I wonder if Newton and Franklin ever did such fucked up things in their youth.
As a nipper, watching a boy play with melted plastic on a pole thrust into a bonfire. Quite amusing until he flung the molten glob into the air and promptly caught it on the back of his right hand. The mound of plastic was enormous and the damage severe. I remember hearing from his brother he was lucky to escape with skin grafts, any worse and he'd be writing, wiping and wanking with the left one for the rest of his life.

Not connected but I did an experiment myself a few years ago where I wanted to become ambidextrous and started to write only with my left hand. It progressed nicely until one day when I tried to go back to writing normally and found all my words coming out backwards, I really thought I'd broken my brain.

And also the great sleep deprevation experiment, where after getting used to working alternating shifts and watching a programme on the subject, I tried to find out how long I could go without suffering a total breakdown. Seven days. At the end of which I honestly believed I had the power to stop time by snapping my fingers. I finally fell asleep standing in line at the supermarket. I don't remember getting myself home afterwards but once in bed I slept for 24 hours straight. Woke up feeling absolutely amazing.
(Suddenly, zebras Safe and sound for eternity, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 15:20, Reply)

Try this at home, kids…

Now I don’t know about you, but one of my ‘pet peeves’ is paying a fortune for medical expenses and private health care etc. when all these so called ‘Doctors’ do is look up stuff on Wikipedia.

So when I contracted a rather nasty case of indigestion and constipation recently I decided to take action myself rather than waste my hard earned cash on some quack sawbones.

I thusly decided that what was good enough for my lavatory was good enough for my intestinal tract, and I necked a bottle of Domestos and half a litre of Toilet Duck to clean me out and flush any blockages.

(Of course I put some Ribena in it to mask the taste. I mean…I’m not an idiot)

The slow agonising death I suffered was a minor inconvenience when compared to the money I saved and the satisfaction of a job well done.

That’ll show ‘em!

Suffice to say I am posting this from beyond the grave.

WooOOOooo!
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 25 Jul 2008, 15:13, Reply)

Spam!
In the past I have experimented with several different toppings to try and liven up good old Spam.

By far and away, Hundreds and Thousands are the best.
(FerretTrout be illin', Fri 25 Jul 2008, 15:01, Reply)

Physics Lab, 2nd year at university
Me and my equally bored and (proabably) stoned lab partner were carrying out some experiment where tiny currents of electricity were generated by computer to a small output thingy (obviously I never got my degree), the little currents were meant to be measured by an ammeter. Ammeter, power supply what's the difference, they both have a dial right? So instead of measuring minute currents coming from a computer, I sent about 40 V through the computer, completely frying the sh*t out of it. I didn't even realise what I'd done until the lab tech came over in dismay, smoke billowing out of the machine's motherboard / hard drive and such. Sweet.
(shanvishnu, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:53, Reply)

My marriage
I actually said all I wanted in the title, but it won't let me post unless i write here.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:53, 1 reply)

penis + vacuum cleaner
= 4 seconds of being Extremely scared, yet laughing like a school boy at the fart noises it makes.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:49, 1 reply)

Fresh like apple-blossom
I once sprayed air-freshener on my arse to see if it would make my farts smell better. It didn't but successfully introduced me into a world of pain that my young life had hitherto been fortunate enough to never have experienced.
(lardaholics anonymous, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:48, Reply)

Bag Theory
High school physics was fun in the late 80s. At some point, a younger and spottier Blumpy announced that all physics experients could be explained by 'Bag Theory', to wit: All physics experiments are a bag of shite because of the presence of Baggyons - invisible particles that bugger up whatever experiment they con us hapless zit farms to perform that day. I got a big D+ for that one, although it was talked about in the physics department for some time afterwards. In hindsight, the presence of baggyons may have been brought about by three pints in the Fox before each physics class.....
(Lord Blumpy is mildly off-topic on, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:46, 1 reply)

many moons ago...
when i was about 6, maybe 7 years old, i used to go to after school french classes, and afterwards my mum would pick my and my friend jules up and drop jules home. at the time my older brothers weren't quite old enough to be left at home on their own, so mum would bring them with her when she came to get me.

