What's the most horrific thing you've seen?
What is going on?
Lightguy was walking home when he saw a fox eating a cat. As he watched, it threw up on the cat and then continued eating, having doused it in its own marinade.
Only this morning, Rachelswipe saw a tramp hock up a bright green loogy, only for a pigeon to hop over on its withered stumps and peck it up joyfully.
Are these the end times? What horrible stuff have you seen recently?
( , Fri 22 Jun 2007, 10:36)
What is going on?
Lightguy was walking home when he saw a fox eating a cat. As he watched, it threw up on the cat and then continued eating, having doused it in its own marinade.
Only this morning, Rachelswipe saw a tramp hock up a bright green loogy, only for a pigeon to hop over on its withered stumps and peck it up joyfully.
Are these the end times? What horrible stuff have you seen recently?
( , Fri 22 Jun 2007, 10:36)
This question is now closed.
Oh God...
I'm sure everyone knows about A Midsummer Night's Dream, right? Good. So, I was in 6th grade (ever-so-long ago) and they brought us to a little private opera house to see it. Now, to appeal to our "hip, cool" generation, it was set in the future.
In space.
Now, as horrifying as that is, that's not the kicker. Puck was played by a man no younger than 54 and no less than 50 pounds overweight wearing neon green spandex. Shirt and pants. All spandex.
I'm not sure if it was there for laughs or not, but oh. my. gourd.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:59, Reply)
I'm sure everyone knows about A Midsummer Night's Dream, right? Good. So, I was in 6th grade (ever-so-long ago) and they brought us to a little private opera house to see it. Now, to appeal to our "hip, cool" generation, it was set in the future.
In space.
Now, as horrifying as that is, that's not the kicker. Puck was played by a man no younger than 54 and no less than 50 pounds overweight wearing neon green spandex. Shirt and pants. All spandex.
I'm not sure if it was there for laughs or not, but oh. my. gourd.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:59, Reply)
I'm leaving this one well alone...
...the ick factor is just too much.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:45, Reply)
...the ick factor is just too much.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:45, Reply)
Rat in the water tank
This was a good few years back now and still makes me cringe to think about it .. the story goes like this ..
Over a couple of weeks we begin to notice a bad smell eminating from the water coming from all the taps in the house. My dad decided to have a look in the water tank and what he discovered was a half decomposed rat floating away, after scooping it into a bag he tried to hide it from us but I causght a glimpse and the sight of that rat in a plastic bag with the skin hanging off was not a pleasant one. We had been drinking cooking and washing with that water for a good while and to this day i'm still amazed that nobody got sick.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:39, Reply)
This was a good few years back now and still makes me cringe to think about it .. the story goes like this ..
Over a couple of weeks we begin to notice a bad smell eminating from the water coming from all the taps in the house. My dad decided to have a look in the water tank and what he discovered was a half decomposed rat floating away, after scooping it into a bag he tried to hide it from us but I causght a glimpse and the sight of that rat in a plastic bag with the skin hanging off was not a pleasant one. We had been drinking cooking and washing with that water for a good while and to this day i'm still amazed that nobody got sick.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:39, Reply)
.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Vanessa Feltz. Doesnt get much more horrific than that.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:31, Reply)
Vanessa Feltz. Doesnt get much more horrific than that.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:31, Reply)
Football.
Myself and my football team in Aberystwyth were having a casual training session over on one of the greens near the uni, when one of us came across a (what we thought was) dead bird.
Closer inspection confirmed that this bird was still alive, so being about 10-12 uni footballers, we amazingly pooled our minds resources and decided to think of the kindest way to put it out of its misery.
Enter my friend Joe.
He proceeded to stamp on said bird.
Note that this was not your average stamp - there was enough force behind it to send pieces of destroyed bird flying in the general direction of anyone that was unfortunate enough to be standing by.
Now this was horrific enough in itself, it made the rest of training very uneasy and no-one could concentrate.
However, what extracted the urine (and eventually, and more literally the vomit) was when I was back in my flat, just about to get into the shower, and i discovered that a flicker of bloody bird flesh had flung itself at me with such force that it had become embedded in my hair.
