Argue me ...never
At school everyone (not just me)had been bollocked about not immediately complying with teachers instructions or shock horror even answering back.

Later still smarting from the telling off, a school friend decided it would be a cracking idea to put a lit bunsen burner and several million carrier bags into a sink (that importantly was made from some weird plastic)

Anyways I decided this was wrong and needed action,(I was ever so good a child.)so I got up went across the class past some others sinks to a large receptacle which I started the return journey with, stopping at a sink to fill with water. "Oi(it was Dagenham)empty that and sit down" says teach. What could I do? Do as instructed obviously...Admittedly it would be funnier if I could finish it off with a full school burning and multiple fire tenders but alas it was just paniced "FIRE" from the teacher, "yes I was going to put that out 5 minutes ago" from me, a melted sink and me filling an A4 sheet on why "having noticed a fire I did nothing" Der.. "because I was told not to" in big writing.
(Froddo, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:54, Reply)

Mmm parafin
While very drunk at a party I decided to join in with the fire diabolo (I'm Ok with this bit)fire juggling (I can't juggle and ended up covered in parafin), Fire breathing (I discovered a new found talent at this), it was at this point that a friend tried to down what he thought was his pint but turned out to be a pint of parafin this bounced on reaching his stomach and he vomited all over the garden this disgusting pot noodle and parafin napalm which was ignited a minute later by my attempt at fire devil sticks. Bloody brilliant, 8 hour party and 18 hours to clear up and hide the damage.
(lankymike, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:53, Reply)

Garden Exploding
At my mates house for a party, after a fair few beers have been drunk and a few joints smoked we decide to build a bonfire. The bonfire was blazing well and we carried on puttin wood, alchohol, petrol, paper etc. onto this fire. The fire started to die down and the drinkin carried on, after about ten minutes suddenly there is a massive bang and we were showered with rubble. The concrete in the garden had exploded leaving a 2 foot deep crater in his garden. I'm not sure how he explained that one to his parents.
(praxis_diveen, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:34, Reply)

tEh B0mzorz
As a lad living in the sticks...

me and an old pal used to make lots of bombs of all types (boiling bleach is fookin dangerous)plus the old faithful festilizer.

After setting one off in a dry orchard caused a massive fire. fortunately being firemans son we managed to put it out quite quick. appolgising to the farmer wasn't fun the next day...
(HoBag (TM) <-- Fookin' legend, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:34, Reply)

I nearly burned my house down aged 7 or so....
by using a box of matches and some paper in the metal bin in my bedroom.

I burnt my hand carrying the flaming bin to the bathroom, which garnered sufficient sympathy from my understandably shocked mum for her to believe my "microscope on the window sill caught the sun and...." excuse (fucking genius quick thinking at that age eh?!).

Needless to say when my Dad got home he didn't believe that for a second, and it wasn't just my hand that hurt that night, but my heavily be-slippered arse too.

Lesson learnt.




Or rather, not- fireworks anyone? Round mine, 8 ish.

Safe.
(this is a shit username, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:18, Reply)

Why do all dressing gowns say "keep away from fire".............?
Let me set the scene.......It was your typical sunday morning sitting round the family breakfast table eating coco pops. I was about 14 and my friend katie had stayed the night. My younger brother aged about nine decided to light some candles on the table that where remnents of the romantic night my dad had had with his girlfriend the night before.

Anyway.....Dad leant over the candle whilst reaching for some milk and WHOOOOOOSH! All of a sudden his whole dressing gown was on fire, like a stuntman from a die hard movie. He was screaming like a girl interspersed with shouts of Jesus Fucking Christ. He tore his flame ridden gown off threw it on the floor and began stamping on it with great vigour. He was naked. Totally naked.

I watched this - doing nothing - with my mouth wide open. My friend katie was oblivious and was just munching her cereal until i exclaim "Oh my god dad you are SOOOOOOOOO embarassing". Katie looks up just before my dad manages to cup his privates. Needless to say by monday morning Katie had managed to tell the whole school she had seen my dad naked. mortifying.

