Not I, merci dieu...
My boyfrind's brother's girlfriend.
So the out-laws were giving me a lecutre (they are kinda french, so I didn't mind) on the importance of doing what you're told when on a boat by way of the fable of this poor wee sod.
It transpired that they were having a family outing on the boat and decided to go for a swim. This chick was not entirely confident of her swimming prowess and decided to jump down holding onto the rope off the end of the boat. Holding it between her thighs for extra safety.
The jump split her clit in half.
As my boyfriend (probably quite accurately) recalls, 'she was sooo seeeek'.
I also saw a small boy fall down the trunk of a knobbly 10ft mutant holly bush. I laughed as he ran off screaming for warm bussom of mother. I still snicker about that to this day. He was a twat.
(spida, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 16:04, Reply)

doesn't only happen to humans....
Years ago my uncle had a rather lovely dog (a retriever, I think). Anyway, he used to take the dog everywhere, including in his motorcyle sidecar, for long walks in fields and so on. One day the poor thing started to struggle to use its back legs - it was getting old and the first thought was arthritis, or some other similar old-age related problem. After a couple of days the dog was showing signs of pain and extreme difficulty in walking so it was off to the vets.

The vet quickly ruled out arthritis as there was good movement in the joints and so proceeded to check other areas of the poor suffering animal. Turned out that the dog had severe grazing and bruising on both nads - at that point everybody remembered how the dog had struggled to jump over a fence whilst walking just a few days earlier and must have smushed his poor dognuts against the woodwork! unlucky!
(downhill without brakes . It was the worst day of my life, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 16:01, Reply)

Black balls
Last year I managed to give myself a hernia (left inguinal fyi). So in I goes to have the op no probs came out of the hospital walking like John Wayne has shat himself. Next day I get up drop keks to check out my new scars and for some reason my nuts had turned an amazing shade of black and swelled up about three times their natural size. Seriously I can think of no reason for my knackers to have been touched in so violent a manner until I thought of how they check if you are truly under. I reckon the anaesthetist punches you as hard in bollocks as possible, of course I have no urge to test this theory.

As for length and girth, black and swollen
(He of the Avenged Nipple, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 15:01, Reply)

A friend of mine demonstrated how he could ull his own pubes out
mostly this was accompanied by screaming in pain.

best part was, we convinved him to do it another 2 times in sucession.

Sorry to whoever found a pile of pubes on their camping chair the next day
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 14:36, Reply)

i hurt my bollards
one of the first times i went out drinking round town with my mate.

We were in the middle of town deciding where to go next and i suggested a pub, and knew a shortcut down an alley. so i ran down it leaving my friend behind to catch me up.

my mate follows and finds me on the floor in agony, and attempts to ask what i've done through his fits of drunken laughter.

a bollard painted black. at night time. in a dark alley. exactly crotch high.
( Snorty McBumhole YouTube.com/MinistryOfGeeks, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 14:32, Reply)

drunkenness and poles
About a week before moving to Canada, I decided to go out and get drunk with my sister and friends on a pub crawl. A fair few vodkas and whatevers later, I was walking home with a friend and had an urge to go running in the fields; so decided to jump over a gate and get to it.
It was pitch black and I was drunk, so climbed the fence but didn't even thinking of looking before I jumped. I met the most excruciating pain ever and cried out, toppling off a nasty metal pole to the ground. Yes , I had managed to virtually impale myself on some rusty pole. I looked down and blood was seeping through my trousers.
My poor friend (a guy, bless him), carried me back to a friends house where I wincingly looked at the damage in the bathroom and promptly decided I should go to hospital. Luckily it hadn't truly impaled me, just made a rather large cut in one of my 'other' lips.
(titihood, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 13:51, Reply)

whilst dirt jumping
(on a mountain bike) I managed to crash , straight over the bars, or so I thought, no I just managed to pin my knob a block of CNC machined metal, I still have a scar, halfway down my knob
( Neon Blue Ah ha ha haa! I feel positively capital!, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 13:34, Reply)

