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This is a question Ouch!

A friend was once given a biopsy by a sleep-deprived junior doctor.
They needed a sample of his colon, so inserted the long bendy jaws-on-the-end thingy, located the suspect area and... he shot through the ceiling. Doctor had forgotten to administer any anaesthetic.

What was your ouchiest moment?

(, Thu 29 Jul 2010, 17:29)
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This question is now closed.

stepping on a bra hook
in bare feet is perhaps not the most painful thing you can do to yourself, but it has to be the most surprisingly painful. i literally could not put that foot on the floor without wincing for about a month after i did it.

i suppose the lesson is to take your bra off sensibly and put it straight in the laundry basket rather than whirling it sluttily around your head and flinging it across the room to be trodden on later, but still. don't ever do it!
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:40, 3 replies)
Stepped on an upturned plug
Luckily it was only a bath plug though so I was alright.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:34, 2 replies)
I'll tell you what - the girl who lives upstairs from me is a right dozy mare.
Keeps walking into doors - really clumsy.

Keeps herself to herself, mind.

Luka, I think her name is.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:32, 6 replies)
Got my heart broken.

Hurt like fuck.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:31, 14 replies)
Glandular Fever
Thanks School bike for giving me the most painful illness I have ever experienced.

The worst bit was my throat; on every swallow it feels like you’re trying to swallow Beelzebub’s burning hot acid piss, so after a while I had no choice but to start spitting in a bucket. The thing about this disease is that it lowers your immune system so you constantly have flu symptoms and chronic fatigue to compliment the aching glands in your neck, armpits and groin. It sounds a bit gay but I used to wake up crying in the night because the pain was unbearable. You can get different levels of the illness and mine was the worst case my old school doctor had ever seen. It was unusual for him to look concerned as he had seen all of it before but he wanted to send me into hospital for a drip if the illness didn't clear up within the next two days. He prescribed me steroids which had the un-fortunate side effect of puking :( puking with swollen glands and a throat like a baboons arse has to be one of the single worst experiences of my life.....but after that I felt immediately better and this culminated in me being in the shower and coughing up a solid golf ball size of gunk that was up my nose..Steroids are fucking brilliant.

Length, 6 months off school.

Anyone else had it that bad?

(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:29, 19 replies)
That first post childbirth dump
Although not quite as bad as 3 days in labour, being told by a midwife that you cannot leave the hospital with your bundle of joy until you have had a bowel movement is somewhat disheartening.

Imagine you've just pushed a 9 lb baby out of you. You have been torn and cut, and stitched up, and you're still bleeding like you've been injecting heparin for a week and then been bitten by a lion. Your poor nether regions are in tatters, and even micturation stings like a bitch. You haven't actually eaten anything except the lumpen mess that passes for food in the NHS, and as such your bowels are feeling a little blocked anyway. Oh, and due to the aforementioned blood loss, you are on iron supplements - not a dietary requirement that is known to loosen the stools. Plus which the delightful midwife has informed you that laxatives are only available to women who have had a grade 3+ tear + episiotomy - not your piffling grade 2 + episiotomy (in other words, MTFU).

So this was me sometime last year. Sitting on the (quite frankly filthy) bog in the post-natal ward. I could hear my newborn son screaming, but as I'd got my pants off and managed to lower myself onto the toilet without yelping, I couldn't do much about him. I started to push and in doing so ended up levitating several centimetres above the pan, whimpering and crying as it felt like several red hot pokers dipped in concentrated hydrochloric acid were nesting in my backside.

I sat (well, stood) there for what seemed like hours, straining and sweating, all the while I had tears cascading down my face and I could hear a sort of dull moaning sound, which I later concluded must have been me. After about 15 minutes of this, nothing had happened except that I had exhausted myself to the point of dizziness. I decided to do one last push, utilising the breathing tactics which had been unneccesary during the birth (thank you epidural, thank you!), and finally popped out the tiniest poo I've ever seen in my life. It was pathetic. A decent light microscope would even have had difficulty detecting this feebo-poo.

