sports related injuries
back in the day, i studied the karate. our group was taught by the lunatic steve arneil, a five foot south african, who bragged about rolling in the russian snow to get warm, and had set up a uk federation- thatll be the kyokyshinkai. one of the punches for one of the higher belts is a jabbing sideways punch. i was doing it wrong so he demonstarted it on me. this took me by surprise. i stumbled about a bit, then realising that i couldnt breath collapsed. next thing im waking up on the floor, and apparently managed to pull myself up. i then sat down, and proimptly got on with being sick. i proceded to thoroughly empty my stomach for the next hour, whilst only wearing silly -but expensive- pyjamas
(sickboyturbo, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:45, Reply)

Not me but...
There was a wanking club at our school. God knows how I found out about this, but I am pleased to say that I was never a member. Others who were members told of illicit meetings in the school darkroom (where anyone in the staff room next door could hear every word that was spoken), where pornography was shared and vaguely homo-erotic fapping took place. The manky bunch of tossers.

One of the fully paid up members was a young man we shall call Greebo.

Imagine a pained scream, the door flung open in panic, and the head of economics dashing Greebo to the Royal Berkshire Hospital in the back of his car, wrapped in a blanket.

Greebo, in his frenzy not to come last in the soggy biscuit game, had yanked too hard on his old man and split his foreskin.

He arrived back at school the following Monday, rested and bandaged, with a sicknote that went straight to the headmaster's office, and he was excused games until he could walk without looking like John Wayne.

And nobody spoke of Greebo's misfortune, ever, for a vow had been made. Except to call him Rumplesplitskin. Every day. Forever.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:45, Reply)

Glasto Liar!
Glastonbury leap of faith. A few years ago having been 7 times FOR FREE, got cocky and strapped a case of beer to my back and done the fence.

Or the fence did me. I landed and broke my ankle so badly that the BMJ took photos of the mess and put it in the journal. I had also 'borrowed' my mums motor whilst she was on holiday and it was left languishing in a cow shit ridden field for her to rescue it on her return. (never forgotten) The only bonus was the diamorphine hit given in the medical tent. Very nasty 12" scars on either side of ankle.

Have told many since I was a photographer there (partly true) and said the side of the stage collapsed out of pure shame for looking a total cunt. Lost my job and was a veg for 3 months.

Oh dear. (Apologies for length.)
(Fonkadelix is fucking bored, pass the crack pipe Mavis., Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:38, Reply)

When I was a wee lad
My mum took me on the obligatory trip to get a new year's school uniform, including, of course, trousers. In my haste to get the whole ordeal over with I zipped up the flies as quickly as possible and managed to draw the zipper up over my knobskin. Much pain. Cleared the shop with my blood curdling screams and had to suffer the indignity of having mother dearest and the ever so helpful middle-aged bint from behind the counter trying to help me free myself. Meh.
(Watermelon, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:24, Reply)

not me, but...
... a true story about a mate:

My good friend (we'll call him Ben) and his lovely girlfriend (we'll call her Kat - and this is the story as told to me by her) had recently started dating each other, and they were somewhat into kinky sex. Kat was stark naked spread and tied to a bed for Ben to do what he pleased (all consentual) - unfortunately on his way over to her in his best sexy swagger his stumped his toes on the wooden bed leg and let out a manly (hah) little scream and began hopping around on one leg. He then tripped on a pair of hair-straighteners or a hair-dryer or something that was lying around (I forget exactly) and smacked his head off of the bedside table and knocked himself out cold.

I'm not sure I could imagine Kat's terror as she is naked and tied down and unable to do anything about Ben who is bleeding from his face, unconscious on the floor - though after about ten minutes ben came round and managed to pull himself onto the bed where he managed to untie one of Kat's hands before slumping back to the floor. Now able to free herself Kat managed to phone an ambulance and was so busy trying to tend to Ben that they were both still starkers when the paramedics arrived who took Ben to A&E - hefractured his cheekbone and has an impressive scar. He says it was worth it for the great story though.
(jinglebellsmotherfucker, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:21, Reply)

A nasty accident in school...
A year or so ago, I was locked in an upstairs lab at my secondary school. Some kid playing a prank (blah blah blah). Anyhow, I spotted a nice soft flower patch under the window. I leapt and landed perfectly safely. Not so much as a bruise.

