Have you ever started a fire?
I went to sleep with candles burning - woke up to a circle of flame on the rug. Thought, "Tits. Better put the rug in the bath and turn the taps on." TIP: Don't put a burning rug into a fibre glass bath. I caused about £5000 of damage to the house and was coughing up smoky black phlegm for a few weeks. Can you beat that?
( , Tue 2 Mar 2004, 17:48)
I went to sleep with candles burning - woke up to a circle of flame on the rug. Thought, "Tits. Better put the rug in the bath and turn the taps on." TIP: Don't put a burning rug into a fibre glass bath. I caused about £5000 of damage to the house and was coughing up smoky black phlegm for a few weeks. Can you beat that?
( , Tue 2 Mar 2004, 17:48)
This question is now closed.
I was fire breathing once
when I confused the relatively safe liquid paraffin, for the decidedly unsafe acetone. My first thought was I had better move out of the way of this large blue fireball. My second thought was I am the large blue fireball. Later that night I told the nurse in casualty that I loved her and would she have my babies. She replied that I was in shock.
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 1:18, Reply)
when I confused the relatively safe liquid paraffin, for the decidedly unsafe acetone. My first thought was I had better move out of the way of this large blue fireball. My second thought was I am the large blue fireball. Later that night I told the nurse in casualty that I loved her and would she have my babies. She replied that I was in shock.
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 1:18, Reply)
I managed to
drunkenly tip a cigarette cherry onto an antique sofa once, it seemingly was all patted out and we carried on drinking... minutes later the remaining embers had gone around 3 inches into it... bad! but the worst thing of all was my mate who announced "Stand back!" and threw his glass of brandy on it... whoosh! Pretty blue flames lit up our eyes!
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 1:01, Reply)
drunkenly tip a cigarette cherry onto an antique sofa once, it seemingly was all patted out and we carried on drinking... minutes later the remaining embers had gone around 3 inches into it... bad! but the worst thing of all was my mate who announced "Stand back!" and threw his glass of brandy on it... whoosh! Pretty blue flames lit up our eyes!
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 1:01, Reply)
Reading Festival
at my campsite in Reading, we were just sitting around, having a few smokes and drinks, as you do, when we suddenly heard this loud "boom" looking around we saw nothing until a good ten seconds later, we saw the people in the site next to ours sprint out of their tent juggling a gas canister with a good ten foot flame on it...
naturally shitting it, incase our tents caught light, but they succeeded in putting it out.
i think it happened again about half hour later, but i can't really remember....
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 0:00, Reply)
at my campsite in Reading, we were just sitting around, having a few smokes and drinks, as you do, when we suddenly heard this loud "boom" looking around we saw nothing until a good ten seconds later, we saw the people in the site next to ours sprint out of their tent juggling a gas canister with a good ten foot flame on it...
naturally shitting it, incase our tents caught light, but they succeeded in putting it out.
i think it happened again about half hour later, but i can't really remember....
( , Thu 4 Mar 2004, 0:00, Reply)
I used to go up to the woods with some mates...
we generally started small fires...
untill i realised what a goldmine my garage was for explosives/fuel
i began ocasionally stealing an old coke bottle ful of petrol or meths to muck around with (producing some pretty walls of flame and some interesting firebombs)
this eventually lead to one occasion when i found a tin of propane/butane - the sort of can you get for a blowtorch - the one with the concave base that was a seperate bit of metal..
we started a fire and threw in the can - nothing happened - so when the fire had died down i was given the task of retriving the thing. by this point the base was well and truly convex... having being pushed out by the expanding gas. we decided to make a purpose built fire in the middle of the path...
this resulted in a huge bang and a 4m diameter fireball. enough said.
/Edit - just so's you know. i was 14 at the time.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:46, Reply)
we generally started small fires...
untill i realised what a goldmine my garage was for explosives/fuel
i began ocasionally stealing an old coke bottle ful of petrol or meths to muck around with (producing some pretty walls of flame and some interesting firebombs)
this eventually lead to one occasion when i found a tin of propane/butane - the sort of can you get for a blowtorch - the one with the concave base that was a seperate bit of metal..
we started a fire and threw in the can - nothing happened - so when the fire had died down i was given the task of retriving the thing. by this point the base was well and truly convex... having being pushed out by the expanding gas. we decided to make a purpose built fire in the middle of the path...
this resulted in a huge bang and a 4m diameter fireball. enough said.
/Edit - just so's you know. i was 14 at the time.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:46, Reply)
The Joys Of Chemistry
Mr Sagar, if you're reading this, the whole of the old fourth year salutes you...
Mr Sagar was conducting an experiment to show how well sulphur burns in oxygen. He fills a little glass gas cylinder with 02 and proceeds to lower the burning sulphur into the pure oxygen. But nothing happens.
Mr Sagar remedies this by getting the HUGE tank of pure liquid oxygen, and jamming the nozzle into the cylinder. Cue huge explosion, 4 foot long flame, most of us on the front row losing at least some hair, and Mr Sagar dancing like a small man on fire trying to put his head and labcoat out...
Aaaaaaaaaah.......halcyon days....
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:15, Reply)
Mr Sagar, if you're reading this, the whole of the old fourth year salutes you...
Mr Sagar was conducting an experiment to show how well sulphur burns in oxygen. He fills a little glass gas cylinder with 02 and proceeds to lower the burning sulphur into the pure oxygen. But nothing happens.
Mr Sagar remedies this by getting the HUGE tank of pure liquid oxygen, and jamming the nozzle into the cylinder. Cue huge explosion, 4 foot long flame, most of us on the front row losing at least some hair, and Mr Sagar dancing like a small man on fire trying to put his head and labcoat out...
Aaaaaaaaaah.......halcyon days....
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:15, Reply)
Firey Bags
My mate and i decided to burn stuff and throw it out his windows. He got this shoe polish spray stuff and set fire to the whole can and chucked it out his window. What he didnt know that the entire flats rubbish bags had been put out that night by the oter tenants and they had promptly caught fire. It took us another 5 minutes to notice that half the front of the flat was on fire and when questioned by his psycho scottish flatmate we blamed it on some tramps.