Still, I was able to proudly inform the midwife tht I had indeed defecated (although judging by the state of me, she probably thought I'd been flinging myself with gay abandon around an assault course, with my hair sticking out in clumps, and my marbled sweaty complexion), and thus was safe to leave the hospital.

(and once home, I did use laxatives, which was possibly a mistake, leading as it did to repeated trouser changes and mr vitamin c having to change the bedding at least once)
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 10:24, 4 replies)
So a couple of weeks ago, fans will remember that I had an infected leg from an insect bite.
A little bit gay, but still required me to have three days off work as my foot and leg swelled so much I couldn't get my boots on, and walking was quite painful.

To combat the infection I was given anti-bionics, and thus couldn't drink for a week, and then on the second day off work my colleague 'phones me for a moan about how shit everything is.

Imagine my joy, then, when afterwards I hobbled to the bathroom in my bare feet, and managed to tread on a piece of broken glass with my good foot.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 9:04, 3 replies)
Double cramp!
You know what it’s like when you get a leg cramp. Yeah, it hurts, but once you get yourself into a standing position and get some weight on it, then it settles pretty quickly.

The other night, though, I woke up with really bad cramps in BOTH legs! Couldn’t bloody move to stand up. For once in my life I was really glad I was married and a quick scream woke up the wife. A yelling of barely coherent instructions resulted in her at the end of the bed pushing on my feet trying to ease the pressure. It took a while, but it worked.

Think for a moment, though, of our next door neighbours, woken up at three in the morning by me shouting “AAAAARRRGH. HARDER. HARDER. PUSH HARDER. AAARRRGGH. HAARRRDDDEERRRRRRR! YES! YES! YES!”

They think our sex life is far more interesting than it really is…….
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 6:55, 5 replies)
Cure for snoring
It was a work colleague who had this one.

He tried everything to stop snoring. Nose clips, golf ball on back of pjs, the works. Next step was the nose opp. Not his choice, but being married, it wasn't up to him.

Simple opp, they apply anaesthetic, then drill out your nasal passage to make it wider. They packed it full of gauze, left him to recover.
When he woke, he felt ok. A little stuffed in the nasal area, minor tenderness, but fine.

Then they removed the gauze.

The second most painful thing in his life was when they pulled it out. The blood had dried making it one with the inside of his tender nose.

The most painful thing in his life was shortly after he realised that was only one nostril. Hurts more when you know whats coming.

As for the snoring, he is as loud as ever.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 1:16, 8 replies)
For such a relatively small part of the body, the variety of different pains it can receive is staggering. The front of the kneecap, when knocked square-on with a particularly pointy corner of a coffee table is a completely different sense of pain to when you pull a door open and it catches the side of the kneecap.

These sort of pains usually cause you to produce a "eeuurrgghhh!!" noise.

Then there's the slightly fleshy bit below the knee. The bit that your doctor twats with a small hammer which gives you the opportunity to hoof a nearby nurse up the arse for comic effect. However, the humour is lost when you kneel on a drawing pin and it sinks into this part of your knee.

Then there's the bit just above your kneecap. Knocking the top-edge of it on something hard is a whole different pain. The sort that makes you feel sick. This is most noticeably when standing up. Try it. Stand up with straight legs but don't lock your knees. You'll find that the thigh muscle stops and then the kneecap sticks out like a step. If you're carrying a 6-panel door and you feel it slipping, try not to catch it against your thighs. It WILL slip down and land on this ad-hoc step that is your kneecap. You WILL go "Eeeuurgghh" and the door will then slip down and land on your toes.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 1:14, Reply)
the death boob
A couple of years ago I was walking down the road with a friend and was distracted momentarily by a poster in a bar window. I kept walking as I read it and then turned my head forwards.


And then there were stars.

