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IHateSprouts tells us they once avoided getting caught up in an IRA bomb attack by missing a train. Tell us how you've dodged the Grim Reaper, or simply avoided a bit of trouble.

(, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 12:31)
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Stung a bit
When I was 8 years old or thereabouts, we went on a daytrip somewhere in the countryside, that's me, me ma, me cousin and me auntie "Racquel", who's a bit of a slag. I demanded that Raquel stop the car as I needed to go. So, there I was stood by the side of the road, cock in hand, giving the bush a good soaking when a bee buzzed onto my finger and stung me, just inches millimeters from the tip of my wanger. "Waaaah!" I exclaimed "I've been stungded by a bee". Auntie Racquel rushed out of the car and began trying to suck out the poison whereupon I was forced to utter the words "My finger, you dirty bitch, it stungded me on my finger". Birds...
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 21:40, 5 replies)
pub shootout
it was a friday night & me and a few friends wanted some booze but were all too lazy to make the 300 yard trip to the pub with the booze shop inside. we spent about 10 minutes arguing who would go, before deciding it would be the 2 girls. they came back quite quickly with pure white faces, cos had there been no argument they'd have been in there when 2 loyalist paramilitary types walked in & shot up the place killing 4 people. luckily for them, they arrived at the same time as the cops & ambulances.

after all that the 4 of us had to go to another off licence twice as far away, & drink twice as much to calm the old nerves.

oh the good old days in belfast.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 19:21, 6 replies)
forgotten this gem ... or repressed? who knows?
i guess this was about five or six years ago. just finishing high school, aged about fifteen, and i was incredibly naive and incredibly shy. i was also a bit of a geek but a couple of girls had taken me under their wing. we had started pretending we were going to each others houses for a sleep-over and sneaking into clubs or going to parties.

one of the girls had recently struck a friendship with a girl (let's call her linda) who was in a bit of a bad situation. at a young age, she'd been pushed into drug use and prostitution. now, she was pregnant.

our friend decided this girl needed a bit of cheering up and invited the rest of us to a gathering at linda's council house. apparently a couple of linda's friends were going. so we all turn up at linda's house and, to our surprise / alarm / horror linda is drinking from a massive bottle of vk. not good for the baby surely? our friend is incredibly drunk and linda has encouraged her to borrow a very revealing top.

worse yet, about seven dodgy looking men turn up who are all about ten years older than the lot of us. linda disappears with one of them into the kitchen and leaves us to entertain the rest.

soon enough, we clock that its been a trick and that linda has promised these men a very special kind of entertainment. the four of us grab our very drunken friend and drag her into the bathroom. eventually, we re-emerge because one of the men is hammering on the door and tell them that our friend desperately needs some fresh air. they aren't convinced so they follow us outside... which is when we run off.

the night was made much worse by two of them following us right up until the main club street where two fully grown men chasing five terrified teenage girls might have aroused suspicion.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 19:00, 2 replies)
This may take a bit of scene-setting...
When I was younger, my house was near the village hall. There was a large car park and a steep dirt hill which led to some abandoned ground, and on one side of this ground was a wall which was about two foot tall on one side, but led to a 40 foot drop on the other side, into a large patch of nettles (and probably broken glass, syringes, animal mess and other assorted nasties).

When I was five, I climbed a tree on the abandoned lot which over-hung the drop, and fell out. A slightly older kid from up the road turned around and stuck her arms out at what can only be described as lightning speed, catching me. I escaped with a grazed bum, and a phobia of heights. I still have no idea how she knew to turn at that time, or how she reacted quickly enough to catch me (I was probably only about three foot above the wall when I fell). Gives me the shivers to think about it really.

Ooh, and on the day of my First Communion, I'd only just left the living room when the massive glass lampshade we had fell down and smashed right on the spot where I'd been sat. Scary bananas...
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 18:58, Reply)
Beware, lots of words!
This may sound like a tall story, but this is actually a b3ta tale of gospel truth. Apologies for length also...