Oh how we laugh about it now......
(white_castle, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:09, Reply)

Yet further boarding school antics...
It was a dry autumn night, and piercingly cold. And we weren't ready to go to bed yet.

It should be noted at this point that my boarding house is a listed building. Now, this was back in the day when I shared a room (and consequently didn't have a fridge). This is all relevant; bear with me.

We were on the first floor, and had a windowsill with a flat surface on it, on which I had placed my orange juice to cool.

Ouside this, several metres down (high ceilings and all) is a garden. The first foot or so of this garden, outwards from my windowsill, is a stone gutter. The next 10 feet or so is a pathway with pebbles. After that, it's all grass.

Now, the guys from next door were out there (having escaped through a downstairs window; they were retreiving something) on the pebbly bit. My room-mate and I decided to have some fun. We thought it was perfectly safe, as the grass was a long way away.

We scrunched up several sheets of A4 into balls, set fire to them and shoved them over the edge, calling the names of our victims.

Their faces were absolutely classic. They disappeared back into that window so fast, when confronted with our crazy rain of pyromaniacal death.

And so the fireballs floated gently down to rest on the cobbled path, extinguishing themselves as they landed. Or at least, most of them did.

A select few decided to land in the gutter which, it being a crisp autumn night, was full of dry leaves. I could see dried leaves all the way down the gutter, along which my fire was gradually spreading. I was on the point of laying a fire trench in front of a listed building, which had wooden windows very close to the ground.

How did I avoid expulsion, you ask? Remember that orange juice? I poured it over the fire before it could spread. Close run thing though.

My presence at Westminster School, and possibly my university entrance and the rest of my life was saved by a lowly carton of Orange Juice.

I don't carry one around wherever I go though. That would be weird.
(Mr_Jums, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 23:04, Reply)

All for love
A few months back a friend had the idea of getting me to light a few candles while he was out with his lady. The plan was simple until I saw how many of the little 'Tea lights' he'd set up, 10 mins later and in a increasing hot room I have about 80 lit.

The center piece for the whole thing was a big old style candle stick with 3 normal tall candles burning away.

I text him on the way out saying 'It's done but get home quick if you can it's getting a bit hot in there'

Too hot as it turns out, the tea lights melted the candels in the holder and they fell over. Instead of hitting the floor they fell sideways and leaned against the wall. Luckily it was only a small blaze as he opened the door to 'surprise' his good lady.

He doesn't blame me though and apparently was going to repaint that wall anyway.
( HornO, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:58, Reply)

Another one, with more of a BANG!
This was around 9 years ago when the council decided that the pavement on the street I lived on needed replacing.
It was a jolly good time and me and my friends were getting on well with the geezers laying the new pavement, occasionally being asked to pop to the local newsagents to buy freeze pops to share between ourselves and the dirty council workers.

Well, one day we were sitting on the other side of the street while they were digging up the old pavement and the old gravel beneath it. One jolly fellow had not checked the documentation for electrical lines, putting a crowbar straight through the electrical mains. I have never seen a man fly through the air unintentionally.

I had never seen electrical explosions, for anyone not wise with them, they're amazingly scary. So this guy has flew through the air to our right, about 15 feet. There is acrid smelling smoke filling the air and the mains is kicking off big style, explosions every few seconds and the council workers all kicking into gear, calling the fire brigade, ambulance, checking on their mate etc.. While we just sat there in shock watching it all unfold.

Anyway, he ends up with burns on 75% of his body. Lucky to be alive.
The twunt did knock out the electricity to the entire area though, having finished our freezer pops we went and got our swimming gear and went to the local pool.
They never did finish replacing all the pavement either.
( TN, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:52, Reply)

Utter, utter, utter stupidity
It still amazes that I can shave of a morning and have normal facial hair growth after this exercise in sheer darwinism.

Many moons ago, myself and my lovely lady were out of a night, and as was the fashion at the time, I was partaking of the stupidly dangerous pastime of inhaling lighter fluid from a zippo into my mouth, then exhaling / blowing over a lit flame - cue incendiary burps, hilarity, more beer.

