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This is a question Ignoring Instructions

When I was small, a friend of mine waved a big plastic bottle at me and asked me if I "wanted some drinking yoghurt?" I pointed out the "do not drink" label, but no, he was convinced this was a big jug of a particularly strange, liquid yoghurt that was briefly popular in the 70s.

He was sick for hours, after consuming a suprisingly large quantity of washing liquid.

What instructions have you ignored?

(, Thu 4 May 2006, 11:24)
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This question is now closed.

And of course there's the fire extinguisher one.
I never was one for wearing goggles. One day, I had to use the fire extinguisher, eject it into a large beaker thusly creating dry ice. Cold doesn't begin to describe it. So I got someone to hold an apron over the beaker, creating a lid between the dry ice and the rest of the world, and let rip.
Shoulda worn goggles.
All I remember is a jet of deadly cold, poisonous snow racing facewards. It stuck to my hair. It stuck to my lips. But most importantly, it stuck to my eyebrows.
Then it started to turn back into CO2. So my head had it's own little atmosphere, composed of little to no oxygen. Which wasn't a good idea. It looked cool, though, my head was a misty ball of...mist. Then the lack of oxygen caught up with me and I thought it'd be a good idea to get some proper air. It wasn't really easy. And all this while, the ice in my eyebrows was making it's way into the eyes, causing a searing pain both from the cold and the pure carbon dioxide doing something unwanted to my eyes.
And the teacher just laughed.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 17:33, Reply)
I do A-level chemistry
Oh, the stories I have.
Heated some conc. hydrochloric acid outside of the fume cupboard once. It wasn't a good idea. Imagine a vinegar injection straight into your nose, eyes, throat and lungs. Then rub salt in it. Ouch.
Listen to the teacher.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 17:28, Reply)
Another one. Involving chili.
Got some chili sauce. "Who Dares Burns"
Rock and roll, thinks I, this should be fun.
It tasted absolutely disgusting and almost burnt the roof of my mouth off. So I thought I'd take it into school and start a poker tournament based around the hotsauce. Everyone got a taste first to know what they were getting in to. I told them to buy a drink beforehand. They didn't. Literally one drop later they were in hysterics looking for water.
First instruction ignored.
Poker tournament. Jakob loses, and consequently is instructed to chug the sauce. He ends up painting the walls and a guitar a lovely shade of bile. It was utter hilarity. Again, he didn't have a drink ready. I laughed until it hurt.
Looked at the bottle later on, "Eat sparingly. To be used as a condiment only, do not eat without accompanying food"
Second instruction ignored.
And what does lemon here do? He only goes and forgets about the trace amounts of chili on his fingers. Rubs eye and -discretely- picks nose a little bit. And so begins the 2-hour science lesson from hell. Eye streaming all that time and nose flaming.
"Do not make contact with the eye"
Third instruction ignored.
Nothing about cocks.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 17:25, Reply)
"WARNING: Do not touch metal plate when iron is turned on."
Yup. Swiftly ignored that one. One decidedly un-manly scream later, accompanied with the smell and intense pain of searing flesh, I learn why it's important to follow the instructions.
Had a black mark down my finger for weeks.
And I was 17.
I wonder how much longer I can stay alive.
Might start a book.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 17:20, Reply)

i guy i knew managed, im not sure quite how, as we'd had carefull instructions, to pippete liquid bromine(really corrosive- a bit like chlorine)onto his hand, which burnt staight through his glove and part of the skin on his hand. clever chap.
i laughed.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 17:07, Reply)
Never burn Marmite
All these microwave stories remind me of an ex-work colleague of mine, known (non-affectionately) as Wanky Mark. We were working in a newly-opened Virgin Megastore at the time.

One midweek morning, the fire alarms went off. Dutifully obeying instructions, I left my office and proceeded to the evacuation point outside. Through a thick fog of choking, acrid, ORANGE smoke. I have never smelt anything so foul before or since.

Luckily, the tiny blaze was contained in the shiny brand new microwave in the staffroom and had gone out before the fire brigade even arrived. Wanky Mark had decided, as Mr Branson's budget hadn't stretched to a Breville sandwich toaster, he would try MICROWAVING his Marmite sandwiches. Wanky Mark had never used a microwave before. Did he consult the instruction manual still sitting on the top? Did he fuck. He set the microwave on full power for fifteen minutes and lumbered off down the corridor for a leisurely shit.