anyway, one particular afternoon, mum had dropped jules off at his dad's and was just popping into the doctors to pick up a prescription, leaving me and my brothers, tom and dan, in the car. dan, always the tinkerer of the family, wanted to see how the cigarette lighter in the car worked. tom, the sensible one, said "don't dan, mum won't be happy."

dan ignored him.

pulling the lighter out, he gingerly touched the heating element but there was no warmth to be found. he turned it over in his hands a few times and then realised that the opposite end to the element had a button. he pushed it in, saying "oh, this'll do it." he pressed his finger against the heating coil, obviously thinking it would take a while to heat up. not so, as it happens.

it was extremely, hideously hot. dan's face went white and the car was filled with the smell of burning flesh. he stuff the lighter back in the socket, sat up straight and said nothing. "you're for it now!" said tom, with a strong note of i-told-you-so in his voice. mum knew something was up as soon as she got back in the car, but didn't realise that it was the end of dan's finger until later on. she bollocked him, and then, being a former nurse, treated it appropriately.

that was a stupid experiment, and a story that is pulled out regularly, to illustrate dan's idiocy.
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:31, 1 reply)

grave-robbing hubris
It was while a medical student that I first had the desire to reanimate the body of a dead human. But where would I find such a thing outside the dissection room of the college? Of course - the local cemetery!

I watched as they lowered the coffin into the ground, paying no heed to the snivelling fools standing around that muddy plot and weeping senselessly at the fleetingness of life. And as soon as the sun went down, I was at work with my shovel, exhuming the freshly dead body and carting it in a wheelbarrow to my makeshift lab in the garage.

He was a middle-aged man. He looked smart in his burial suit and post-mortem makeover, but I soon had that off him and gazed upon his pasty white body. My experiement depended on my theory being correct - that a sudden charge of electricity into the corpse would bring him back to life. With a sense of life-changing anticipation, I opened the economy pack of Duracell AAs.

Twenty minutes later and I couldn't push any more up his arse. All I had to do now was make the connection and watch life flood back into his lifeless form. I attached the final piece of apparatus and flicked the switch.

There was a flash. A bang. His hair stood on end. He jerked into a sitting position and his eyes stared madly. I paused for his first words:

"My arse is full of fucking Duracell!" he yelled. And died again.

Then the police raided the garage and I was arrested for desecrating a grave.
(frankspencer, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:29, 5 replies)

Nail gun explosive rounds
Rather a long time ago, in a different house, with a well stocked (my dad is best described as a womble with procurement issues) shed, I discovered a strip of nail gun rounds.

They look not unlike what would be used in a starter pistol; about 1.5 cm long, 1 cm diameter, copper, with one pinched end and an ignition point on the other flat end.

I was mildly interested in the power of the newly discovered ordnance, and having progressed to this point in my life via cap guns and devil bangers, I would absolutely need to find out.

The next time I found myself with some freedom in the house, I stole away to the shed, and concocted a test firing sequence plan.
Using a drill I put an appropriately sized hole for the round in the wooden bench, placed said round in it, then located a thin screwdriver and a hammer. The screw driver was put on the ignition point and the hammer was used to give it a tap. Nothing happened, and after a few more taps, I settled on a whack.

The following bang deafened me for a good ten minutes, I also had powder burns on both hands, as well as wooden splinters in both palms, both forearms and a few in my face. In short, minor damage, thankfully.

I had to spend the next hour or so, hiding evidence in the shed and removing all of the splinters from my person, and luckily I was never discovered.

