I once itched
my eye after chopping chillis.

Five fucking hours after and it still burnt.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 1:23, 3 replies)

Behold B3tans, Eyeball Modifications
I do believe these can be classed as NSFW, not for the squeamish

www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAmvUAhX3kg&feature=related - Eyeball 'Tattoo'

www.youtube.com/watch?v=07lQU6g-KhE - Eyeball Piercing

Eye Carumba!
(PassTheKhat, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 1:10, Reply)

Lego. Bare feet.
The end.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Sat 31 Jul 2010, 0:09, 1 reply)

bridge of doom
long ago in a faraway place, well, the French Alps, okay, more like the Ecrins, perhaps Combe de Queyras if you're picky, there was the Bridge of Doom. The new road over an arm of a reservoir, the sign underneath for saling boats put the height retriction at 13 metres, plus about a metre or so of concrete up to the roadway, and add a metre or so below, as it had been a long hot summer, and teh water level was lower than usual... 15 or more metres i reckon.

I suppose it was a Rite Of Passage, we must have driven over it several times one week we were on holiday there. Being macho students we discussed jumping off it, legend had it that friends had gone before. Then one day we actually stopped to look at it, "just to see if it could be done" and then the jumping began. Not only that, the injuries began, but not mine, yet.

I suppose my first mistake was jumping in the first place, and my second mistake was enjoying it so much I should do it again. The first time, after a lot of umming and aahing was perfec, almost, pencilled in, went a bit deep, felt my ears pop a bt more than was comfortable, still, what a rush, again again!

The second time was my undoing, clearly instead of landing cleanly, my feet must have been pointing downwards, leaving physics to take its toll and my vertical movement of 9.82 m/s/s became horizontal as my feet shot out from under me, leaving my arse to connect firmly with the water, which didn't part as swiftly as it might. All in all very painful.

I pulled myself to the side to assess the damage: one thoroughly bruised backside, not suitable for spending a week sitting in a car pottering around various southern French places, let alone 12 hours back to Calais and then more beyond. Of more concern was the whiplash, I could barely move my head without being in agony. And then there was the mystery bruise in the middle of my chest, about the size of a coaster and livid purple - it was only later that I realised that the only thing that could have made that bruise was my chin, which meant that my neck must have extended 5 or more inches more than its normal travel, and whacked my chin into my sternum.

That would certianly explain the whiplash...
(Cocococho, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 0:07, Reply)

Stop Smoking Method.
Many years ago, my father broke a rib in an automobile accident. When he smoked he coughed. When he coughed the rib hurt. So he quit smoking. It didn't keep him from getting lung cancer 15 years later, the previous 20 or 30 years of smoking having done its damage. However, if you really want to quit smoking, a tap on the ribs with a hammer ought to help.
(uncle_bud is not the jelly roll king., Sat 31 Jul 2010, 0:01, Reply)

Do not blow into the BBQ too closely
Trying to breath some life into a past its prime barbeque a couple of summers ago. I bent down close to the coals and blew vigourously onto them to warm things up. One of the buggers 'pops' and a small bit of white hot charcoal ricochets off of my eyeball. To this day I still swear there was a faint hiss as it vapourized a small area of my moist cornea.

I now have a very useful 'reading dot' in my left eye which I can only assume is a small bit of carbon lodged in my eyeball. I often use it when reading to keep my place on a line, shame I don't do karaoke really.

I obviously have a certain attraction to carbon, as I also have a pencil lead buried deep in the middle of my right palm. My reminder from a junior school attempt to defend myself from a schoolmate with a freshly sharpened pencil. Still visible after over 30 years...
(Trojan Hussar blowing fag ash into your PSU since, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:51, 1 reply)

When I was 16
was cycling along when something sharp hit me in the mouth and I spat it out again. I think it cut the inside of my lower lip. But it hurt more and more and then I realised that something had actually flown into my mouth and stung me.

I got home and looked in the mirror and it looked like someone had slipped a jellybean behind the skin inside my lip.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:39, Reply)

Never unwind a spring
My brother took it upon himself one day to dismantle a pencil which had a small plastic woodpecker on a spring on the side. He sat there thoughtfully unwinding the spring and with a shriek it re-wound itself straight into his thumb. Various efforts by my parents to gently remove the impromptu corkscrew from his finger failed and he was removed to A&E with a small cheery plastic woodpecker bobbing on the end of his thumb.