Noone was there to see it though. As I bragged about it, they all wanted me to prove it was possible. I went into the very same lab, leapt out of the very same window towards my awaiting group of friends. I leapt with a little more gusto than last time and missed the flower bed.
Broke my left leg in 2 places and dislocated my right knee. And everybody was there to see it.
bugger
(VintageAsphalt, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:20, Reply)

Several years ago
every week for 3 months I carelessly fell bottom-first onto my bedside lamp whilst having sex with my girlfriend and had to go to casualty to have the bulb removed. I stopped when the nurses called me 'Osram'
(It doesn't always sting when you piSSSS., Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:19, Reply)

Slightly tame, but still bloody.
One night down Uni way I was chopping up some chilled chicken breasts with a pair of those big black kitchen scissors that most people have. Suddenly - snip! - off goes the last 5mm or so of my index finger.
The worst part was changing the dressing in the shower the next morning. I have never bled so much in my life. Thank God I did it in the shower - if I had used my room it would probably still be closed off to the public.
The second worst thing was the smell that the wound developed, no matter how often I bathed/disinfected it.
(CerberaSpeedTwelve, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:17, Reply)

my mate was enjoying himself with his girlfriend on the bottom bunk of his bunk bed (having fun, but not sex, if you know what i mean)
upon the climax of said enjoyment, my mate sat up very fast, colliding with the wooden beam of the bunk. i suppose it's the funnest way to get a concussion, but needless to say the relationship didn't really last.
(not_real had his name thieved, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:15, Reply)

accident prone- very
Yes, im accident prone, and done some very silly things indeed:
*when i was in my skatebording phase, kicked tail too hard and it ricocheted off a wall and broke my nose- i can still fold my nose across my face (disgusting but a brilliant party trick!)
*in a fighting competion at my karate club, managed to get a bruised tit and fractured shin bone; after being punched in said boob, i decided to retaliate by kicking the bloke in the knackers, but managed to hit his pubic bone with my shin very, very hard (i won the fight)- and we both ended up in A&E.
*in a teenage tantrum, i attempted to slam my window shut, but sliced half my thumb off; not as painful as it sounds, maybe cos i fainted in shock.

My brother is a regular at the hospital, so he is on first name terms with the nurses; something his mates are jealous of.
-he has fallen into a shed and impaled himself on gardening tools (a rake?!)
-bitten on the face by a dog (to be fair on the dog, he did pull its tail)
-run over his own leg doing a backflip on his bike (don't ask, defied all laws of physics and gravity some how)
-dislocated his shoulder running into a door frame, attempting to run away after kicking me in the head.

sorry for length, but i am so bored and feeling nostalgic...

and about due for another visit to the hospital
(cookie_freak, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 15:08, Reply)

Split banjo
Years ago I was seeing this ugly mare who was a nurse - her only redeeming feature being fantastic baps.

We'd been out on the razz one night and she drove me home. Got outside my folks house, and things got a bit heated, so we popped indoors for a quickie on the sofa (my folks were upstairs asleep). After I'd blown my biscuits I looked down to see blood - lots of it. Once I'd recovered the old chap from the murky depths I found that I'd split my banjo - cue much "Oh Shit, Oh Shit". Once the old boy had softened up a bit, there I stood with skin between thumb and forefinger trying to pull the hoodie back to it's rightful place.

I was only light duties for weeks after that.

Tolds my folks that I'd had a nosebleed, hence the blood all over the lounge rug......
(Hog UK, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:57, Reply)

Later
today I intend to snap a nail and possibly even chip a tooth or two performing a protracted and extremely violent assault on whatever fuck in the higher management at work decided that Bloggerheads, Atrios, b3ta, and even parts of cunting Google are now to be blocked by websense for being 'clubs'. Looks like I'll just have to while away my afternoons looking at the BNP website instead, since they're apparently still all right...
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:57, Reply)

Stupid Ratty Bastard.
Oh dear.
I was visiting my (then) girlfriend at her pad at Uni. She kept a pet rat in her room (yes, she'd bought her in a shop, didn't just scoop it out of the Uni Skips or anything), and decided that it needed a bit of exercise, seeing as it was always cooped up in a cage and all.