I recently confessed this to my dad while visiting, much to his amusement, maybe it's because I did it while we were both testing out some of the little explosive doofers (also procured) that are used in fields as crop scarer's.
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:28, Reply)

Oops
I once decided to see what would happen if I put a washing machine inside one of the cannons of the gun turret on the death Star (instead of the usual ammo). Naturally the machine jammed in the barrel and I didn't shoot the empty escape pod.

The rest is history.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:28, 2 replies)

the shit song theorum
This is half experiment / half game.

The mission, walk into a pub locate the jukebox and then select the most godawfully dire, terrible or mind-numbingly awful song available, select it and then ask the barman to turn the volume up.

For those pubs with the 3 million song library this can be elevated to almost astonishing levels of nightmarishness, judged purely by the pub clientele

After the song starts playing do you get a) beaten up b) asked to leave c) thrown out d)tolerated e) Stared at by locals until you leave f) the song gets voided, jukebox unplugged, threatened with a beating by the locals and leg it sharpish

Cotton Eye Joe in a goth pub? d) with added laughter and drunken barn dancing

Fabulous disaster by Exodus in a townie shithole in Bangor Wales e) with added extra racial hatred ie "fuck off you english bastards"

T1000 by Fear Factory in a london pub full of suits d) with overtones of e)

sinatra in a very seedy townie pub in Sawston full of men with foreheads you could ski off of f)

apparently my friends played this in Norwich and managed to score a b) c) and f) across 7 or 8 pubs, but couldn't remember the tunes!

Tis good fun, sometimes!
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:28, 4 replies)

Morphine
I have just had surgery on my Lung to stop it collapsing. Once I had waked from the surgery, I was given morphine on a clicker.

Now, a few years back i had used morphine in a different operation - and it just made me sick. So I was non-plussed about finding the same medication on a drip into my arm. So for a few hours I just ignored the clicker and simply put up with the pain in my chest

The 'Pain Nurse' paid me a visit and explained to me that I must not have used it incorrectly, because if administered correctly it can have good pain killing properties.

As I had nothing better to do and since all my relatives and friends had advised me to 'take advantage of the morphine' I set it upon myself to push to the 'morphine limit'

So I began.

*Click*
(Feel the cold morphine seep up my arm)

*Click, click*
(Another longer burst of morphine chills my veins)

still nothing, happening - a slight wooziness but nothing more than having a few pints

This is rubbish

*click click......

(3 hrs later)

I have now discovered i can dream by simply closing my eyes. Everything is the best thing ever, and my ward has changed from a standard 40ft long ward, to an underground Nazi Missile bunker. I was completely unaware it was a hallucination ,and thoroughly believed this was real.

Then it went bad...

Real bad... My friend in the bed next to me decided to get out of bed and lunge at me with his vampire'esque teeth, at which point I couldn’t tell if my eyes where open or closed... the hallucinations became more and more horrible.

I dropped the clicker and took cover under my duvet...

Then spent the next 3 hrs being horribly sick.

Then I lent over the bed picked up off the floor

*click*

*click click*…..

The worst part was the pain never went... i just became less bothered by it...
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:24, 2 replies)

Siren Song
I used to work in a warehouse packing screws into boxes. It was attached to the factory that made the screws, so the noise volumes were impressive to say the least.

Some bright spark in the office had the idea of attaching a siren to our phone to ensure that we could hear it when it rang.

Our phone rang a lot. Generally every 5 minutes. So we were subjected to a barrage of a constant siren, but it's surprising what you can get used to after a while.

We used to get school leavers come and work for us - never the sharpest tools in the box, but often good entertainment value.

I was sat at the computer carrying out some stock control when Richie, my boss, wandered over with a strange look on his face. "Watch Darren". Darren was our latest recruit.

So we watched. The phone rang. The siren went off. Darren went bright red and was clearly about to explode. "The siren's driving him nuts" chuckled Richie.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, and the phone rang again.

At which point Darren carried out his experiment: he looked down at his index finger on his right hand, walked over to the wailing siren - and shoved his finger in it, presumably to make it stop. We just stood and watched in fascinated horror.

