First time with the opposite sex...
I was 15, as was she. We'd been going out for a few weeks and all we'd done was tickle each others tonsils and grope around blindly. It was then decided we'd take things to the next level. So one hot, summers night her parents were out and we were home alone and in the words of Tinie Tempah things started getting frisky. I took it upon myself to go first, having a bit of an exploration with my hands which she seemed to enjoy. Then it was her turn. I noticed at first she had a vice-like grip but being the novice I was I thought that's how things were.

The next moments were the most painful of my life. I have no idea what she thought she was supposed to be doing but without getting too graphic she slammed her hand downwards at a terrific speed and with such force I felt a horrific pain that made me jolt from lying horizontal on her bed to in the vertical position three feet in the air in nanoseconds.

I admit I let out a somewhat girly shriek but as far as I knew she'd just destroyed my manhood. Looking down at my poor member I noted blood. Quite a profuse amount actually. Despite her vocal apologies and how it was an accident I rapidly got dressed and ran as fast as the pain would allow me home (she only lived half a mile down the road from me) and further inspected the damage.

At the time I didn't know exactly what she'd done, other than ripped something but years later I now know she tore my banjo. It bled a fair bit for the first few days but after about two weeks things were as good as new.

I dumped her a week after.


Length? It went from hero to zero in less than ten seconds!
(CableDolt is on the mind of a girl near you on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 23:38, 6 replies)

I have no feeling in my middle finger......
Aboot 4 years ago I was having an argument with my ex, A tiny wee thing, she was only 10 stone and 5 foot 4, and i'm a big man and stand at 6 foot 4, anyway.... during a rather drunken argument she punched me on the nose spraying blood all down my shirt, i responded by bending down and saying "is it my turn to hit you now?"
She then grabbed me by the throat and under my arm digging her nails into my right bingo wing.
As i felt her nails meet through my flabby under arm and blood trickling from my nose and now my arm flap she started to push me backwards, my right arm was in the air as i was trying to pull it away from her as she pushed me by the throat allowing me to land on a toy box with my hand ever so gently exiting the building through a closed window....
I clambered back up looking at the gaping wound on my hand stretching from the tip of my middle finger to the top of the first knuckle, I found it incredible that i could see the knuckle and watch my tendants and stuff move my finger.
My ex then screamed "oh great, look what you've done now, the windows smashed and there is blood everywhere!"
so being the gentleman i gently flicked my hand in her general direction spraying blood all over her face, then I left for the hospital, (luckily the hospital was only across the road)
End result was about 7 stitches to hold my finger together and the nerves where severed in the middle of my finger (which is strange because if i knock the middle of my finger where the nerves where severed it feels like im pushing my finger down!

my fingers are sore now, and i can't spell! pluss grammor needs on working.
( tim1701 I have no board signature!!!!!, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 23:24, 4 replies)

Damn you austria!
As a student, my diet was steriotypicaly limited.

Whilst browsing the asiles in tesco, I took a miander t'ward the world cheeses, chancing across the sausage shaped delight from Austria, I had found lunch. Breaking out the brevil, I began my ultimate toastie. Once cooked, I sat before the television eager to tuck in. Quick sip of diet coke then my first bite. HOLY FUCK! My face and hands became coated in burning hot austrian smoked cheese. For reasons I'm not educated in, it seems austrain smoked has a lower melting tempriture and retains more heat then the standard cheader I was used too.

It was like napalm, hot stringy cheese clinging to me and continuing to burn. It was horrific, like I was a civilian during the viatnam war. I managed to tear most of my lunch off myself, and inspect the damage. 2nd degree burns, and a couple of cuts from my tearing in panic.

Still, a nice lunch when it "set".
(Mong goose, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 22:12, 5 replies)

This didn't happen to me personally, but it still made me wince.
Several years ago, the chemical company I work for used formaldehyde as a preservative in a few of its products. As it's solid/very gloopy at room temperature (depending on the supplier), formaldehyde is not easy stuff to handle, so on the plant it was kept in heated vessels and pumped around in its hot, fluid state. Which was all very well and conformed to safety standards, until one of the pipes started leaking.

The first person to notice the leak was a lad not over-endowed in the common sense department; he went right up to the hissing, steamy brown trickle to get a good look, put his foot directly underneath, and got a nasty surprise as it burned right through his safety boot, made short work of his sock, and settled into his toes. Having withdrawn his foot and spent some time hopping around screaming blue murder, he then took off his boot and took a good deep sniff of his now-blackened toes. At which point he passed out from the fumes and hit his head on the smooth, tiled floor.