That was a bit harsh.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:11, Reply)
My mate and i decided to burn stuff and throw it out his windows. He got this shoe polish spray stuff and set fire to the whole can and chucked it out his window. What he didnt know that the entire flats rubbish bags had been put out that night by the oter tenants and they had promptly caught fire. It took us another 5 minutes to notice that half the front of the flat was on fire and when questioned by his psycho scottish flatmate we blamed it on some tramps.
That was a bit harsh.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 23:11, Reply)
kind of burning - more exploding, really
I got home from a long drive home from work one day hungry, tired and in dire need of comfort food.
In our house we have an electric cooker and the hob takes a minute to warm up to full strength so I thought, in my tired and hungry way, that turning the hob on for a bit to warm up before I made beans on toast might be a good idea. I turned the hob on full (to make it warm up faster, right?) and sat myself down in front of the TV to wait for it to warm up.
Unfortunatly for me, the programme on TV was Ready Steady Cook and they were making Chicken Kiev - which made me want garlicky chicken goodness.
After a few minutes, I wandered back into the kitchen, got some mini kievs out of the freezer (I was tired/hungry and could't be bothered to make kievs - why bother? there were perfectly good 'additive-enhanced' kiev substitutes in the freezer!), put them in the oven, got a plate out of the cupboard and put it on top of the oven and went back to vegging in front of the box.
A minute or so later there was a very loud 'SMASH' sound some the kitchen. I went to investigate...
...I'd put my plate on top of the hob I had been preheating and had forgotten about. The plate smashed. Bits of the plate went behind the freezer. Bits of hot dinner plate burnt a hole in the lino on my kitchen floor.
I wish I'd seen the explosion - at least then I would be able to say that the whole sorry event had been entertaining.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:55, Reply)
I got home from a long drive home from work one day hungry, tired and in dire need of comfort food.
In our house we have an electric cooker and the hob takes a minute to warm up to full strength so I thought, in my tired and hungry way, that turning the hob on for a bit to warm up before I made beans on toast might be a good idea. I turned the hob on full (to make it warm up faster, right?) and sat myself down in front of the TV to wait for it to warm up.
Unfortunatly for me, the programme on TV was Ready Steady Cook and they were making Chicken Kiev - which made me want garlicky chicken goodness.
After a few minutes, I wandered back into the kitchen, got some mini kievs out of the freezer (I was tired/hungry and could't be bothered to make kievs - why bother? there were perfectly good 'additive-enhanced' kiev substitutes in the freezer!), put them in the oven, got a plate out of the cupboard and put it on top of the oven and went back to vegging in front of the box.
A minute or so later there was a very loud 'SMASH' sound some the kitchen. I went to investigate...
...I'd put my plate on top of the hob I had been preheating and had forgotten about. The plate smashed. Bits of the plate went behind the freezer. Bits of hot dinner plate burnt a hole in the lino on my kitchen floor.
I wish I'd seen the explosion - at least then I would be able to say that the whole sorry event had been entertaining.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:55, Reply)
blasting powder
My great uncle was Italian. In his youth (that is the 1930s) he worked on the roads in the alps, blasting through rock to cut proper roads where once there had only been donkey paths. He died in the late 80s leaving a tumbledown farmhouse in a rather sweet alpine balley behind him.
Exploring it last year, we ventured into a small attic space we'd never found before (we've been in and about the place since we were kids, and never been up there before). Amongst the crap was a big wooden box full of 2kg paper sacks marked something like "Società esplosiva di Torino" and full of what looked like shiny gravel.
Not sure entirely what it was (but counting on haivng uncommon fun) we poured a small amount out on the ground and lit it (as you do) - it glowed white so bright it burned your eyes and then went out.
"Fucking great" we said - homemade fireworks - lets see what happens when we pour a rather large pile out and chuck a lump of glowing charcoal at it. What happened was (i) short pause (ii) brillaint white light (iii) the most monumental boom echoing down the valley (iv) bits of shit flying everwhere (thankfully there was a small wall to jump behind) (v) mushroom cloud about 40 ft in air (vi) hole in ground where tarmac had been.
We spent the next couple of hours shitting ourselves, paranoid that the Italian police would be down on us as some sort of mad alpine terrorists. And dumped the rest of the blasting granules into the river for safety. Thank goodness no-one had a fag lit when we found the box-full...what on earth he'd been doing stockpiling it for 50 years, I don't know...
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:22, Reply)
My great uncle was Italian. In his youth (that is the 1930s) he worked on the roads in the alps, blasting through rock to cut proper roads where once there had only been donkey paths. He died in the late 80s leaving a tumbledown farmhouse in a rather sweet alpine balley behind him.
Exploring it last year, we ventured into a small attic space we'd never found before (we've been in and about the place since we were kids, and never been up there before). Amongst the crap was a big wooden box full of 2kg paper sacks marked something like "Società esplosiva di Torino" and full of what looked like shiny gravel.
Not sure entirely what it was (but counting on haivng uncommon fun) we poured a small amount out on the ground and lit it (as you do) - it glowed white so bright it burned your eyes and then went out.
"Fucking great" we said - homemade fireworks - lets see what happens when we pour a rather large pile out and chuck a lump of glowing charcoal at it. What happened was (i) short pause (ii) brillaint white light (iii) the most monumental boom echoing down the valley (iv) bits of shit flying everwhere (thankfully there was a small wall to jump behind) (v) mushroom cloud about 40 ft in air (vi) hole in ground where tarmac had been.
We spent the next couple of hours shitting ourselves, paranoid that the Italian police would be down on us as some sort of mad alpine terrorists. And dumped the rest of the blasting granules into the river for safety. Thank goodness no-one had a fag lit when we found the box-full...what on earth he'd been doing stockpiling it for 50 years, I don't know...
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:22, Reply)
Not me but....
a mate of mine (must have been, ooh, five or six years now) and I, decided one day that we were going to go and make bombs. Not knowing much about this sort of thing myself I was sort of relying on him to come up with the goods.
Anyway, we went scavenging around his house for things to make bombs with. We needed something metal to put it all in, so we nicked a full tin of baked beans out of the cupboard (we couldn't find any empty ones). We also managed to procure a whole bog roll and some lighter fluid (or something similar, I don't really remember) and went off down the field to go and make this bomb.