A siren is made of two metal discs with holes in which rotate at different speeds. If the experiment is to see what might make this stop, a fleshy digit may not be the preferred option.

It certainly wasn't for Darren - it took the end of his finger off. We were still laughing as he was carted off to hospital.

Top experiment - but one that left Darren unable to point.


[True story - I wasn't actually planning on making a dumb pun at the end, it just kind of came out.]
(Steve The Monkey, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:23, 1 reply)

1.6kg
is roughly the amount of weight that I can hang off my nipple before it hurt a little bit and my science tutor made me stop.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:22, Reply)

Fire - Im gonna teach you to burn...
Following on from the usual can of lynx in a bonfire moving up to anti freeze and lighter fuel to see the mushroom explosion left me and my pyro mates a little scientifically frustrated.

Our next experiment was to try and contain part of the explosion using dog poo bins in our local woods/nature reserve. The experiment proved that:

a) the explosion can move "sideways" due to the metal lid suppressing the upward movement of the flame
b) Plastic poo bins melt at the extreme temperatures that newspaper, lighter fuel and dog poo produce - resulting in a wooden stake with a metal lid to nowhere.

We were not satisfied that this experiment should only be carried out once, therefore we ensured full control and evaluation by repeating the experiment until no poo bins remained in the vicinity.

Results - many people had to take poo home with them in the summer of '96
(mrpaulo shaving the world, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:14, 1 reply)

Bubblys....
During one of those long hot summers of the late seventies my pal and I decided it would be a great idea to see how many of those large round pink chewing gum discs called Bubblys we could get into our mouths and still chew. After raking around in coat pockets and down the back of the setee we came up with enough money (22p) to stage our experiment.

We managed to cram 11 Bubblys each into our chewing gobs before admitting defeat. Our faces ached for hours. Fun days indeed.
(jokeshop, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:13, Reply)

Salad Dressing for Masochists
Another student cooking post.

Motivation: "I'm a bit bored of just sticking this crappy Tesco Value Mayonaisse on my soggy Lidl uber-economy Lettuce. How can I make this more interesting?"

Method: Look in fridge. Locate that jar of mustard and that enormous sack of chilli powder that you're struggling to work your way through.

Result: It's actually quite nice. Mayonnaise, mustard and chilli powder, mixed to your taste.

And to think my parents worried I wasn't eating well at uni...
(LongJohnBaldry, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:06, 1 reply)

A tale of experimentation...
Gather 'round, kiddies, as I tell a tale about experimentation of a wholly new and different sort.

Some years back I was very young, very thin and very broke. I was living in what might be most charitably described as a hovel- we lacked money for heat, so most of the winter was spent shivering under layers of clothing. Food was similarly scarce- my roommate worked as a waiter, so he at least got one good meal a day- but I was not so lucky. I was living on the cheapest food I could get from the grocery store, and not exactly thriving.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

At the time I was my current just-short-of-six-feet height, but weighed maybe ten stone. The winter had made me very thin indeed. My cheeks were hollow, my clothes hung off of me, and I looked quite pitiable indeed. However, with blond hair and grey eyes and a waifish face I apparently appealed to women on a certain motherly level that quickly moved to a wholly different level. I looked a lot like the kid that played Anthony the sailor in Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd.

I knew the location of a strip club that catered to women and had male strippers. I had encountered women leaving there before and noted the looks I got from them. The quality of their gaze was one of hungry lionesses sizing up a gazelle.

So one night I decided to take the next logical step.

I wasn't exactly raking in huge money, but I was suddenly able to afford better food and was often fed well. Looking like a starved innocent was paying off nicely indeed. I quickly learned my new trade, and in fact became very talented in the bedroom, judging from their reactions. Sounds heavenly, doesn't it?

Trust me, it was not. I didn't have the luxury of being overly choosy about who I was going home with. I wasn't pulling the beauties, really. I was getting older women who liked being somewhat predatory. This led to some... interesting times.