I was a naughty girl when I was younger. Narrowly escaped being expelled from school: wrong crowd, massive drugs, arrogance of youth.

My Mum was at her wits end. With resignation she'd given up trying give me curfews as I just used to climb out of my bedroom window, jump onto the kitchen's flat roof, leg it down to the bottom of the garden, hurdle the fence and be off. I'd left school at sixteen refusing to stay on and do A-Levels and gotten an admin job at a local paper. I earnt a pittance and hated the job but it gave me a small income to spend on clothes, clubbing and cigarettes.

I also had a Saturday job at a hairdressers' salon. My Mum had bagged me the job as she got her hair done there. My Mum thought the sun shone out of the girls' arses and that they conducted themselves in a mature, sensible way whilst still having fun. How wrong she was! The hairdressers were massive drug fiends who were well into the club scene. One of them had even bagged off with Brandon Block (bleurgh!!).

I got along really well with them, I was 16 and they were 22-25 and took my under their wings: styled my hair, leant me clothes, did my makeup, sourced the drugs and club tickets. We were regulars at Cream as well as going on weekenders to Passion, Golden, Godskitchen and Ministry. I had my trusty fake ID, which was getting a bit dog eared, but fortunately still looked kosha enough at first glance to get me into clubs.

Despite my tender years I quickly established myself as the sensible one and became guardian of everyones' essentials: makeup, chewing gum, perfume, hand mirrors, money and most importantly - drugs. At the time I was honoured to have such a vital role although looking back they probably just regarded me as a faithful pack horse.

One night at a certain nightclub we were taking a break from the dancing in a less crowded area, one of my new friends asked me to pass her an ecstacy tablet. I discreetly passed her one and with no fear she put her hand to her mouth, took a mouthful of water and tipped back her head. If she'd have glanced up at any point she'd have noticed that one of the doormen was looking directly at her. He alerted his fellow doormen to us and en masse they marched over. I quickly thought up and then discarded the idea of trying to cram the bag of tablets into my knickers - I'd never have time and they were looking at me anyway.

We were all hauled off to a corridor and quizzed whether we had any drugs. Everyone else truthfully denied possession and I said "Yes, I do". My bag was searched and the bag of tablets and a few wraps of speed was discovered. The chief doorman looking at the quantity of drugs and quickly assessing them to be more than personal use tells me "You're dealing drugs!!!" I start trying to explain that they belong to all of us but he cuts me off by telling me that posession is 9/10th's of the law. I'm frogmarched off to a holding room. A sign on the door tells me that everything I say and do is being video recorded. The seriousness of my situation is rapidly beginning to dawn on me.

I begin pleading "Please let me go home, please let me go home" and big fat tears of fear and regret start to roll down my cheeks and plop onto my lap. Some upper eschalon of the club has been summoned to the holding room and comes in to examine the haul of the drugs they have uncovered in my bag. He asks me my name and address, I offer them up with no hesitation through snot and tears. My eyes kept being drawn to the monitors displaying me in the holding room from various angles which was only adding to the feeling of impending doom.

I was told that the police had been called and that I would be spending the night in the cells. Eventually whilst re-cataloguing the contents of my bag they come across my dog eared ID. One of the doormen turns to me and says "oh blag ID too?" and I said "yeah". The firm but fair man who has been taking my details takes the fake ID and compares it to the details on his pad, he looks at me frowing "Have you given me your real details?". "Yes," I reply.

"How old are you?"


All the activity in the room stops. Doormen stop cataloguing the contents of my handbag. Glances are exchanged, they talk in hushed voices. Totally overwhelmed by the situation I have no idea that situation has turned dramatically in my favour. Two doormen roughly pull me to my feet and each with a hand under each armpit carry me hurriedly to a back exit. Minus all mine and my friends' personal possessions I'm thrown out into an alley behind the club. "GO!" shouts one of the doormen as I scramble to my feet. "I've got no money to get home," I say shakily. The doorman who didn't shout at me looks slightly sympathetic and puts his hand in his pocket and gives me a £20 note, "go on... get out of here... now," he says and points down the alleyway in the direction of what looks like a builders yard.