Mostly Harmless.

Fast forward six hours. The lovely lady and myself have managed to negotiate our way home, and I am now tinkering with her flip-top lighter, and, more importantly, the fuel.

At the time, she stayed in a hall of residence, with large windows overlooking a car park. God knows what posessed me, but I decided at that point that raw lighter fuel would have the same flashpoint as normal butane or some such part time flammable liquid / gas. So much so, that I took into my mouth what must have been damn near a 1/4 pint of flammable liquid, held a lighter to my mouth and sprayed the contents out over the flame and out the window.

I will _never_ forget the roaring noise, nor the sensation of my flesh being seared, nor the sheer shock at having generated a three foot wide and five foot long jet of flame in the space of two seconds. Cue my girlfriend slapping the lighter out of my hand, punching me repeatedly in the face (I later discovered this wasn't actually recipirocal for my _utter_ stupidity but merely to put the flames out), and an extremely rapid trip to the local apothecary / hospital.

Extensive second degree burns, two months in facial bandages, a pseudo jihad face-mask for the entire period (think g8 protester face-mask), and a subsequent dumping. Fuck knows I deserved it.

What a twat.

Isla, if you're reading this, I sincerely hope you ripped the piss out of me for years to come.

Yet again
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:37, Reply)

I just hate Damien and Tracy... Fuckers.
nuff said.
( bierbelly, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:36, Reply)

This one time I got my hands on a sparkler.
Oh the fun to be had. I spun it to the left. I spun it to the right. I spun it back and forth.

Ultimately, it went out and my time was up.

But still, it was a thrill ride.
( Naive Amoeba Bored Cig, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:34, Reply)

post festival fireworks
sunday morning of leeds festival is great fun, pretty much everybody burning the (partially) empty fuel tanks from their camping stove, so every 30 seconds there's a nice POP and a ten foot high mushroom cloud.

Even better when those heavy duty ones, only meant for caravans go off and shoot 50 feet into the sky, and you're never sure where they'll land
(an_aminal, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:33, Reply)

pyromanic
collectivly, me and my friends have been responsible for several strange fires but the one i found most funny at the time was a few weeks ago after a party.

it had been a damn good night and the next morning we had just managed to tidy all the rubbish and random unwanted crap from the house into a pile in the conservatory. on a carpet.

someone decided the best way to dispose of said rubbish would be to burn it. being still rather wrecked, we doused it in left over alcohol, spayed it with aerosol and did just that.

it wasnt the best idea. a now smoke boxed conservatory with a rather large, mainly plasic based fire.

someone tried to put it out and after burning their hand several times they grabbed the closest object to smother the fire with. it was a newspaper. great help.

somehow, we managed to put out the fire after it had melted into one big mess on the carpet. we then took it outside and lit it again. what tards.

the parents returned the next day and were not impresed they had a house smelling of smoke, a slightly burned conservatory floor, no carpet and a charred lawn.
(ThePony, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:29, Reply)

Set the scene......
new years eve 2001, in a polish runned club in darby,the band are shit, the reletives are unknown, and im bored out of my head. i was yeung and foolish and being the cheeky chappy that i am decided to play with my mothers lighter. All was going rosey as i was lighting fire to some ribons holding the tables centrepiece together. I had the ribbon waggling downwards from my hand (dis-atached from the centrepiece) and it was lit from the bottom. I then learned that fire moves up in this situation as the fire burned my hand, I dropped the burning ribbon on my lap. I extinguished the flames pretty discretly but I have a nasty scar on my hand now. (boo for fire)
(popcorndude81 witness of the http://b3ta.com/talk/5000000, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 22:01, Reply)

Nearly very bad.
A few years back, I was sharing a flat with a friend. We were having a quiet Friday night in, drinking beers and we ordered pizza.
Beer was drunk, pizza was eaten, Playstation was played. I noticed that Scott had been using the cardboard pizza box as an ashtray. He said he was being carefull, so that was ok. He fell asleep on the sofa, and I was in an armchair in that almost-asleep-but-not-quite state, doing the long blinks etc. I opened my eyes to find the room filled with smoke and the pizza box/ashtray smouldering nicely. As I sat there in a stupor it caught light before my eyes. I stamped it out, but not before it had scorched the carpet badly.
If I had been properly asleep and not noticed the box, Im certain we would both have been killed.