Anyway, Ratty was off scurrying about and the lady and myself started getting down to action. (I'm not talking Scrabble here, nudge nudge, wink wink.)

Being a typical scummy Student my Missus didn't have a bed, just a mattress on the floor. We naturally were not paying attention to the whereabouts of said Rodent... That may have been a mistake. Little Ratty must have become jealous that her owner was paying significantly more attention to someone else (namely, me) than to dear Rat.
I must have failed to notice her scurrying up the mattress. What I couldn't fail to notice though is the sharp spikey pain in my testicular region as Ratty sank her teeth and claws into my 'Hairy Brain'.
Kind of killed the moment, I think.

Oh yes. Ratty is now dead. But not because of this. Just regular ratty death.
( ArghZombies No longer has a Leaky QUIM, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:53, Reply)

Years ago, a friend of a friend
was among a group of people who had broken into the local sports ground, and they were pissing around climbing on the goalposts. He attepted to walk across the crossbar like a tightrope walker. But the inevitable happened and he fell, causing compound fractures to both arms - not a pretty sight by all accounts.

As they had broken in by climbing a rather high fence, his friends had to somehow get him over this and then back to his mum and dad's place. Once they eventually got him there, they dumped him on the doorstep, rang the bell and legged it. I Wonder what his parents made of that...
(JamScones, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:47, Reply)

I'm very clumsy
I once sprinted into the back of a wheelbarrow (it was dark) and am told I did a spectacular somersault before landing rather heavily on my arm. Amazingly it wasn't broken, but that didn't stop me from spending the whole next day sat in A&E waiting for an x-ray.

Years before that, when I was still at school, I decided to walk along a wooden fence and fell off, legs akimbo. That prompted some very impressive spurting of blood from my nether regions. Days later a bloke in my year did the same thing and was off school for a week.
( Nile, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:43, Reply)

when micro-scooters were cool...
i had a really cool one with wheels that lit up when yu moved and all that jazz. anyhow, i got bored, so i decided to see what it would be like to use a micro-scooter while on roller-blades.

fucking silly idea.

i fell on my arse quite dramatically, by trying to push off, and loosing the little balance i had... i damaged my coccyx quite badly, and bruised the bone. i cried.

i was 11 years old...

(oh yeah, when i went to see the libertines in may of this year, pete doherty had his shirt off. he got pissed off at carl, and smashed mr. barat's guitar to pieces. of course, he cut a 4 in curve in his chest above his right nipple.
nice on pete.)
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:33, Reply)

Not enough anally retrieved objects
My missus (NB: not the protagonist of our story) is a journo and was once interviewing some doctors. After the formalities, the medics reminisced about their favourite cases. Both agreed that the best was a very polite old man who had come into their hospital complaining of stomach cramps. An X-Ray had revealed the cause of the problem: a small vase that had become lodged in his digestive tract, near the exit. And no he hadn't swallowed it. Upon removal it was found to be inscribed with the words: "A present from Worthing."

One of them still had the vase on his desk. Apparently it was very pretty and had been cleaned vigorously.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:33, Reply)

both holes torn
Back in student days at music college we had a mate called Adam who was a big lad - in fact he was built like an ox. Just as an example of his sheer size and presence: during a disturbance in a pub, he had calmly picked up the troublemaker under one arm, opened the door with the other, and smoothly ejected the poor sod into the night before he could so much as say 'you lookin for trouble?'. Anyway I digress... Anyone who had the misfortune to see Adam naked knew that he was packing something of fearsome proportions in the trouser dept. Which brings me on to his girlfriend Carolyn (now happily married to someone else apparently - wonder if hubby knows about this though).
Seeing Adam after a summer holiday and inquiring what he'd been up to, he told us that he'd been working abroad, but luckily Carolyn had been to visit him. But when she saw him she'd been missing him so much that of course she 'went for it' a bit too violently. And, how can I put this, her front bottom was ripped to shreds...
But the next day Adam, not to be put off, persuaded her to let him do her up the 'gary'. Bad idea - she returned home from her visit with both holes in tatters. Stitches were involved...
I wonder if she knows that we all knew about it though!
(littlerichardsmustache, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:17, Reply)

French Bannister
When living in France some years ago, I found that the bannisters outside the Opera Bassille were particularly excellent for sliding down. There were two about 15 inches apart, so that one leg could be slung over one and the other leg slung over the other. This combined with just enogh pitch to get decent accelleration and a good length gave rize to an excellent experience.