Joe did not live that down, for a very long time. The bastard.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:27, Reply)
Myself and my football team in Aberystwyth were having a casual training session over on one of the greens near the uni, when one of us came across a (what we thought was) dead bird.
Closer inspection confirmed that this bird was still alive, so being about 10-12 uni footballers, we amazingly pooled our minds resources and decided to think of the kindest way to put it out of its misery.
Enter my friend Joe.
He proceeded to stamp on said bird.
Note that this was not your average stamp - there was enough force behind it to send pieces of destroyed bird flying in the general direction of anyone that was unfortunate enough to be standing by.
Now this was horrific enough in itself, it made the rest of training very uneasy and no-one could concentrate.
However, what extracted the urine (and eventually, and more literally the vomit) was when I was back in my flat, just about to get into the shower, and i discovered that a flicker of bloody bird flesh had flung itself at me with such force that it had become embedded in my hair.
Joe did not live that down, for a very long time. The bastard.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:27, Reply)
harlequin babies
I notice that there's been a lot of banter about harlequin babies on this topic.
For those who don't want to google the images - yes it's nasty
but I've worked in the medical field for a few years now and seen my fair share of the scare stories.
Harlequin babies have a skin condition not dissimilar to psoriasis but instead of an environmental cause - like washing powder or synthetic materials - it's genetic (technical term 'congenital ichthyosis'). This means that the skin of a harlequin baby is 14 times thicker than the skin of a non-afflicted person. Because of this the creases that we have in our skin become tears in their skin. Yet this condition can be dealt with to some extent, but by no means cured. By bathing the child in moisturising ointment 2 or 3 times a day the skin tears can be lessened.
As has been said in previous posts, prognosis beyond adolescence is not great, but there are many living examples of harlequin babies (I do believe there was mention of Lucy and Hannah Betts - google them)
For all that have been disturbed by the image of harlequin babies, please believe me, the abnormalities are due to the birth process.
edit - by this I mean that the noticable eye problems are largely caused by the birth process and do correct themselves withina few days.
Please Google Lucy Betts to see how the body sorts itself.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:22, Reply)
I notice that there's been a lot of banter about harlequin babies on this topic.
For those who don't want to google the images - yes it's nasty
but I've worked in the medical field for a few years now and seen my fair share of the scare stories.
Harlequin babies have a skin condition not dissimilar to psoriasis but instead of an environmental cause - like washing powder or synthetic materials - it's genetic (technical term 'congenital ichthyosis'). This means that the skin of a harlequin baby is 14 times thicker than the skin of a non-afflicted person. Because of this the creases that we have in our skin become tears in their skin. Yet this condition can be dealt with to some extent, but by no means cured. By bathing the child in moisturising ointment 2 or 3 times a day the skin tears can be lessened.
As has been said in previous posts, prognosis beyond adolescence is not great, but there are many living examples of harlequin babies (I do believe there was mention of Lucy and Hannah Betts - google them)
For all that have been disturbed by the image of harlequin babies, please believe me, the abnormalities are due to the birth process.
edit - by this I mean that the noticable eye problems are largely caused by the birth process and do correct themselves withina few days.
Please Google Lucy Betts to see how the body sorts itself.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 22:22, Reply)
I shouldn't have looked into this QOTW at all.
This whole mess is like a pile of disturbing dropped on a pile of disturbing after a pile of disturbing has already been dropped.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:58, Reply)
This whole mess is like a pile of disturbing dropped on a pile of disturbing after a pile of disturbing has already been dropped.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:58, Reply)
This had gone from my mind until now...
I was working in a nursing home, doing some electrical work when I walked into what I thought was a vacant room - wrong. It was the toilet and I walked in on possibly the oldest woman still to draw breath, bent damn near over to her toes, having shit wiped from her arse by the scariest looking care worker in the building. And the fact they BOTH looked at me as if I was expected for a dinner party and told me that it was "okay to work around them" just put the brown icing on the paper cake, to be honest.