Not exactly me hurting myself, but a good story none the less
After going out with Mrs Fallingdown for about eight months, and a few months after I'd had the experience of going out with self-same girl who was learning everything about everything, (and of which I could relate a couple of other stories, but I won't, as she might read this if it gets on the Best Of board) we took a trip to London.
I had only been to London a few times then, and never without parents, so understandably I was nervous about getting around alright without making myself look like a prat in front of Mrs Fallingdown.
The day goes well, and nearing the end of the day, she decides we should get something to eat. And we should go to a place near Leicester Square she's heard about that is good but not too expensive.
Off we go down the Tube. As we're travelling down one of the mile-long escalators, and I'm desperately looking at one of the maps trying to figure out what platform to go. She's below me, and she turns to me. Without warning, she punches me 'down below'. Hard. The world goes wibbly, and I struggle to stand. Thankfully we're nearly at the bottom and I resist the urge to die until we get to the bottom. Where I lean against a wall and black out for about twenty seconds, none of which she realises because she's laughing too hard.
The result? Two bruised testicles that swell up to twice normal size, and the inability to have sex for two or three days because it hurts too much.
The really scary thing of it is that I'm still with her. She's lovely really. Like Pol Pot.
( Dave the Mighty, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 13:07, Reply)

Also...
At high school (and beyond), I was quite prone to jumping onto and going through with spur of the moment ideas and actions without quite thinking them all the way through.

One such incident happened at lunch time with the group of friends, all mindless chatter and such and there I am lost in my own world lost to my own thoughts...

"I wonder if it's possible to kick yourself in the bollocks?"

Verdict: Yes. Yes it is.

Cue: Tears from myself, and tears from those standing in the immediate vicinity (for different reasons I'm sure).
(Xiang, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 13:06, Reply)

Baby oil and genitals
Not me (of course) but a friend, who for obvious reasons I don't want to embarass should he ever read this board, so let's call him 'Dyllan Keller'.

A marvellous story he regaled us with in high school, that involved one frisky teenager, a shower, and a bottle of baby oil.

Said teenager was happily turning japanese in the shower when through a stroke (or several strokes) of genius, he decided that the baby oil would serve as the perfect lubricant between clenched fist and todger.

What might have been a good idea at the time led to slight irritation of the pubic area before moving quickly onto unholy inflammation and the inability to urinate for three days.

I'll never forget the look on his face as he revisited the events and implored me never to make the same mistake.

What's funnier is the eventual trip to the doctor wasn't even the most embarassing he's had... still. Lesson learnt.
(Xiang, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 13:00, Reply)

One day long ago Mr Camel was eating 'Dave's insanity sauce' on toast
and encouraging a friend to do so too. Friend's girlfriend comes round and drags friend upstairs for some rude business.

Shorty afterward she's heard to scream, then ran naked downstairs and into the shower where she held said showerhead on her lady bits for some time.
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 12:56, Reply)

I too have known the pain of a torn frenulum.
However, the frenulum I managed to snap was the one that holds your tongue. The pain, though bad, was bearable, but it did hurt for a very long time - eating, talking, and any other use you might put your tongue to all become a lot less pleasant when the slightest moment of incaution brings with it agonising pain and a taste of blood. Since then I'm always very careful when trying to lick my own nose.
( MooCow_Byter, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 12:13, Reply)

Pool
A couple of mates were playing pool in the back of the College bar.

There's the usual bragging and goading going on every time one hits a flukey shot or misses a sitter.

Neither are particualrly good at pool and the longer they play the more they drink, so inevitably things escalate.

Eventually, both are on the black and one has a fairly straightforward pot to win - except his opponent has decided to distract him by taking out his cock and dangling it into the pocket in question.

This ploy is effective, he misses with the black bouncing off the lips of the pocket, leaving quite a tricky shot.

So he obviously thinks - if it worked for him, it'll work for me. Especially as it was a difficult enough shot when sober and focussed. So out comes his todger, dangled reciprocately in the nominated pocket.

Needless to say, his opponent absolutely hammered the black, hard and straight - and that was more that could be said for his cock for many weeks afterwards.

He was known as Dick Poolpocket thenceforth.
(SpittyWoonerism, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 11:59, Reply)

Nijmegen
This is a 4 day march covering 30 miles each day. Well I was in a civilian team at the time. But we were good friends with a military team, namely the rock apes (RAF Regiment) anyway, this gay was getting such bad chafing from his boxers that by the third day his bollocks were red raw. He took great pride in showing us as well. That is an experience I would never like to re live. But on the last day he decided to lube himself up so up he gets in the morning, petroleum jelly out in front of the camp making a good name for the RAF. Puts his trousers on, gets on with it. Unfortunately this didn't stop the chafing and it was getting pretty bad and about a mile before the finish line the guy is in agony but being a trooper he carries on. By the time they got to the line the front of his trousers were red with blood. This worrying him he pulled his kecks down and the chafing had ripped his scrotum. He grabbed it and this forced his bollock to pop out and fall to about 4 inches above his knee. One guy passed out others just gawped in pure mental pain. Poor guy was rushed off to hospital. Having since joined up I still see the guy and he insists on showing stitches every time I see him.

