Mad old Mr Busby the crazy chemistry teacher
When I was at school (far too long ago) we had those big old wooden desks in the science labs that had integral sinks, gas taps etc and about 15 of you could sit around each one.

We also had this insane teacher called Mr Busby who couldn't have looked more like a mad scientist. He always wore his white coat, had crazy white hair everywhere and wore glasses that made his eyes look huge.

Once day we were doing some experiment that involved heating a conical falsk full of something called Xylene (I think) which is very flammable.

The first fatal mistake old Mr Busby made was to tell everyone not to heat it too much or it might catch on fire. Naturally being 14 year olds we all put the bunsens onto full whack. Cue 3 foot jets of flame all around the classroom.

The second fatal flaw was how he tried to put my flaming flask out. He picked up a plastic tray and placed it on top of my flask hoping to kill the fire. All seemed well until he lifted the tray off. The heat had melted the tray a little and as he lifted it, the flask came with it; but only for a few seconds. The flask fell, shattered and spilled flaming liquid over the entire desk. I'll never forget the image of my mate's pencil case going up in flames. I also got to use a fire extinguisher which was really cool!

Length, Girth etc
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 12:08, Reply)

Dodgy mechanics
When I was a kid I lived on an estate, and with it being relatively nice by housing estate standards, we were provided with big lawns running along the length of it (this has a point). From these lawns you could see across the main road to a petrol station and a small line of shops. One day, when I was 5 or 6 and playing with a few friends on the lawns, one of the shops EXPLODED. Yes, it just exploded. We saw the lot; big boom, the front blew out, black smoke, screams from the blokes who were inside and unfortunate enough to have survived. Everyone from my flats legged it (cos estate people are generally nosey) across the road to get a better look at the carnage, not exactly caring that they were in the way of fire engines, ambulances and the air ambulance – in all it took about 5 hours to put out. It turned out the shop, which I remember had no name and didn't actually appear to be a shop at all what with net curtains in the windows, was doing cheap and rather shady fix-ups. Apparently the exact cause of the explosion was one of the men testing a motorbike in the shop and duly crashing it. What an idiot.
( Fictional Emma, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 12:06, Reply)

and again this year
had just been to see Charlie & The Chocolate Factory at the Hamstead Everyman. Nice. Came out, lit a cig, offered one to my friend, one thingled to another and suddenly my hair was on fire. Not so nice. Screaming. Jumping. Finally out I giggled myself half to death.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 12:04, Reply)

and earlier this year
I saw some kids setting fire to a bush outside their school at the back of my house. Called 999 for the first time in my life. Told the woman it didn't seem to be that much of an emergency as it was only a bush on fire. The Fire Engine was there in about 60 seconds (something to do with the fact the Fire Station is just round the corner). The young scallywags ran off. The fireman looked disgusted at the pathetic size of the fire and simply kicked it out. Thankfully, I didn't leave a name or address with the 999 operator, so they couldn't tell it was me that was being a girly weak man.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 12:01, Reply)

as a young'un
i set the carpet on fire in the living room (as you do). I ran outside to tell my parents, who were playing swingball at the time. My father was in the middle of a particularly powerful backswing and caught me square in the forehead. I've got the scar to this day. Thankfully, I managed to get out "Carpet...fire...urrrgh" before I fell unconscious. The fire was put out. I was taken to hospital. And a new rug was bought to cover the scorch mark. Ah, those were the days.
( mrlogic is copying your beard, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:58, Reply)

Ah, the summer of 1976
The year of the great drought - it didn't rain for months and every living thing was tinder dry. That was also the year, as a ten-year-old just introduced to the concept of matches, I went through my firestarter phase.

You know how these things go - I was down the local park with a packet of Swan Vestas and an urge to burn something. One thing led to another and before I knew it, fifty feet of hedgerow was a towering inferno before me, threatening the village hall, the scout hut and the youth club.

There was this blue flashing light...

I did what any normal person would do in the circumstances. I went home and hid under my bed. It's all grown back now.

The whole 12-inch remix version of this story here, where I don't need to brag about my girth.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:57, Reply)

Not a fire but it got very hot.
Whilst in halls at Uni one flatmate had a penchant for collecting/stealing strange objects.

Anyway he had acquired this pickled dog foetus in a jar which was pretty revolting.

Before we went out one night he placed it on a lampshade next to the bed of a girl we lived with, thinking it would be funny for her to roll in drunk, get into bed and be greeted by a deceased baby dog in a jar.

Problem was, the lampshade was on and while we were out it heated up ths jar to the point that it COOKED the foetus and then EXPLODED, covering the poor girls pillow with weird pickling juice and a shrivelled up tiny dog.