The only problem was.... the weld had given way on the last upright that held the right bar in place at the bottom. As my weight pressed between the bars they parted just enough to allow the upright pole to slide into my leg at about 45 degrees. The sharp end severed some nerves, the artery and some other structures. Blood was escaping quite quickly. Luckily I knew where the pressure point was to stem the flow of blood from this region and calmly organised for the pompiers or firemen to escort me to the hospit5al where they removed about a kilo of dangling torn and ripped thigh flesh before stitching me back together.

It was not until this point that I noticed that I had an ache in the dangler department. TYhis seemed to have been caused by my jeans movign rapidly up my leg and bunching in my crotch, causing a split scrotum and crushed teste. A great day for Scotland.
(jimkins, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 14:09, Reply)

Arse gash
Not me, but a mate, who we shall refer to as John (because that is name) used to share a flat with me in Cheltenham, above the ONE-STOP, across from the timber merchants place.

John, being a dirty bastard had managed to develop a rather nasty boil on his bum, a little to the north of *that hole*, but close enough that you couldn't examine one without having to view the other. Nice.

Being the curious chap John was, he couldn't help but play with it (his boil...) and eventually, and as you might expect for a skin breach in that region, it became infected. Really infected. So sore he couldn't sit down, he had to lay on everything.

He wanted to see it. It was about Christmas and I'd just bought a new camera for my old man that handily hooked up to the TV. Imagine John's face when I zoomed into his botty boil with my dads megapixel camera plugged into our 28" widescreen telly. 28" of red, bloody, pussy, bottom boil.


After he recovered I was tasked with driving our curious, amateur biologist to Cheltenham General hospital, where, as you might expect for Cheltenham, the prettiest nurse (quite possibly in the world) had to poke her finger around our Johns bum for a good 30 minutes before he was sent home with not much more than a plaster on.


How we laughed.
(stuicey, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:52, Reply)

idiot me
When I was much younger, but still old enough not to be quite such a twunt, I attempted to cut a bit of thick card with a scalpel.

I pressed on the scalpel and drew it across the card. It left no mark. Puzzled, I drew it across again, pressing even harder. Still no mark.

At this point I realised that I had the scalpel upside-down and had been forcing the blade deeper and deeper into my index finger. It bled. A lot. And now I'm a lot more careful with sharp objects.
(MattDP (Squiggle), Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:52, Reply)

It was 2 days ago
i where playing football with my mates and we playd on a 11 men goal i was the goly and the best of the players Shot a Realy hard one in my middle part...
(Devlin Aka DJEllen, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:50, Reply)

Almost olympic
Hi!
Back in the days when I had no gray hairs, I used to go to the local forest to play on a rope swing with my buddies. The rope was attached to a tree which was on a slope, probably of about 75 deg, and the branch on which the rope was tied was over a little stream that came down from the local reservoir. Very picturesque.

We had several methods of swining on this rope, one of which was running along the slope, holding onto the stick, and swinging tarzan style over the stream, and back up behind the tree. Brilliant fun! Another was to climb up the slope, jump onto the swing and just swing, sitting, to and fro, like a hypnotist's watch. Excellent fun.

One day however, I thought I'd be clever. I went for the tarzan style jump (we called it "Jesus christing") but thought I'd put a spin on it. Up I went, over the river I went, back towards the tree I went, face first INTO the tree I went. I dropped there and then about 6 ft into a small marsh, with no elegance or grace at all. Hurt like hell, but not nearly as bad as what happened to my mate...