Now this lad is pretty good with things like this (growing up with guns, and his Dad being a loon, I think he still might be the gamekeeper at Chatsworth House, anyway) so I left it up to him to make this bomb. He happened to have a pen knife so he pierced a hole in the top of the can to tip the beans out. Then proceeding to get this toilet roll, and cram as much of it as humanly possible into the (now empty) tin, leaving a foot-long length sticking out of the top to act as a fuse.
Then comes this lighter fluid/whatever that was squirted in in copious amounts. I think we actually used a whole tin/can/bottle of this stuff.
Now the idea was that one was going to light the fuse, while the other held it, arm held back, ready to throw it as far as humanly possible. We knew it was going to go up fast, but we didn't know it would be *that* fast.
Basically, the second this thing was lit (by me), this long fuse covered in lighter fluid burst into fire and went straight into the tin. And promptly exploded. While it was still in my mate's hand. I still don't know how any of those pieces of metal didnt kill either me or him - I caught one down the side of the face, while he had half a red hot baked bean tin stuck in his hand. I got him home and he was as white as a sheet, poor lad - luckily his Dad was cool about it and took my mate to the hospital before his Mum came home (she was at work at the time).
He still has the *massive* scars in his hand, he had to have about 30 stitches. I told my Dad that we were playing and got smacked around the head - it looked like that sort of thing, cause by that point it was all swelled up with this big cut in it. Ugh. Got away scot-free an' all.
So there you have it. Kids, don't play with beans. I mean fire.
EDIT: Whoops, sorry for length of post!
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:18, Reply)
a mate of mine (must have been, ooh, five or six years now) and I, decided one day that we were going to go and make bombs. Not knowing much about this sort of thing myself I was sort of relying on him to come up with the goods.
Anyway, we went scavenging around his house for things to make bombs with. We needed something metal to put it all in, so we nicked a full tin of baked beans out of the cupboard (we couldn't find any empty ones). We also managed to procure a whole bog roll and some lighter fluid (or something similar, I don't really remember) and went off down the field to go and make this bomb.
Now this lad is pretty good with things like this (growing up with guns, and his Dad being a loon, I think he still might be the gamekeeper at Chatsworth House, anyway) so I left it up to him to make this bomb. He happened to have a pen knife so he pierced a hole in the top of the can to tip the beans out. Then proceeding to get this toilet roll, and cram as much of it as humanly possible into the (now empty) tin, leaving a foot-long length sticking out of the top to act as a fuse.
Then comes this lighter fluid/whatever that was squirted in in copious amounts. I think we actually used a whole tin/can/bottle of this stuff.
Now the idea was that one was going to light the fuse, while the other held it, arm held back, ready to throw it as far as humanly possible. We knew it was going to go up fast, but we didn't know it would be *that* fast.
Basically, the second this thing was lit (by me), this long fuse covered in lighter fluid burst into fire and went straight into the tin. And promptly exploded. While it was still in my mate's hand. I still don't know how any of those pieces of metal didnt kill either me or him - I caught one down the side of the face, while he had half a red hot baked bean tin stuck in his hand. I got him home and he was as white as a sheet, poor lad - luckily his Dad was cool about it and took my mate to the hospital before his Mum came home (she was at work at the time).
He still has the *massive* scars in his hand, he had to have about 30 stitches. I told my Dad that we were playing and got smacked around the head - it looked like that sort of thing, cause by that point it was all swelled up with this big cut in it. Ugh. Got away scot-free an' all.
So there you have it. Kids, don't play with beans. I mean fire.
EDIT: Whoops, sorry for length of post!
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:18, Reply)
not me
but some people I know...honest
Chemistry was always a source of fun...
Investigating Substances, age approx. 15 - whole class proceeds to set fire to said substances, particularly the sulfur, wax and large piles of magnesium. hint: powder gives a more satisfying bang.
Sword-fights with lit bunsen burners...followed shortly by and excursion for the fire extinguisher.
Our teacher used to regularly set fire to his desk when demonstrating...it burned green and blue and purple depending on what he'd been spilling on it.
Now, this isn't fire, but it does involve smoke...chemistry last year...a whole 16 years old, we were, just into the sixth form...we're doing some experiment, involving H2SO4 probably, and we do what all good students do when we're done...pour the waste down the sink...cue steady smoke from the plug hole and a massive panic for a whole 5 seconds...then everyone else joins in.
My physics teacher, as a student, apparently once poured liquid nitrogen down the toilet...that's not even slightly relevant but you can imagine the results...mmm, frosty
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:13, Reply)
but some people I know...honest
Chemistry was always a source of fun...
Investigating Substances, age approx. 15 - whole class proceeds to set fire to said substances, particularly the sulfur, wax and large piles of magnesium. hint: powder gives a more satisfying bang.
Sword-fights with lit bunsen burners...followed shortly by and excursion for the fire extinguisher.
Our teacher used to regularly set fire to his desk when demonstrating...it burned green and blue and purple depending on what he'd been spilling on it.
Now, this isn't fire, but it does involve smoke...chemistry last year...a whole 16 years old, we were, just into the sixth form...we're doing some experiment, involving H2SO4 probably, and we do what all good students do when we're done...pour the waste down the sink...cue steady smoke from the plug hole and a massive panic for a whole 5 seconds...then everyone else joins in.
My physics teacher, as a student, apparently once poured liquid nitrogen down the toilet...that's not even slightly relevant but you can imagine the results...mmm, frosty
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:13, Reply)
Naked Fire Starter
Once, in the dim misty days of my 2nd year of uni, I once set a rug on fire.
T'was an Indian, or Persian rug, belonging to my mother and father. I was gearing up for another night of unsuccessful and frankly pathetic attempts at pulling, and part of the ritual was the shower. Being spangley and smelling like a teenager who just discovered the POWER OF AFTERSHAVE.
So off I toddle to the shower, and have a nice long hot shower, and return to my room.
Now my student house was freezing, so I left my gas fire on, to warm it so I returned to a warm and lovely room.
The rug, for your information, was in front the very old gas fire.