I knock VERY loudly at every door ever since *shudder*
Oh, and no, I waited until they and their smells left the room, thanks.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:34, Reply)
I was working in a nursing home, doing some electrical work when I walked into what I thought was a vacant room - wrong. It was the toilet and I walked in on possibly the oldest woman still to draw breath, bent damn near over to her toes, having shit wiped from her arse by the scariest looking care worker in the building. And the fact they BOTH looked at me as if I was expected for a dinner party and told me that it was "okay to work around them" just put the brown icing on the paper cake, to be honest.
I knock VERY loudly at every door ever since *shudder*
Oh, and no, I waited until they and their smells left the room, thanks.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:34, Reply)
My big-hearted sister
has always had a soft spot for animals.
One day when she was very young she found a sparrow with a broken wing. She couldn't just walk away and leave the poor thing so she brought it home, applied a splint to the wing, named it Sparky and nursed the little chap back to health.
After a few weeks came the day of release as she judged the wing was now healed. As she was removing Sparky from his cardboard box home she fumbled. Sparky, spotting his chance for freedom, launched himself into the air.... and immediately landed in our open, lit coal fire.
I'll remember her sobs for ever. I, on the other hand, couldn't move for laughing.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:30, Reply)
has always had a soft spot for animals.
One day when she was very young she found a sparrow with a broken wing. She couldn't just walk away and leave the poor thing so she brought it home, applied a splint to the wing, named it Sparky and nursed the little chap back to health.
After a few weeks came the day of release as she judged the wing was now healed. As she was removing Sparky from his cardboard box home she fumbled. Sparky, spotting his chance for freedom, launched himself into the air.... and immediately landed in our open, lit coal fire.
I'll remember her sobs for ever. I, on the other hand, couldn't move for laughing.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:30, Reply)
Penile Wrongness
This will make you wince, if you're a bloke. It may even make you wince if you're a woman, but I wouldn't know, I'm not one.
A firend of mine and I were trying to outdo each other on the wrongest porn we'd ever seen on one long train journey once. Obviously, the usual subjects came up, goatse and its many variants, things put in a vagina that by rights just shouldn't fit (and that is bearing in mind that babies are supposed to emerge from there).
Anyway, the nest day, I received an e-mail from him containing a link and a message saying that a) he'd won, and b) if I didn't click on the link, he'd never respect me as a man again. Curse my youthful machismo!
So, on the link I clicked. It was a fairly typical bad porn scene, consisting of two ropey old people, one of whom, presumably the male, who had an unfeasibly large yet lumpy penis. So far, so ordinary. A few minutes in, a large puple dildo is produced from somewhere. Admittedly, it hadn't yet been something I'd watch for pleasure, but still, I didn't see what was so bad.
The the scene cut to the woman, with that typically vacuously naughty look of women in porn, hunching over the man's swollen bell-end clutching the big dildo. Did I mention it was big? she then stuck her finger down his jap's-eye, making me wince, only to withdraw it and plunge the big dildo deep into the darkest recesses of his urethra. Jesus Christ, woman! No, don't move it up and down! Don't groan! Don't, for the love of god, go faster! Or deeper! My eyes!
I felt dirty, used, and, to no small degree, ill. George, as ever, had won. I still haven't quite forgiven him.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:15, Reply)
This will make you wince, if you're a bloke. It may even make you wince if you're a woman, but I wouldn't know, I'm not one.
A firend of mine and I were trying to outdo each other on the wrongest porn we'd ever seen on one long train journey once. Obviously, the usual subjects came up, goatse and its many variants, things put in a vagina that by rights just shouldn't fit (and that is bearing in mind that babies are supposed to emerge from there).
Anyway, the nest day, I received an e-mail from him containing a link and a message saying that a) he'd won, and b) if I didn't click on the link, he'd never respect me as a man again. Curse my youthful machismo!
So, on the link I clicked. It was a fairly typical bad porn scene, consisting of two ropey old people, one of whom, presumably the male, who had an unfeasibly large yet lumpy penis. So far, so ordinary. A few minutes in, a large puple dildo is produced from somewhere. Admittedly, it hadn't yet been something I'd watch for pleasure, but still, I didn't see what was so bad.
