom down from the tree using a missile; what should be close to hand but a pile of house bricks.... I picked one up with my puny child-like might and realised that abrick is very heavy indeed, so needed to get the best position to throw the brick up into the tree.

Adopting a 'tossing the caber' two'handed sling at knee-height, I threw the brick stright up into the air.

and it came straight back down.

Turning my head to avoid the full fury of the blow, it caught me on the back of the head.

My mum asserts to this day that I used to be left-handed before that incident. Ever since, I'm not, and I have crap handwriting.... (thinks...)
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Tue 7 Sep 2004, 20:25, Reply)

Apologies for length in advance
I've got 3 for you, fortunately only one involves me so here goes.

1: Let's get mine out of the way first. I was probably about 11 at the time, though I'm not too sure. Me, mum and brother went on a skiing holiday to Yugoslavia (before you had to ski round exploding shells and landmines), we were heading down a nice gentle blue slope (beginner to intermidiate for those not in the know) with me in front, mum decided at the last minute that we ought to turn off this particular slope and head for another, by this time I have nearly reached escape velocity and she is barely keeping up, she yells out from behind to turn left, which I do, only to be met with a smaller track heading for the other slopes and a German family doing the equivilant of Sunday driver speed. Now as this was only a few days into the holiday and I was a bit out of practise, I hadn't successfully mastered the art of stopping, or slowing down in a hurry, so I did what any other 11 year old would do, I put my head down, closed my eyes and hoped for the best. The best in this case turned out to be plowing into the father of the group's backside and getting a bit of a concussion, I say this is the best because if it weren't for ski suits being so thick then there would have been quite an ammusing pantomime horse on skis going down the hill.

2: Going for a number 2 should not be dangerous, however, my stepdad found a way to make it so. Most people do this in a sensible order: put toilet seat down, lower trousers and prefered underwear, turn around, sit and so forth. Not my mother's hubby, oh no. With the toilet seat still up he decided to remove lower body garments first, turn around, grab the toilet seat that was now behind him, then lower the toilet seat at the same time as assuming the sitting position, placing his happy sacks between the porceline rim and toilet seat, which then meant his entire body weight crushed them between the two unyielding surfaces. Neighbours came round after a while to complain about the noise.

3: Same house as number 2 but this time a party was involved, 2 girls (not sure who) were talking in one part of the kitchen as well as a few other people, suddenly one of the girls screams as there's a large spider crawling over the work top, cue some guy (not sure who he was either) coming to their rescue. Acting like the slickest knight in camelot he deftly picks up the arachnid foe and proceeds to take it to the back door, unfortunately Captain Cool didn't realise the glass door was still shut, so smiling at the girls as if to say "Don't worry ladies, he won't bother you again" he swung his arm back the forwards to hurl the little blighter outside, unfortunately his hand connected with the glass which didn't budge, so there he was there he was, wincing in pain with a spider mashed all over his hand and two birds laughing their asses off at him.
(Lord of my Ring, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 20:14, Reply)

Knees ? Fuckem,
Picture the scene, a bright summers day in 1977 and a group of happy children are playing hide and seek in the back garden of one of the chums.

I hide, I hide in a subtle and clever place. Amongst the broken bits of wood and discarded garden fence behind the greenhouse. Which being made of glass is no bloody hiding place at all.
That said it still took the idiot hunting for us some while to find me whilst I stood there making faces against the glass and sniggering.

Having been discovered I was expected to make a dash for the safe zone (or whatever we called it back then) whilst idiot boy chased me. A plan which I executed perfect until the second footstep.
This was the 70's and bad platforms were greatly in vogue, I was wearing shoes with soles thick enogh not to notice that I'd stood on a plank with the nails uppermost. In one sense I got lucky, I didn't drive three rusty nails ino the sole of my foot. In another sense I was royally fucked since I was suddenly trying to run with a plank nailed to my foot.
Cue a massive and unexpected change of direction and the sound of shattering glass as I fell sideways through the wall of the greenhouse, utterly destroying a stand of prize tomatoes and slicing my right kneecap almost entirely off.