Now, I had not noticed the rug had crept up to the air intake of the gas fire. It had been happily cooking for the ½ hour shower.
I wandered in, looked at the fire, thought “Burning a bit orange, I’ll move the rug, perhaps it needs more air”. So I moved it, and lo! T’was all a-flame, and burning merrily. Burning wool smells horrid.
I was thus confronted by a burning rug, in my towel. Do I run? Do I use my towel to beat the flame back?
So Naked I beat the flames. I could not call for help, but I won. The Rug was saved, and all my housemates knew about it was the smell of burning wool. I did not need to run into the winter cold nekkid, my modesty was saved, and all people said about me was that I burned whole sheep.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:11, Reply)
Once, in the dim misty days of my 2nd year of uni, I once set a rug on fire.
T'was an Indian, or Persian rug, belonging to my mother and father. I was gearing up for another night of unsuccessful and frankly pathetic attempts at pulling, and part of the ritual was the shower. Being spangley and smelling like a teenager who just discovered the POWER OF AFTERSHAVE.
So off I toddle to the shower, and have a nice long hot shower, and return to my room.
Now my student house was freezing, so I left my gas fire on, to warm it so I returned to a warm and lovely room.
The rug, for your information, was in front the very old gas fire.
Now, I had not noticed the rug had crept up to the air intake of the gas fire. It had been happily cooking for the ½ hour shower.
I wandered in, looked at the fire, thought “Burning a bit orange, I’ll move the rug, perhaps it needs more air”. So I moved it, and lo! T’was all a-flame, and burning merrily. Burning wool smells horrid.
I was thus confronted by a burning rug, in my towel. Do I run? Do I use my towel to beat the flame back?
So Naked I beat the flames. I could not call for help, but I won. The Rug was saved, and all my housemates knew about it was the smell of burning wool. I did not need to run into the winter cold nekkid, my modesty was saved, and all people said about me was that I burned whole sheep.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:11, Reply)
Quite the opposite of starting a fire,
but a result of someone playing with fire. Living in the southeastern bit of America, I'd say about a quarter of the population are drunken buttmongers. Most hospitals have a building or something for recovering alcoholics/drug addicts. I know someone who works here, and fun stories are common. This happened last week about. An old man sits in a room. Alone. With a lighter. He gets bored, and decides to set random bits of paper and anything else he can find on fire. Eventually he gets bored and holds mr. lighty up to the lovely shiny fire sprinklers. Foosh! Alarms go off, water everywhere. The patients rush around in a stupor, the employees panic, and the expensive hi-tech equipment fizzles quietly. In the end, about a million dollars' damage is done. I love alcoholics. :|
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:10, Reply)
but a result of someone playing with fire. Living in the southeastern bit of America, I'd say about a quarter of the population are drunken buttmongers. Most hospitals have a building or something for recovering alcoholics/drug addicts. I know someone who works here, and fun stories are common. This happened last week about. An old man sits in a room. Alone. With a lighter. He gets bored, and decides to set random bits of paper and anything else he can find on fire. Eventually he gets bored and holds mr. lighty up to the lovely shiny fire sprinklers. Foosh! Alarms go off, water everywhere. The patients rush around in a stupor, the employees panic, and the expensive hi-tech equipment fizzles quietly. In the end, about a million dollars' damage is done. I love alcoholics. :|
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:10, Reply)
My friend's mom's apartment
My mate's mom's apartment burst into flame because he left his cigarette can out and her neighbor was told to put new sand in it. He didn't have any sand and was a bit addled so he used the sandiest stuff he found- Comet toilet cleaner. He spat on it and it fizzed so he dumped diffrent liquids on it, like beer etc. which ruined it, so he dumped in more of the stuff until he tried Zippo fluid... mate's mom didn't notice it and flicked a lit cigarette on it, causing a huge monumental WHOOOOOOM like a bomb going off and set their apartment on fire. Luckily they were moving and it was all cleared out exept for the ash can and the large original painting by a local artist. That was on loan from an art museum. They sued the neighbor for a lot. a LOT. They had to live at our house for ages until it was over,
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:02, Reply)
My mate's mom's apartment burst into flame because he left his cigarette can out and her neighbor was told to put new sand in it. He didn't have any sand and was a bit addled so he used the sandiest stuff he found- Comet toilet cleaner. He spat on it and it fizzed so he dumped diffrent liquids on it, like beer etc. which ruined it, so he dumped in more of the stuff until he tried Zippo fluid... mate's mom didn't notice it and flicked a lit cigarette on it, causing a huge monumental WHOOOOOOM like a bomb going off and set their apartment on fire. Luckily they were moving and it was all cleared out exept for the ash can and the large original painting by a local artist. That was on loan from an art museum. They sued the neighbor for a lot. a LOT. They had to live at our house for ages until it was over,
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 22:02, Reply)
one night long long ago
...musta been 16 or so, me and my mate Neg got utterly pissed on cheap lager and went on a tour of posh suburbia, vandalising and igniting a few lawn ornaments. It had been a wet spring, so no major harm (I hear). No chemical accelerants used, just Zippo lighters and teenage evil.
We went back the next day and kidnapped a lawn gnome. This gnome then went on a long road trip with some mates, and they'd send back Polaroids attached to postcards of their trip. Yes, I know you saw that in Amelie, but it happened like twelve years prior.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:57, Reply)
...musta been 16 or so, me and my mate Neg got utterly pissed on cheap lager and went on a tour of posh suburbia, vandalising and igniting a few lawn ornaments. It had been a wet spring, so no major harm (I hear). No chemical accelerants used, just Zippo lighters and teenage evil.
We went back the next day and kidnapped a lawn gnome. This gnome then went on a long road trip with some mates, and they'd send back Polaroids attached to postcards of their trip. Yes, I know you saw that in Amelie, but it happened like twelve years prior.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:57, Reply)
More fire crew
The best fire I ever made was when I tried to rejuvenate a giant candle with a selection of matches. I then went to sleep, I was on the sofa in my friend's bedroom by the way.
A few hours later I awoke to the sound of wax pouring out of the side onto the floor, the candle now a raging inferno. I did manage to put it out, but the carpet was ruined.