I begin to stumble forwards on jelly legs barely able to hold myself upright as I try to run. My mind is a total blur as I stagger forwards up the alley to the yard. As I turn around in the yard I vaguely recognise where I am. I make my way over to a low wall which has a 20 foot drop on the other side. I look around for another way down but there isn't one, I can't double back to the club either. I sit on the wall and dangle my legs over the drop, I'm nearly pissing myself with fear. I'm terrified that I'm about to get beaten up by a load of doormen, arrested or plumet to my death. All these fears are driving my desperation to get away.

I take my shoes off and drop them down onto the floor. Levering myself up with my hands I push myself off the wall telling myself to bend my knees when I land. I hit the floor with one foot on an angle, a sharp pain explodes in my ankle which makes me want to throw up. I gather my shoes and limp off down the road. I know that there's a taxi rank near the club entrance so nervously I round the corner towards the club but crossing the street so I'm on the other side. I manage to hail a cab near the taxi rank...

Eventually I am home to safety.

I realise what a very close scrape this was. If I hadn't been sixteen I would undoubtedly have a criminal record for possession with intent to supply. I'd like to say that incident terrified me into stopping taking drugs entirely but it didn't. However I eventually grew out of it and moved on with my life.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 18:34, 3 replies)
School Bus
I was about 11 years old, just started at my new senior school, and one of the new boys in an all boys school. My girlfriend who went to the local girls school used to meet me outside my school on her way home. This one day I came out of school and it was crowded with boys on the roadside waiting for their bus, the other side of this crowd I could see my gf Diane waiting a bit further up, so I stepped out into the road to call to her, when Whallop!!! I was hit by the school bus into the crowd of boys knocking a few of them side ways like pins on a 10 pin bowling alley.
I was OK so were the other boys, a bit shook up... they had to scrap that bus though!!! and as for Diane she didn't even notice it... Bitch!!!
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 18:02, Reply)
If i'd have been one second faster/slower i'd be dead
Typical hyper-active Kid that i was had just finished school lessons for the day and i was eager to run home and watch the teenage mutant ninja turtles on the tv. So eager in fact i ran from behind a stationary vehicle into the road (outside the school) and glanced to my left to see a BIG white shape.

If my instincts hadn't have taken over, i would have been smashed dead by the white van. Luckily i didn't have time to think, i just hopped backwards back onto the pavement. If i'd have been one second faster or slower i wouldn't have been able to get back on the pavement in time.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 15:37, Reply)
Begbie style
Walking through the Gorbals - not the smartest of moves - at stupid o'clock on our way to a workmates party. Hear something smash behind me, and turn round to see the remnants of a pint mug (the handle was the only surviving bit) that had been thrown from one of the top floors, and the nice dent it made in the ground.

At least it wasn't a TV or a fridge.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 14:39, Reply)
When I was wee
our garden led onto a field. I must have been about six knocking a golf ball around in it when a man came up to me and asked if I wanted to go for a walk in the woods. I wasn't allowed to speak to strangers and really not allowed to play in the woods so I said no and he went on his way. I didn't remember or think anything of it until it hit me recently that this was a really creepy near miss.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 11:07, 2 replies)
Thanks to the fact that I am extremely oblivious...
I narrowly avoided losing my virginity to an older ex-convict during a three-day bender on cough syrup and vodka at the age of sixteen (YAY FOR HIGH SCHOOL IN POVERTY-STRIKEN REGIONS!). I didn't actually notice that the guy had been trying to get into my pants until I was nineteen, at which point I pretty much banged my head against the wall because it was so obvious.

I'm still pissed about that one. It would've been way more interesting story than my actual losing-of-virginity turned out to be. You can only lose your virginity once, and by god mine makes for a damn boring story now.