The doctor in A&E applied an anesthetic cream and did the old 'removing a plaster is better done faster' trick and just yanked it out. A tetanus injection later and a downcast brother returned home with a bandage and no woodpecker...
(Trojan Hussar blowing fag ash into your PSU since, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:27, 1 reply)

Please, don't do this to your love spuds - Ever!
It was a very cold day three years ago at work... I'd just been out for a bracing, yet particularly satisfying cigarette and thought I'd nip to the loo on my way back to my desk. Whilst in the cubicle I noticed that due to said parkiness I was feeling uncomfortably tight in the ballbag department. Oh Ho! Thinks I, I'll just stretch them out a little bit...

I've been blown up, crashed into, scalded, punched, burned, thrown down the stairs, cut open and have even been nailed to a shed on one interesting occasion but nothing had prepared me for the sheer unadulterated agony I experienced...

It was like someone took a flamethrower to my boy bits. There was I, eyes, fists and buttocks fully clenched, dizzy with pain and dangerously close to passing out. Hitting the cubicle and swearing as quietly as I could for about three minutes. Never do this...
( JamHamster My eyes, my beautiful eyes!, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:26, 2 replies)

Playfighting Red
I was busy learning a valuable lesson. Little one and I were play fighting. The problem is, as you'd know if you'd tried this, is that you as the adult generally get the worst of it, through trying to stop the kid killing one of you.

So Red manages a particularly amazing fling, and I catch him, while making out that he's nearly killed me to death. And wrenched something in my back. It hurt.

Luckily it was a Sunday, so the fact that I couldn't move mattered less. I somehow got him back to his mother's, then went to bed. 11 hours of failing to sleep later, I got up. Half an hour later, I was in the shower, which helped a bit. Three hours driving did not help, although to be fair, it was easier than the nine hours of work. Three hours drive back was quite nasty too.

It gradually got better over the next three weeks or so, but every now and then I get a reminder. Annoyingly, this was about eight years ago, and it still twinges.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:12, 1 reply)

Balls? ... Ah, a sensitive subject
I was 6. What did I know about balls? My first wank wasn't for another 5 years. Danged lucky to have them for that epic discovery. But I digress.....

Out on a field trip with schoolmates and father as chaparone. Who remembers specifically where.... But it had a large, highly polished, and amazingly slippery, floor of significant area cordoned off by handrails with widly spaced aluminum newels.

All of us arsing about enjoying the slidy floor. Hanging off the handrails like the mob of monkeys we were. I had the bright idea of putting the left foot on one side of an aforementioned newel and right foot on t'other. Hang back on the arms, let the feet slide along the equally aforementioned slippery floor, let physics do its' thing and: Balls, meet newel post. Newel post meet balls.

Screams? Yes, but only after the paralysis wore off and I was able to catch breath. I remember that it echoed marvelously (pity, I was not in a marveling mood)

Father took me to a private place to survey the damage. More screams. Poor little chums were sooooo black and blue. ... but not broke or bent
(shamblinthru Grasshopper! Next time use the potholders!, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 23:04, Reply)

Brick hammer ... twice
Cleaning bricks for reclamation I missed and dug it into the fleshy bit of your palm by the thumb . I screamed and had a flappy gouge of skin that looked like beaker off the muppets mouth . later on in the day I did it again .. same place ....that effin hurt ..women , babies pfft
( hyperspacial puggling, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 22:42, Reply)

We all know how painful stubbing a toe is, right?
Well, at the age of about 14, due to having played a football season in boots that were slightly too small for me I started to suffer from bad ingrowing toenails on my two big toes. The Doc decided that best thing for it was to remove both nails under a local. Kind of uncomfortable, no problem.

Once the nails had grown back however, they start to 'ingrow' again. This time the Doc decides the best solution is to remove the nail beds (no more toenails for the young Buddha). This basically involves making incisions at the base of the nail and scooping everything out. After an overnight stay in the hosp I was packed off home with a fuck off bag of painkillers and told to keep the bandaged stumps raised for a week.