Another friend of mine can go better than that by quite a way though. He was left to look after his parents house while they went on holiday and fell asleep with a tealight on top of the TV. When he woke up the TV was on fire. Being still drunk and only just awake he though the best thing to do was to go to the kitchen and get a wet tea towel to throw over the still plugged in TV.
Half an hour later there was a smouldering heap of stone where the house had been. His parents returned two days later.
Not funny at all really.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:41, Reply)
The best fire I ever made was when I tried to rejuvenate a giant candle with a selection of matches. I then went to sleep, I was on the sofa in my friend's bedroom by the way.
A few hours later I awoke to the sound of wax pouring out of the side onto the floor, the candle now a raging inferno. I did manage to put it out, but the carpet was ruined.
Another friend of mine can go better than that by quite a way though. He was left to look after his parents house while they went on holiday and fell asleep with a tealight on top of the TV. When he woke up the TV was on fire. Being still drunk and only just awake he though the best thing to do was to go to the kitchen and get a wet tea towel to throw over the still plugged in TV.
Half an hour later there was a smouldering heap of stone where the house had been. His parents returned two days later.
Not funny at all really.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:41, Reply)
Martin the muppet
Not my story, but hey...
Bunch of mates I used to 'relax' with of an evening were sat in the pub across the road from their flat drinking on a sunday afternoon.
About half an hour after someone comments on the blue flashing lights that can be seen through the frosted glass of the saloon bar, Martin tells everyone they should see his room when they get back, seeing as he'd sorted out some groovy lighting for himself....
In order to move a lamp across his room, Martin had gone and twisted together some wires and insulated them with sellotape. This cable ran across his room and under his bed (consisting of a matress on the floor.)
A student has never sobered so quickly as Martin when he left the pub to find everyone's charred and sodden belongings being piled up in the garden by the local fire brigade.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:24, Reply)
Not my story, but hey...
Bunch of mates I used to 'relax' with of an evening were sat in the pub across the road from their flat drinking on a sunday afternoon.
About half an hour after someone comments on the blue flashing lights that can be seen through the frosted glass of the saloon bar, Martin tells everyone they should see his room when they get back, seeing as he'd sorted out some groovy lighting for himself....
In order to move a lamp across his room, Martin had gone and twisted together some wires and insulated them with sellotape. This cable ran across his room and under his bed (consisting of a matress on the floor.)
A student has never sobered so quickly as Martin when he left the pub to find everyone's charred and sodden belongings being piled up in the garden by the local fire brigade.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:24, Reply)
My first run in with the old bill
was as a result of my inquisitiveness as to what the results would be of a firework display in a phone box. It was extremely entertaining, but as I had taken the precaution of booting out a couple of glass panels (the old red phone boxes) to make sure there was plenty of oxygen (young and simple)and as the experiment was conducted opposite a petrol station and one of the witnesses - Gary Brown, 15 Cheltenham Crescent, Thornton Cleveleys, Lancs - was a grasser I got 'done' for it. Fortunately it was only an official caution at the local nick and there was a girl there that day being 'done' for drunk and disorderly who 15 years later I shagged after bringing the episode up in a nightclub (she was a stripper by then). Good things come to those who burn.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:22, Reply)
was as a result of my inquisitiveness as to what the results would be of a firework display in a phone box. It was extremely entertaining, but as I had taken the precaution of booting out a couple of glass panels (the old red phone boxes) to make sure there was plenty of oxygen (young and simple)and as the experiment was conducted opposite a petrol station and one of the witnesses - Gary Brown, 15 Cheltenham Crescent, Thornton Cleveleys, Lancs - was a grasser I got 'done' for it. Fortunately it was only an official caution at the local nick and there was a girl there that day being 'done' for drunk and disorderly who 15 years later I shagged after bringing the episode up in a nightclub (she was a stripper by then). Good things come to those who burn.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:22, Reply)
fire
bar antics again,playing with free matches yay.we put 2 boxes worth in one plastic shotglass.
we set them alight and plopped another shotglass on top with a small gap to make sure the fire didnt go out.
it didnt.
it set both shotglasses on fire and then parts of the table.
i had to pour my drink over it to put it out,melted plastic everywhere yay.
we ran
how we ran
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:21, Reply)
bar antics again,playing with free matches yay.we put 2 boxes worth in one plastic shotglass.
we set them alight and plopped another shotglass on top with a small gap to make sure the fire didnt go out.
it didnt.
it set both shotglasses on fire and then parts of the table.
i had to pour my drink over it to put it out,melted plastic everywhere yay.
we ran
how we ran
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:21, Reply)
Tales of Chemistry...
Bonfires on the heatproof mats were an old favourite of mine. There was one time when we nestled a coil of magnesium in the centre of the mass of splints. It was burning happily as usual, then began to glow...... miraculously we managed to tip the whole thing (which was pretty sizeable) into the sink before the teacher completed her walk to the back of the room to investigate the commotion.
Oh, and one time my mate put the bunsen on a gas tap, then went off to light a splint off someone else's flame. Unbeknownst to him, someone changed the tap that his bunsen was attached to while he was away. He comes back, turns on the tap that he thought had a bunsen on it, and stood casually holding the splint over the bunsen. eventually enough gas leaked out to meet the splint and create a lovely fireball, which meant that he was trying to pick the singed bits out of what remained of his eyebrows for the entire bus journey home.
oh, and i've set two of my mates on fire in the past. They're just such an easy target when they're giving you a hug.....
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:14, Reply)
Bonfires on the heatproof mats were an old favourite of mine. There was one time when we nestled a coil of magnesium in the centre of the mass of splints. It was burning happily as usual, then began to glow...... miraculously we managed to tip the whole thing (which was pretty sizeable) into the sink before the teacher completed her walk to the back of the room to investigate the commotion.
Oh, and one time my mate put the bunsen on a gas tap, then went off to light a splint off someone else's flame. Unbeknownst to him, someone changed the tap that his bunsen was attached to while he was away. He comes back, turns on the tap that he thought had a bunsen on it, and stood casually holding the splint over the bunsen. eventually enough gas leaked out to meet the splint and create a lovely fireball, which meant that he was trying to pick the singed bits out of what remained of his eyebrows for the entire bus journey home.
oh, and i've set two of my mates on fire in the past. They're just such an easy target when they're giving you a hug.....
