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This is a question Fire!

We were all in my aunt's kitchen at the back of her huge rambling Victorian house. I was only small and had wandered off to go to the loo, but given up after finding the hall full of smoke. "That was quick," my mum said after a few minutes. "Yes - it's all smoky," I replied.

I've never seen adults move so fast.

So, like my cousin who'd managed to set fire to the roof, tell us your fire stories.

(, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 9:11)
Pages: Latest, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, ... 1

This question is now closed.

When I go out with my squirter
...all the girls shout fire, fire, fire
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 12:54, Reply)
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
Seriously kids, be careful when you roll out of bed and immediately light up a cigarette.

Getting rid of the smell of burnt pubic hair is no fun.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 12:14, Reply)
ooh too many to mention
Well let's start from the top:

Spraying lynx on your hand then lighting it hurts like buggery from the second the flame hits it, don't believe all this "it doesn't hurt for like 5 seconds" crap. Because of this trick, i despise the smell of lynx africa, reminds me of my own burning hair and flesh.

Ummm... once spelled out words on a wall in our 6th form common room with lighter fluid. I think you can guess what happened with that.

I think our crowning glory was covering an entire table in lighter fluid, lighting it then sitting back and marvelling. At which point the deputy head of our 6th form wandered in and had a look around. He didn't think anything of 6 of us frantically banging on the table and smothering the flames with our arms.

oh and because i'm a pedant:

What the hell is a "paramaniac"? Somebody who loves paras?

I think the word a lot of you are looking for is "Pyromaniac"
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 12:01, Reply)
Tins of Chappie (dog food)
placed on a bonfire are far better than any professional firework i've ever seen.

(note: stand well away, as the negative side effect of hot dog food on human skin can be a touch irritating).
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 11:46, Reply)
A slightly deranged bar owner
handed Big Liam and I roman candles, saying "If you hit my sign with this firework I give you one half free beer for everytime you hit."

I had a go and missed with every flaming projectile, Big Liam calmly sat there, biding his time, drinking his beer and looking slightly spaced out, as did most of the patrons. He'd been sat there for a while, still holding his firework, and I wanted to see what his marksmanship was like.

I calmly held the cherry of my cigarete on his firework's touch paper. He didn't notice the initial hiss, so I thought it prudent to point out his firework was lit. Amidst a torrent of profanities Liam jumped up and mistakenly pointed the wrong end of the firework at the sign.

The firework went off shooting flaming lumps of chemicals in the wrong direction... back into the bar rather than at the sign. It doesn't take alot of imagination to picture 30 or so short and t-shirt wearing patrons playing dodgeball with a roman candle in a small bar. As long as you weren't facing the wrong end of the firework it did seem pretty funny. That was until his girlfriend (wearing a nice pink synthetic top) got hit square in the chest by one of the pretty, hot, bright smokey things. Fortunately all it did was burn a hole in the aforementioned top. No burning synthetic fabrics melting themselves on to her skin, no screams, no rolling someone in the sand or throwing them in the sea to put them out, not even a scratch.

Could have been oh so nasty, but fortunately wasn't.

I've also seen the slightly deranged bar owner hand his 5 year old son a rocket, a piece of tubing and a lit cigarette. The reflection of a rocket going off low over the sea is pretty good, but I couldn't help feeling slightly edgy. I felt even edgier when he showed me some fireworks made out of pottery. Now why on earth would you want to make fireworks out pre-packaged shrapnel?

As far as I know the deranged owner is still alive and has all his fingers. His faculties are still under question.

Remember kids, play with fire, just on the off chance it will reduce the amount of detritus in our gene pool. On the other hand, you might loose your eyes.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 10:33, Reply)
My friend is a skinflint
He won't pay for things if he can avoid it. Oh no. For example, one year, he decided that it wasn't worthing splashing out on petrol to drive a few miles to a FREE firework display on Bonfire Night.

So he held his own. In his back garden. First up (and penultimate, it became apparent), rockets. Whoosh! Bang! The crowd gasped in sheer awe! Well, actually that didn't happen. It was more of a perfunctory pop, followed by an apologetic fizzle, rounded off by an audible snicker from a ragtag smattering of bored folk.

But then he brought out the coup de grace - a slightly manky Catherine Wheel. This he nailed to his shed, with the minimum of pomp and ceremony (remember, time is money. As are calories needlessly burned), and lit it up.