Quite happy I was as a youngster to spend a week lying on the couch with my feet up watching cartoons. That was until the day that I got up to hobble to the kitchen and proceeded to stub my toe on the end of said couch. All I remember is briefly thinking "oh, no" before waking up some time later in the foetal position clutching my foot.

Child birth? Pfft
(hairybuddha, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 22:26, 1 reply)

Broken bones? Dislocations? Pfftt!
I once stood on an upturned plug. Now THAT shit hurts! :(
(A Load Of Aliens, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 22:09, 3 replies)

Pins and Needles
The year was 1983 and as usual my younger brother and me were having a fight. However, this one didn't end with the usual parental interference.

Instead, my brother screamed in pain as his arm had landed on a strange, headless pin sticking from the carpet. He removed the pin and nothing more was thought of it...until 12 months later, my right knee started swelling up and hurting quite a lot. The doctor said it was "fluid on the knee" and sent me for an x-ray.

As the doctor examined the x-ray, The doctor had a very confused look as he asked me if I had any idea why I appeared to have half a needle in my knee. I recalled the fight with my brother and the pin he landed on, which must've been a needle that snapped in half, the other half finding the it's way into my knee.

The back of my knee was sliced open in hospital a few weeks later and the now rusty needle was removed. Not all bad though, it got me off PE for over a year!
(fur q, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 21:59, Reply)

Have you ever slipped on the stairs
and your foot flies out from under you and you end up on your arse? Sometimes, you can be extra unlucky like me and just catch the edge of the step with your arse bone / tail bone / coccyx (what you will). It hurts a lot. But not straight away, it doesn't seem to hurt at all, just a warm tingly feeling at the back of your pelvis. I landed right in front of Mrs SLVA who said "ooh" and other sympathy words and offered to help me up. I declined and said "I'll just lay here for a minute or so first."
This was because the warm tingly feeling was actually quite pleasant. After a minute or so, I got up and went and sat down. It began to throb. I went to bed.
The next day it hurt like a bastard. I think I'd cracked it maybe, but I couldn't bend over in any way shape or form. It took me best part of 10 minutes to get out of bed, and another half hour to get dressed.
To compound matters, I was at a funeral that day. Every step gave a small twinge - not pain, but just a reminder. Sitting down was agony though. Getting up was agony. Every other movement apart from hobbling slowly was painful.

Don't damage your tail-bone. It really hurts.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 21:40, Reply)

Deep Heat
Ralgex, I think its called. Industrial strength Deep Heat type stuff for muscle pain.

Back in the day when I could run for hours, I was a good footballer. I loved 5-a-side, and me and 9 others would play on a Friday night then proceed to Ashby to drink ourselves silly.

One evening in mid summer (it was hot), about 40 minutes in, I pull the muscle on the top of my thigh. Go in goal for the rest of the game. Shower, and then whack Ralgex onto top of leg, get the old shorts on and head to the bar!

The holder of the post of "significant other" was called Christine. She was lovely; bit dim but up for fun fun fun. So in she comes to meet us and she is wearing a very short skirt. She walks over to where we are all sitting; no chairs left so she just sits on my knee.

After about 20 mins, she just says "off to the ladies" - I should have realised at this point something was wrong as she went alone. She is gone a while, but its the pub, she could have ran into mates, blah blah...

I get a text about 20 mins after this saying she's gone home, can I call her tomorrow. No worries, beer o'clock...

I found out the next morning, that she had come out with my favourite tiny thong on and after sitting on my knee, she had noticed a warm feeling in her lady parts. Which got worse, and worse, and then she went to the loo and home. For 4 hours she tried getting in the bath, sitting on frozen peas, even got out the old thrush cream but was in true agonising pain!

My fault chuck...
(Strump striving for imperfection since, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:57, 2 replies)

In a little welsh town called Blaenau Ffestiniog
I was playing the first rugby game in a very long time for beloved Bangor Uni... As i'm in possession of a Shane Williams-esque frame these days, rather than the 14 stone front-row monster that I was in my teenage years, I elected to go on the wing.

"Simple" I thought. "These backs have got it easy, they barely do bugger all apart from run in the occasional straight line."

We were getting ready for kickoff, lining up against the opposition. Standing ankle-deep in sheep shit, I felt a quite surge of confidence.

"They're not gonna know what him 'em, as soon as that balls been kicked i'm going to chase it like a bloodhound."