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:14, Reply)
BBQ'd me
The mrs wanted a barbeque. The charcoal was damp, as ever, so I liberally doused it in meths. Threw on a match and watched it burn merrily away. Then fizzle out. It needed more meths. Having watched 999 and seen the headless wonders who peer over their fire while pouring on petrol, I was wise and careful. Crouching down I poured on more meths at arms length.
There was a great wooshing sound, a blast of warm wind and a giant fireball filled the sky.
The meths bottle I was holding was shooting flame, I dropped it, only to cause a sea of fire to spread across the patio. Which was less of a concern to me than the fact that my clothes were on fire. I managed to pat out my burning trousers, but the t-shirt was too far gone and had to be pulled off. To this day I only have chest hair on one half of my body.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:06, Reply)
The mrs wanted a barbeque. The charcoal was damp, as ever, so I liberally doused it in meths. Threw on a match and watched it burn merrily away. Then fizzle out. It needed more meths. Having watched 999 and seen the headless wonders who peer over their fire while pouring on petrol, I was wise and careful. Crouching down I poured on more meths at arms length.
There was a great wooshing sound, a blast of warm wind and a giant fireball filled the sky.
The meths bottle I was holding was shooting flame, I dropped it, only to cause a sea of fire to spread across the patio. Which was less of a concern to me than the fact that my clothes were on fire. I managed to pat out my burning trousers, but the t-shirt was too far gone and had to be pulled off. To this day I only have chest hair on one half of my body.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:06, Reply)
nah sorry but nthis is the best.
ok. i, shredy manners burt the maintenece mens shed down at school. actually it was more of a barn but anyway i dont go to that school anymore.
barns dimensions. 30 m by 50 m and 15m high.
with red diesle and oil stored in large 50 gallon drums inside.
hehe.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:01, Reply)
ok. i, shredy manners burt the maintenece mens shed down at school. actually it was more of a barn but anyway i dont go to that school anymore.
barns dimensions. 30 m by 50 m and 15m high.
with red diesle and oil stored in large 50 gallon drums inside.
hehe.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 21:01, Reply)
Nothing much (again)
I was about five or so, me and my younger sister shared the room then. You can imagine the scene, me pissed off because my sister is now moving into a room of her own that cost loads to re-model and I got nothing.
She starts yapping in her usual annoying way while reading Winnie the Pooh or some shit like that. I can't stand it so I wander downstairs for some food to calm me.
My dad's lighter was sitting on the table and I knew what it was, he was a heavy smoker then. I run up to the room, calm but she annoys me even more because of her nagging and whineing (is that a word?).
I rip the book out of her hands and set it alight from the corner. The flames spread to the wallpaper and the whole house would have caught on fire if my dad wasn't in to stop it.
Needless to say I got punished as only Satan deserves. My sister started gloating, So I punched her. I got in even more trouble. Shit.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:57, Reply)
I was about five or so, me and my younger sister shared the room then. You can imagine the scene, me pissed off because my sister is now moving into a room of her own that cost loads to re-model and I got nothing.
She starts yapping in her usual annoying way while reading Winnie the Pooh or some shit like that. I can't stand it so I wander downstairs for some food to calm me.
My dad's lighter was sitting on the table and I knew what it was, he was a heavy smoker then. I run up to the room, calm but she annoys me even more because of her nagging and whineing (is that a word?).
I rip the book out of her hands and set it alight from the corner. The flames spread to the wallpaper and the whole house would have caught on fire if my dad wasn't in to stop it.
Needless to say I got punished as only Satan deserves. My sister started gloating, So I punched her. I got in even more trouble. Shit.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:57, Reply)
Bar antics
Well, i like to think of myself as a bit of a pyro, although actual damamge caused is minimal.
Anyhow, compared to most of the stories here, this is pretty tame, but it was funny at the time all the same.
Down in the bar in my hall, a load of us were sat round having a pint or two, like us students do. Anyhow, one of us, Tom, was fiddling with a bic lighter, cranking it up like everyone does. He lights it once, and nearly sets his eybrows on fire. Not put off, he continued cranking.
A few minutes later, he sparks it again. Flames literally burst from the lighter, enveloping it and half of his hand. we look round and see these huge flames (he'd pretty much cranked the little thing off). Being quite disturbed by this, tom decides to fling the lighter away.
At me.
Said fireball bounces off my shoulder, which is pretty startling, and lands on the bench next to me, scorcing the fabric. cue lots of shouting and beating to put out this little maniac lighter. Apparently with this trick he burnt up half the fuel in a brand new lighter in maybe 5 seconds.
I dont think tom plays with lighters anymore.
Long time lurker, first time poster
sorry about length for such a boring story
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:50, Reply)
Well, i like to think of myself as a bit of a pyro, although actual damamge caused is minimal.
Anyhow, compared to most of the stories here, this is pretty tame, but it was funny at the time all the same.
Down in the bar in my hall, a load of us were sat round having a pint or two, like us students do. Anyhow, one of us, Tom, was fiddling with a bic lighter, cranking it up like everyone does. He lights it once, and nearly sets his eybrows on fire. Not put off, he continued cranking.
A few minutes later, he sparks it again. Flames literally burst from the lighter, enveloping it and half of his hand. we look round and see these huge flames (he'd pretty much cranked the little thing off). Being quite disturbed by this, tom decides to fling the lighter away.
At me.
Said fireball bounces off my shoulder, which is pretty startling, and lands on the bench next to me, scorcing the fabric. cue lots of shouting and beating to put out this little maniac lighter. Apparently with this trick he burnt up half the fuel in a brand new lighter in maybe 5 seconds.
I dont think tom plays with lighters anymore.