At first, we were all reasonably impressed. It belched flame and spit sparks in a whirling dervish of light and sound. However, I started to notice that, far from tracing a perfect circle of light, it was somewhat elliptical. No, wildly elliptical. Then I realised. He hadn't actually nailed it to the shed - it was simply hanging from a knackered old screw. And it was gradually working its way off of it.

Suddenly, it was loose, careening its way around the garden like a tramp with a sparkler caught in his hair. Correspondingly, people started yelling, and running around like idiots. The Wheel of Death shot through a pile of leaves, setting them ablaze...which in turn quickly set my friend's shed alight. Mayhem all around.

But Catherine the Great was not finished yet. Somehow, it performed a Roadrunner-style vertical run up the side of a nearly tree, catapulting itself into a neighbour's garden, smashing through their greenhouse window, and setting their plants on the speedy journey to ash and recriminations.

It began to dawn on my friend that this may well cost him Some Money.

The look on his face was a treat, so I laughed until I was nearly sick. We are not so friendly now.

Not since he tried to get everyone else there to pay for it, anyways. The arse.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 10:25, Reply)
Well I love a good fire with the best
of them. In fact I have been chatting with these pyromaniacs online, they're from Paris or summat like that. Well I dared them to a car torching compo, wonder how they're doing?
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 9:13, Reply)
Isn't there a house-fire story in Dylan Thomas's book
"A child's Christmas in Wales", with that aunt who always knew what to say in any situation?

(Very literary.)
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 8:37, Reply)
Great balls of fire
Somewhat relates. I'm just looking for an excuse to tell the damn story. Names changed so I avoid a bollocking for not telling the story properly.

The guy who runs my theatre camp is a large and angry fellow we'll call "Bob". Bob is Thor and God's Wrath in a human body. Remember that.

Come summer's end, Bob offers some of his personal vans to counselours willing to drive them down to Florida. They're free to go where they like with them, as long as they reach the Florida offices within a week or so. Three eager counselours, "Chomp", "Fart", and "Nuts", get a van and they head off once the session is over.

Fart is working the camcorder and they've been on (relatively) good behaviour for the trip. At one point, they make a stop in a fireworks-selling state to stock up for whatever diabolical purpose they had in mind. Fast foward a little bit to the trio waiting at a red light. Fart notices a hissing sound and turns around to see Nuts dropping the granddaddy motherfucker of their purchase out the window as he grins like a maniac.

BOOM! Lights, fire, explosions, and noise erupt like a small volcano. It doesn't help that this is a busy intersection and I think this took place a year after 9/11. Fart and Chomp scream like girls and run the red light to get as far away from the scene as possible.

A few hours later, they're driving down a road and Fart notices a squad car behind them. "Hey, wouldn't it be funny if they were for us?" he asks. Then the lights and sirens go on.

Chomp, Fart and Nuts are brought out of the car at gunpoint. Several other squad cars arrive and as they're searched with guns inches from their heads, the cops are screaming at them, "DO YOU HAVE DRUGS?! DO YOU HAVE WEAPONS?! DO YOU HAVE DRUGS!? ARE YOU TERRORISTS?!" They're shitting water and just trying to explain all they have are fireworks as Bob's personal van is torn apart. Cushions are slashed and searched, pieces torn off, everything.

The boys are brought in for several hours of interrogation. Almost every law enforcement officer in South Carolina is involved, including the Deputy Director (or someone just as important). They're doing everything they can to avoid being sent to Guantananmo Bay or worse, a South Carolina prison. These are three somewhat good looking Australian boys (I dunno about Chomp) and the LAST thing they want to do is wind up in the latter. (Go rent 'Deliverance' if you don't know why.)

After what I think was close to twenty-three hours, Fart decides to play the wild card and begs them to do anything except call Bob. He'll kill them in more ways universally possible. He'll invent ways. Do anything but that. They snicker, get the phone number from him anyway, and sometime later, they turn 'em loose.

The boys make it to Florida and lie low for a few days. Fart finally works up the nads to call Bob.

Bob: Hi Fart.
Fart: Hi Bob, how are you?
Bob: I'm fine. And so is the South Carolina Deputy Director.

