Electric Typewriters of 1984
My little brother was about three years old. He was having a nap on the settee in front of the telly. I, being a little bastard, would wake him up by prodding him, and run round the corner, out of the room. He'd wake up, be confused, fall asleep again. I did this about five times, until my Dad came through the living room door, as I was running out of it.

He was carrying an electric typwriter, which was at exactly my childhood eye level. Which I clattered into the corner of it at high speed, and bled profusely over the carpet (they needed to buy a new one). It had missed my eye by 1cm.

Fast foward 15 years. Little brother is lying on the couch with his shoes on, asleep. I was sitting on the floor, by his feet. We had to go to a gig (Manics, at the SECC) so I prodded him to wake me up. He kicks me in the eye. I'd blinked in time, so he'd only sliced my eyelid open. So I ended up at the gig, via Monklands General Hospital, a bit late, and looking very battered, bandaged and a little pissed off.
( drunkenoaf, Thu 18 Aug 2005, 16:08, Reply)