The the scene cut to the woman, with that typically vacuously naughty look of women in porn, hunching over the man's swollen bell-end clutching the big dildo. Did I mention it was big? she then stuck her finger down his jap's-eye, making me wince, only to withdraw it and plunge the big dildo deep into the darkest recesses of his urethra. Jesus Christ, woman! No, don't move it up and down! Don't groan! Don't, for the love of god, go faster! Or deeper! My eyes!
I felt dirty, used, and, to no small degree, ill. George, as ever, had won. I still haven't quite forgiven him.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 21:15, Reply)
Soz
! I only posted the source cus of JTW I knew he wouldnt click in case of goatse!
PS Sorry Inflateable look away now! Oh Shi* too late!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:51, Reply)
! I only posted the source cus of JTW I knew he wouldnt click in case of goatse!
PS Sorry Inflateable look away now! Oh Shi* too late!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:51, Reply)
more fingers
funnily enough I was just about to relate a story about a nearly severed finger. When I was a student nurse in A+E a man came in clutching his hand and told me he was scared to let go because he thought he was holding his own finger on after catching it in a circular saw. I'm not really squeamish but I was terrified at what I was going to see when he finally let go and showed me his hand. I was going to describe it but you've handily saved me about 1000 words by posting that picture. He had a ring on as well, which was probably the only reason his finger was hanging on by a thread and not completely severed. Spooky.
EDIT: actually, the most gruesome bit was probably watching him having his ring cut off his shredded finger with a nasty piece of equipment which looked like it could easily finish off what the circular saw had started.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:50, Reply)
funnily enough I was just about to relate a story about a nearly severed finger. When I was a student nurse in A+E a man came in clutching his hand and told me he was scared to let go because he thought he was holding his own finger on after catching it in a circular saw. I'm not really squeamish but I was terrified at what I was going to see when he finally let go and showed me his hand. I was going to describe it but you've handily saved me about 1000 words by posting that picture. He had a ring on as well, which was probably the only reason his finger was hanging on by a thread and not completely severed. Spooky.
EDIT: actually, the most gruesome bit was probably watching him having his ring cut off his shredded finger with a nasty piece of equipment which looked like it could easily finish off what the circular saw had started.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:50, Reply)
My Finger
My finger looking like this was the most freak sh*t i ever saw!
Seriously!
Top that motherfunkies!
(Stupid inane answer about lack of length here!)
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:45, Reply)
My finger looking like this was the most freak sh*t i ever saw!
Seriously!
Top that motherfunkies!
(Stupid inane answer about lack of length here!)
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 20:45, Reply)
I won't tell you... I will show you...
THIS IS JUST LOVELY
Be VERY glad I linked that. That was after 4 days of 30 degree heat, on the last night, of Download 2006. No I didn't puke surprisingly.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:49, Reply)
THIS IS JUST LOVELY
Be VERY glad I linked that. That was after 4 days of 30 degree heat, on the last night, of Download 2006. No I didn't puke surprisingly.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:49, Reply)
as a fresh faced 16 year old,
I was looking for some temp work before starting on my A-levels, just office stuff, postboy or tea bitch, whatever really.
I was sent off to an undertakers as they needed a temp to file and make tea, the introdution and tour are all going well, until I am shown the "Blood and guts of the operation we run here", a body, obviously not in a healthy state, a car crash victim I was told, they had only just started to prepare him for his send off, The sight of the various damages this poor bloke was subjected to are something that still make me queasy.
I finished the tour, and was shown more ex-people, thankfully all in far more dignified settings.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:43, Reply)
I was looking for some temp work before starting on my A-levels, just office stuff, postboy or tea bitch, whatever really.
I was sent off to an undertakers as they needed a temp to file and make tea, the introdution and tour are all going well, until I am shown the "Blood and guts of the operation we run here", a body, obviously not in a healthy state, a car crash victim I was told, they had only just started to prepare him for his send off, The sight of the various damages this poor bloke was subjected to are something that still make me queasy.