One woman in particular took me home several times. She was very much into being dominant. She delighted in having me go down on her until she orgasmed, and insisted on doing this while sitting in a chair while I was on my knees between her thighs. This progressed to her binding my hands behind me, then to being tied to her bed. She especially loved paddling my arse until it was quite tender. She also delighted in sticking her fingers inside me. This also progressed until she was inserting toys in me while I was tied. I enjoyed that, truth be known... as long as it was done with plenty of lube and done gently.

Only thing is, she kept taking it a bit further each time.

There are people whose brains are wired such that pain feels quite sexual to them. A bit of pain during sex is a kick, a bit of spice that gives it an edge. Well, I'm not one of them- to me pain is pain, and I don't like it.

The last night she had me tied quite tightly in a submissive pose, with my arse in the air and unable to do more than wriggle. She had never done so thorough a job of restraining me before. She gave me a couple of slaps, then she produced a riding crop.

A note on using one of those: you use a sort of flicking motion with it so that the little flap on the end is moving quickly and delivers a light stinging slap. Done that way it delivers a nice little sting, but doesn't do any real injury. But if you follow through like you're beating a carpet...

I can still hear the whistle of it as she swung, and can feel the line of fire it laid across my thighs. I yelped, but couldn't move. She did it several more times across my thighs and arse, my cries turning her on even more. Then her hands caressed the welts lovingly for a couple of minutes as I gasped for breath through gritted teeth.

Then she applied some lube and I felt her fingers working it into me for a moment. I heard her putting something on, then felt her hands grab my hips as something entered me- something quite a bit larger than anything she had inserted into me before.

This I can tell you- the pain from being raped like that is far more intense than anything I've felt since.

Again my cries got her very hot, and I could hear her gasping with orgasms as she rammed me again and again. Finally she pulled it out of me and collapsed on the bed, spent, and pulled me over onto my side. She snuggled close, holding me as I sobbed, her fingers tracing the welts...

I left there with rope burns, welts and a large chunk of cash to ease my pains as I walked home. It was a warm night in June, and I took a long route back to the flat. I thought long and hard about what had just been done to me, and about the bundle of money in my pocket.

The next day I started applying for jobs as a waiter, and eventually landed one. I quit my old job and started hustling for money in a more legitimate way. My experiment in sex work was at a very definite end, and I saw no point in ever trying it again.

EDIT: a *click* would also help to alleviate the pain, you know...
(Shimrod, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:06, 10 replies)

I remember it being 16.47
when I pushed open the door. I don't know why I knew that, I don't wear a watch, I must have looked at my phone or seen in on a bus stop or something. That's my only real memory of the times before hand.

I was 16 at the time. I could hear my sisters screams as the door swung open. A policewomen saw me coming in an shouted something.

I remember hands around my shoulders and this gulping sobbing noise that must have been my sister. I felt like I was in a dream, I just seemed to float into the house. There were stains all over the beige carpet. That new beige carpet we had only got two weeks ago. My mum was going to be furious. She smacked me round the head when I forgot to take my trainers off three days ago.

The stains were a dark brown rust colour. At that stage I couldn't' work out how they got there. They just started in the middle of the floor and extended all the way up the wall in a series of dots of decreasing size.

There were so many people in the house, people in uniforms, people in high vis jackets. So many people, and so much noise. I couldn't make out anything specific. Everything was a dull fuzzy rumble in the background with a high pitched keening noise which made my head hurt. I felt dizzy, I could feel myself swaying.

A large man tried to stop me going into the living room, but I just pushed him aside. He seemed to float off like a canoe shooting over the surface of a pond.

My sister was curled up on the floor being hugged by a different policewoman.

The two bodies were lying on the floor like some grotesque tablaeu. My mum and dad, both of them stripped from the waist down.

The image will stay with me forever, I'll never forget my Pant-less Ex-Parents.


