Not mine, but someone else's
A P.E. lesson. We were 14. The teacher (universally known as The Shower Prowler, but that's another story) hands me the volleyball nets and says "go put these out!". So with a look round at - well, let's call him Arnie - and a mutual nod of the head, we set off to do just that.

Arnie tries to attach the net to the hooks top of the post, but it's just too high. He looks round at me and says "hey, give me a lift up, will you?"
So I grab him round the waist, and lift.
He gets the net attached, and says "right, put me down!"
So I let go, and back away.

Arnie does not back away. Arnie stands there on tip-toe, looking like he's stuck and in some pain.

The posts were multi-purpose, with hooks at various heights for different games.
Arnie's shorts are caught on a hook just above waist height.

The rest of us, of course, burst out in braying, pointing, laughter.

Arnie's shorts rip. He's still stuck. His underpants are also caught on the hook.
Our laughter intensifies to hysterical levels. This is comedy GOLD! We're going to be taking the piss out of him for this for YEARS!

Then Arnie's underpants rip. He's still stuck.

Suddenly no-one is laughing anymore.

With an awful lurch, a grunting pull of himself up the pole, and a collective deathly silence, he manages to his most tender skin off the hook. He bends double, and limps over towards the teacher, clutching his damaged parts and bearing a look of abject horror. And rightly so, for there's a growing trickle of blood and ... something else running down his leg

"Sir, I've .... I've cut myself"

"Where?"

He pulls his hands away.

"There!"

The teacher goes white, stammers out "lets...lets get you upstairs...", picks him up and carries him out, leaving an entire gym hall full of shellshocked kids.

After many stitches, Arnie made a full recovery, and is happily married with several kids now. He's even teaching at the same school.

I, on the other hand, never lived it down. The story passed into the realms of urban legend, spreading far and wide, and being distorted and exaggerated with each retelling. But it's true. I was there. It was me. And no matter what you hear from anyone, it wasn't a gang hit, it wasn't a hazing ritual, it was an accident.
( Young Master Ploppy, Thu 7 Mar 2013, 17:00, Reply)