On a slightly lighter note, on Monday at work, I discovered an unusual hot sensation in my crotch area. I had put a 9v pp3 battery in the pocket of my boilersuit, which had shorted out on the coins, screws and other metal junk in there. It got a lot hotter than I expected it would.
(dave likes cheese, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:59, Reply)

A rather inept one but....
When I was at school myself and a friend decided to spray most of the contents of a deodourant can into a small plastic lemonade bottle and ignite it in a crowded hallway while going to our next class. The result was a fairly large fireball rather than the explosion we had hoped (which was lucky considering my accomplice was holding said bottle in his hands). We were apprehended the next day due and suspended. The reason on the suspension slip and my record: "Bomb making".

Being Northern Irish I'm quite proud of recieving my first minor terrorist charge at 15!
(Mephs should get a bloody job, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:53, Reply)

"THAT one please!"
Over ten years ago, my first experience of "the internets" was a little bulletin board run out of a rich dudes house near Caterham in Surrey (I think). It was called IOWA - Input/Output World of Adventures. I'd play a game called Prodigy with a bunch of other nutters, and we ended up getting on really well.

One of them was a particularly crazy loon. I must look him up and get him to post some of his tales on the QotW. Anyway, his online name was Ventor, and he liked to mess with peoples minds.

He knew all about the tricks that can be had with lighter fuel, and his favourite post-pub pasttime was to scare chip shop owners in Staines, where he used to live.

He'd wander in and ask for a pie and chips. When the chippie asked "What type, mate?" he'd raise a flaming hand and, in a spooky voice, say "THAT one, please!". He often got chased out of the shop but they usually saw the funny side of it after a while...
(kiwanotree Meh, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:50, Reply)

Just talking to an old school mate
And he reminded me of the time I took apart shotgun shells for the little semi spheres of joy :)

I packed the charge into a metal test tube like holder from a centrifuge, hammered the end shut and with a home made fuse (length of masking tape with a 10:1 sugar:potassium permanginate mix) set it off in the woods near school.

I was almost deaf for a month. The old oak tree it was resting near was felled about 3 months later...
(Woodgie is back, but for how long?, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:39, Reply)

I was a bit of a firebug when I was younger.
I've honestly no idea how or why it started but when I discovered that nail varnish remover was flammable (around the age of 9), it was like a new toy.

I'd experiment with all manner of plastic items, including my younger brothers toys - not out of malice for him, but because fire fascinated me. I burned (off top of head):

- his Texas Instruments 'Major Morgan' educational electronic toy
- a couple of his plastic cars
- the handles on a couple of screwdrivers
- 'battle damaging' some of my Star Wars vehicles and my Black Hole robot, V.I.N.C.E.N.T.

Of course, I had to conceal these experiments and so they went down the back of the drawers in the kitchen. I was found out when the amount of carrier bags in the drawers started impeding their opening. Removing the drawers, my handiwork was discovered.

I got a damn good shouting at - my parents had not long had the kitchen redecorated after a chip-pan fire during a spate of late-night (and no-doubt drunken) chip making by my old man destroyed the kitchen!

There you go - two fire tales for one!
(Green-Alsatian, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:32, Reply)

I bought one of those Airzooka things.
We got drunk and filled it with butane lighter fuel. My idea was that we could fire balls of flame, so my pissed mate held a lighter in front of it whilst I operated it. All it did was blow out the lighter, so I tried putting the lighter inside the butane filled airzooka. I'm amazed it didn't explode; instead it ignited inside the bucket shaped device and started to melt the plastic.

So what would YOU have done reader?

Probably not what I did.

I blew directly into the airzooka really hard to try to blow out the flames.