Apologies for length? You aint seen nothing yet!
(Range, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 10:57, Reply)

Meagle

So Meagle, you won't take offence if I say you're full of shit? :)

And what an excellent QOTW! Two coffee-through-nose incidents already! But, I better tell the obligatory story.

guy I know is a farmer and, when he was younger, used to drive one of those old-fashioned tractors without a cab. You know the sort - the seat looks like a bicycle seat.

Well one summer he was working his arse off ploughing, getting the crops in -all sorts of farmery things. This entailed many hours in the seat of this old boneshaker. Then one night in the pub he was complaining of pain in his knackers but he didn't make too much of a fuss. This went on all week and, eventually, the pain was so bad he went to the docs. Turned out the rattling of the boneshaker had gave him twisted testicles. This is where one bollock gets wrapped around the other and cuts off the blood supply. Well silly boy had left it so late to go to the docs that one of his nuts was rotting and gangrenous and had to come off.

A bit of a tragedy but the next bit was just comedy. Apparently, when a bloke loses his nut they can put in a false one so that the guy looks normal when tackle out. The bloke I knew took one look and said:

"Yeah! I'll have one of those but only if you will put a zip in my bollocks so I can take it out in the pub. Make a great party trick!"

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 10:28, Reply)

Vicious infants
When my daughter was about 4 months old, my cousin came to visit. He was the token gay in the family (not so token, it turns out) and had both nipples pierced. Being the cool studmuffin he was strutting about without a shirt on, all the better to grace us with his manly torso. He wanted to hold the baby and I warned him about her grasp reflex: "Todd, for Pete's sake, she's just like a little monkey. Put a shirt on; she can't tell male nipple from female."

No, no, don't listen to the experienced mother...He picked up my daughter, cuddled her and went, "Coochie coochie cooWAAAAAAH! SHIT! JESUS!"


She was clutching the now-detached and bloody ring, waving it in triumph.*



*Perhaps just in bewilderment.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 5:27, Reply)

Life's little instruction book
I've a bad habit of disobeying life's unwritten instructions. You know the sort? Along the lines of "Don't attempt to eat this giraffe"?

I'm fairly sure there's one that states, "While using a steam iron, be sure to wear pants."

I prepared for work one day, disregarding this rule, and sure enough when I decided a collar needed an extra burst of steam, OW OW OW BURNS TO THE GROIN, OW, 6 AM Australian Eastern Standard Time. I had to wear waist high pants -- and plenty of soft, medicated dressings-- to work for the next week. But the first thing I did was SMS a best mate to tell him what I'd done.
He replied to my anguished sms with:

"It is with great trepidation I say that I always thought you had a hot pussy."

(This response is similar to one I've submitted previously in the Unwritten Instructions QOTW)
(sesquipedeviant, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 4:09, Reply)

why you should wear a cup while skateboarding.
It was a normal day at the skatepark with a few friends, drinking soda and skateboarding. My friend Nate said "Hey fag! I bet you couldnt boardslide* that rail!" (*boardslide is when you do a 90 degree turn onto a rail and slide on the bottom of your board) So, taking his challenge I called him a cunt and tried it. Now, the board snaps from under my feet and I fall right onto my crotch. Fall forward and break my nose. :X Yeah.
(NC-17 loves his b3ta shirt, sent by Moohalaa, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 3:29, Reply)

Not an injury, but...
it follows on in the 'bottom problem' theme and was immensely funny at the time.

Back in year 10, there was a coachload of us on a school trip to Germany. There was some serious misbehaviour on this trip, and this incident isn't all of it. Anyway, some boys in another room had vodka. One of the boys in my room (Sean) had been drinking said vodka. Except that his drink had been heavily spiked with laxative as a prank. He had major diarrhoea and flatulence, and was in the toilet at every opportunity. Not the best place to be with a long coach journey the next day. We took the piss (no, not that kind) out of him for absolutely ages after that. Legendary.
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Sun 16 Jul 2006, 2:45, Reply)

Tales of Juvenile Flatulence
I have always had a problem with my bowels, especially in my younger years. To put it bluntly, my farts were frequent and consistently foul-smelling, a stench not unlike compost, with a few old eggs and a bit of rotten meat thrown in for good measure. It repulsed me, but worse, it repulsed those around me. It got to the point where I was being shunned by my peers and berated by my family and I decided to take matters into my own hands. Without doing any background research (this was several years ago, before we had the internet in my house!) I figured that if I blocked the hole then I would at least temporarily solve the problem, and I could unblock at night to let all the built-up gas exit my body. Both my parents are borderline alcoholics so there were always a lot of empty wine bottles around, and where there are bottles, there are corks! To my pre-teen mind it seemed almost too good to be true - and as it turned out, it was.