Long time lurker, first time poster
sorry about length for such a boring story
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:50, Reply)
I EHAV TEH UPLAOD COPDEZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
last week i was going through some old stuff and found a rubber grip for some crutches. I was bored, so i soaked it in gas and put dry grass in it to make it funtabulous. After i lit it though, it started dripping flaming drops all over the place. i ran to throw in in the road, but the grip dripped all over the front yard w/o me knowing. I got the fire out, and when i turned around, over half of my yard was on fire.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:42, Reply)
last week i was going through some old stuff and found a rubber grip for some crutches. I was bored, so i soaked it in gas and put dry grass in it to make it funtabulous. After i lit it though, it started dripping flaming drops all over the place. i ran to throw in in the road, but the grip dripped all over the front yard w/o me knowing. I got the fire out, and when i turned around, over half of my yard was on fire.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:42, Reply)
always make sure your match is out
I once was lighting my BBQ with a match, and i naturally threw the match behind me and put on the steak. At this point in July the grass was very dry, and apparently quite flamable. About 2 minutes later i turned around to see half my backyard, and my wooden fence in flames. I quickly grabbed my water hose and tried to put it out, eventually i was successful. Later that night the police swung by my house and asked what i thought i was doing. After my explaination, they gave me the old, "What are you? A moron" look and left.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:13, Reply)
I once was lighting my BBQ with a match, and i naturally threw the match behind me and put on the steak. At this point in July the grass was very dry, and apparently quite flamable. About 2 minutes later i turned around to see half my backyard, and my wooden fence in flames. I quickly grabbed my water hose and tried to put it out, eventually i was successful. Later that night the police swung by my house and asked what i thought i was doing. After my explaination, they gave me the old, "What are you? A moron" look and left.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:13, Reply)
Sort of
My flatmate leaving a frying pan with a shallow covering of oil on the hob for too long resulted in a fire in my kitchen in halls a few years back. I announced the fire when I walked in with a casual comment to him as his back was turned to the inferno. His response was as nonchalant as mine as he turned round, looked at it for a couple of seconds and went "oh". We kind of decided that the fire was best put out. I thought the the fire blanket (provided in every kitchen) was a good start so I whipped out the blanket and smothered the pan thinking it would go out. the flames seemed to get brighter if anything and due to the warmth I felt, I moved back. As the oxgen got to the underside of the blanket it too set alight. I was somewhat taken aback that this alledgedly fireproof blanket was now on fire and we still had a flame filled frying pan. I ran around the kitchen with a buring blanket and my friend laughed while he dampened a tea towel and placed it over the frying pan, immediately extinguishing the fire meanwhile I hopped up and down on the fireblanket trying to put that out.
No damage other than a bit of soot on the ceiling and a knackered fire blanket.
We did chuckle when we had to go and ask for a new fire blanket and explained that we had burnt the last one.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:09, Reply)
My flatmate leaving a frying pan with a shallow covering of oil on the hob for too long resulted in a fire in my kitchen in halls a few years back. I announced the fire when I walked in with a casual comment to him as his back was turned to the inferno. His response was as nonchalant as mine as he turned round, looked at it for a couple of seconds and went "oh". We kind of decided that the fire was best put out. I thought the the fire blanket (provided in every kitchen) was a good start so I whipped out the blanket and smothered the pan thinking it would go out. the flames seemed to get brighter if anything and due to the warmth I felt, I moved back. As the oxgen got to the underside of the blanket it too set alight. I was somewhat taken aback that this alledgedly fireproof blanket was now on fire and we still had a flame filled frying pan. I ran around the kitchen with a buring blanket and my friend laughed while he dampened a tea towel and placed it over the frying pan, immediately extinguishing the fire meanwhile I hopped up and down on the fireblanket trying to put that out.
No damage other than a bit of soot on the ceiling and a knackered fire blanket.
We did chuckle when we had to go and ask for a new fire blanket and explained that we had burnt the last one.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 20:09, Reply)
Underwear of fire
at a party some 10 months or more ago we (well everyone but me) got a bit tipsy and decided that it'd be funny for one of us to spray deodourant on ourselves in the form of a bra and panties. Being the only sober one I was on 'burn watch' as they proceeded to set the guy on fire. Not likely the person who they were burning I walked off and let him burn. The next morning after the fire had been put out and what not we examined the lad and discovered he had 3rd degree burns in the shape of a bra and panties.
Luckily my mate is a paramedic in training and was able to tend to him somewhat before the trip to the burns unit at the nearby hospital.
I laughed. Alot.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:54, Reply)
at a party some 10 months or more ago we (well everyone but me) got a bit tipsy and decided that it'd be funny for one of us to spray deodourant on ourselves in the form of a bra and panties. Being the only sober one I was on 'burn watch' as they proceeded to set the guy on fire. Not likely the person who they were burning I walked off and let him burn. The next morning after the fire had been put out and what not we examined the lad and discovered he had 3rd degree burns in the shape of a bra and panties.
Luckily my mate is a paramedic in training and was able to tend to him somewhat before the trip to the burns unit at the nearby hospital.
I laughed. Alot.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:54, Reply)
The Terror of Tealights
Apologies in advance for length....
Last summer I was camping with a few mates up in Scotland. One campsite couldn't provide us with an electricity supply so we couldn't use our trusty cage lamp.
Not wanting to sit in the tent playing cards in the dark and cold, off my mate popped to the local Tescos returning with a crate of beer and a bag of tealights.
We artfully arranged the tealights on a plastic dinner plate, placed it in the porch of the tent and lit it. Cue about an hour of happy warm and lit card playing.
The trouble started when a squadron of suicidal crane-flies entered the tent and began to dive head first into the tealights, thus causing a wick effect allowing the flames from adjacent tealights to amalgamate into small infernos.
Now molten candle wax doesn't burn at the normal sort of temperatures you find in your average tealight, but the aforementioned infernos generated enough heat to get the wax burning. This caused flames about a foot high (in a tent porch about 5 feet high). Noticing this, and the fact that we were all sat the wrong side of our raging fire to get to the exit, we decided to put the flames out the most logical way - by pouring Tennents on them!
This was a serious mistake resulting in 4 foot high flames - remember the tent roof is 5 feet high - of course we'd forgotten about the chip pan effect of pouring water on fat fires. After about 2 seconds of frenzied swearing I forcefully booted the plate, flames and all, out the door and onto the grass where it burned peacefully.
Close inspection of the scene after it had all gone quiet revealed a hole the size of a tealight in the centre of the plastic plate, several tealights moulded to the plate and a fair few holes in the groundsheet.