I finished the tour, and was shown more ex-people, thankfully all in far more dignified settings.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:43, Reply)
I saw and did this
I once had to have my right eye popped out of it's socket to have a bit of shrap removed after working on my mate Eddies van - saw it from the inside
I also once came home liquered up on red wine, fell into the spare bed that was all fluffied up and sanitised. Woke up a few hours later, pulled open a drawer of lovely white linen. Purged my guts of Shiraz. Shut the drawer and got back into bed and went to sleep. My wife introduced me to the Samuel Pollock I had made the next morning!
Trashed my mates new motorcycle a couple of years back. Not sure what I could make of my side as I wasn't wearing any protective clothing but my kneecap bone was clear as day.
Oh and once had the happy experience of walking in on some bloke at a club who slit his wrist - I never knew the human body held that much liquid!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:18, Reply)
I once had to have my right eye popped out of it's socket to have a bit of shrap removed after working on my mate Eddies van - saw it from the inside
I also once came home liquered up on red wine, fell into the spare bed that was all fluffied up and sanitised. Woke up a few hours later, pulled open a drawer of lovely white linen. Purged my guts of Shiraz. Shut the drawer and got back into bed and went to sleep. My wife introduced me to the Samuel Pollock I had made the next morning!
Trashed my mates new motorcycle a couple of years back. Not sure what I could make of my side as I wasn't wearing any protective clothing but my kneecap bone was clear as day.
Oh and once had the happy experience of walking in on some bloke at a club who slit his wrist - I never knew the human body held that much liquid!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:18, Reply)
Ooh! I forgot one!
Another one from theatre: the operation was to remove a tumour from this really old guy's bladder. The only way to do this is to push a tube up the trouser snake and hack at it with a red hot wire for 45 minutes. (Wincing yet guys?) This in and of itself isn't too bad (for a girl to observe anyway), but the worst bit was prepping the guy. His foreskin was stuck down with weeks - if not months - worth of dried, encrusted, yellow smegma or pus or god knows what. That and the smell is never going to leave me...
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:08, Reply)
Another one from theatre: the operation was to remove a tumour from this really old guy's bladder. The only way to do this is to push a tube up the trouser snake and hack at it with a red hot wire for 45 minutes. (Wincing yet guys?) This in and of itself isn't too bad (for a girl to observe anyway), but the worst bit was prepping the guy. His foreskin was stuck down with weeks - if not months - worth of dried, encrusted, yellow smegma or pus or god knows what. That and the smell is never going to leave me...
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:08, Reply)
Suicide Attempt
A few years ago, my dad was working at A&E (he's an Anaesthetist) and they had a call about an attempted suicide in an Inustrial Estate nearby. The chap in question had tried to end it all with a shotgun. The problem is, shotguns are too long to keep pointing in your mouth toward all brain if you want to want to be able to pull the trigger; they tend to get pulled toward your body and end up aiming upwards, towards your face.
Turns out he’d done a textbook failed shotgun suicide attempt – he removed most of his face with the blast, but not killed himself. For a reason which I only found out later, they took pictures/videos of the chap when he came in, images which I still find difficult to erase to this day.
He’d blown all of his upper jaw off, splintering his upper jaw bone (shards of which were embedded from his cheeks upward, and on the inside of his van) and pretty much turning his teeth into dust. His hard palate was in pieces and his soft palate had been turned to pink mush, resembling crushed raspberries. His nose was in several pieces, many of which were still in his van and his cheekbones were cracked in several places, with holes from where the buckshot had blown through. Thankfully his eyes were unscathed, which the doctors declared to be a miracle. The force of the shot however, had cracked his forehead in several places. The only way to describe what he looked like was a flower – with a hole in the middle where his oesophagus was and flaps of mush and bone everywhere else.