The next morning, before school, I took one of the corks and proceeded to insert it into my anus. It was tight, so I lubed up with some vaseline, and to my relief, after a bit of painful pushing, in it slid! It was uncomfortable but not unbearably so, and I got dressed and headed off to school without incident.

When playtime came my friends and I were understandably hyperactive, having sat through a couple of hours of boring lessons, and we quickly initiated a game of tag, the primary school classic! By now the pressure in my colon was mounting but I thought nothing of it and participated as energetically as the rest of the kids. Suddenly though, disaster struck - I had just been tagged and as I was sprinting after my quarry, I felt something slip inside me, and what was perhaps one of the loudest and wettest farts I have ever produced erupted from my sphincter. It truly was a beast of epic proportions, the enormous pressure in my gut forcing out what must have been several liters of methane. All across the playground children stopped and stared as my rumbling dwindled to a soft drone before fading entirely. After a brief round of applause the sheepish grin on my face soon turned to horror as I realised that the cork was not in my underwear as I expected, and after a frantic search of my trouser legs, the sickening conclusion dawned - somehow, as I was running, the cork had actually lodged itself deep inside my rectum.

"No worries", I thought. "It's bound to come out next time I poop!". No such luck. The next few days are but a blur in my memory; I was utterly constipated and my colon was becoming very full, causing me immense abdominal pain. My parents noticed my apparent illness and took me to a doctor, who prescribed laxatives. These served no purpose but to increase the volume of gas I was expelling, without allowing me to pass any solids. I subsequently visited the doctor once more who this time sent me into hospital, where they performed surgery to remove the blockage and buildup. I was under general anaesthetic so I have no recollection, but apparently along with the decomposing cork the surgeons removed over two kilos of fecal matter from my digestive tract. I had fourteen stitches and was forced to use a colostomy bag for two months while the wound healed.

That was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. I still have the scars, both mental and physical.


Since that point I have understandably had a phobia of inserting any foreign object into my anus. I have altered my diet which has assisted the flatulence situation somewhat, but my digestive expulsions are still far from satisfactory. If anybody has any news about a revolutionary product which may soothe my colonic expulsions, such as a drug to inhibit gas production in the gut, please, please inform me post haste! I envy those of you who have healthy bowels and can reap the benefits, but alas, until an alternative solution becomes publically available I must grudgingly bear my pungent burden.
(meagle, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 2:19, Reply)

How rude...
Ok... worst story I can think of. My boyfriend and I were getting a bit ... *intimate* one day. With hands. On naughtybits. He got a little enthusiastic with his fingers, and I certainly wasn't complaining... until he pulled his fingers out completely, didn't pay much attention to where they were going, and missed. He hadn't trimmed his fingernails in weeks. I cried my poor little eyes out.

Incidentally, I like this QotW. I'm learning so many new words.
( Kittenpants, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 1:25, Reply)

My poor cock.
I'd just had sex with my girlfriend, and was lying back in post coital bliss. She grabbed the end of the condom and started stretching it out to a length of about 30cm. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me she was taking it off for me. I said that she'd never get it off like that, and she said "Oh", and released it. The conny snapped me right on the tip of my just come and highly sensitive cock, like a bloody great rubber band, and I let out a scream of anguish. She asked me what was wrong. I dont go out with her anymore.
(hixy, Sun 16 Jul 2006, 0:41, Reply)

Sacreligious ball-bashing
A few years ago at my school, we played a game known as 'David'. It consisted of approaching your unsuspecting victim, whacking them hard in the balls and shouting, as loud as you could, 'david'

14 year-old boys are stupid like that.

It originated when a tall, strapping, rugby-player of a lad known as Robbie Genn went up to not so small, not so strapping bloke called David Hughes on the bus, whacked him in the bollocks, and shouted, for obvious reasons, 'David'.

So for about four months after that (we abandoned the game then, for our children's sake), no boy in the school had safe love-spuds.

Enter me and my friend Chris, in maths when our teacher had lst the room to go and get something, or whatever it is teachers do when they leave the room. Our maths room doubles-up as an RE room, and hence there were a pile of hefty bibles right behind Chris.

Spotting the chance for a David that would go down in legend, He picked one up, walked over to me, shouted the terrifying word, and gave me an impoosibly clean smack to the scrot with one of the most verbose books ever written.