The thing I remember most is my eyebrow, right on the bone, hitting the metal lampost so hard that you could hear the metal reverberating for a good few seconds afterwards. True slapstick. I fell back on my arse and bled profusely. Having been knocked silly I could only grin at passers-by stupidly when they asked if I was alright as my mate went in to the nearby shop for first-aid crap. It probably needed stitches but I could not even be remotely bothered with A&E. There is of course, a scar.

The next time was just as stupid and more painful.

I was walking back from band practice one night and was carrying some equipment, bass, small practice amp and a bag taking up both my hands. I crossed the road and wasn't too far from my house when I tripped over my own stupid twatty clumsy feet and began to do the stumbling-forward-fighting-with-gravity-trying-to-right-yourself thing which we've all done.

Several things flashed through my head.

1) I think gravity is going to win this.
2) I'm holding a lot of gear, including my beloved bass, and I don't want it smashed. Therefore I'm not letting go.
3) But you won't have any hands to break your fall idiot!
4) Gravity has definitely won.

I careened forward, too late to drop my equipment. I had only had a split second to react and I had picked replaceable musical equipment over my soft, fleshy body. Mistake.

The area I live in is not one of the city's nicest areas and the council have of course done everything in their power to right this. The main initiative appears to be adding bits of scrubby greenery here and there. One of which is near my house. It's separated from the pavement by a row of flagstones that are upturned like a fence, about a foot off the ground.

It was on to one of these that I fell boob-first.

Now, b3ta seems a pretty blokey place and I would wager that a lot of you do not know how painful this is but I feel I can call on my fellow b3tan ladies to verify that boob trauma is fucking painful. An upturned, pointy flagstone, my bodyweight with nothing to break the fall and my boob crushed in the middle. the impact was so hard I felt the shockwaves wrench my spine. I rolled to the floor, all breath and strength knocked out of me. I thought I'd broken some ribs.

A group of passing scally-type ladies stopped to see if I was ok, lying on the floor wheezing and scared to move as I was. I could only gasp that I was ok as the idea of them trying to move me was too much.

After a while I realised I hadn't broken anything and somehow managed to get home, which was luckily only metres away. I couldn't sleep for a few days as the slightest movement of my back produced tears of pain. I thought of all the stuff in my boob-the flesh and ducts and tubes, hammered flat. I began to get paranoid I'd severed them or permanently torn something. It healed but even today, about a year later, is just that bit more tender. Because I tenderised it.

And a bonus picture of the offending mammary gland. Anyone expecting hot boob pic action will be sorely disappointed as my hand is holding the naughty bit and it's fucking BLACK AND HORRIBLE;


Just to add as well that this was about 3-4 weeks after the event, you can see patches of white where the bruise is subsiding and it's purple rather than black. Originally, my whole breast was black and looked like it had the plague. I didn't take a picture then. I was too busy sobbing.

There have been others. Because I drink a lot and am lacking in common sense. It's a wonder natural selection hasn't weeded me out yet as I doubt any poor child would benefit from sharing my hopeless genes. Survival of the thickest.
(, Tue 3 Aug 2010, 0:07, 13 replies)
Surely a hand shouldn't be that small...
When I was 10 the selected few (I say that, but it was a school of 28 kids in total...) were sent to France on the local cultural exchange trip.

I learnt a lot on that holiday. Such as the acceptable presence of fried egg on pizza and a genuine respect for chocolate on bread for breakfast (ha, take that, Mum. They do it in France and they've got style...).

What I also learnt was that the French medical system really couldn't give a flying fuck if you turned up on their doorstep being foreign and injured.

I was quite a horsey child (not that I looked like Camilla, I just got on, fell off and got back on the beasts again with quite a degree of regularity) so the family I was staying with thought, 'Genius. Take her to the stables and that'll keep her quiet'. As it would have done, normally.