It didn't hurt, it didn't even bleed immediately. It just sat there for about 60 seconds whilst I stared at the internal anatomy of my kneejoint, did the post traumatic inventory and decided that I was still alive, mostly Ok, and really wanted to go home to me mum. As soon as I stood up the blood began to flow. Pouring down my leg, leaving a nasty trail from one end of my mate's garden, across the road, and making a big mess on the front step of my house.
Mother just lost the plot, next door neighbours drove me to the hospital where a nurse picked the bright glittering bits of broken glass out of my knee with an expression I can only describe as "pale". I still felt no pain, shock is a great anasthetic...
Surgery, Physio, more surgery and the resiliance of small children mean I can walk almost normally these days.
Still didn't dare tell anyone I'd been fuckwitted enough to hide behind a greenhouse.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 19:46, Reply)

It wasnt really me that did this..
it was a friend

Just after we had finished gym one morning my good friend *lets call him bob* needed a piss really badly

So as soon as the bell rang he legged it to the toilets and answered natures call. when he was done he tucked it all back in and zipped up

the thing was his jonny had fallen back out again as he zipped up. Then the hall was filled with echos of "ARGH FUCKING SHITEING CHRIST!!!" being in secondary school everyone went over to investigate. The poor sod had zipped it all the way up and there was bodily fluids everywere so in stepped our english teacher and yanked the zip back down. resulting in more screams.
(fistcount shite, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 18:29, Reply)

I was only about 13
It was snowing (which on the south coast is a rare thing) so the family and me went sledging.

We had this really long steep hill near us which was great but you had to remember to jump off just before the bottom as there was a ditch and a wire face in it.

Now somehow (maybe caught up in the excitement of the snow) I kind of forgot to jump off and went head first into this ditch and then fence.

I crawled out of the ditch, slightly dazed and confused only to see my family pissing themselves laughing as I had a patch work pattern on my face which took 2 weeks to fade, gotta love snow :)
( Sheep in Socks it is illegal to take a lion to the cinema., Tue 7 Sep 2004, 18:11, Reply)

File under "looks worse than it was"
A few months ago, I ended up injuring my right wrist through a combination of trail cycling and keyboard/mouse repetitive motion abuse. So, I appeared at work that Monday morning wearing a very obvious brace on my right hand and wrist, and had to explain to everyone that asked that I had injured my right hand/wrist through over-use and just needed the brace to "give things a rest" so everything could heal.

It wasn't a wanking injury. Honest. It just looked like one.
( froopyscot may have a prehensile cock, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 18:07, Reply)

Re
I had sex on a church step and the cold made my entire clit swell up double for three weeks, hanging outside (if you know what I mean) and meaning it was impossible to sit down. The same happened once when I got with some guy with incredibly long fingernails. This made me stop being a goth.
(mortalum, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 17:54, Reply)

Dart + Eye = Lose
When I was 7, my parents took me to Butlins for a few days. It's a place that somehow seems OK at that age. Played darts with them one night, and although I was crap, I was enthusiastic.

Ran up to the dartboard, pulled out one of the darts I could reach, dislodging another one, which arced straight down into my eye, hitting just as I blinked. Miraculously, there seemed no damage, so we just continued playing.

In the middle of the night, I ended up having to get my parents to look at my eye, as it felt gritty, and there was a part that I couldn't wet at all. Dad took me to the camp matron (not a camp man, natch), who in turn deposited me with a couple of the security guards who took me up the local casualty unit in a lovely Butlins van.

UV-reactive liquid in eye puddled, to confirm that I had actually managed to dent my eye right in the middle of the pupil.

They issued me with some horrible cream that had to be applied twice a day, and a couple of surgical eyepatches which I had to wear for the duration of my holiday. I wandered around that looking like some fucking junior albino pirate, feeling slightly less than pleased with myself.
(Glis, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 17:53, Reply)

Bike-ride blood bath
I'll be brief. Took friend's son [13] cycling. About mile from home I fell off my bike onto road. Prised myself off tarmac to spy suspiciously large pool of blood. Felt blood pouring from what seemed a caved-in head. Phoned wife and friend and informed them of my dire need of aid. Sat by road and awaited death.

Friend's son sniffs the air, then examines the huge pool of blood. Then goes to ruck-sack I'd been carrying and pulls out the remaining shards of a bottle of red wine I'd bought about ten minutes ago as pressie for wife.

Wife and friend turn up. They laugh quite a bit.
(SneakyPete, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 17:12, Reply)

Partially my fault..
Thankfully this didn't end in hospitalisation, or lasting damage, but rather embarrassing.

Fairly soon after I started seeing my ex, he phoned me, practically incoherent, in a rage bleating on about my hair. My hair is pretty long, past my waist, and it does tend to get everywhere. The poor sod had awoken in agony to find that one of the hairs I had kindly deposited in his bed has wrapped itself tightly around his bell end, which was turning increasingly blue.