I doubled up, obviously, and then uttered (when I say uttered, what I mean is wheezed) the immortal words, 'How could such a holy book have comitted such an unholy act'.

I then staggered off to the nearest toilet and was copiously sick, and since our maths teacher is about as aware of wordly goings-on as a dead badger, Chris naturally got off scott-free.

I was just proud to have been a part of the best ever David.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 22:31, Reply)

not mine but...
Mrs McDangers. My turn to do the cooking and the spag bol gets a little kick added with a nifty pinch of chilli powder. without going into the details I'll cut to the lesson learned..

Always wash your hands before giving a lady the index and forefinger, took me a month to get her down from the ceiling.

On a more personal note, I have this amazing capability to kick myself right in the knackers due to feeling most comfortable sitting on my ankles. I still aint taught myself a way to avoid doing it. Cnut
(luckymcdanger, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 21:24, Reply)

Aged 12 I thought that rollers skating was the coolest thing in the world
So I finally saved enough cash to buy some fucking awesome skates from a mate. These were designed for indoor racing and lightening fast.

First time out on them and all seems to go well. Home time comes and 50m from my door it dawns on me...I live on a hill. At the bottom of that hill is a T-junction. I shot past my house, narrowly missed being hit by a car on the T-junction only to be stopped rather abruptly with legs either side of an iron pole.

I split my left bollock. It was the size of a coconut and I couldn't walk properly for 3 months. What made it even worse though was that during my stay in hospital, they refused to give me pain killers so I could tell them "where it was hurting". Cunts
( Devon Dan without geometry, there would be no point, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 21:01, Reply)

Hit me in my Prince Adam...
I've had my share of razor nicks (learned not to do that anymore!), kicks to the junk, and zipper mishaps, but this one's a legend in the family. My mum still likes to tell this to everyone she knows.

Back when I was 4 or 5, my mum's friend came over with her son. He found my toybox and discovered my collection of He-Man figures, which started getting him hyper, as he was probably the biggest MOTU fan in existence.

Later on I left to go have a piss - being so young, I never locked the bathroom door as it was difficult to unlock. Well, Mr. He-Man wonders where I've dissapeared to, and swings the door open. In his hand is a plastic cone from a baby's ring-stacking toy, which he uses as a sword, screaming out "By the power of Grayskull... I HAVE THE POWER!!!" and sends this big green piece of plastic crashing down on my willy. I was bleeding - the seam in the plastic thing had slashed my knob open. Time to see the doctor.

Thankfully it was only a small scratch and nothing too serious... like say, getting a three inch splinter stuck in the knob, which happened about a year later.
( Hosehead, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 20:22, Reply)

Well, it was quite a while ago now....
When I was probably about 6-7, my friend Sam and I would try to barge into eachother, repeatedly, every playtime. Keep in mind that our school's exterior walls were wooden.

One day, we start playing it close to the walls, the inevitable happens. I've got a giant splinter in my arse. Not a tiny little thing, no. At least three inches wide and an inch long.

Cue desperately trying to cover up this fact, I manage to carry on until the end of school before finally admitting said incident to my mum and going round the local doctor's surgery to have said splinter removed from my arse cheek.

Yikes.
Déja vu, anyone?
( ArthurTheRat, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 20:03, Reply)

Two occasions spring to mind
The first I have no memory of but would love to know whichever clumsy fuckwit did my circumcision at 8 months, since he managed to take a noticeable knick out the side of my bellend in the process.

The second is easier to recall and has put me off gas cigarette lighters for life. Wake up and reach for a cigarette. Lighter is empty so sit up, grab canister of gas from shelf and attempt to refill lighter. After several false starts and with condensed fuel dripping everywhere then immediately light cigarette – nicotine addiction in full force. Then attempt to put the flaming hair around your thighs and crotch out with a pillow, glass of water or just rolling around thrashing your genitals.
(paxvobiscum, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 19:22, Reply)

a good number of skateboarders
will tell you of the time they 'lost their virginity' while trying to learn how to ollie. lets just leave it at that
( Cashy, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 18:26, Reply)

Alcohol + Deep Heat
A few years ago one of the chaps I worked with put his back out and had his missus rub deep heat in it. Not a problem I hear you say, that is until he goes and gets very drunk. So his missus dutifully rubs deep heat int his back puts tube on the side and goes downstairs. In his inebriated state he thought he needed some more so he picks up the tube and proceeds to rub it EVERYWHERE. Three hours later he was still sitting in an ice cold bath crying his little heart out.
(He of the Avenged Nipple, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 18:09, Reply)