The result? A couple of grand in lost revenue, one fucked microwave and a whole corner of the staffroom permanently stained Fagnolia beige.

On our return, he still retrieved his sandwiches from the microwave, tentatively nibbled on a non-charred piece... and promptly broke a tooth.

Thick twat.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 16:39, Reply)
I am in disgrace
I ignored my Mum's instructions not to play with Gary Atkinson because he put a mr smiley badge over his willy in grade 3. Subsequently I have ignored nine of the 10 commandments.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 15:23, Reply)
My girlfriend
instructed me to find a job over easter. I chose instead to watch a large amount of cracking good telly and eat KFC.

I don`t have a girlfriend any more.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 15:12, Reply)
Chemistry Set
On receiving a chemistry set for your twelfth birthday, I think the only thing outweighing the elation and excitement of finally owning your personal pyrotechnics laboratory is the disappointment upon discovering that the chemicals have been carefully chosen in order to be completely innert no matter how carefully you combine them. In fact, the only slightly dangerous concoction in the entire instruction booklet was dilute hydrochloric acid, although approximately one million times less potent than the saliva of Sigourney Weaver`s nemesis (enough to change the colour of the litmus only).

So I decided to make it, in the hope that it could be made a little bit more concentrated with perseverance. Only I didn`t read the bit that said "don`t seal the test tube due to pressure build up". Cue a small explosion, a shattered test tube and lots of coughing. I think they called it mustard gas in World War I...
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 14:56, Reply)
bunsen burners
the first rule of bunsen burners is allways change the blue flame to yellow flame when not needed. i ignored this as i was a young pyro. the experiment was something about burning wotsits on sticks. i set mine alight and accidently moved my hand accross the blue flame because i didnt see it. que me thowing the flaming wotsit accross the room in reaction que the wotsit landing on claire bannons leg sticking to her leg burning her leg and melting her tights to her leg. one trip to the hospital and a couple of skin grafts later id learnt why it was important to turn the blue flame yellow. oops
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 14:47, Reply)
Chemistry teacher
Mr Sinclair was a stop-gap teacher for standard grade chemistry, and was, as far as we could tell, a senial old leper.
So, practical experiments were always fun.
Can't remember the exact experiment but it involved some sort of foul smelling compound being heated in a test-tube by a bunsen burner. This needs a pyrex test tube as they are heat proof, or else the experiment is a tad dangerous. Unfortunately we were one pyrex short, but explaining this to Mr Sinclair just resorted in a long withering state and a saliva-filled explanation to 'git on wi' it, ya workshy twits, use a normal one'.

It exploded. Fairly spectacuarly. Mr Sinclair then yelled at us for not using a pyrex test tube.

But he's dead now.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 14:23, Reply)
Got a microwave for my birthday, as you do. Decided to christen it by heating up a tesco microwave curry (bless the salty goodness) so got it set up without reading the instructions. There was this bit of cardboard inside the microwave so I tried to get it out, assuming it was just a stupid bit of packaging. It took me a good ten minutes with a knife to get this annoyingly thin piece of crap out of the thing as it was right at the back in the corner. Finally I managed to get it out by bending it out of position. I put the curry in, and it got horrifically burnt and stank the house out. I checked the instructions to see if I'd done anything wrong. In large letters at the top of the page it said:


Oh well, apparently the tumour wasn't malignant anyway.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 14:11, Reply)
Where are all the pictures of cocks?

I don't get it.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 13:54, Reply)
Very well timed, my tale of ignoring the instructions begins not even a week ago!

Being a student, and there for a god for nothing bum, rather then doing something constructive with my time, I went and had a bbq with some friends. After a quick stop at tescos, with some nice food and a pair of disposable bbqs in hand, My chums and I set off to find a good field. Upon opening the first disposable bbq, I notice a bag under its grill filled with charcoal, so I manage to free that, tear the bag open, and just before I pour it into the metal tray so we can begin my friend shouts something along the lines of me being an utter spacker.


I managed to un wittingly disobey the first, and most stressed instructions.

It took a while to fix.

Any way, we had another a day or two later, this time I won’t fail. I do everything as before, this time it’s a morisons model, not that you can tell by looking. Once I’ve got the fire going, I check the rules out of general interest in how patronising they can be. The first two rules were the same as with tescos version. Rule 3 however….

Keep BBQ supported off the ground, allowing a circulation or air.