Apparently my head was engulfed in flames as I turned the airzooka into a giant blowtorch, burning my face lobster red and making the skin taut and painful.It hurt; even my lips blistered.

And about a year later I tried running a parrafin blowlamp on petrol. It exploded, and I had to go to the burns unit every day to have my dressings changed for almost a month. I remember the skin hanging from my hand. I wish I couldn't remember that in retrospect.

uurrrrg. I guess I'm just stupid.
( Spaniels Ears, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:28, Reply)

Bloody drunks and lighters
I got locked out of my house so I decided to go and stay at my mates house. When I got round there he was slaughtered. All well and good, we laughed at him as he tried to burn us with his lighter. After a while this got boring so we told him to behave. Que him yelling "right thats it" and he disappeared into his bedroom. Then out he comes with a can of linx which is now in fact a flame thrower. Luckily none of us got too burt before we managed to wrestle the can off him!

What is it with drunks and fire?
(xlux, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:21, Reply)

Argh
A good few years ago I was quite a big stoner, and I was living at home with the old dears. One night, I'd had a joint out of my bedroom window, and fell asleep listening to my naff sanyo stereo... which decided to catch fire while I was in the land of nod...

Was woken up a while later by the sound of my TV imploding with the heat, cue me running around me room in me boxers, couldn't see a thing and was chocking on flaming plastic fumes, found the door but couldn't find the handle... panicked and started screaming like a little girl! Me dad eventually came upstairs and let me out of the room then went off to get everybody else out of the house, and in my stoned state thought I needed to get water and chuck it in the bedroom to put out the fire(which I couldnt even see for the smoke). So off I trot downstairs to find a bucket, and the closest thing I could find was a casserole dish soaking in the sink from tea... by the time I'd got upstairs with it, it was nearly empty and I had bits of carrot and beef all over me...

Well the fire service arrives, get up stairs and start putting the fire out, while chucking flamable stuff out of the front window... which included my jeans which contained nearly half ounce of pot that I'd procurred earlier that day... Thank god my little sister clocked it flying outof my pocket in to the street, she went and picked it up before the old dears/a fireman/a copper could pick it up :o)

Was coughing/snotting up black shite for a fortnight afterwards...

Funnily, I won't leave owt plugged in overnight now!!
(strangeone456789, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:17, Reply)

.
When I was younger and had just discovered the joys of fire, The first thing I did was burn down my wendy house... wait it wasn't mine, it was in a pub garden.. whoops!
(deathphoiadeath, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 21:01, Reply)

Helluva way to wake up.
Once, just before waking, I was in my apartment having a dream about a guy who had a jar full of vomit (what would Freud say?). Every time he'd open it, the smell would just about knock me over.

I decided that this was a very dumb dream to be having (I much prefer the ones where me and Gloria Estefan are night managers as a giant Toys-R-Us) (what would Freud say?) and made myself wake up. Unfortunately, the smell lingered. Deciding that whole sleep thing is now ruined, I open my eyes to a room full of smoke.

I ran downstairs to the building manager, and we pounded on doors to find the source of the smoke. Turns out the guy directly below me had started frying eggs and had fallen back asleep, setting fire to the eggs.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:57, Reply)

A steaming pile of...
This is from many years ago now. My scout group arrived at camp and swiftly unpacked and erected the tents. A couple of lads got the fire started. This all took a little too long for a certain someone. He was desperate for a crap, so rather than waiting for the bog tent, he wandered off and did it in a plastic bag. Not knowing quite how to dispose of this, he chucked it on the fire.

Naturally enough, the bag melted, to reveal an enormous turd on an otherwise inviting fire.

He never quite lived that one down.
( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:56, Reply)

Hot Pants !
About 5 of us riding up the motorway to a bike rally. All of a sudden the lead bike started to smoke more than normal. We noticed that this was coming from his panniers that had dropped down onto his exhaust.

Seeing this the four of us tried to get his attention by waving and trying to overtake. Of cause he took this to be a challenge for a race.