However, the stable had one animal who was the equine version of Regan MacNeil. Gallic humour obviously decreed that I should have the pleasure of said beast so I dutifully stood there holding the lead rope from its head collar, waiting for others to get ready to go on the ride. It then reared up with no warning, yanking my hand and half my arm through a metal hoop in the wall that was a) about 2 inches smaller than the diameter of my hand and b) about half an inch from a brick wall.

The upshot of this is that I stood there for 2 hours waiting for the fire brigade to arrive and cut the hoop off wall (I did mention it was around half the diameter of my hand, yes?) and was then taken to a hospital that believed the best treatment for a hand that was pretty much skinned to the bone all over was a dip in very strong disinfectant.

I might have been 10, but I'm fairly sure I invented some curious new curses that night.

The scar still raises eyebrows now that I'm 31. Though that might because I credit it to the factually correct, but not necessarily whole story explanation of of 'oh, it's a rope burn'...
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 23:38, 2 replies)
This didn't happen to me, but a bloke I used to play rugby with.
Over the summer break, Ian (as his parents named him) had been sitting in the local football field with his mates, clambering on the goal frame and having a laugh. A group of girls came along and boys being boys, they started to show off. Our hero took a fit of bravado and decided he'd hang upside down on the crossbar and try and chat up one of the girls.

As he moved backwards, his legs slipped off the bar and he fell, to drop to the ground in agony. One of the little hooks to attach the netting had spiked through his sack, after passing through his jeans like they weren't there, to rip a 4 inch gash into it and to pop one of his walnuts out, which couldn't be saved.
He missed most of the following season recuperating and UI don't think he was truly the same again.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 23:22, 3 replies)
We can rebuild him....
We can rebuild him, slower, weaker more fragile.

Photos and a long story of a bike, a van and a yellow line that the van ignored in reply below.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 21:57, 3 replies)
3 pin plug
Aside from having experienced the "banjo" incident first hand (so to speak), having kidney stones and also dislocating my shoulder on multiple occasions; I have also made the mistake of standing on an electric wall plug. My foor slammed down onto the plug with such gusto that the plug actually "plugged" into my foot. The lamp didnt switch on though so I must need a recharge.

It really really fricking hurt, I passed out from the pain and awoke to sounds of my at the time housemate making wretching noises as he surveyed the plug and the fact that it was almost flush to the sole of my foot.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 21:32, 2 replies)
shot in the face
We've all been there I suppose - I was happily wandering down your typical English suburban street - every so often I'd see a single brick hovering magically in mid-air above my head. I jump up and punch it - a coin comes out. "How fortunate" I punch it again, another one. I keep doing this about 9 or 10 times and then nothing. Fair enough, and on I go.

Suddenly I'm confronted by a chicken/turtle thing (?) walking towards me with about 4 identical creatures following behind. It makes no attempt to get out of my way and I bump into it. This is the weird bit - I decrease in size, almost by half! Angered by this, I jump on the bugger and he disappears into his shell. I jump on him again and send the shell hurtling into all his mates knocking them into oblivion. I look around for any police officers or animal welfare types and thankfully find none but thinking it wise to lay low for a bit I jump down this massive green pipe into a sort of cave thingy.

More coins! Suspended in mid-air. I gather as many as I can for fuck knows what reason and emerge on the other side out of another enormous green pipe. I carry on for a bit until I find another box above my head, tantalisingly bearing a question mark. I punch it and a little (I say little, it's about as big as my entire body thanks to that chicken thing. Wanker.) star, flashing yellow and red, pops out of the top. I chase it and manage to catch it.

Suddenly I feel invincible and go looking for those chicken things. Oh how the tables have turned! Now, when I touch them - THEY die! "This is marvellous" I exclaim and sprint about the place killing all sorts - big plant creatures with cocksucker lips (they live in the pipes I think?), little spiky shelled hedgehog bastards and weird green lads who have a seemingly endless supply of hammers that they never tire of chucking at me.