The whistle goes, the ball flies over to my opposite number standing on their 22. I charge towards the lad, grimly determined to smash him backwards, stealing the ball, and scoring a try. INVINCIBLE. Or so I thought...

The gap closes, I time my leap in the classic spear tackle just as the winger opts to kick it... I dive onto the ball, grasping it in my hands only to catch a tremendous boot in the ribs. CRACK! I go to ground like a sack of the proverbial, the nineteen-stone forwards of my own squad coming to help me out by charging OVER me. Stamping on me in the process.

By this time i'm close to blacking out, lying flat on my back... hearing the ref's whistle I open my eyes to find players of both teams standing over me, looking concerned.

"Fucking great tackle that lad, at least you got the ball!"

I was thusly helped to my feet and very, very slowly inched my way off the pitch...

Length? 4 hours in Bangor A&E to be told "You've got two broken ribs, and there's fuck all you can do about it. Try not to laugh too much."

Not very likely in North Wales.
(Ragathi wants to know where his evil twin is on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:53, Reply)

A close look at H2O2
I tried contact lenses for a couple of years, mid-2000s, and tried the "Night & Day" type that you put in for a month, non-stop. That was the theory, anyway. They'd get gummed up and I thought I was at risk of an eye infection, so I'd take them out and soak them with hydrogen peroxide solution overnight.

Now, I was VERY aware from the start that H2O2 and sensitive tissues do not mix, and there are commercial solutions that contain peroxide and come with dire warnings in large type. Nearly every time I cleaned the lenses, I was extremely careful to rinse multiple times. I'd get a minor sting, next time I inserted a lens, that went away in a minute. On one occasion, I must have skipped a step. Bad move.

To cut a long story short, I wanted to rip my eyeball out, and used a whole bottle of lens fluid in flushing it out. The lens had been rinsed several times, and must have contained something like 0.01% H2O2, but that's obviously 0.01% too much ... 8(
( bnt what, me worry?, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:33, 2 replies)

Self Inflicted.
1. One night many years ago I got sufficiently drunk that headbanging to "Painkiller" seemed like a good idea. Next morning it felt like somebody had smeared napalm all cross my forehead and down my neck. The headache went away the next day, the neckache two days after that.

2. As a 7 year old I had an enquiring mind. In this particular case I was wondering "What happens if I improvise a ramp from this 4 foot tall packing crate to the ground and then ride down it on my plastic tractor"
The answer of course is that I ended up going to the Emergency room with my left arm bending in unusual ways.
(Big D, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 20:25, Reply)

Snap
Broke my ankle - stepping off a pavement, no less.

My foot twisted on a stone and I went down, full body weight on my overturned ankle.

It was agony and I was in plaster for six weeks.

There's a unique pain associated with breaking a bone - I thought I was going to spew but couldn't.

The second ouchiest moment came when navigating the icy streets in the town centre, on crutches, on the same day - one crutch skids away, I instinctively put my broken leg down to steady myself.

To get close to the degree of pain I felt at that point I think someone would have to ram a hacksaw up my arse.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 19:33, 2 replies)

I broke two toes
Despite having three children the toes hurt most.

The children were away so I was sleeping in the nude and the phone rang. My chap expected me to answer in five rings so I did not bother grabbing my glasses or putting on a light and just legged it downstairs. I must have missed one or two steps, pain shot up my leg and I fell in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

The phone stopped ringing and I thought that I would be in trouble so got to my feet and dialled 1471. It was someone else so I hobbled back upstairs, sat crying on the bed and used my mobile to ring my man who used to be a First Aider. I ended up with my foot in the sink.

Next morning two toes were black so I hobbled to the doctor who gave me two types of painkillers and told me to wait and they would get better on their own.
(whiskas loved by 8 out of 10 cats, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 19:24, 2 replies)

Not the worst pain, but the longest
I really am surprised there haven’t been more childbirth stories here. I haven’t decided if I should post the story of my first child’s birth (comparatively, the second child’s birth was a casual stroll on a spring day), because I’ve noticed that the only people interested in hearing about horrible childbirth stories are only pretending to be interested. They’re waiting for you to shut up so they can tell their childbirth story (because it was so much worse than yours!). Also, my hubby occasionally peruses these boards, and reminding him of the terrible things that happened to one of his favorite playthings may traumatize the poor man all over again. Oh, the scars. Literal and figurative.

