Not me, but the guy I was next door to in the Bristol BRI orthapaedics ward during the 1994 World Cup
He was an inveterate boozer, and lived for giro day. When the cheque came he'd walk from the post office, drop his food money at home, and then walk to the pub and spend all day pissing his remaining dole up the wall. For several months he'd been taking a short cut to the pub over a building site, which involved shinning over a 6 foot board fence around the edge. He got to the pub fine that day - but whilst he was in someone sank a 40 foot foundation shaft in one corner. Broken femurs, pelvis and seven hours wait until the next morning. Actually, this isn't that funny, is it?
( Cromagnon Don't waste my motherfucking time!, Thu 2 Sep 2004, 21:06, Reply)