45 seconds of silence

Fart: I got it all on tape.

While the three were being arrested and the car ripped to shreds, Fart had left the camcorder running. He sent the tape to Bob, who is rumoured to still have it and one of these days, show the video during the counselour training period as "what not to do".

No apologies for size. It fills out the bra and the lads love it.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 6:02, Reply)
Roman candles
For those who are unaware, Roman Candles are a type of firework that shoot flaming multi-colored pellet type things up into the air, one at a time, that you're supposed to put on the ground and leave alone after lighting. That, and get very far away. But, that's not as much fun as pointing one at people and letting it go off. So, my dad had one, and he decided to aim it at a tree. It bounced off, and landed on me, and while I'm spazzing out and trying to get the flaming thing off of my clothes, he turns around, still waving it, and asks "Did that land on you?" This resulted in another one fired in my direction, and landing in my shoe. Much joy.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 3:48, Reply)
Chip Pan Fires
There’s a theory knocking around that the invention of the “oven chip” and the increased opening hours of the “chip shop” are reducing the overall intelligence of the British population i.e. a reduction in chip pan fires (especially those that start after closing time) equates to more stupid people in the gene pool.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 3:47, Reply)
my dad decided to be clever, and ram a rocket into the ground, surrounded by bricks, and then light it. then try and light another one.

safe to say he got about 2feet away from the fireworks, resulting in his jacket looking very holy. hahahaha stupid fucker, then he burned many of my childhood books etc on the bonfire. cunt.
(, Tue 8 Nov 2005, 1:39, Reply)
Just a week ago,
someone set fire to a car outside my house. I love Hackney. Mostly cos I don't own a car. It was very pretty, it was.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 23:18, Reply)
Just out of interest,
did anyone else take their teddy, cut it open, place a can of red spraypaint inside, sew it up, take it outside, set it on fire then stand back and shoot it with an air rifle? Really, really fun. impressive fireball. Nothing much from the paint though, which retrospectively is a good thing since the one thing worse than having to explain red car paint all over your face is explaining splash burns caused by red car paint all over your face.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 23:15, Reply)
This was Ian Browns fault
When i was a 1st year student at the Uni of East Anglia, i accidently managed to burn my halls of residence thanks to me forgetting about the big vat of oil that I'd just put on the hob.

I thought it'd take about 20 minutes to deep fry a Tescos value cod, so i snuck into my room and listened to the new Ian Brown album i just bought (Unfinished Monkey Business, if you must know).

As i came out, the whole place was full of smoke, and 2 inept flatmates tried to use water fire extingishers to put it out. On an oil based fire.

Still, its one for the grandkids.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 22:39, Reply)
Well, not me but my neighbour.
Twas a fine Hallows Eve, i was sat in my room listening to such luxuries as Sytem Of A Down, suddenly a siren was to be heard. A little cunt from round my way had thrown a firework over their fence only for it to set fire to my neighbours shed. It was amusing for the time it lasted.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 22:26, Reply)
Saturday night waiting outside one of my favourite (if far from punctual opening) clubs and chav car appears, passengers in chav car ask what we're waiting for, we reply, politely, that it's a club night and they spend the next 20 minutes circling the block lighting and throwing fireworks at us.
What is it about fire and chavs that means I have to hide behind cars?
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 22:10, Reply)
Right on cue
.. I just received an email from a non-b3tan explaining how he made do without fireworks this year:

We saw a fun thing at the kids school's open evening last month where the science teacher bubbled natural gas and a bit of oxygen through a bowl of water and washing up liquid and lit the bubbles to make a reasonable sized bang. In our shed there is a propane cylinder and an oxygen cylinder. A bucket of bubblified water was placed in the centre of the garden and I bubbled some of each gas through until there was a pile of bubbles on top. I threw in a match and got quite a good fireball but no bang. I tried more oxygen the next time and got a medium sized bang but nothing that special. For my next attempt I put in loads more oxygen and let the pile of bubbles get as big as possible. I threw in the match from as far away as possible and for a split second the world seemed to be ending. I stood by our garden gate shaking slightly with ringing ears and a headache that I didn't have before I threw in the match. It just so happened that a group of our local lads were walking down the path on the other side of the gate and they were exclaiming rather loudly that something jolly loud (or words to that effect) had just occurred and that they were really quite surprised (again add your own descriptive words). One saw me standing there and remarked "that scared the shit out of me", I paused for just a moment before saying, "me too!"
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 21:51, Reply)
coco pops
i dont like coco pops, so i made a pile of them on a plastic table and set fire to it. didnt smell too bad till the plastic melted
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 20:43, Reply)
Got another one
well cos it was bonfire night i went to my aunties for fireworks in their big back garden. My mum warned me ( am 15 an she still has to warn me) that i had to be gud cos i'm the one who usually ends up in trouble. When we got ther my dad and uncle were decidin which ones to let off first. They found the biggest one in the box and decided to light that. My dad lit it an then legged it back cos he knew it was gonna be big. It jus did a really crap fizzle thing that didn't even impress my four year old cousin.So decidin to make things a bit more interestin i threw in a couple of sparklers ( i say a couple it was a pack of ten). My dad laffed an decided to throw more sparklers in. He went up to it an nearly shat himself. turns out the firework was one of the slow ones you had to wait for.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 20:14, Reply)
alcohol + fire
Xmas early 90's meant a road trip to the U.S. to buy tax-free liquor, including 190 proof (95% pure) Everclear.

The timmies in the crowd drank flaming spoonfuls, but I retreated to the kitchen with my partners in crime. For safety's sake, we placed an empty Frozen o.j. can in the middle of a frying pan, splashed in some booze and lit it. The flames were a bit weak, so I dashed on some more - the flames shot up the stream booze and into the bottle, causing a soft explosion which shot flaming Everclear all over the kitchen- setting kitchen cloths, the floor, and some shoes on fire.

We beat the flames out in a frenzy, then ran away. Apparently the guests in the living room were curious about the sudden blast of heat from the kitchen, but damage was minimal. Then I sat and played "Needle and the Damage Done" and drunk drove to the next Xmas do.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 19:51, Reply)
Smoking Is Bad For You
One cold and snowy winters night, when I was a mere teenager, me and some friends had been spending the night wandering the streets drinking whatever we'd managed to sneak past the old biddy at the off license. Feeling the impending need to wee I disappeared off behind some garages and prepared, with glee, to write my name in the snow.

I undid my flies and fished out 'the womb broom ' as I 'hilariously' called it at that age. As I did so I noticed my right hand was incredibly cold so clamped my cigarette between my teeth and switched hands. No sooner had I begun my fun deed (I think I'd written the G and the L) then I realised that my left hand was also incredibly cold so switched my hands back. Of course this time I forgot to clamp my cigarette between my teeth first.

I'd like to think that it was so cold my hand was numb and I couldn't feel the cigarette but the chances are that I'm just that stupid. Can you guess what happened next people? That's right. I jabbed myself in the cock with a lit cigarette.


Sadly, it didn't stop there. Such was the shock that I dropped the cigarette and because God loves me it fell harmlessly to the ground. Or, as actually happened, I was waving my arms around in pain and somehow threw/dropped it past my frazzled member and through the opening of my boxer shorts.


With hindsight I could have just shoved my blistered willy back through my flies and fought fire with, well, wee. Instead, what followed can only be described as several (painfully long) seconds of spazzed out, agony filled, wee fountaining, break dancing.

According to my mates, behind me now after being alerted by the yelling, it was oddly akin to something that made millions for a certain MC Hammer. All it made for me was a smokey skid mark in my underwear and a few days of cautionary slowness when having a good old tug.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 19:14, Reply)
i am
on fire as you read this.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 18:54, Reply)
Tales of youth...
although this is not too many years back, I was still an arrogant adolescent prick who would do this sort of thing. (Okay, yes, I'm still a very immature, slightly older adolescent, but much less arrogant and prickish)