Stupid, stupid, stupid...
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 9:21, 7 replies)
Mistaken Identity
My father always had a habit of getting ahead of the group whenever my family (consisting of myself, my sister, and my mother) was on a hike or going somewhere. He quite often would get far enough ahead that we lost sight of him, and then would hide off to the side until we walked by. Then he would jump out and scare the living bejesus out of us.

When I was about 11, we were visiting Australia. I don't remember where we were going, but my father walked down a narrow passageway. My sister and I were behind him by a bit, so as we approached the entrance to the alley we let a man who seemed to be in a bit of a hurry pass us.

Unbeknownst to us, my father lay in wait at the end of the passage and as the man exited he was confronted by my 6'4", 250-pound, scruffy-looking father jumping out at him and yelling "YAAAARGH!"

The man jumped away suitably startled while my sister and I burst out laughing at my father's case of mistaken identity. Luckily the man quickly noticed the two little girls laughing hysterically and figured out that we were the intended victims. He continued on his way acting as if it hadn't happened.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 8:54, 1 reply)
Friday nights!
Every Friday night our local used to have a live band (I say used to, as there's barely 10 people frequent the place these days, the smoking ban and massive prices finally taking their toll), and as such we would shoot down there for the evening's entertainment, indeed on many occasion I would be in one of the bands.
I was quite young then and was living at home with my parents, my girlfriend had been with me all day and decided to get dressed at my place. Sadly, she'd forgotten a pair of knickers, and so wore a pair of shorts and went 'commando'.

After around 7-8 pints, I thought it'd be really funny to pull her shorts down from behind in the packed pub - yes, I know, what a wanker etc... I honestly thought she would just pick them up again quickly and see the funny side. Boy, was I was naive!
She did the first part - i.e. picked up her shorts, then picked up her drink - nearly a full pint of something-or-other, and threw it straight at me, glass and all (it slipped from her fingers, she wasn't that vindictive). I ducked, it hit my mate Daz square in the chest and soaked him. He retaliated without realising who it was that threw it, and soaked her, and the two people standing next to her, they retaliated by throwing their beer back in the general direction of Daz. In the end, most of that side of the bar was soaked in other people's drink.

Where's the narrow escape you ask? Well, I'd quietly slid underneath the piano opposite the bar, emerging a few minutes later as dry as a bone.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 8:31, Reply)
Samoa 2009
6.48am 29th September 2009, Samoa... an earthquake with the 8.1 magnitude hit. 3 lads had decided to tour the island of Umpolo and see the surfing beaches on the south side, drink the local beer and sleep in beach fales. Beaches that were hit by the resulting tsunami.

Fortunatly the day before we changed our plans and headed to Savai'i instead to stay with a friends family on the north side.
I remember waking up with the whole fale rocking, wondering what the hell is going on, only to go back to sleep. The owners woke us all up a few minutes later as we were bundled in the back on a pickup truck and taken into the jungle, where we spent all day eating and learning Samoan phrases and how to husk cocanuts.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 4:15, Reply)
When I was about 10
I ran ahead of my dad while we were walking home (as you do) and stopped at a crossing. I pushed the button and waited for the green man. The traffic lights went red, but I was always told to wait for the green man, which I did. After a few seconds, the green man appeared and I took a step into the road. At that moment, a silver Mercedes (I think) whizzed past, catching a toggle on my stylish Le Coq Sportif rain coat. I was shaking with fear, almost shitting my pants. That experience has formed part of my hatred for Mercedes drivers. Thinking about it now, I can only imagine how much of a wanker that driver was.

The cunt...........
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 2:36, 1 reply)
Being as what a few people on here would consider an 'Old Fart" I'm glad that very little evidence exists of me in my teenage years

I'm sitting back and laughing at young kids uploading all their exploits to Facebook, Youtube etc.