I really am sorry for this one.
(Bazongaloid, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 14:01, 7 replies)

I built a Lego car
...and used the motor from my sister's tape deck to power it. All was going swimmingly until I decided that it was too slow -- the half-dozen D batteries I had sellotaped into place just weren't providing enough power.

So, I thought, well...it normally runs off the mains doesn't it? The mains cable had two holes, which matched the number of wires coming out of the motor. The solution was obvious!

Bang! It went, right in my face which now -- like a cartoon character after an explosion -- was comically covered in black soot. I was still sat there, staring at it and shaking, twenty minutes later.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:59, 1 reply)

Chewing gum
A few years back I found myself wandering aimlessly through town, lost in my own random thoughts, chewing some gum as I went. Before long, I had left the nice end of town and ended up in an area that proudly proclaimed itself to be ‘twinned with Sareyevo.’ Locals glared at me menacingly with their Cyclops eyes; things did not bode well and I made a mental note to beat a hasty retreat without actually looking as though I were beating a hasty retreat… saunter naturally, that should do it. Nice and relaxed; make it look as if you’ve been here before and know your way around. I kept mentally telling myself this as I inwardly panicked, realising that I didn’t have a steaming clue where I was.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

Like dogs, inbred scum seem to be able to smell fear on a person, and I was positively reeking of it by this point. I found myself surrounded by a crowd of veritable missing links, with nowhere to run. I was going to have to defend myself. But how? All I had was…

An idea formed. I whipped the wad of chewing gum from my mouth, the flavour having long since gone anyway. The chewing action had rendered it malleable, and contact with the air would surely cause it to harden rapidly, like you see on the pavements? Quickly, I fashioned the gum into a pole like weapon, not unlike those used by South American tribes, hurled it at the nearest ape-like being, and made a break for it. However, one of them managed to trip me up with it’s knuckles, and I sprawled awkwardly forward before connecting with the ground.

I awoke an hour later in a skip, head throbbing and minus a couple of teeth. My attackers seemed to have gone. My body ached as I heaved myself out, and I went looking for the quickest exit from the neighbourhood. As I walked, I noticed my makeshift weapon lying discarded on the ground. I picked it up, and then I realised my error. In my haste to defend myself, I had forgotten to sharpen the point. When I had hurled it at my would-be-and-as-it-turned-out-actual attacker, it had bounced harmlessly off her three breasts, and onto the floor. For that, I had been on the receiving end of a good kicking by half a dozen neanderthals, ended up in a skip, and was now chewing gum-less. I gazed at the greying, hardening lump of masticated gum and lamented the futility of my pointless ex-spearmint.

Whaddya mean, it’s too early?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:58, 2 replies)

On testing a pub's Mank Rating
An experiment YOU can try in any pub or bar in the name of SCIENCE

Any evening down the pub can be made more exciting by testing the establishment's Mank Rating.

- On your first visit to the toilet, put a 20p piece in the urinal.

- On the next visit, check to see if it is gone. If it is, replace it with a 10p.

- Repeat as necessary until you find the lowest denomination of piss-soaked small change the pub's clientele will fish out of the urinal.

- If they take the 1p, then you are in the wrong end of town with no money. Leave immediately.

Congratulations - you have either found the pub's Mank Rating, or have been beaten up for hanging around the Gents'.

The full lowdown with clickable map goodness HERE
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:54, 8 replies)

The coolest thing ever
I studied Genetics at university. A fascinating subject but one which, now 10 years later, I have practically lost/forgotten all knowledge of (for various reasons I won't go into), so if there are any biologists/geneticists amongst you please forgive me for any inaccuracies.

We had a series of lab sessions where we had to genetically modify the fruit fly Drosophila Melanogaster. There wasn't any real purpose to these modifications apart from it being a learning exercise, and the method used wasn't exactly elegant.

Drosophila is an excellent animal model for genetic manipulation for two main reasons a) Their cells do not have mechanisms to fix damaged DNA, and b) Their body is segmented (head, torso and, er, bum), and so mutations are often restricted to these segments.