But...and this is the 'ouch' moment.... it wears off completely without warning and I run head first into a fucking massive shiny black bullet with a face on it (??) and i go flying into the air and fall off the face of the earth. Ouch! Bloody Ouch.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 21:03, 3 replies)
what should hurt didn't
i made the mistake of shopping for booze for my mate's party wearing sandals that were a little too big for me. as soon as i left the shop, one shoe twisted around and i fell, landing with my arm on the bag with the bottles in it.
that didn't hurt.
one of the bottles smashed, sending a very sharp edge into my arm, exposing my elbow and creating a gash 6 inches long.
strangely, that didn't hurt, either.
the ambulance was called, i was bandaged up by the paramedics and sent off to hospital, where i received 4 needles and 8 stitches.
that didn't hurt.
when the doctor pulled off my bandage, which was now stuck to my arm by partially-dried blood?
THAT hurt.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 20:47, Reply)
About 20 minutes ago
Just come home from playing 5-a-side. On the next court, some bloke has just gone over in a tackle. They shouted out for anyone who does first aid, me and my mate run over. There was a scream, but then nothing.

To be honest, it made me wretch. His leg is not just broken, but opened up. Open fracture and the bottom of his lower leg is pointing the wrong way to the top. I just thought of David Buust (coventry footballer) and what happened to him against Schmichael.

Luckily, as I thought about what to do, the local Doctor turns up and tbf, does his job. Sedates him, painkillers and then the ambulance arrives. Off he goes.

Suprisingly the next game on didn't want to play on a pitch with a circular bloodstain about 1m in diameter...
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 20:38, 2 replies)
Not me but something I saw.
Last year, I was forced to attend a course by the job center called "skills for work" amoungst teaching us what to put in the space behind phone number on a job application (I'm not joking) we spent alot of time doing cv's. Bassic stationary was needed, including a stapler.

One of the chavs (of whom there were many) was dared to
staple his finger. Being a bright fellow, he agreed. Finger inserted, he smashed the stapler down with app his might. "why aye like, he's done it!" was shouted by one of the group. There, in the middle sat staple boy, grinning like a new father. Blood trickled merrily from the wound, the staple sat firm.

"Oh for heaven's sake, pull that out!" demanded the learning co-ordinator (baby sitter). Unfortunatly, the staple was reluctent to leave it's new home, embeded in the bone. Staple finger is taken to hospital for the rest of the day.

Next day he comes in, shit eating grin across his face. "Haha, was stuck in the bone like!" he announced to the room. "Did it hurt mate?" asks one of the chavs. "Nah man, I'd do it again now."

And he did. No hospital that day, but the staplers were removed.

The pain was of course realising I was stuck there for anouther week.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 20:12, Reply)
Weeee! Ouch! I bit my tongue.
There was that time I ated the purple berries, they tasted like fire. Or that time I fell over and bent my Star Wars doll.

I am a unitard.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 19:35, 3 replies)
Various ouches
I have a long, long history of personal injury, here are the ones I can remember, in no particular chronological order, many many words, sorry:

Sliding down a grass banking as a child, put hand down to slow descent, something sharp & nasty lurking, 2 inch slice in the middle finger of my left hand, bled, bled a lot, an unbelievable amount, cue for my friends to run screaming to my mother "his finger is hanging off!!" got some of those crappy butterfly stitches, decent looking scar. No pain due to shock.

Lead counterweight from my dad's grandfather (long case for the buffs) clock rolled off a workbench, weighs around 5kg made of solid lead, connected with my slippered foot between my big toe and second toe, smarted a little, lot of childish crying, visit to A&E, x ray shows inch long crack in my foot, sod all they can do about it, strapped up and told to keep weight off it for a while.

Running at speed down the playground at junior school, goes downhill at a reasonable gradient, "friend" decides to trip me up, head first into a wall. Knocked unconscious so no pain, next couple of days were a blur due to concussion, couldn't see properly for a week.