She wasn't best pleased.
(Sameranda, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:47, Reply)

many moons ago
one evening my family went out for a couple of hours. pulling into the driveway, mum remembered she had left a massive pot of rice ablaze on the stove. miraculously the house didnt burn to the ground; it merely imbued the house with a vile, smoky bouquet, of which we all had the pleasure of reeking for several long weeks.
oh so not really fire at all. only the promise of fire, unfulfilled. fiddlesticks.
(Carravanquelo, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:42, Reply)

no smoke?
had a lovley party in the flat above an offy in Ipswich - everybody happy, having spent several hours on a bucket.

one 'novelty' at the party was a smoke machine that was hired for the evening. after most peeps had left, those of us that remained and could still stand decided to see how smokey we could get the flat. needless to say it was a small flat and there was alot of smoke.

after half an hour of frivolity, asthma attacks and bumping into door frames we decided to ventilate the place. but, the lightbulbs in the house were all red. so from the outside, it gave the impression of a raging inferno.

when we went outside fo some fresh air, a small crowd had gathered, but fortuitously had not called any emergency services.

it was an odd night.
(magictorch, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:42, Reply)

Me and some Anti-Freeze
A trip down memory lane to a phone box a young child. An idea of anti-freeze in a carrier bag. Thus tying a knot in said carrier bag inside phone box holding lighter underneath. Loss of eyebrows and a very warm face.
( Mr. Street, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:41, Reply)

frankie and bennys
Had just finished a fine meal at frankie and bennys with my lady friend and a couple of mates when after cleaning myself on the napkin i dropped it on the table. Problem was i hadnt seen the little candle on the table, and i think you can see where this is going.

Straight away i pick it up and see that we all have wine glasses for our water so that means of putting out the fire was useless then lady friend has the idea of blowing on it which resulted in it flairing up even more. By this stage i had an audience and finally one of the helper monkies came over so i handed the fireball to them and they ran outside before anything else caught fire.

Didnt dare visit the place again after that.

My first post, not the most exciting but its a start
(hairymonkey, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:39, Reply)

Barbecue
The ex-Mr Bunnygirl's house saw many a small house fire. One twunt mate left a candle too close to a lighter and caused a 3 foot column of fire not far from where my feet were resting. We also set fire to a neighbours shed with hamfisted use of a Catherine Wheel.

Another time my ex held a barbecue for him and his eejit friends.

They bought lots of food, took the three piece suite outside for relaxing on and lots of weed. They tried lighting the charcoal using matches, lighters, wood and allsorts of other flammable items with little success so they decided that petrol was required.

After siphoning some fuel out of a car, it was decanted into a tin can and poured it over what little flames there were. Alas it was poured too slowly and the flames travelled up the stream of petrol into the can which exploded, showering the garden in liquid fire.

Cue most of the guests shielding themselves with the safety of the patio doors while my ex attempted to put out his burning settee, grass, self, neighbour's fence, neighbour's child with a cushion.

Moral of the story: don't let stoners mix with fire.
(Bunnygirl, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:39, Reply)

My first wife's arse
Visiting the in-laws one evening, we're all watching telly. First wife was lying face down on the carpet, head propped-up in hands style. She lets a nasty one rip that makes my eyes water. To deal with the smell I whip out my lighter and flick it on while holding it close to the source. As she's wearing tight lycra pants there's a fair amount of trapped gas which promptly ignites. I had to beat out the flames with my bare hands.

That marriage never lasted. Funny that.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:37, Reply)

Eyebrows and Beans!!!!
At my old school, in the science block, we had gas taps on all the tables. Not a bright idea in my opinion but never mind......anyway me and my friend (who we will refer to as Lee.....as that is his name), were larking about and he decided it would be hilarious to take in a mouthful of gas, from said gas taps. and light his breath as he breathed out. Cue hilarity for the rest of the week as Lee has to attend all his classes lacking any eyebrows.....hahaha the image still makes me laugh.

