Out of frying pan, into fire...
Some girlie friends had gone en masse on holiday to Spain. After a fairly heavy 24 hours abusing Catalan hospitality they were in the process of putting faces on for the evening's festivities when one of them stepped out of the shower, slipped on the already wet marble floor, and hit their face on the corner of a stone table.

Bear with me, I did read the question.

Blood + water = usually a lot worse than it actually is, but this did need serious attention. So, half cut (sorry), they tramped off to hospital with the unhappy victim.

With nothing better to do, one of the pack decided to call the b.f. back home for emotional support: My mate Steve. Steve listened patiently for a good 5 minutes, and then against a background djin of chitter-chatter offered emotional support, constructive advice on healthcare abroad - only to then hang up abruptly. He'd obviously been out with mates, got bored, and despite his girlfriend's crisis, hung up.

Steve remained uncontactable until the girls' return a few days later. Steve was obviously out on his ear, but was going to get a good shoeing first. Steve turned up about a week later and was rather bewildered at a the savage attack he received on her front door step.

It took physical evidence in the form of stitches, hefty bruising and documented proof of an ongoing professional relationship with a neurosurgeon to make the beatings stop. At which point he had the opportunity to explain:

He later learnt from the police that the djin in the background was a group of hoodied youths walking up the platform behind him with a piece of 2X4 to relieve Steve of a few brain cells and his mobile…

…Apologies for length.
(jangle, Mon 19 Jun 2006, 10:41, Reply)