I swear, send two lads to get rocks to fix the mistake.

Then I see rule 4.

Do not touch the BBQ after lighting. It gets VERY HOT, VERY QUICKLY. Luckily, my mates were clever enough to use sleeves as make shift oven mitts.

Side note, later that night we had a fire. I use a smouldering stick as a light sabre. Then I have a fight with a guy who’s also holding one. “BE CAREFUL!” comes a voice from the fire, but I’m far too much of a Jedi to heed such warnings. The first blow I make sends the smouldering end of my stick flying into the people sitting by the fire. It hits the guy who warned me to be careful. In the crotch. He was wearing nylon pants. Luckily his balls remained fire free, though he shouted at me for a while.

I also got my nose bloodied when I didn’t listen to one of the girls shout “Stop rugby tackling me!” She actually managed to hit me in the face when I went to get her as she got up again after maybe the 10th tackle.

All in all, I’ve not had a great week, what worries me is we have exams over the next 2 weeks, I may have to start to follow the instructions….

Oh, speaking of not following instructions, we all chipped in to get Mario party 6, for the general amusement of flat. See, it comes with a microphone, which is used in some games. It follows every ones instructions but me. I say “memory game” It says “I think you said picture game.” Say “no” then “memory came” “did you mean counting game?” “NO!” I finally shout “BLACK MANS EYES!” “did you mean counting game?” “yes”. I lost that counting game. Geordie accents and Japanese games are not a clever mix.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 12:32, Reply)
Variation on a theme: chopped chillis, sneaky pick of the nose.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 12:01, Reply)
The year is 1993, and microwaves have finally reached Wakefield (not surprising, we didn't get ra-ra skirts until the year 2000). Not everyone has got them you understand. Indeed it would be 1996 before my family even had a telephone in the house.

Anyway, my mate Craig Pratt's brother should have really read the instructions before he tried to warm up a bowl of beans using his mum's new pride and joy. Surprisingly, cooking baked beans for forty five minutes can lead to you opening the microwave door to wonder where your beans and your plastic bowl went.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 11:58, Reply)
Is ham Islam?
Years ago, one of my mates was a Moroccan migrant. His family were practicing (but not hardcore) Muslims. One night we were heading out for a Chinese meal and his mum explained that they observed the Islamic taboo on eating pork products: "Never let my son eat pork because if it passes his mouth he cannot enter heaven."
Fair enough, we avoided the sweet and sour pork, the meal was great and my mate still gets to play Space Invaders with Allah.

Months later, he was at my house and I made some sandwiches for us.
Ham sandwiches.
I honestly hadn't thought of ham as being a pork product.
He took a bite and asked me what it was as it was "the best thing he had ever tasted". I told him it was ham.
He looked at me in horror and said "I'm eating pig? I can't be eating pig."
In a flash I remembered that ham does indeed come from pigs and told him that I was just kidding and that it was actually “specially seasoned beef”.
He was cool with this and was in raptures over the taste.

So sorry Mrs. Hajid for not following your instructions and at the risk of getting a fatwa placed on me I have tell you that no way is your beloved Fetah getting into heaven.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 11:18, Reply)
Again, slightly off topic....
But it turns out my body hasn't read the instructions that came with it.

Especially the one that expressly forbids it from puking while I'm asleep.

Though it was thoughtful enough to aim for the floor, almost entirely covering a small rug and missing my bed. This time.

And It seems I ate a whole baby last night, because I can't think of anything else that explains the amount of solid waste on that rug.

Wooyay for 18th birthday celebrations
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 11:02, Reply)
Booked a table at a very nice, expensive restaurant
When we got there, they hadn't prepared our table.

Or in fact have a clue who we were.

Turns out we'd booked it for the previous week.

Bah. Worst meal out EVER

I have a large penis
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 10:51, Reply)
Not so much ignoring the instructions as following them
or how to very nearly get a faceful of boiling acid

At the start of every experiment in the labs we have to sign COSHH sheets showing disposal methods etc. One particular experiment involved me making a supersaturated solution. Basically this required getting the most concentrated acid in the lab and boiling it.

After the exp is complete the acid needs neutralising before you pour it down the sink. On top of the benches there are bottles of alkali, but this solution was so concentrated i'd need a good couple of litres to do it. So i opted for a saturated calcium carbonate solution instead. For those who remember their chem at school this gives out carbon dioxide as it neutralises an acid.