Story 2 me and another group of friends (this was about 2 years later, you'd think id have matured by then....you'd be wrong of course....), decided to go camping in the nearby woods. couple of hours after sunset and were all a bit oiled on chep cider, our attention inevitably gets drawn to the camp fire, and what would make the best explosion, or be the most flammable. Went through usual items, lighters, deodarent, ect, until we decide to throw a can of beans on the fire unopened........nothing happened for a good 7-8 minutes lulling us into thinking that nothing was going to happen, so we start to return from our respective hiding places when BOOM!!!!!!!!! The loudest explosion i had ever heard, (ive heard louder since but this was a while ago), and beans and bits of can shot past us like grenade shrapnel. How none of us was hurt is somewhat of a miricle as the tent nearest to the fire, which had blown itself out, was completely destroyed.
Morale of story.....dont be an idiot!
(Charlie big bananas, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:37, Reply)

When we didn't have any matches in our student house
and I wanted to light the hob, rather than walk all the way down to the shop at the end of the road (wasn't sure if it would even be open so early on a Saturday afternoon), I decided man must be able to start fire without them.
So I crumpled up some foil and crafted a crude crucible into which I tore some kitchen towel.
Then, with dead match in hand, I whacked it in the microwave, turned it on and withdrew to arm's length.
Sorry - no hilarious results: The sparks from the foil ignited the kitchen towel, I quickly opened the door and lit the dead match off the small fire, and lit the stove.
Felt like how the cavemen must have felt.
Ray Mears stand aside. Drop me anywhere, and, with nothing more than a gas stove, microwave, gas and electricity supplies, some two-, or three-ply tissue and a used match, I could cook anything someone else may be able to catch. Grrrr.
(Garnett, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:36, Reply)

Powder
My physics teacher for GCSE and A level came up with some strange demonstrations. One memorable one involved setting fire to some custard powder, creating a small (but short-lived fire ball).

One night in a friend A's backgarden, we decided to recreate it. Unfortunately there was no custard powder... but there was milk powder. After shaking out quite a lot of powder into the air, friend B held a lighter to the bottom. Due to the heat the light particles began to rise, taking the fire with it.

This resulted in a hot, searing fireball the height of the house.
(Argh! Zombies, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:28, Reply)

Reading Festival
On Sunday evening of the lovely festival of Reading, I was wandering around the site, admiring the riots going on around me whilst wrapped in a cosy blanket.

Suddenly a large white adidas trainer flew out of nowhere and smacked me on the arm.

So I did the only thing I could and set it on fire and left it burning on the road. I'm usually a passive person and would never even dream of doing such a thing.

I think it was the effects of the warzone that was going on around me.
( Farmer Cat ...loving cheese scones since, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:27, Reply)

I was hired as a trainee cook on a big ship, the RFA Sir Galahad, back in 1982.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a microwave. I didn't know you couldn't put fucking tin foil in there. Still never get a Christmas card off that narky-arse Weston, though.
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:20, Reply)

Sat in a pub
playing with my lighter with a pack of roasted peanuts open in the middle of the table. Some bright spark said "roast the peanuts", so I did.

The flame was a couple of feet high, so we legged it. Must be all the chemicals they use in road peanuts.
( CowJam, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:19, Reply)

Well...
I was visiting the Wallace & Gromit storage warehouse when I decided to nip out and have a crafty fag...and then all hell broke loose.
( Donkey Gums @mattcomedy, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:06, Reply)

Naked kitchen fire rampage
My ex-wife was cooking tea after having had a bath one evening. Whilst heating some oil in a pan, the phone rang. It was her mother and so a lengthy conversation began.

Of course, she forgot all about the pan of hot oil on the hob until smoke filled the flat and flames were licking up towards the ceiling in the kitchen.

Quick as a flash, she grabs the nearest towel (the one wrapped around her after her bath) and tries to use it to smother the flames.

It is at this point that I return home from work, to find the flat full of smoke, my wife running round naked shrieking and the mother-in-law shouting down the abandoned phone wondering what the hell was going on.

I calmly put out the fire, reassured the in-law everything was okay, then promptly burst into laughter which garnered me a filthy look from the wife.

oh happy days.
( jonas is not my name, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:05, Reply)

Before I grew up and realised I needed a career...
...I got a job at a place where my older brother was working, sanding down what would eventually be antique replica furniture. A crap monkey job, but if you were willing to knuckle down you could make some respectable coin, and I was, so I did until something better came along.

So there we were one Saturday morning when some adjustments were being made to the two laquering spray booths in the back room. Now, the laquer is highly flammable and the booths were caked in it so why the guy doing the tinkering saw fit to use an angle grinder on the booths before cleaning them down eludes me even now, aside from the now commonly-accepted theory that he was just thick as pigshit.

Shortly after Chump Change had begun showering the booths with superheated fragments of metal, one of the lads who worked in the room where these booths were ran out screaming 'FIRE! FIRE!'. Looking through the door, we observed that there certainly was a fire in there and oh my, it was really loving that laquer. Fol-de-rie ensued.