A bit like a toad caught in a length of discarded fishing line, his poor manhood was bulging around its ligature, making removal of the hair absolute agony. He's got a few piercings, but maintains that it was the most painful experience of his life so far.

We did stay together for more than a year after that, and we're still great friends, but it could so very easily have ended there and then.

EDIT: Just spazzed back, do I know you timberwolf0122? Or is this a common phenomenon? (PS If it's you, see you on Saturday to go for more piercings :D )
( Dekazer, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 15:59, Reply)

Rock 'n' Roll
When I was about 5 my mates dad was reversing his transit van outside in the carpark. We all got very excited and ran out to greet him, jumping into the open side door. I slipped and slid underneath, but none the wiser, he carried on reversing and went straight over my legs. The embarrasing bit? The guy we were so excited to see was Terrence Walley, guitarist with Crazy Cavan and the Rhythm Rockers
(MBH, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 15:49, Reply)

Okay, so I went to a boarding school...
I was twelve, getting out of the bath in the boarding house, after about six other people had used the bathroom, and promptly slid along the lino'd floor (which was half an inch deep in water).

I slid along with one foot stretched out in front of me, and that foot slid gracefully into the 1/2 inch gap under the door. Unfortunately my big toenail didn't.

My screams brought half the house (luckily only the female half) rushing to see what was wrong, and of course their first impulse was to shove the door open really hard. I think that was the point I passed out.

Two years later I was moving some furniture around the dormitory and dropped a heavy chest of drawers on the same toe. Off came the toenail again...

When I was 17, I lost the same toenail for a third time. Apparently I was used to the idea by then, because I can't for the life of me remember how I did it. I *do* know that there was no alcohol involved, because I didn't start drinking till later that year.

For some reason, even now, as a supposedly mature and sensible person of 30, I am still continually walking into things, and I regularly have cut or bruised toes.

Also, when I was 15, I tried to do that cool thing where you stand on a chair and tip it oover backwards.... of course, in hindsight, I shouldn't have tried it on a chair with no seat and wicked sharp metal edges. I shouldn't have chickened out half way through and tried to jump off. And I certainly shouldn't have listened to Matron, who said of the subsequent bleeding gash (in my leg, that is) "leave it dry in the air; it'll heal on its own."... Two weeks later, I was told by an A&E doctor that the reason it was green and not healing up was that it should have had stitches in the first place, and I was now in severe danger of becoming infected. I still have a large dent in my leg now. Cheers Matron, you gin-addled, child-hating old bitch!

You know, it occurs to me that I shouldn't really have been issued with legs in the first place...
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Tue 7 Sep 2004, 15:41, Reply)

It was a crisp February morning when I was but knee high to a grasshopper...
I rubbed my eyes, and peered out of the window. It was snowing!

I quickly grabbed my sledge, ran outside, and trudged up to a field near my house. At the top, I met a nice young couple who agreed to race me on their massive wooden jobby... ha! fools! i'd surely beat them on my 'plastic avenger'.

About half way down I realised that these monolithic beasts were actually quite fast, especially laden with two adults, and there was no way I was going to catch up with them. Watching them veer off to the right to avoid the looming wall, I completely forgot to steer, and subsequently lost control.

I was heading straight for the gate, which silently began to swing open... My sledge hit the edge of the gate, and I was bumped, legs akimbo, along it until my crotch connected with the gate, tearing my jeans on a splinter, and taking a little section of my ballbag as a souvenir.
(hazzus, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 15:08, Reply)

Not sexual, but I haven't heard the end of it
Riding my motorbike to the post office, I had to negotiate a large roundabout functioning as a junction for a motorway and three A roads (Brenley Corner near Faversham in Kent, if anyone cares). I'd done this many a time before, so I'd pulled up in the right hand lane, waited for the traffic to clear and proceeded forward, rather rapidly.

Which was a problem, as I should've moved smoothly off to the left. Luckily there was a small kerb, which the bike hit and slid under the metal crash barrier. I continued my trajectory (as all good physicists will have expected) and dislocated my shoulder on the barrier. (The luckily in the previous sentence is due to the fact that I fix for free, while my bike costs money to mend.)

The embarrassing part came explaining my injury - I chose to tell all, rather than have people assume it was due to some solo action. "How could you miss a roundabout 30-40 feet across?" Well I didn't, that's the whole point - had I missed it I'd be ok!

No apologies for length, as I'm not sure what the boundaries are (first post n all).
(jamesthegill opens new tabs with his scroll wheel, Tue 7 Sep 2004, 15:01, Reply)