So I will tell my appendicitis story, even though several of those have been posted, because mine was so much worse than all of yours.

It happened when I was eleven years old. My step-mother had run off to visit her family for a few weeks, taking the two youngest (her biological children) in our family with her. She and dad may have been having problems at the time. Hindsight tells me ‘of course they were, she fucked off for nearly a month, with a six month old baby!’, but at the time, it just seemed a summer holiday to visit her family. So it was down to Dad, my older sister and myself. Younger brother had gone off to visit with our mom for a few weeks. (Yes, my father is apparently a virile man. Five kids between two women, two of them only five months apart… but that’s a different QOTW. The dysfunctional-ness of my family is legend ‘round these parts.)

I had been having stomach pains for a couple days. Dad kept brushing it off (it’s just a little bug, it’s probably just gas pain, you’re fine, get in there and finish the dishes), until the fourth or fifth day, when I was curled into a ball on the floor, unable to move without bursting into tears.

So dad runs me to the emergency room, telling me the whole time it’s just gas, they’ll give me a little something or other and send me home. They get me in, do a few tests, and tell my father they have to perform the appendectomy immediately, my appendix was going to rupture any minute.

By this time they’d given me a few drugs, and I was quite happy to agree to sniff the funny looking mask and count backwards from ten. I think I managed to say ten before completely passing out. It’s possible I didn’t get that far.

A few hours later I’m waking up, and I’m still on the good drugs. Five days later, I’m still in the hospital, and they’re still giving me a shot in the ass every four hours to keep me quiet because I was hurting so much. The reason I was still hurting: apparently they cut me open, and as soon as the doctor touched my appendix, it burst, spilling pus into all the places in my gut that are not supposed to be exposed to such things. It was so bad, they had to leave the incision open, and every four hours, a nurse would come in, give me a shot, wait a few minutes for it to work, and then squeeze at my stomach as though it were an overripe pimple in need of popping. It was six days before they decided they weren’t going to be able to squeeze out any more, and finally sewed me up. Two more days and I was home, still barely able to move, with severe gut pains which lasted another couple weeks and, believe it or not, permanent nerve damage from all the shots. Twenty-two years later, I still get a twinge of pain if I move wrong, or if hubby smacks the wrong part of my ass.

I managed to miss the first two weeks of school that year. Win! Also, informing your estranged spouse that one of the younglings is having emergency surgery will bring her running home immediately.

Length? 8cm on average, but swollen to nearly twice that.
(ladydyani, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:46, Reply)

this.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzOAWHsS6xs

best played with sound. I got better.
(5lab, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:40, 3 replies)

Dangerous sport table tennis.
Aged about 7 on a happy family camping holiday my brother and I were in the campsite games room playing table tennis. The ball rolled under the table and I dived under to get it hitting my forehead on the sharp plastic corner pieces. My brother decides we need to return to the tent so marches off while I do that follow in his wake snivelling. He gets to the tent and calmly asks for a plaster. My mum takes one look at me with blood all down my face and front and decides we are off to casualty. Dad upset me more when he saw a sign to a dolls' hospital and said he was taking me there. Several stitches later and a still visible scar over thirty years later it was dealt with. I still feel the pain from being told that, because I couldn't get the stitches wet I couldn't go swimming which was the planned activity for that day and the open top bus ride was no substitute.
(jvz, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:36, Reply)

I had kidney stones and thought they were painful.
After reading some of the stuff here i now realise im still lightweight on the pain stakes. But the stones still fucking hurt loads.
(Beaverman Opulence, I has it., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:33, Reply)

Pearoast: Smashing Pumpkins
When in high school, I decided to do track and field and settled on pole vaulting because you didn’t have to run as much and were pretty much left to yourself as the coach couldn’t be bothered. The sport tended to attract the shadier, dope smoking types, but I loved the acrobatic nature of it all. Of course you’d get the occasional broken pole, or someone would miss the pits (mats) altogether, but it was overall fun.

