Defacing the property
of an older sibling is never a good plan. So anyways, myself (at the time 13) and my brother (16) had just become the proud owners of a couple of BB guns (cheers mum and dad!). Now this isn't exactly a open and shut case of 'bullet in the eye'. Oh my no.
So we're running round the garden doing the whole SAS thing, trying to blast the balls off each other. And then... I decide to go and slip on the mildly wet grass, twist my ankle round, doubling it back round to my ass with an awesome "CRACK!". So off to the hospital we go. Diagnosis: fractured ankle. Remedy: surgery, with charming metal plate.
So I'm booked in to have the operation a week after the initial A & E visit and I'm chilling at home in a soft temporary cast waiting for my appointment. Without school to keep me occupied, I had found entertainment through drawing beards on the posters on my brother's wall, most namely that of Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters fame.
So my brother gets back from school, observes my handiwork, storms down and kicks my said injury off the coffee table. Worst pain I've ever felt. Week later, after the pre-op X-ray... amended diagnosis: broken ankle, multiple fractures. Remedy: another metal plate. Ow. 4 years later and we both went to see the Foo Fighters together, and subsequently met Dave Grohl. He already had a beard. I don't think he'd have cared anyway.
(Mr. Beef studio gash stylist, Mon 22 Aug 2005, 1:49, Reply)