The videos were the worst. To anaesthetise classically, the patient is lying down – impossible in this situation, the man was drowning in his own blood. The noise of each pump of his heart adding to the horrific gurgle from his lungs as he inhaled most of his blood was spinechilling. The only option was to intubate sitting up – a practice not much used, especially not during emergency surgery. He was transfused 9 litres of blood in the operation to mend his face, most of which spilled down his chest from his mouth and ran into puddles on the floor during the 8 hour operation. The video of waterfalls of blood from the side of the operating table was skin crawling. My dad said it was like being in a slaughterhouse.
They eventually finished, and the guy looked pretty good considering what he had done. My dad and the surgeons received special commendation for the incident. They all threw their certificates in the bin. I was immensely proud of what my dad did, but at the same time knew I could never go into medicine.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:04, Reply)
A few years ago, my dad was working at A&E (he's an Anaesthetist) and they had a call about an attempted suicide in an Inustrial Estate nearby. The chap in question had tried to end it all with a shotgun. The problem is, shotguns are too long to keep pointing in your mouth toward all brain if you want to want to be able to pull the trigger; they tend to get pulled toward your body and end up aiming upwards, towards your face.
Turns out he’d done a textbook failed shotgun suicide attempt – he removed most of his face with the blast, but not killed himself. For a reason which I only found out later, they took pictures/videos of the chap when he came in, images which I still find difficult to erase to this day.
He’d blown all of his upper jaw off, splintering his upper jaw bone (shards of which were embedded from his cheeks upward, and on the inside of his van) and pretty much turning his teeth into dust. His hard palate was in pieces and his soft palate had been turned to pink mush, resembling crushed raspberries. His nose was in several pieces, many of which were still in his van and his cheekbones were cracked in several places, with holes from where the buckshot had blown through. Thankfully his eyes were unscathed, which the doctors declared to be a miracle. The force of the shot however, had cracked his forehead in several places. The only way to describe what he looked like was a flower – with a hole in the middle where his oesophagus was and flaps of mush and bone everywhere else.
The videos were the worst. To anaesthetise classically, the patient is lying down – impossible in this situation, the man was drowning in his own blood. The noise of each pump of his heart adding to the horrific gurgle from his lungs as he inhaled most of his blood was spinechilling. The only option was to intubate sitting up – a practice not much used, especially not during emergency surgery. He was transfused 9 litres of blood in the operation to mend his face, most of which spilled down his chest from his mouth and ran into puddles on the floor during the 8 hour operation. The video of waterfalls of blood from the side of the operating table was skin crawling. My dad said it was like being in a slaughterhouse.
They eventually finished, and the guy looked pretty good considering what he had done. My dad and the surgeons received special commendation for the incident. They all threw their certificates in the bin. I was immensely proud of what my dad did, but at the same time knew I could never go into medicine.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 19:04, Reply)
7 men blended
The most brilliant...errrr...I mean horrific thing I ever saw was the remains of a BTR-80 (Russian built personnel carrier) that had been hit with a Milan anti-tank rocket. The contents, 3 crew and 4 passengers were well and truly minced, pulped and cauterised.
Anyway, on the bright side, it's nice to know all that training on the Milan simulator is worth it.
Should have stopped when they were told to, silly bastards.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:42, Reply)
The most brilliant...errrr...I mean horrific thing I ever saw was the remains of a BTR-80 (Russian built personnel carrier) that had been hit with a Milan anti-tank rocket. The contents, 3 crew and 4 passengers were well and truly minced, pulped and cauterised.
Anyway, on the bright side, it's nice to know all that training on the Milan simulator is worth it.
Should have stopped when they were told to, silly bastards.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:42, Reply)
Technically I didn't see it but...
Once, a few years ago, my sister and her "Heavy " (11 stone at the age of 9!?) friend were riding down the hill on my sister's skateboard. My sister wanted to go faster, so she put her hands on the ground and pushed. Her finger got stuck in the wheel.
Off to hospital, then.
A week later, we went crabbing with dad - SLAM went the door on her other hand. Two fractures and a dislocation.
Off to hospital, then.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:29, Reply)
Once, a few years ago, my sister and her "Heavy " (11 stone at the age of 9!?) friend were riding down the hill on my sister's skateboard. My sister wanted to go faster, so she put her hands on the ground and pushed. Her finger got stuck in the wheel.