Feeling just as adventurous as I was (and not smart enough to see that this day was a Day Of Injuries), he decided to take the swing up the slope, and jesus christ STRAIGHT DOWN the slope. So, he did it. All looked like it would be fine, until he reached the apex of his swing. He somersaulted backwards maybe twice before landing on both wrists on a large boulder at the other side of the stream. it was obvious that either he'd become incredibly camp and limp wristed, or that he'd smashed both wrists. the latter was true.

Poor guy had to have his sisters "hold him" while he peed and "clean up after him" while he did the other.
(Louis Cowan, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:34, Reply)

Politics with bite
There's a long-standing rumour that a senior Scottish politician, in a fit of pique after some disagreement or other, inflicted an intimate injury on her partner while fellating him. In short, she bit his boabie. Allegedly.

The rumour led one of her opponents to observe, apparently apropos nothing, during a debate on health: "The lady might have perfect teeth but she doesn't give me the ring of confidence."

You could tell who'd heard the rumour by who went blue trying not to laugh.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:31, Reply)

Mere weeks ago.
I was visiting the Nintendo Roadshow at the Northants Balloon festival with some mates, and as a result of some daring of each other we decided to compete on the Mario Surf Run game. Basically this was a long inflatable alley with an elastic rope at the end. You were tied to the elastic rope, given a banana, and left to place the banana as far down the alley as you could.

As you can imagine, much of the hilarity came from the twanging of the rope as you tried not to get twanged to the end of the alley as you attempted to collect another banana.

At the end of one of my first trips I decided to jump in the air. I was shocked to discover that not only were you pulled backwards, you were also flipped over. I managed to do a full 180 degree flip in one movement, bounced around on my head as one would with a pogo stick, and then smacked into the back wall.

It didn't hurt at the time, but for the following week I couldn't turn my head more than about thirty degrees in any direction.
( Noit happy baby orangutan, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 13:11, Reply)

I kinda couldn't avoid telling my mates
because they were there.
I'm not the best sportswoman in the world but I do try, so whilst playing 5-a-sides I thought to myself "No problem, I can take on the best sportslady in this school, I'll just run circles round her to confuse her" but instead, she kicked the ball towards the wall as is allowed in the game we were playing, and I, trying to avoid the scary monster, ran into said wall, tripped over the ball, landed on my left arm and broke my wrist. Yes, we all had a laugh at my expense. Yes, I got back up and started playing again. Yes, I went to Physics afterwards and thought "Har, my wrist is swollen, I can get out of this 'ere class" and spent the afternoon in A & E.
( Smokey Bacon Crisps smell good, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:53, Reply)

Bloody Train
I put my hand in to the deepest darkest depths of my bag to get a book to read on the train, not knowing that my razor had slipped out and was lurking there waiting for me. I took my hand out. Drip, drip, drip a steady flow of blood oozed from a cut on my finger. I tried washing it in the bathroom. Drip, drip, drip the flow of blood was greater than the flow of tap water, all I managed to do was cover the basin and most of the floor in blood.

Being a man, I just wrapped the finger in a handerchief and thought nothing more of it. Until noticed that previously white hankerchief was now scarlet. Decided I probably needed some assistance so went to buffet car.

Lady behind counter went pale and nearly fainted at sight of blood so ran to get colleague, who trained in such matters, washed the dripping cut under the buffet car's proper tap and sink. Only the sink wasnt plumbed in. The bloody water flowed from the sink directly to the cupboard below. This cupboard was where all the plastic cups full of instant tea, coffee and hot chocolate were kept. Some interesting salty red instant coffee drinks were inadvertantly made.

Some firm pressure and a dressing later I returned to my seat, to be informed over the tannoy that 'hot drinks are no longer available on this train'.
(anat0010, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:38, Reply)

I'm good at injuring myself.
Possibly the most wince-worthy took place in Amsterdam in May this year. A friend an I decided to take a couple of days out there, doing the holiday on a shoestring budget, so we stayed in a Dorm hotel in the centre of the city.

All went very well for the first evening; much beer was consumed, much weed was smoked, much Shorma was eaten. Around 2am, we headed back to the hotel, both sobering up nicely, and after chilling out in the bar for a bit watching a DVD, we scooted off to sleep.