So, digest this simple equation; highly flammable chemicals on fire + a prefab industrial unit that produces items made entirely of wood, fabric, more flammable chemicals and upholstery materials = the place started to go up big-time. Our boss decided that while we were waiting for the stalwart helmeted hosey blokes to arrive, we should attempt to save as much of the stock as possible. Bear in mind that this was a pretty shitty job and I didn't much like the boss so I should have told him to go fuck himself right there, but no - I helped out moving stuff out of the door while the bloody place was burning around us.

My brother was also helping out, throwing these chair-shaped protective quilty things to me from a loft storage area. One of them was on fire when he threw it down to me and instead of catching it (or not, considering it was on fucking fire), it opened like a parachute on its way down and I ended up inside it. To his credit, only a few seconds had passed before my brother had jumped down the twelve-or-so feet from the loft and dragged it off me. It was at that point we both decided that our boss could indeed go fuck himself, or burn to death saving his overpriced bits of wood, whichever came soonest. The stalwart ones arrived soon after and took care of the fire before it got ruinously bad. The extractor fans in the booths were running throughout, they said, and that had had a strong limiting effect. The booths were fucked-up though, as was a good third of the stock.

That day my mum was mooching around a market in the town where we worked, and my brother saw her when he went to pick up some lunch after most of the excitement had passed (boss didn't even send us home - he put us back to work in the stinking-of-smoke unit restoring the stock that had been fire/smoke damaged - cunt). My brother told her about the fire, adding, 'oh, and our kid was on fire for a bit but don't worry, he's okay'. She came back to the unit with him to make sure I hadn't been transformed into Freddy Krueger - imagine how much stick I got from the lads for that :)

EPILOGUE (this post is long enough to warrant one) - I was told long after I left the place for the aforementioned something better that the boss had been fined to his undies by the authorities for numerous breaches of safety regs, including locking and padlocking the fire door in the laquering room, failing to immediately evacuate the premises and operating a big portable gas heater adjacent to the laquering booths and other related flammable stuff - apparently if the heater's sizeable gas bottle had gone boom, it would have killed pretty much everyone who was still in the building so I say again; cunt. And again; utter cunt. And once more with feeling; money grubbing, careless, thoughtless yuppie cunt of a cunt's cunty cunt, the cunt.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:05, Reply)

Things I have set fire to (By accident):

Self: Far too pissed for public-display I once forgot to extinguish a flaming sambuca before throwing it in the direction of my mouth. Bad.

Girl-friend. Lying in bed watching crap telly after a party. Not concentrating on the hand that was pissing about with a lighter all on its own. Girlfirend + hairspray + flame.Bad.

Crappy sofa bed. Too strong the joint. Too flamable the foam. Nearly very bad.

My mum & dads caravan. Me + Beer led to Electric-Heater + dressing-gown. Baddest of all. They had liked that caravan.
(Lo-Fi Foetus, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:05, Reply)

Divine intervention
My bro-in-law nearly lost his life when he left a candle burning in his flat. Only two things emerged unscathed- him and his Bible.

He's quite fervent in his beliefs for some reason.

I managed to avoid burning down my house this weekend by not allowing Mr Darch and Netty to run and extension lead out the back garden, while it was raining to turn on a toaster full of fireworks "to see what happens".
(Bunnygirl, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 11:00, Reply)

where shall i start
i cant remember when i finally realised i was a pyromaniac but i remember very clearly the path leading to it.

My earliest memory of setting things alight was when i was 6. Mum had gone upstairs to clean the bathroom so i thought would would happen if i took the box of mathces in the utility cupboard and the stack of recycled paper in the office and combined to the two.

What happened was breath taking on several different levels. Filling the sink full of paper and dropping many different matches into it was like magic. The resulting cloud of smoke that enveloped me was the product of a fantastic wall of fire.

As responsible home owners my parents thought that smoke alarms were a worthwhile investment and discipline a needed tool. no tv for a week was their decision, but i need not worry; i had the image of the carnage i had created in my kitchen sink!

My eldest brohter wasnt much better. I was off sick from school with a chest infection when he decided that lighting 45 sparklers in a plastic bin in a wooden conservatory was a good plan. Once again the smoke alarm was put to good use, so was my coughing reflex and unaware to me at the time, so was my sylvanian family bin!

I had a few years of rest after that. Mum hid the mathces and sparklers and generally i wasnt allowed near fires when there was one in my viscinity. I forgot my pyro roots until i made friends with my guys.

Setting fire to each other was the best game. A can of WD40 and a lighter was my personal favourite, it left your leg feelign all warm and toasty!

However one ill-fated new years eve party, after everyone else had retired to bed, myself and my ex-boyfriend took it upon ourselves to make the bon-fire bigger, we'd used all the wood so we searched for other flammable objects. A chair, it melted in about 20 seconds and was never seen again. Next was a bike, we never thought it would burn but the fire was so hot it started to melt the metal. I screamed with joy as i watched it burn.