Off to hospital, then.
A week later, we went crabbing with dad - SLAM went the door on her other hand. Two fractures and a dislocation.
Off to hospital, then.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:29, Reply)
Festival goodness
At a small festival in 05 they had hay-bales to piss on. The thinking behind it quite sound. The straw apprently takes all the nasty stuff out, leaving only "water" draining into the soil.
Bearing in mind that by Saturday night many, many, many men had used the bogs, the groung around it was quite slippery. Que some poor sod walking in behind me, slipping and landing face down in the bale. Jets of piss bounced of it.
To be fair the guy came up as quickly as he went down, but the damage was done. He ran off never to be seen again.
He also managed to miss us lot sniggering and going "un-clean! un-clean!"...
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:07, Reply)
At a small festival in 05 they had hay-bales to piss on. The thinking behind it quite sound. The straw apprently takes all the nasty stuff out, leaving only "water" draining into the soil.
Bearing in mind that by Saturday night many, many, many men had used the bogs, the groung around it was quite slippery. Que some poor sod walking in behind me, slipping and landing face down in the bale. Jets of piss bounced of it.
To be fair the guy came up as quickly as he went down, but the damage was done. He ran off never to be seen again.
He also managed to miss us lot sniggering and going "un-clean! un-clean!"...
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:07, Reply)
Thanks nasalhair..
...just searched for Veronica Moser like you kindly advised not too.
I can't get the image of a tattooed fist in a shit filled cunny out of my head.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:01, Reply)
...just searched for Veronica Moser like you kindly advised not too.
I can't get the image of a tattooed fist in a shit filled cunny out of my head.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 18:01, Reply)
Another "Side of the Road" Story
I found a cute pink cuddly toy rabbit teddy type thing on the pavement once. I was about to pick it up, but instead decided to nudge it with my foot first.
Its head fell off and hundreds of maggots came pouring out.
Stupid maggots, you can't eat polyester.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:47, Reply)
I found a cute pink cuddly toy rabbit teddy type thing on the pavement once. I was about to pick it up, but instead decided to nudge it with my foot first.
Its head fell off and hundreds of maggots came pouring out.
Stupid maggots, you can't eat polyester.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:47, Reply)
There's nothing comparible to
the horror of seeing your own dark imagination come to life through nightmares and psychotic episodes.
The dark nights, waking up sweating, terrified, exhilirated at the murderous thoughts your mind has revealed but your soul has refused to accept.
The daytime flashbacks of those ruthless moments, all the while wondering how you will stop yourself from pushing that commuter under the train, or throw that screaming child into traffic.
The struggle within us all can be described as nothing less than horrific. That and the wotsit coloured snot encrusted under toddlers noses.
Ergh! Gross!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:10, Reply)
the horror of seeing your own dark imagination come to life through nightmares and psychotic episodes.
The dark nights, waking up sweating, terrified, exhilirated at the murderous thoughts your mind has revealed but your soul has refused to accept.
The daytime flashbacks of those ruthless moments, all the while wondering how you will stop yourself from pushing that commuter under the train, or throw that screaming child into traffic.
The struggle within us all can be described as nothing less than horrific. That and the wotsit coloured snot encrusted under toddlers noses.
Ergh! Gross!
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:10, Reply)
Ye Olde Workmate
I once (in order to engraciate myself with my new workmates) attended a staff party at a hotel local to the store I was currently working. It was here that I saw the worst thing I have ever, and hopefully will ever see in my life.
At this party was a woman who for the purposes of the story we shall call Mary, for that was her name. Mary was a 48 year old woman who had an ever so slight reputation as being a bit of a whore. She openly admitted to having given a blowjob to a man in the carpark of the store (and please bare in mind this is a toy store), as well as a plethora of other things too irrelevent and gut churning to mention.
Anyhow, as more alcohol was consumed and people became increasingly merry I made the mistake of going within 10ft of her, at which point she grabbed me, wrestled me to the ground, sat on me and began to tickle me. This was seen as being extremely funny by all those stood around.