Just for laughs, the next night we assembled as many tealights as possible on a disposable barbeque and lit it. Outside the tent. The tealights burned hot enough to weld their little metal casings to the metal grill of the barbeque, which became decidedly bent in several places!
I now have a (quite rational I feel) fear of tealights.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:25, Reply)
Apologies in advance for length....
Last summer I was camping with a few mates up in Scotland. One campsite couldn't provide us with an electricity supply so we couldn't use our trusty cage lamp.
Not wanting to sit in the tent playing cards in the dark and cold, off my mate popped to the local Tescos returning with a crate of beer and a bag of tealights.
We artfully arranged the tealights on a plastic dinner plate, placed it in the porch of the tent and lit it. Cue about an hour of happy warm and lit card playing.
The trouble started when a squadron of suicidal crane-flies entered the tent and began to dive head first into the tealights, thus causing a wick effect allowing the flames from adjacent tealights to amalgamate into small infernos.
Now molten candle wax doesn't burn at the normal sort of temperatures you find in your average tealight, but the aforementioned infernos generated enough heat to get the wax burning. This caused flames about a foot high (in a tent porch about 5 feet high). Noticing this, and the fact that we were all sat the wrong side of our raging fire to get to the exit, we decided to put the flames out the most logical way - by pouring Tennents on them!
This was a serious mistake resulting in 4 foot high flames - remember the tent roof is 5 feet high - of course we'd forgotten about the chip pan effect of pouring water on fat fires. After about 2 seconds of frenzied swearing I forcefully booted the plate, flames and all, out the door and onto the grass where it burned peacefully.
Close inspection of the scene after it had all gone quiet revealed a hole the size of a tealight in the centre of the plastic plate, several tealights moulded to the plate and a fair few holes in the groundsheet.
Just for laughs, the next night we assembled as many tealights as possible on a disposable barbeque and lit it. Outside the tent. The tealights burned hot enough to weld their little metal casings to the metal grill of the barbeque, which became decidedly bent in several places!
I now have a (quite rational I feel) fear of tealights.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:25, Reply)
Fire... obviously
When I was of student age, 16ish, myself and my girlfriend of the time decided we'd nip home do what any people of opposing genders are want to do during college lunchtimes.
Smoke pot.
We were happily tugging our way through our second joint in her bedroom and decided that we'd pop down to the kitchen for a cuppa.
After the requisite five minutes it takes to mke a decent cup of tea we went back up the stairs for some more smoke (I don't smoke anymore so I'm not really doing this to look big or anything. Ok? k.). I was slightly in front of her and I rounded the corner to her room first, by a good thirty seconds or so. Now, I've been accused by some as being the owner of a 'dry' sense of humour but I don't think even I was prepared for what happened.
I stood in the doorway, took a sip from my tea and slowly turned my head to face my girlfriend.
"Fire" I intoned calmly. "Fire".
"Yeah right, sure there's a fire in my room. Whatever."
"Fire" I repeated.
As she pushed past me the full scale of the inferno I was informing her about became apparant. The curtains had already gone up and were doing a good job of trying to ignite the ceiling via the curtain pole. The bed was starting to join the party too.
She made a mad leap for the bed and at this point I decided to help. Putting my tea down for later, I leapt to her aid (gallant aren't I?) and with the assistence of a sink plunger (no I didn't know why she had one in her room either. Then again, sixteen year old boys don't generally tend to know the workings of the other half of the species, so if if it really is plungers that make them work, then remember you heard it here first.) we managed to beat out the worst of the blaze on the bed and threw the rest out of the window, setting fire to next doors shed in the process.
Obviously we did rather a lot of damage, but her parents were rather liberal and we got off very lightly. Still; candles in the bedroom are a bad idea and it doesn't matter how much your other half may try and convince you otherwise you should heed the advice contained in the tale you have just read. Always keep a plunger next to your bed.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:11, Reply)
When I was of student age, 16ish, myself and my girlfriend of the time decided we'd nip home do what any people of opposing genders are want to do during college lunchtimes.
Smoke pot.
We were happily tugging our way through our second joint in her bedroom and decided that we'd pop down to the kitchen for a cuppa.
After the requisite five minutes it takes to mke a decent cup of tea we went back up the stairs for some more smoke (I don't smoke anymore so I'm not really doing this to look big or anything. Ok? k.). I was slightly in front of her and I rounded the corner to her room first, by a good thirty seconds or so. Now, I've been accused by some as being the owner of a 'dry' sense of humour but I don't think even I was prepared for what happened.
I stood in the doorway, took a sip from my tea and slowly turned my head to face my girlfriend.
"Fire" I intoned calmly. "Fire".
"Yeah right, sure there's a fire in my room. Whatever."
"Fire" I repeated.
As she pushed past me the full scale of the inferno I was informing her about became apparant. The curtains had already gone up and were doing a good job of trying to ignite the ceiling via the curtain pole. The bed was starting to join the party too.
She made a mad leap for the bed and at this point I decided to help. Putting my tea down for later, I leapt to her aid (gallant aren't I?) and with the assistence of a sink plunger (no I didn't know why she had one in her room either. Then again, sixteen year old boys don't generally tend to know the workings of the other half of the species, so if if it really is plungers that make them work, then remember you heard it here first.) we managed to beat out the worst of the blaze on the bed and threw the rest out of the window, setting fire to next doors shed in the process.
Obviously we did rather a lot of damage, but her parents were rather liberal and we got off very lightly. Still; candles in the bedroom are a bad idea and it doesn't matter how much your other half may try and convince you otherwise you should heed the advice contained in the tale you have just read. Always keep a plunger next to your bed.
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 19:11, Reply)
memories of pyromania#2
oooh & back in the old days if you got all the powder out of those paper bangers (prob don't sell them any more) & put it into a crumpled tissue, then chucked it on the ground & whacked it with summat - it makes holes in concrete - woo!
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 18:55, Reply)
oooh & back in the old days if you got all the powder out of those paper bangers (prob don't sell them any more) & put it into a crumpled tissue, then chucked it on the ground & whacked it with summat - it makes holes in concrete - woo!
( , Wed 3 Mar 2004, 18:55, Reply)
This question is now closed.