Car crash, sideways and backwards into a steel & concrete fence and some trees at around 50mph. Last thing I see is a tree, next I'm out of the car looking at it upside down with the wheels still spinning, massively confused. Help arrives, I now can't see particularly well due to blood pouring down my forehead into my eyes, plus concussion. Voices sound kind of distant, but I come around a bit "you're going to have to sit down mate!!" me: "piss off, it's muddy!" so sat down on a wall, now pain starts kicking in, head is just numb (number than usual) but shoulder is excruciating, probably an 8-9/10 I can move my arm, but hurts like a biatch. Get bundled in ambulance, along with the missus who was in passenger side, spend three days in hospital, injuries as follows:

Head: 4 inch gash (giggity) on my left forehead, had a look when they took bandages off, could see my skull, nasty bit was it cut through the muscles that hold the left side of my face up, so my eye was almost where my cheek should be, and everything else lower, my eye is now slightly lower than my right.

Shoulder: This was a REAL mess, turns out I hit the steering wheel hard, the top of it was now flat instead of round! The airbag didn't trigger as it was a side impact, so my shoulder tore off the airbag cover, which stripped all the flesh off from my shoulder blade and about 2 inches of my chest, also gouged my neck, just missing the jugular. An eye witness at the scene said he could see various bones, muscles and tendons through afore mentioned fleshless mess, and was very concerned every time I moved my arm that some bone or other was going to pop out!

Now have some impressive looking scars, with a horrible pink, veiny blob on my chest where a couple of inches of flesh had to completely regrow. Most painful part though, the twat in the Z3 that cause the crash drove off, leaving me to take the blame despite witnesses in my favour, I now have a deep hatred of BMW drivers.

Last nasty injury, a very random burn. Was putting a beef joint in the oven to roast, had it on one of those plastic roasting bags, stuck it in the oven, top of the bag touched the top element, dropped a red hot blob of molten plastic onto the thumbnail of my right hand, said blob then melted through my nail and into the very soft, very sensitive nail bed, it hurt, it hurt a shitload, I swore, swore some more flailed my arms about, then ran it under cold water for a long time. Would have to be a 8/10 on the pain scale.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 19:15, Reply)
Not another frenulum story
I notice a lot of stories this week are relating to snappage of the male frenulum. Happily I have not been so unfortunate as to experience this myself, not owning a penis and all that. But I have been unfortunate enough to snap a different kind of frenulum.

It all started with my ex. He and I had a rather intense but never particularly conventional relationship. I'll spare you the details, but all I remember is that one minute we were having a particularly adventurous kiss, and the next I felt something rip, tasted blood and suddenly realised it was coming from underneath my tongue. "Owth" I said, being momentarily robbed of the power to speak clearly.

For the next two days I spoke with a lisp and was reduced to eating ice cream and soup... which was interesting to explain to my mum. It was quite painful when I did speak or eat and I would also wake in a cold sweat convinced I was about to somehow swallow my tongue.

It healed pretty quickly, however it didn't heal itself back together so I now have a tiny slit in my tongue frenulum.

Length? Probably a couple of millimetres longer than it was before. And more flexible. Oh yes, definitely more flexible.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 19:11, 1 reply)
When I was at university we had a guy who was nicknamed 'Boner'. This was more related to his surname than his fervent priapic nature, even though he was a filthy pervert.

Dear old Boner would love to stick it in to whatever he could, whenever he could, irrespective of the consequences (almost as bad as Spanky but nobody else is quite that depraved) and in his third year acquired some fresh meat a new flatmate to try it on with.

Now the new flatmate (let's call her 'Bob')was reasonably pretty but very skinny and really very uptight, which of course made the challenge that much more exciting given Boner's reputation as a filth-merchant. So like a pack of angry minge-hounds scenting blood, Boner flew into full cry in his charm offensive to bed 'Bob'.

And somehow he succeeded - without alcohol or rohypnol he managed to seduce Bob at 1am in the sitting room of their shared flat. The problem was that Bob wasn't just uptight in personality but just about everywhere else too.

