Swords
At school we had been in a big production of Macbeth as the summer play, and as was traditional at the end of the run, everyone went to a big play party where much underage drinking and massive drugs went down (I think this was the one where I produced a bottle of Ströh 80 and lots of people were quite ill). Anyway, for the fighting in the production - of which there was loads - our English teacher had knocked up 12 or so swords out of, well, iron in his garage. They were plenty blunt, but weighed an absolute ton and every single one of them had somehow been smuggled off school grounds and back to my house for the party.

Given the level of alcohol consumed and the reckless joy with which the revellers were swinging these swords at each other in the back garden - which only increased once they discovered that if you hit them just right against the wall it would send up a shower of sparks as well - it's an absolute miracle that no-one was decapitated as a result.

The following Monday the school announced a swords amnesty and I think all of them were sheepishly returned with massive great big notches and gouges along their lengths, later that week my mum set me to work rebuilding the garden wall.

(I've still got King Lear's throne, but that's another story...)
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 27 Apr 2012, 10:06, Reply)