I found that my bed had been taken by someone else, so I moved to the top bunk in the darkest corner of the room (each room slept 12). About an hour after drifting off to sleep, I woke up to discover I _really_ needed a Gypsy's Kiss, and made moves to scuttle out of bed to the lavvy.

Sadly, my bladder was more full than I realised, and I got off the bed quite awkwardly, the ball of my foot slipping off the ladder. Depending on how you look at it, I was fortunate not to hit the floor, as I had grabbed out and caught hold of the bed. But the vast percentage of my fall was broken by me landing on the pole at the top of the ladder.

The sound of ripping boxer shorts was nothing more than a prelude to the pain that was about to hit me, as I found myself dangling from a bunk bed by my testicles. A surge of adrenylin allowed me to hoist myself clear of the offending pole, and scuttle down the ladder for my piss. On closer inspection, I discovered that my legs and boxers were quite clearly covered in blood, and I had a nice big tear straight through my family jewels, so I hobbled crab-like down to the hotel reception, tattered boxers flapping around me. They kindly arranged a taxi to a hospital, where I proceeded to have two men (in their 30s and 40s respectively) fondle my knackers, give two local anaestetic injections into my scrotum followed by several non-disovlable stitches, give me a tetanus injection in my leg (which went dead for the next four days), and then pack me on my way into the cold morning air.

The following day was a bit of a wash-out. I had been told not to drink or do anything else and keep a close eye on my bleeding and bruised spuds. Hell, even walking around was painful, and in the end the highlight of the day was going to shop for more supportive underwear.

Persuading people that you've been to Amsterdam and managed to sustained a genital injury WIHTOUT the need of a specialist prostitute is rather difficult, as I've found out!

The scar's fading, the indignity of registering with a local doctor back home to have the stitches removed was only a minor one, but the fact I'd managed to lose my E111 form during my recent move meant that the 180 Euro bill I had to pay for the treatment was just a final kick in the balls.
(Glis, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:37, Reply)

Fat Lass
Sorry if it's a bit long... first time poster!

On the last day my mate was at Uni, he called me up at lunch time saying he was in the boozer with a couple of lasses and that I should join them... So off I toddle, to sharkeys in Hull, where they do very cheap spirits... Well, I got there and there was my mate, with 2 bit fat biffers, probably with as combined weight of 40-odd stone.
Well, we set about drinking vodka heavily, and as the day wore on, the blonde fat lass seemed to get skinnier and better looking, and by closing time I had my tongue stuck down her throat and in the back of a taxi on the way to my pad...
Well once we got to mine, we got down to business on the sofa, with her on top, pounding away, when I notices a big red patch at the "entrance"... Pissed out of my head, I said to her "urgh you dirty cow, are you on?".

She wasn't.

When she got off, I had blood pissing out of the end of my manhood, and when I set about running around my house, cock in hand, I managed to get blood all over the suite, TV, stereo, walls, kitchen appliances, until I jumped on the worktop and stuck it under the cold tap....

When I had managed to curb the bloodflow, I jumped off the worktop and inspected myself... In her "not laid for years" frenzy, she'd managed to tear my banjo all the way down...

Needless to say, I threw her out. Wrapped a towel around it and went to bed feeling very sorry for myself. I was walking like John Wayne for days afterwards, much to the amusement of my mates...

Oh, and I've always worn my wellies since ;o)
(strangeone456789, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:29, Reply)

Saddest, most pathetic skateboard injury
I had a skateboard when they were popular *the first time*.

Anyhoo, I was simply kneeling on my board, rolling along some tarmac at about 1mph when a front wheel hit a tiny tiny pothole. The board stopped and I carried on.

Hit the tarmac on the underside of my chin, full smackdown. As I lay there mildly stunned, a big pool of blood started to spread around me. I was intrigued - I didn't know chins bled so much. All the other kids panicked and went to get my dad.

Net result? A visit to the local pharmacist for some smelling salts and a big sticky plaster. In those days you only went to hospital if something fell off.

I still have a teeny tiny scar.
( monster monster monster monster monster, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 12:28, Reply)