In 10-15 years time your gonna look back on those videos and say 'Oh my god, what a fucking twat I was back then"*

*just discovered an old VHS of such Twatwortheness that will never be viewed again.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 1:36, 10 replies)
My Dad spent a lot of time in 'the Nam'
He told me the secret to his survival was timing his trip for the 1990s.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 0:50, 3 replies)
I had dinner with Hannibal Lecter
but he made me something vegan.
(, Sun 22 Aug 2010, 0:44, 4 replies)
I can still hear you!
Between 1969 and 1974, I lived in Cyprus when my father was posted over there to listen to all of the naughty enemy military and diplomatic signals traffic, and try to decode it. We lived in Famagusta (more correctly, Varosha, I believe - where we lived is no longer accessible to humans, as it's full of unexploded munitions from the Turk's 1974 invasion. More of which perhaps anon.) I was about 11 when this incident occurred, a year or so before the 74 invasion.

We were keen members of the ex-pat sailing community, and a couple of times a year would commandeer a Z craft (a bit like www.ww2talk.com/forum/war-sea/28085-z-lighter.html but shorter in length and with taller structure above deck) and we'd convoy a little north to a deserted beach, drop anchor, bbq and have a great fun day out. Paradise for kids, let me say.

I was in the water, having leapt off the top of the Z craft into the clear, blue, still Med, when a Turkish military boat sped into the cove in a "brave show of farce[sic]". British adults were pulling kids out of the water as the Turks started lobbing grenades into the sea. I was swimming at warp factor 10 for the Z craft while this was going on, proper front crawl, leaving a tsunami-sized wake (rapidly filling with excreta) behind me.

I heard the bangs, of course, and felt the percussion, so I can't have been too far away from the grenades. My dad and his mate leapt into the water to get my head into the air. They were shit-scared, and it was only when safely on deck as they calmly explained what could have happened that I realized how dangerous it was. It was unlikely I'd have been hit by shrapnel they said (inverse square law, and all), but the chances of ear damage were significant. I think much of the blast was deflected by the rocky bottom (not mine! the sea), but I was always pretty careful whenever the "enormously professional and highly-trained" Turkish military were about.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 23:33, Reply)
Body boarding fail
Couple of years ago, I went body boarding in Cornwall with some mates. I've never been great at sporty things due to a condition called dyspraxia, a co-ordination dissorder, but I was with friends, so I was really just there for a laugh.

At the beach, clad in a wet suit which made my genitalia look like Han Solo trapped in carbonite and my body board strapped to my wrist, I headed out, ready to give it a go. Now, I wear contact lenses and was worried I would lose them in the sea, so was wearing a pair goggles. After a few attemps in the shallows, which didn't really work, I ventured further out to catch some bigger waves.

If your unfamiliar with body boarding, the basic idea is to go out to sea, wait for a good wave that hasn't broken, and paddle untill the wave can carry you. This involves walking out to sea, so you have to dodge the waves, either by ducking under, or trying to jump them, I was doing the latter. Far enough out that I can barly touch the bottom, I see a huge wave coming in, my chance to ride it! I jump up to the board but slip off, not having time to get in position, I try and ride over it and wait for the next. Facing the wave, I get ready to ride over it. The wave looks huge, a good 6 feet above my head, but as I have my board, I'll float over no problem. The wave is directly over me, I stare at it, admiring the power of the sea. Then I see white foam, the wave has broken, directly onto of me. Taking the wrath of the Atlantic was like being hit by a car. I was dissorientated and under water, not a good mix.

Slowly getting my senses back, Im very aware I need to go up, and realise I've no idea which way that is, looking around, I see my board floating, so swim up to it. I try to lift it out of my way but can't, I'm under water and have no way to lift it as i can't really push. I panic, try to swim around, but as it's tied to me I can't get passed, it follows. Panic starts to take hold, but I fight it, I know if I panic I'm dead. This seems to focus me more, and I realise I still have some slack on the rope, and I gently push my boardy board asside, it floats off and I get to the surface, taking huge gulps of air.