I poured some carbonate into the acid, it fizzed. repeated this a good few times and as the fizzing died down i assumed it was nearly ready for disposal. It wasn't it had separated into 2 layers due to the densities and more or less not really been reacting. I swirled the flask to ensure it was pH neutral, mixed the layers, and was greeted with a high pressure jet of boiling acid shooting over my left shoulder narrowly missing my face.

Not my proudest academic moment...
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 10:44, Reply)
Foreign tourist tips ignored.
* Don't accept food/drink/drugs off complete strangers!

... Or you can end up like me and my girlfriend whilst in India. Trapped in a house in the middle of the night, trying to ignore the threats of our power crazy and completely psychotic host.
Originally he was a friendly Kashmerean bookstore/jewellery store owner, with a good grasp of the subtleties of english language. He was a good host in his shop, putting on pink floyd, chatting about Hindu and Muslim philosophy, sharing chai etc..after two or three hours we accepted his invite for dinner with him...

Next thing we know we're in a flat with two other blokes (his cousin and brother) and he starts ordering THEM around to make food for us (which made us feel uneasy)...We gingerly ate the rice dish but not too much. He then rustles up a large spliff of incredibly strong Charras. I thought, Ok if he's smoking it then maybe it'll chill him out...

Wrong! Next thing he's shooing his brother and cousin out the room and starts insulting me! He tells my girlfriend he has wished for her and he loves her... His eyes glaze over at this point and he has a complete personality flip. He then starts babbling about 'us tourists are weak and we are in his territory'...
Trying to put thoughts of poisoned food or spiked joints to the back of my mind, and his intentions of 'loving my girlfriend'... His ramblings of possessing a gun really got to me... He then tried to seperate us whilst he performed 'Reiki healing' on my girlfriend...
Yeah right!
So we just make instant excuses and get the hell out of there...
But not before he squeezes my girlfriend in a thirty second hug, all the while sneering at me...
We manage to get away from him, but we must have been stinking of fear and confusion as suddenly we are nearly lost in the maze of dark, midnight streets...

we are soon surrounded by a pack of street dogs... barking crazily, baring foul teeth and ready to tear us apart.

Preparing ourselves to fight off the six or seven dogs, we were suddenly rescued by a hotel manager who had heard the dogs growling and barking. He lobbed a couple of wooden chairs at the biggest one - scattering the pack.

That man probably saved our lives.

There's a few morals in this somewhere.

No apologies (ever) for length.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 10:39, Reply)
Are Friends Electric?
Apols in advance for legnth, I've never paid much attention to instructions and am proud to say i have never ever read a manual. I've usualy got away with it but a couple of time really suffered for my sloth. The best/worst time was after smoking are fair sized bag of weed, when my huge old twin tub washing machine broke down. Something told me it might be the fuse, having only seen this done by on TV I thought cant be hard. After dismanteling the plug with a butter knife I changed the fuse thinking piece of piss to myself smugly, and briefly considered a carear as an electrician. Unfortunately, for the life of me I could'nt get the back of the plug back on. After several attempts I thought fuck it I'll freestyle this and just put it in as is. the top prong went in fine and it was only when I pushed both bottom prongs in that I noticed the switch was on... several seconds (could have been minutes) I realise that, thumbs still attached I am literally wired up to the National Grid and am being shocked to fuck! I manage to let go and colapse heart racing and teeth chattering.Suffice to say my GF now deals with all matters electrical. As for legnth I must refer the honorable gentleman to the reply I gave a few moments ago.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 6:44, Reply)
This time it wasn't my fault
Part of my shoulder had to be amputated after a patient dislocated it. You can't really tell with my clothes on. I had Vicodin (Paracetamol + a narcotic. Yummy)prescribed for post surgical pain. I failed to listen to the nurse who explained to take two only if pain remained after taking one and that they were prone to induce motion sickness when riding in a car.

Husband and mother took me out to eat and of course I wanted to be stoned, er, pain-free so I took two. Then I loaded up on Outcrap's everything's-coated-in-horrible-spices finest faux-Australian fare. On the way home I began to feel slightly ill, then really ill, then my dinner fought with the two dozen frogs and rabbits that had mysteriously appeared in my tummy. Hubby is driving like a maniac as I'm sobbing "Hurry, hurry!", runs a red light right in front of the police station and whips into the bank parking lot because I am now gurgling in his ear. I lean out and blargh bright orange slimy spew on the asphalt. My mother chirps, "Oh look honey, you puked in the president's spot."