The experiment was simple. First we exposed Drosophila larvae to high levels of UV light, before leaving them in glass beakers overnight.

UV light literally punches holes in DNA (which is how you get sun cancer, kids), and causes mutations. Because Drosophila cannot mend its damaged DNA, any larvae that survived gestation to adulthood did so, but with mutations.

The next day we were onto stage 2: observation. We got our beakers of Drosophila, pleased to note the little critters flying around inside, before knocking them out with ether. Science in action.

When examined under the microscope, some flies were merely a different colour, but some had:
- the wrong number of legs
- the wrong number of bums
- the wrong number of heads!

And yet they had been (until we gassed them with ether), buzzing around happy as larry.

The real experiment happened at the end of the session. Working at the back of the lab with the other miscreants, we'd been gradually gassing ourselves with ether too, and decided that the best thing ever, would be to release the mutant flies out of the window where they could be free! Free to produce their own little two headed babies! And, er, perhaps conquer the world, Evil Dead style.

It's extremely doubtful that any were capable of producing viable offspring, but I often wonder whether there are any multi-headed and multi-bummed fruit flies still out there somewhere.
( rofl harris, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:49, 4 replies)

Graham Jones
This chap was in my brother's year at secondary school. He was 'proper menkle'.

Thin as a rake and sporting a huge ginger afro, he was the archetypal 'confused loner' one sees in the news performing massacres etc.

His bicycle handlebars were full of cigarettes - he'd pop a handle grip off and hey, presto - Lambert & Butler heaven.

He was spotted injecting himself in the arm in a technical drawing lesson - with a propelling pencil.

But he was extremely good at science - or more specifically bombs and such like. He made one so powerful that it blew one of those big round school bins several feet into the air and bent out of shape as if it had been blown like glass.

My brother once found him feeding burning strips of paper into an air vent in the dining hall in order to burn the kitchens down.

He proabably works for the MOD now - or is in Broadmoor. Go nutcase!

EEEEEDDDIIIT!!!!
He was expelled from primary school (no mean feat in itself) for wounding a fellow pupil.

With a home-made crossbow. That fired sharpened bicycle spokes. Rock on!
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:48, Reply)

not such an intentional experiment
But no sleep or revision...

9am exam the following day at University

Use of entire pack of pro plus powdered by smashing with rolling pin, stirred into strong cup of coffee.

Works fantastic for 20 minutes, then I couldn't hold my pen or stop shaking or sweating for the remaining 1 hour 40 minutes.

I got a 2.2 and now work in HR.

:(
(Pat_Gash, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:19, 3 replies)

My school had a lunchtime science club
I was one of the nerdy kids who used to go - we actually had a great laugh. Many experiments dreamed up by teenage brains were conducted, including;

How many batterys can you connect to one lightbulb on a circuit board before it explodes. We got through a whole box of bulbs.

Telling an unsuspecting young man to sniff a giant flask of ammonia - "take a really really deep breath, it smells lovely". I think he may have passed out.

Mixing hydrochloric acid with magnesium ribbon. A lot of magnesium ribbon. It burned through the bottom of the test tube and into the bench below.

Lighting somethign explosive under a tin can so it went through the ceiling and into the classroom above (the teacher and her class above were very impressed).

One guy seeing how many girls he could freak out by putting disected eyeballs on the end of each finger.

Many other experiments took place within my class, like what happens if you leave fish behind a radiator for the summer holidays, or how will the drunk class bully look with his eyebrows shaved off... good times!
( TheGirlWithNoName, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 13:14, 6 replies)

when I was about 9.....
.... I decided to find out what a 9volt battery (the one with the two terminals at the top) tasted like.

It was a bit of a shock when a charge was sent through my tongue, leaving it numb for a good while, I can tell you.....
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Fri 25 Jul 2008, 12:52, Reply)