I was only under a few seconds, but it was rather scary, and gives you some perspective of how quickly things can go bad, and how important it is to keep a clear head. Dying body boarding would have been double gutting as even when I caught one perfectly, I didn't really enjoy it.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 23:18, 1 reply)
I grew up in South Auckland
but I left 20 years ago, thank fuck.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 22:56, 5 replies)
Bit of a pea..
Once upon a time, in a moment of stupidity, I bought a Renault Laguna from a bloke about 20 miles away from where I lived. Driving back on the M65, foot flat to the floor coming up a gentle slope near Blackburn and straining to hit 70mph, the bonnet flew up as I was overtaking an artic. Needless to say, I shat myself... I couldn't see where I was going, there was glass everywhere and I was having a 'what the fuck was that' moment. Fortunately for me, the artic driver saw what had happened and backed off to let me pull onto the hard shoulder, which was still difficult cos I couldn't see anything ahead. Anyhoo, I managed to get over and stop the car. I got out to have a look what the damage was and, about 6 feet ahead of where I'd stopped, there was one of those fucking huge temporary road signs. If I'd have hit that, my bonnet and windscreen would have been the least of my problems...

As it was, the car was written off, and the insurance peeps paid me double what I'd paid for it.

As a footnote, the RAC guy who came to pick my car up said he'd seen loads of Lagunas with the same problem. Don't fucking buy one..
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 22:45, 1 reply)
My youngest, while working a summer in Switzerland, met some nice Scandinavian people and agreed to spend Christams and New Year with them, somewhere sunny, where they worked every winter.
She was excited at first but as the time grew nearer she seemed to lose interest and decided not to go.

So on Boxing Day 2004, she was crashed out on my sofa, hungover, cursing me as I shook her awake to show her the tsunami devastation in Thailand, where she'd surely have been on the beach with her new friends... whom she's never heard of since...
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 22:38, 1 reply)
Construction work....

I've nearly been killed twice during my time as a Site Engineer. The first was when I walked into the swing radius of a very large digger without realising it.....The first I knew was when I was showered with earth. Looking up, I was faced with the bucket of the machine, with about a tonne of earth in it. It was 3 inches above my eye line, and around 5 inches from my head. The peak of my hard hat blocked it from view.

But the best one went like this:

Working way up in the Highlands of Scotland on a water treatment works which was live and running. The crew I was working with were not the best in the world and had managed to dig through a telecoms cable whilst digging a drainage ditch. The next day, I was standing in this ditch, knee deep in muddy water and guiding a digger in the hunt for the ends of the cable so it could be repaired...As the bucket groped around in the mud and rocks I saw something in the water....it was something red...

"Stop " says I, "there's something here"

"It's nothing" Says the machine driver. "Just a rock or something."

"Well just stop anyway" I reply.

He stops, and the water drains away to reveal a thick red cable caught in the teeth of the bucket...A thick red cable carrying somewhere in the region of 11,000 volts to power the entire treatment works.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 22:36, 3 replies)
Many moons ago
I was in desperate need of beer tokens and the unemployment office was not providing me with sufficient means to get pissed, so I got some work with an agency as a refuse collector. It was hard work (the days before wheelie bins, lugging the heavy bastards by hand), but a good laugh with the other guys.
The morning in question, we were running late due to traffic, and after loading the one streets bins into the back, a couple of us set off on foot to get the next streets bins ready by the kerbside. there was a long que of traffic because of roadworks as I crossed the road and only looked down the hill to see if there was anything coming up the road. There was nothing so I started to cross, but as I did so, for no reason I looked to my right, just in time to see 18 tons of bin lorry come whizzing past me on the wrong side of the road. The driver did not want to wait and in doing so missed me by 2 inches. I felt the rim of the tyres brush across my boot toecaps and had i been leaning forward just a bit more, I would have had the front of my skull smashed before being dragged under the real wheels.
Lesson? Always look both ways in anything you do
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 22:16, 5 replies)
narrow escape for me, but !!
Driving down the M6 north of birmingham in a seven and a half tonne flat bed lorry,when a lorry wheel came from nowhere,flew over the central reservation,landing about foot away from the front of the lorry before bouncing,clearing the whole length of the lorry,it smashed through the windscreen of the car behind,causing a big pile up as cars crashed into each other.Im ashamed to say i never stopped because i,ve been away for sometime and i just wanted to get home,but when i heard on the radio that a driver had been killed instantly when a wheel had gone through his windscreen,i felt guilty for not stopping,but at the same time said a silent prayer for how close it was at the same time.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 20:44, Reply)
Bike crash
A friend told me this. He was riding his moped on a busy road approaching a roundabout when suddenly he heard his dead mothers voice say "be careful!". It scared him so much that he fell off the bike onto the roundabout just as a huge lorry out of control smashed into the bike and crushed it.
Saved his life that did.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 20:43, Reply)
Trowbridge Calling
I was woken up by the phone. It was my Dad calling, asking about some arrangements for the weekend.