We ran away before anyone saw us. The next evening I rode by and saw that the bank had put up a chain to the parking lot to discourage anymore political statements. The stain was gone but the place still reeked of Outcrap spiciness. I wish I'd been able to see the bank president face's when he pulled in the next day and/or stepped in it.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 3:38, Reply)
After a trip to A+E
I was issued with some co-codamol tablets for a dislocated kneecap injury (long story maybe for another qotw).
After taking a few of the tablets and not even bothering with the little leaflet inside the pack I get a taxi and hobble on crutches into the pub to tell the story of my injury.
After one and a a half pints I'm totally out of it. I don't even remember how I got home.

If I had read the leaflet that came with my drugs I would of noticed the big Avoid Alcohol notice clearly printed on there.
I was mixing Codeine and Stella
never a good idea.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 3:04, Reply)
Not me, but a mate
Seems my mate didn't read the instructions on how to walk on a slippery bathroom floor when leaving the shower.
He prompty slipped over naked, landing on his back and braking a few bones in the process.
He lay there for a couple of hours, because he couldn't muster up the courage to alert his female housemates. haha!
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 2:58, Reply)
The first thing I said after this incident, beside laughing until I cried for about half an hour, was 'Those instructions are there for a reason.'

I was watching Jackass Season 1 on DVD with my friend Megan. We got to the part where Bam and co. jump on a treadmill going a full speed. Being a smartass, I told her I could easily do what they were doing.

I promptly turned on our brand-new treadmill to a speed of 10, standing wit feet on either side of it. I experimentally placed a foot on the mat, which led my leg to be yanked backwards. I giggled, and jumped right on.

The difference between my treadmill and the one on Jackass was that there's was positioned about 5 feet away from a wall. Mine was nearly backed up to a small end-table with cabinet doors. I also neglected to put on the safety tag, which attaches to your pants or belt and when it is pulled from the machine stops the mat.

When I jumped on, I immediately fell, laughing hysterically, my foot going through one of the cabinet doors, and I was lying down on the mat, arms held out in front of me in a feeble effort to stop it.

My faithful sidekick Megan pulled out the tag, and we both sat there laughing for 10 minutes. I sustained a nasty burn on both arms, and the cabinet door of the end-table was broken.

I went into the kitchen to tell my mom that I had tripped on a stool in the living room and gotten rug burn. She helped me to bandage myself, while Megan hid in the living room practically sobbing with laughter.

We then barely repaired the cabinet door, while my mom was in the next room getting drunk and playing mahjong.

I have scars on both my arms now, but it was so worth it.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 1:47, Reply)
i once..
didnt listen to harold bishop...

turns out he fucked a biscuit at my sports day whilst some cunt shouted at him.

*i'm so very sorry*
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 1:24, Reply)
Vegetables are crap
I wish vegetables came with instructions. When I first left home I looked like a right twat when I tried to cook garlic for the first time without taking the skin off.

My boyfriend went to Leeds market and bought some exotic vegetables from an asian vegetables stall. One of them looked like a spiny cucumber. We tried several ways of cooking it and it still tasted like melted plastic. I have searched books, the internet etc and I still have no idea what the hell this thing was.

I bought a bottle of hibiscus juice(!) from a farm shop and drank most of the bottle over a period of two weeks before I realised you weren't supposed to dilute it.

Yes I am now a middle class twat. I should have stuck to stuff you can only access with a tin opener. That always has instructions.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 0:48, Reply)
Dive dive
I was on a dive boat in the tropics, and there were only two instructions. The first was not to point your feet at the Buddhist offering on the front of the boat. The second was not to do a poo in the marine toilet while the boat was stationary (cos it just goes straight into the sea).

One chap on our boat ignored the second instruction. Thus, some happy first-time divers, all excited about going underwater for the first time and seeing amazing tropical fish and coral reefs, were treated to the sight of his turd floating past. Nice.
(, Fri 5 May 2006, 22:23, Reply)
On teh Duke Of Edinburgh
"Make sure you don't try to tackle anything too mountainous" said the DofE coordinater as we planned out routes. "You can tell these by closse contour lines on the maps." Screw this thinks us and draws the shortest possible route over several mountain ranges.

Cue us jumping down hundred metre cliffs...whoops.
(, Fri 5 May 2006, 21:36, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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