One mine, one less so.
The one that is mine -- a particularly hirsute friend dozed off on the sofa at a house party. We left his facial hair alone as he had an interview the next morning, and we needed him to be able to afford shampoo.

So we decided to shave his chest. His spectacularly hairy, lady-killing chest.

But just half - down the middle. So that was how I came to shave exactly one half of my mate's chest with another mate's mum's crusty bic razor.

Nice.


Not so much my story:

Once upon a time, in a boarding school far, far away, there lived a not especially popular young man. He learned that derring-do can win a young chap friends.

A particular specialty was a "Superman" -- a carefully executed, high-speed dive. Our hero would tear the length of the dorm, hurl himself betwixt the top and bottom level of the adjoining bunk-bed, gain the soft haven of his own bed, and win the acclaim of his peers.

One day, this activity was encouraged by the nastier boys, who, this being boarding school, were in a significant majority.

The dorm door is wedged open, the run-up began outside in the corridor for the first time.

Faster and faster he came, the look of concentration on his face was plain to see. He was going to impress. He took flight, he soared, glided in to land and then -

*SPONG*

The little shits had only gone and hidden the fire extinguisher under his duvet, hadn't they?


No lasting damage of any kind, miraculously enough.

Length.
(Exiled Youth [witty comment], Mon 17 Dec 2007, 18:43, Reply)