Now the scene on the M6 consisted of 5 bike bikes in a sort of upturned V formation , doing speeds well in excess of the national speed limit , with the lead bike billowing out clouds of noxious gas , socks , underpants , tins of Newcastle Brown etc. Kind of like a drug induced Red Arrows display.

Eventually Mike (for this was whom it was )decides to pull over when the skin on his calf start to melt , we pull up behind him and in-between laughing and taking photos we eventually , using tins of lager put his leg and bike out of their misery.

He spent the next half hour trying to source his more expensive belongings from the 2 mile stretch of motorway, and spent the rest of the weekend limping and trying to cadge money off people (never found his wallet)
(phildperv, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:46, Reply)

dr.h:
dr.h: i'm sure i remember reading about that in the Local Times. or something similar anyway. yay - another Herefordian.


so this isn't entirely pointless - a few years ago my uncle managed to blow up his caravan Brainiac-style.
he couldn't get the gas grill to light, so he toddled off to get some matches from the house, leaving the gas on and filling up the caravan until it was ignited by the storage heater.

the bits went everywhere.

the caravan was crappy anyway.
( Seventh is somewhat subdued, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:24, Reply)

Lightning is not my best friend..
Years ago in a particularly boring technical drawing class the mother of all thunder and lightning storms rolled over the school. We all gathered at the back of the class to watch and comment. About 15 mins after an excelent forked lightning strike about 3 miles away on a slight hill we noticed a fairly large plume of smoke.

Oh how we laughed and joked that " I bet that is some poor fuckers house gone up in flames snigger snigger". On closer inspection i realised that the small hill was the same small hill where i lived. Sufficed to say that when i got home an hour later the whole of Herefordshire Fire Brigade were still squirting what amounted to the total water supply of the local area onto what was left of a large victorian vicarage the my parents owned.

The most amazing thing was that the boys in wellies had managed to remove most of the furniture and paintings etc from the house while is was still burning down around them.
Particularly surprising was the mini grand piano. I went round the back to find 20 firemen in the kitchen (the only bit saved)drinking tea and grinning!
(Dr.H, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:18, Reply)

Firestarter!
I had a dear friend once who had a disturbing and troubling habit: Inadvertently setting fire to homes.

No, really. Her mantel had an enormous charred section where she'd had a candle burn down and melt onto the wood. The melted wax had caught fire, and charred a 6" circle on the oaken slab.

She once managed to set a fire in a bathroom, while in the tub. She never did really explain to us how that happened.

They were always small fires, and we used to joke about the smallish patches of burnt we'd find around her place.

However, one day I saved her home from almost certain destruction.

I lived next door to her, and noticed smoke coming out the back of her house. I also knew that she wasn't home at the time. Breaking in, I found the ENTIRE house completely filled with smoke, and no discernable source of flame.

At the time, she lived with an extremely sweet, incredibly stupid English bulldog named "Boris". The house was so smoky I couldn't see the walls, yet Boris was sitting on the couch, unperturbed, watching me with apparent disinterest. And in case you were thinking, "Oh, well, he was suffering from smoke inhalation!", no, the daft dog wasn't one whit less aware than normal nor one bit lethargic or otherwise showing any ill-effects, he was just too stupid to try and get away. So much for heroic barking or even basic survival instincts, apparently. I heaved Boris out the back door and began to search for the source of the flames, as my eyes watered and I began to choke.

Nothing. Billowing smoke, but no heat, no flames. And it smelled like burning wood, not food or plastic or other material.

After glancing at electrical outlets and making sure there were no obvious sources of open flame, I went into the kitchen. Stove was off. Oven was on.

What was in the oven, dear reader? A chunk of...wood.

Wood. That she'd put in the oven on low heat, to disinfect it so that she could use it in a fish tank. She'd forgotten about it and gone to the store.

I chucked the wood into the sink, opened every window and door in the house, and was waiting for her when she returned home, to explain to her how she'd better buy me a few beers, as I had just saved her home and her dog. I believe that was good for free drinks when we went out for several years.
(herbivorous, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 20:17, Reply)