Finally we found the ultimate object, a big tyre, bigger than the avergae tyre but not too big to burn. We threw it into the flames and watched as a wave of black smoke billowed up into the night sky. What we didnt anticipate was the smoke then billowing into the caravan window a few feet away and waking the occupants up. My we laughed as we watched our friends coughing and spluttering and abandoning the caravan to escape smoke inhalation. I'm not a psycho, its perfecty justfied, i just like to see things burn which is perfect whenever i go camping with my lad mates, because they're all just like me- crazy!
(Pyro_Deb, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:57, Reply)

Pyro Alert
1 x Matches - Check
1 x Petrol Can - Check
1 x Table Tennis Club in North London - Check
1 x Kabooooooom - Check
1 x burnt down table tennis club in London - Check
1 x Fire Brigade talk at our school - Check
1 x Guilty boy aged 9 - Check

Matches - Know your place!
(eurrrrrggggggghhhhhh Cunting /talk, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:52, Reply)

Carrie
A few years ago I actually managed to start multiple fires in the same flat on the same night.

I got home pissed and helped myself to some of my flatmate's food which I put on the hob. Then I went for a quick "lie down" on the bed, and lit a reefer. I woke up later with my duvet on fire, so I stamped it out and threw it out the window, then went back to sleep.

When my flatmate came home later that night he found his pan on fire on the hob, a duvet burning in the back garden, and me asleep like a fat glowing sacrifice, on top of a mattress that had just started to catch fire from the still-lit reefer. My other flatmate had slept through the entire episode, and the next day I emerged from my room to find him banging on the smoke alarm with a broom and shouting obscenities.

His mum came to collect him the next day and he moved out, the pussy.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:47, Reply)

fireball
When we were 15, me and my mate were bored and invented a game called 'Fireball'. This consisted of kicking a blazing firelighter around the garden. We found that the game wasn't really dangerous enough and so took it to the next level.

We wrapped 2 firelighters in a piece of cloth and lit them, then i took a petrol can from the garage and poised it ready to pour on the top. Upon pouring, the can caught fire and my natural reaction was to throw it away from me.

The entire garden (plus fence and hedge) turned into a giant pool of raging fire. It was a terrifying yet strangely beautiful moment in my life.
( mookay immune to icons since, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:43, Reply)

I've got a cousin called Dan,
who a few years ago came to stay with us. He's got a rep for being a bit of a twat when he gets drunk - and this time was no exception.

We all went out and drunk lots of beer. He was extra-drunk, so he headed off home ahead of us, with the house keys. When we got back about 1/2 hour later, we knocked, and there was no reply. We kept knocking, shouting through the letterbox. Still no reply.

So I went round the back of the house to have a look through the kitchen window. It was a large sash window, so I could crearly see Dan sat on the floor, slumped against the oven, asleep. Above him, under the gas grill, was what looked like several slices of cheese on toast, which were just starting to burn.

I knocked on the window and shouted. No response. Cheese on toast smoking. Shouted louder, banged on window. Cheese on toast on fire. Shouted more and more frantically.

The fire really started to take hold. Big flames were now licking out of the grill up towards the ceiling, and the kitchen was filling with smoke. At this point, Dan woke up, smiled, waved .. and went back to sleep again.

I did the only think I could. I went and got a half brick, put the window through, climbed in and threw a bucket of water over the fire. And one over Dan for good measure, of course. Cunt.
(8-Ball, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:35, Reply)

I was sat outside my house
with Neil Smith and Richard Brown when the Garage door blew off its hinges and bent over the rear of our car. Neil Smith ran away, cheeky bugger, he was a ginger though. I ran into the house and made sure the dog got out, yeah that’s right: screw my family, Samson the Alsatian ruled!
We all stood outside and watched as crates of WD40 cans exploded for all they were worth, my dad used to sell em to businesses in the area and had just bought in a shed load wholesale. It took 3 fire engines about 3 hours to bring the garage under control. Scary thing was, the gas mains ran through the garage, another few minutes and the whole street was a gonna! My sister cried, I (being only 11) thought it was great. There were cans of WD40 embedded in the ceiling so deep, they were sticking out of the floor above! All my dads stock was melted, which was fortunate for him as a few weeks earlier he had moaned about all the crap he had in the garage and would never sell…hmmm! It made the local rag and I had the chance to excuse my lack of home work in maths the next day with: ‘my house blew up sir’ He didn’t believe me, I hated Mr Smith.
(I came for the penguins, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 10:35, Reply)