The horror! The horror!
When I was 19 my girlfriend of the time and I were getting down to some enthusiastic good lovin' in her bedroom while her parents were watching TV downstairs. Suddenly I felt a searing pain from the downstairs department and realised that the banjo-string had gone. The bloodflow was spectacular. Attempts to stem the flow with tissues came to nothing - I remember trying to catch the blood in an empty milk bottle (why she had a milk bottle in her bedroom is anybody's guess). In panic I stuffed some tissues down the front of my kecks and left to go to the hospital. Unfortunately they lived in a small terrace house and the only way out was down the stairs and through the living room past her parents - they were probably puzzled by the speed of my exit and the palour of my appearance. At that time I didn't have a car, and A&E was two bus rides across town. On the bus I realised that blood had visibly seeped through the front of my jeans - never a good look. When I eventually got to A&E I had to try to explain my predicament to the lady on the front desk (who had probably seen it all before, and then some), had a good two hour wait and then had to suffer the indignity of having my old man prodded by the doctor. Fortunately I didn't require stitches (eek!) but I was given the advice that I should "avoid arousal for about a month". A month? I don't think I had another stiffy for at least a year...
(conkerking, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 10:13, Reply)