I've no idea whether she sat on him when he could n't quite get it in or whether in his gurning moment of gingery triumph he pushed far too hard, but what I can tell you is that if the hat doesn't fit for God's sake don't wear it, because gentleman it can snap and yes it does hurt.

Length? About 4 weeks of agonising pain every time he got a boner...
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 18:12, Reply)
This morning
I stood on a plug.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 17:58, Reply)
Beach Concert on Saturday
Can't remember what happened exactly..
But I have a bruise on my forehead, and a huge one on my arse and all over my legs..

They're pretty ouchy.

Rape perhaps?
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 17:29, 2 replies)
I'm a sick freak.
I find these stories wince-inducing or horrible, rather than hilarious as a normal person would.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 17:24, 1 reply)
and I should know better having grown up in the sticks.

Went to close a gate on a site way down in the depths of Ireland, and grabbed what I thought looked like a pull wire to swing it closed. Wrong.

It was a loose fly cable from the electric fence system, insulated normally but obviously dickhead here had grabbed bare metal.

My hand shoots back and I avoid spacking myself in the face by luck alone, with a little bit of wee finding it's way out as well.

Nasty little shock and I yelped like a girl.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 17:07, Reply)
You're Toast
My Dad the DIY God (as mentioned in previous posts) was fixing the toaster. He had to go out, leaving the project half completed. DIY-God-Junior (a young me) decided to have a poke around myself.

Unfortunately, in an uncharacteristic fit of carelessness, he'd left the toaster plugged in. A fact that I discovered when I managed to complete the circuit with my fingers. One finger on each hand, in fact. Which meant that the 240V mains current went up one arm, across my chest, then down the other. Yes, right across my heart.

I remember feeling like my shoulders had exploded, then the next thing I knew I was slumped in a corner, clear across on the other side of the room, vibrating at 50Hz and aching all over. Very painful, and very scary - and it gets scarier every time I think about it, since that's an effective way to stop your heart...

Don't do that.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 16:47, Reply)
My freind...
... was getting down to it with his now ex girlfeind.
Halfway through the act there is a sudden pain in the nether reigons and he begins to scream. The foreskin had ripped away... he doesn't like to talk about it but I assume it was one of his most painful moments.

Length? I dont know I didn't want to see that!
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 16:29, 3 replies)
Fatherly love
My Dad is a great man. He shared his interests with me when I was little, he guided me through adolescence with warm love and firm boundaries, and now I'm all growed up myself he's a lively pub companion and a trusted confidante.

However, he is not a particularly careful man and I do share half his DNA. Sometimes the combination works out badly for one of us. Here is a partial list of things he's done to me as a child using a devil's recipe of general inattention, sitcom-grade clumsiness and a variety of company cars:

1986 - Before I was fully in the car, swung shut the front door of a Vauxhall Cavalier, crushing my ankle between the door and the cill. Pain: 7/10. Injuries: bleeding, swelling, difficulty walking for a couple of days. Off games: 2 days. No permanent damage.

1990 - ran over my foot with the rear wheel of a Saab 900 in a pub carpark, stopped when he heard a scream, then reversed back over it again in an attempt to put it right. Pain: 8/10. Injuries: three broken toes. Off games: 2 weeks.

1991 - on unloading the same Saab's boot at a beach one holiday, failed to notice that I hadn't stepped away and slammed the boot down on the crown of my head. Pain: 0/10 (unconscious). Injuries: some bleeding, short blackout, damaged hearing (mum's angry yelling). Off games: none. Forgiven: immediately. Beach time!

1992 - crushed me between the rear bumper of a Citroen BX and a garage door during an insufficiently well-observed reversing manoeuvre. Pain: 3/10. Injuries: bruised thighs. The cheap, rusty French car required a new bumper though.

I got my revenge in the end. I electrocuted him by turning on the lightswitch when he was re-wiring my bedroom.
(, Mon 2 Aug 2010, 16:09, Reply)

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