Her new found position of being centre of attention however appeared to excite her little too much, at which point she coughed and got off of me. Everyone laughed at her merry jape, until one member of the drunken rabble pointed at my shirt and shouted "Whats that?" Everyone looked at my shirt, and there faces turned from a laugh to a look of puzzlement, to a horrified expression of realisation. I looked down apprehensivley. What could it be?
Two stains on my otherwise perfectly clean shirt. Thats right...in a single cough she had managed to both piss and shit herself, both of which had seeped through onto me.
And that was the night I was shat and pissed on by a 48 year old woman. The worst things you can ever see are the moist warm stains of a rancid co-worker making your shirt cling to your skin.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:07, Reply)
I once (in order to engraciate myself with my new workmates) attended a staff party at a hotel local to the store I was currently working. It was here that I saw the worst thing I have ever, and hopefully will ever see in my life.
At this party was a woman who for the purposes of the story we shall call Mary, for that was her name. Mary was a 48 year old woman who had an ever so slight reputation as being a bit of a whore. She openly admitted to having given a blowjob to a man in the carpark of the store (and please bare in mind this is a toy store), as well as a plethora of other things too irrelevent and gut churning to mention.
Anyhow, as more alcohol was consumed and people became increasingly merry I made the mistake of going within 10ft of her, at which point she grabbed me, wrestled me to the ground, sat on me and began to tickle me. This was seen as being extremely funny by all those stood around.
Her new found position of being centre of attention however appeared to excite her little too much, at which point she coughed and got off of me. Everyone laughed at her merry jape, until one member of the drunken rabble pointed at my shirt and shouted "Whats that?" Everyone looked at my shirt, and there faces turned from a laugh to a look of puzzlement, to a horrified expression of realisation. I looked down apprehensivley. What could it be?
Two stains on my otherwise perfectly clean shirt. Thats right...in a single cough she had managed to both piss and shit herself, both of which had seeped through onto me.
And that was the night I was shat and pissed on by a 48 year old woman. The worst things you can ever see are the moist warm stains of a rancid co-worker making your shirt cling to your skin.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 17:07, Reply)
My kneecap
At a classmate's 12th birthday party, I saw my own kneecap, after I'd fallen off his (very dodgy) bike at 25mph onto rough tarmac. I was more concerned about my shredded hands, bashed head and broken front teeth, until I saw the river of blood coming out of the bottom of my trouser leg.
Whipping down the strides revealed a very large gash (no sniggering at the back!) on my right knee, from which was poking the top of my kneecap.
Strangely, it was completely painless. A lot of years later, I still have the scar, which appears to have no nerve endings in it as it's totally numb.
My mate's dad was actually more concerned about the amount of blood I'd trailed through his house when I came inside! Nice of him, eh?
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 16:44, Reply)
At a classmate's 12th birthday party, I saw my own kneecap, after I'd fallen off his (very dodgy) bike at 25mph onto rough tarmac. I was more concerned about my shredded hands, bashed head and broken front teeth, until I saw the river of blood coming out of the bottom of my trouser leg.
Whipping down the strides revealed a very large gash (no sniggering at the back!) on my right knee, from which was poking the top of my kneecap.
Strangely, it was completely painless. A lot of years later, I still have the scar, which appears to have no nerve endings in it as it's totally numb.
My mate's dad was actually more concerned about the amount of blood I'd trailed through his house when I came inside! Nice of him, eh?
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 16:44, Reply)
Thanks
Well, I've not seen most of the pics described here, but I am getting a bit of a complex about any link posted here so I'm just not clicking them if they even might contain a photo...
I've got my own problems and traumas just now and they're passing into insignificance with all the stories I'm reading.
On topic - Goatse.
Ew.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 16:33, Reply)
Well, I've not seen most of the pics described here, but I am getting a bit of a complex about any link posted here so I'm just not clicking them if they even might contain a photo...
I've got my own problems and traumas just now and they're passing into insignificance with all the stories I'm reading.
On topic - Goatse.
Ew.
( , Mon 25 Jun 2007, 16:33, Reply)
This question is now closed.