At this time, they were in the middle of to replace the metal crossbars, which bent easily, with fiberglass bars. These would spring back into shape if some idiot ran into it after failing the vault. Now, the old metal crossbar would have simply bent and I would have tumbled to the pit, straightened the crossbar and tried again. My faithful reader, this was not to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been making some good vaults and was going for a new personal record. The approach was good, the bend in the pole was good and up I went. Unfortunately, I only managed one leg over the crossbar – must not have run fast enough.

As if time stood still, I was perched at 11 feet up, momentarily suspended, gripping the pole and my leg on the crossbar. Slowly, the fiberglass bar began to bend, followed by an equal bending of the pole away from me. Still I held on, not sure what to do. The bar bent further; the pole bent further. The bar bent further; the pole bent further – fiberglass can really bend a long way!

Eventually the inevitable happened: the crossbar went sproing! the pole returned to its straight position *FWAP* right between my legs and I fell to the pit unable to breathe or even see due to the sparkly things I saw before my eyes. As I lay there moaning, certain that I’d cracked a couple of eggs, the next guy in line kept yelling for me to get the hell out of the way. Dickhead.

I finally was able to struggle to my feet, careful not to put my legs any closer than a few feet apart. I then slowly shuffled, more bowlegged than John Wayne, all the way back to the lockers oblivious to anything or anyone. Once there I dropped trou, and proceeded to run cold water from the drinking fountain over my cojones, suffering from dry heaves.

It was days before I could walk normally, and although I hadn’t broken my birds eggs, for years I feared I would never sire a child. If I think too long about it, I flashback to that pain and actually get queasy.
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:29, Reply)

The smurf was the worse off
When I was about 12 years old I decided to conduct some radical surgery to a collection of blue plastic smurfs. As befits a surgeon, I used a modelling scalpel for the job, delicately adjusting the number of limbs, noses and other features on my patients. Then I got to my last patient for the day. Papa Smurf obviously needed a beardectomy so I began the procedure, carving a gouge around the beard and then readying myself for the final cut to cleanly remove the afflicted area. Unfortunately there was a complication and the beard would not come off so I applied more and more pressure, carefully holding his head just so to make a clean cut. Suddenly the pressure told and the beard came off. Unfortunately the force I put behind it meant the scalpel gracefully continued through the beard and straight across my finger carving a 1 inch L-shaped gouge straight to the bone. Mum (an ex-nurse) wrapped the finger up but didn't bother to take me to A & E so the thing throbbed like a bastard for 3 weeks after. Took a month to heal and another 3 years before I regained full feeling and could bend that finger again.

Did I learn my lesson? Of course not. A few years later and I was trying to splice a TV aerial. That time around I had the brilliant idea of protecting my hand with a dish cloth so as to not suffer the same fate. So when the inevitable happened and the knife slipped it went straight through my cloth armour and put another 3/4 gouge into the same finger.
(MagicMoose, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:24, Reply)

One from an old teacher of mine
He doesn't like needles. He REALLY doesn't like needles. In fact, he's hinted in the past that this phobia is the main reason he didn't do a degree in medicine. He also has an interesting past being at various times a formula ford and superbike racer, and a martial artist (before anyone comes out with the "gullible children" thing, we made him prove all this).

Anyway, one day he goes to the dentist with severe toothache. The dentist - who was well aware of his needle phobia - suggested that the matter could be taken care of with local anesthetic. My teacher, predictably, told him to shove it. The dentist asked my teacher to open his mouth really wide. He then grabbed a needle and injected with one swift motion.

Apparently, six broken ribs hurts quite a lot.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 18:20, Reply)

Chilli Willy
I was in my mid 20s cooking up a delightful pasta dish for myself. Now i nomally stick chilli flakes in everything i eat because i like it hot so i tipped a few into the bubbling culinary feast. All i had to do now was let it cook for about 20 minutes. What can i do to pass the time i thought. "i know! i'll have a wank!" Whilst strumming on my trumpet my thoughts turned from shagging my lovely large breasted neighbour to remembering i hadn't washed my hands of chilli flakes. I looked down to see my purple helmet was more a bright red and the size of an apple! It was practically on fire so i placed it under the tap of the hand basin and gave it an immediate cold shower. Subsequently i started laughing at the whole scene, wiped the tears from my eyes and writhed in agony as i couldn't see for the next 10 minutes!
(slipmatt Thats sooper dooper, Fri 30 Jul 2010, 17:46, 2 replies)