After countering away for a while, his ears kicked in, and he asked if I was all right. I had admit that he'd woken me up. He asked what the problem with that was.

I gently explained that I was in the car. I was doing around 85 on the M6 at the time, on my way back from Leeds. Needless to say, he made me call him back when I got home.

(100% of true)
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 20:25, 2 replies)
Two from me...
...The first being some 30 years before my birth - Grandad, prior to the conception of my dad, was getting on the troop truck ready to ship out, but slipped and broke his leg. His destination was Norway, where all his lorry-mates were minced or captured.

Zooming forward, the location is Swildons Hole, a cave in the Mendips. It's tremendous fun, especially when the water is running a bit high as it was at this particular time. There's a route called the round-trip, which involves negotiating a series of ducks (a low muddy passage, mostly filled with water) and a small sump (a completely submerged passage, which has a rope leading through it. Deep breath, pull rope, out pop).

We decided to do it in reverse, and as the water was higher than usual, we found that all the ducks had become sumps, ie no airspace. They are quite tight and the third one has a hairpin bend in it, so it's not something you can do on a single breath. So we bailed it until there appeared to be a couple of inches of airspace and I volunteered to go first. So I'm on my back in the pool, helmet off and pushed in front, rather like I'm frozen in mid-backstroke. In many respects ducks are worse than sumps, especially if you are claustrophobic - you are supine in a tight, rough tube, 19/20ths of your body under water, with just your eyes and nose peeking out.

On this occasion, we'd bailed so little that my nose was brushing the passage roof, and any ripples caused by too vigorous movements would submerge my eyes. Still, deep breath, take it steady and slow. I got to the hair pin bend and felt my way around it (this is all in pitch black, of course - the light on the helmet being pushed in front of me). Half way around, the roof of the passage dipped enough to deny the already meagre airspace. I unwittingly pushed into it, and was suddenly completely submerged in the cold, muddy water. Instinctively I tried to sit up, but with my face already touching the ceiling, there was nowhere to go, so I just mashed my face into the rock, causing me to yelp, lose my lungful of air, and panic badly. I should have just pushed on through - five more feet and I'd have been in open passage again - lizard brain told me to reverse out. But I'm stuck on the bend - my large battery on my belt is caught on the wall, and I'm going to drown in 10 inches of water, which is a stupid way to die.

Thrashing, I free the battery and wriggle desperately, my body keeps trying to sit up - it's really not helping. Flailing legs gain some purchase and I drag/push myself back the way I've just come. I can feel a pull on my boot - my buddies have realised there's a problem, and as soon as my feet are visible, reached in. I'm pulled free, puking and sobbing with fright.

Bailing the duck has filled the preceding ducks, so turning back is not practical, and if I think about it, I'm going to panic big time. So straight back in. This time, there's airspace all the way through - my thrashing had shifted enough water, and I'm through.
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 19:46, 14 replies)
served him right
back when i was in primary school i was sat next to this guy who thought it would be funny to knock my work off the table, as i bent down to pick it up off the floor a cover off the ceiling lights fell and cut all his head open and just avoided me cos i was nelt down :) served him right
(, Sat 21 Aug 2010, 19:33, 3 replies)

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