Me and my mate, who was even more of an arrogant prick, decided to go out for a bike ride round some country lanes. We didn't get far when we passed a stack of straw bales. "Let's set fire to it" says my mate, producing an aerosol and matches. Me agreeing, we proceeded to climb up onto the bales, sprayed the aerosol onto a bale and applied the matches. Surprisingly, it didn't erupt into flames immediately, so we applied yet more matches. Eventually, it began to smoulder and a few seconds later, flames appeared. IMMEDIATELY, we regretted it and started stamping on it. This only seemed to have the effect of spreading the fire. I ran to the nearest house and started begging for a bucket of water from the old lady living there. Of course, she wanted to know why I would want such a thing, and I had to hurriedly explain that we had "discovered" a bale on fire and wanted to put it out. She asked if she should call the fire brigade. "No." I said, "It's only a small fire, we can put it out". She reluctantly handed over a bucket of water and I dashed off to find my mate still furiously stamping at the fire, more a smouldering mess, now, but still eating away at the bale. I slowly poured the bucket over it but it didn't put the fire out. Bugger! I went back to the old lady to ask for more water. "It's okay", she said, "I've called the fire brigade". "Oh, Fuck!", thinks me.
A few minutes later sirens can be heard in the distance. The lady also had contacted the owner of the bales, it seems, as the guy drove up in his tractor demanding our names to give to the police. Thinking quickly, I gave him the name of the most unpopular guy at school, instead of my own. Probably not the best idea, but it made sense to my adolescent mind. Haha! Now some innocent guy has arson on his police record (we hope).
From there, it all deteriorated into severe parental bollocking.

And we would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for that meddling old bitch.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:47, Reply)
re: Exploding film container curtain horror (below)
i used to work for this right cunt, real nutter. Good thing was he was pretty hopeless at bringing in business so we often had a LOT of time on our hands. One fine day i took a large cardboard tube (about 4 foot long and as thick as yer arm) and decided to convert it into the worlds largest pop gun. i fitted the end of a thinner tube (made snug and plungery with lots of taped on bog roll) and made a separate 'rocket' for the 'pop' end, to much applause as the rocket flew magestically agross the room at a fair old rate. soon the weapon had sprouted a shoulder strap and rocket launcher style grips and i was strutting arounf like Arnie. boredom sets in quickly though. one of my not so good ideas involved stuffing the 'pop' end with a big plug of bog roll which then greedily absorbed half a can of zippo fuel. it didnt burn much when lit deep in the 'chamber' but on 'plunging' a VERY impressive fireball SHOT across the room to another great round of applause... promptly setting the window blinds alight. stamping the fucker out was not easy, my shoes soaked up some lighter fuel and went up too at one point in comedy burning rain dance style. when the boss came in the next day and asked about the 'funny mark' on the shitty nylon carpet i did my best staring-into-the-middle-distance-while-trying-not-to-snigger routine.

I have a proper job now.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:41, Reply)
Childish ant incineration
Heres a lesson for all the kids out there - what you can do with a magnifying glass you can also do with a 30" parabolic mirror (polished smoother than a smooth thing as it was the main reflector from a silicon chip fabrication exposure unit) On a hot day with said big mirror you can set fire to things very quickly (and crack brickwork if you are not careful where you point it)
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:16, Reply)
i have left strict instructions that the prodigys firestarter is to be played at my cremation

what a hilarious cunt i am
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:13, Reply)
repeat arsonist
Every 4 years i light a massive fire in a different country that will burn for weeks!

Funny thing is everyone always cheers me when i light it

....to be fair though i AM the olympic torch
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:09, Reply)
as a child, like many i was fascinated by fire, maiming small animals, and spent many hours on my own – the fact i was not prone to pissing in my bed is probably the only thing that got me off the FBI profile of a classic serial killer in the making. (Although i did tie my little sister up a fair amount also). Anyway (seeing as were chatting) our local shops at the time had some storage areas behind them (small brick 'porch' sort of deal at the back door). one lunchtime, whilst pissing around with flammable materials i managed to set a whole stack of papers and general garbage alight. As is the way with these things, things quickly got out of hand. rapidly panicking my mate and i tried to remove some stacks of burning paper out of the main blaze to try and get a grip on the situation - frantically tossing them to one side. Unfortunately the 'one side' available happened to be the back door of the local newsagents. i can now see it from the perspective of the terrfied asian man who opened the back door to his shop to find two lads in school uniform frantically 'barricading his exit' with burning bales of paper. As I say - quickly got out of hand.

Being sensible lads we legged it, however the reek of smoke from us did not escape our teacher who quickly grassed us to the police who called at my school that afternoon 'investigating a racially motivated attack on a local businessman'

i detest all forms of racism. shame is not the word.

i never apologise for length or anything else - sorry its just the way i am.
(, Mon 7 Nov 2005, 17:04, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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