The chipper
were I live used to have a tiny fairground attached. This included an arcade from the 1980's, some swingboats and the automated fancy pants swingchairs.

Now, the young Daz loved these chairs, the wind in his curly locks as he was raised horizontally when the chairs would be spun around. However, this love lasted to an age that was probably unsafe for wee Daz to use said chairs.

As it turned out the chairs final swing would also be Daz's. The summer festival after a long queue in blistering heat young Daz climbed into the chair. As the chairs began to rise so did the children's screams of joys. Suddenly one of the steel poles connecting my chair to the swing snapped.

Daz did no longer have a scream of joy. Unfortunately neither Daz's screams or the faint smell of Daz's fearpiss alerted the ride operator to my swing flight of terror as I was thrown dizzily around fantasizing about being thrown into the middle of the village green.

Eventually one of the parents alerted the operator and I prised away from the remaining pole. I didn't even notice I had pissed myself until I got home 10 mins later....
( dazbrilliantwhites has been meaning to change this..., Thu 9 Jun 2011, 20:01, 2 replies)

Click for
"...the faint smell of Daz's fearpiss ".
(ThursdayNext drowning in gin on, Thu 9 Jun 2011, 21:51, closed)

I
Thank you!
( dazbrilliantwhites has been meaning to change this..., Fri 10 Jun 2011, 7:28, closed)