In the end, three of his toes were so badly burned they had to be amputated, and for various reasons including but not limited to this incident, formaldehyde was completely phased out within the following year.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 22:03, 1 reply)

A couple of years ago, having temporary success in moving out from my parents' house, I decided to embark on several things that I had wanted to do, but didn't want my parents knowing about.

Having had several piercings before, all above the waist, and not having a parter (or indeed, the prospect of one), I thought that it would be a good time to get myself a Prince Albert.

I popped myself down to London shortly after new year, since I knew of a very reputable place down there that wouldn't do a cackhanded job of it. I spent my day doing London things, and left the job as the last thing to do before heading back. I booked myself in, and sat rather nervously, as, after all, I was going to have a needle put through my manhood. The lovely woman, who was to do the procedure, talked me through what was going to happen. I was fully prepared for what was to happen, meaning that my legs were clamped shut, and I was shaking (through both fear, and the fact that I was in a room without a heater in early January).

When I had calmed myself down, and dropped my trousers, revealing my manhood to the female species for the first time since puberty. I thought hard about blaming the cold for the lack of size, but I didn't want the pity of someone who would certainly think that I was making excuses.

Having been sterilised (but not in that way), and with the receiving tube inserted into the urethra (which was very cold), I realised, slightly too late, that the next thing coming would be the needle, rather than the anesthetic that I had previously been expecting. I caught a glimpse of the needle, in all of its three-point-something millimetre glory, and decided that it would be best to close my eyes. On reception of the needle, my body tensed up, and my my feet flinched upwards rather sharply.

This ended in an uncomfortable experience for the two of us. I managed to kick the poor woman in the stomach, and the resultant shock caused her to pull the needle upwards. Despite being in excruciating pain, it thankfully did no more damage than was initially intended, and though contorted lips, I apologised profusely.

Once the jewellery was in place, I made my way home, now realising why people recommended having a short journey home, rather than half an hour on the tube, an hour and a half on the train, and a mile walk at the other end.

This however, was not the end of my pain. Ignoring the regular stinging caused by evacuating myself in the days afterwards, I was finding the ring that was in place uncomfortable, as it was slightly too large. A week after the wound was inflicted, I bought a smaller ring, since I didn't want another few weeks of discomfort before it healed. In retrospect, it would've been better to endure that, than have what came to me, at the fault of my own hands.

I sterilised the new jewellery with alcohol gel, washed myself with water, and removed the larger ring. I then put a little bit of lubricant on the new ring to ease it through the hole.

At least, I thought it was lubricant. I'd put the alcohol on it instead.

Let me tell you, that was far, far, far more painful than any needle, and the scream that was produced woke up my flatmate, who was sleeping downstairs. I have since learned my lesson in not fiddling with unhealed piercings, and not to leave lubricant and alcohol gel next to each other.

Length? Perhaps not as much as I'd have liked.
(Doam, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 20:22, 8 replies)

The result of too many hours in the sun....
Second degree sunburn - and a trip to a burns clinic. Painful as it was funny (my feet swelled to nearly twice their normal size and looked like rotting slabs of ham), nothing compared to the removal of the blisters on my feet. For this, they made use of the most sophisticated modern medicine methods by literally scraping them off with a wet towel like they were burned cheese on an old frying pan. Yowsa, that was sore!

To add insult to injury my wallet and cards got robbed in that shithole of a hostel that is pictured........all in week one of a four month trip. Good start then!


(El_diablo_blanco, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 19:12, 3 replies)

Aged about 5....
Jumped backwards off the two foot high front wall outside my Grandma's house. Didn't go backwards far enough, just straight down, so my mons pubis met the corner of a brick with a lot more force than should ever be applied.
Yep, a large pointy stone hit me where the good Lord split me.
( Sallyrsm, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 19:07, Reply)

Snapped my banjo string

(PassTheKhat, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 18:54, 5 replies)

LEEP procedure to remove cancerous cells
...from my cervix. Lidocane injection given to numb, which did not numb. I told them it didn't work very well on me (previous experience with a variety of uncomfortable but thankfully less painful procedures tells me this), but they ignored that saying it would be fine.
Procedure done anyway. It is touted as painless but it isn't, hence, the lidocane in the first place.
Like having your cervix burned with soldering iron. I was ready to murder once I could stop screaming.
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 18:41, 2 replies)

My most painful experience ever






Damn I'm good
( kappynitty doubled your entendre on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 17:36, 8 replies)

Kidney Biopsy...
Now if you have winced at the above title then the little may prompt a comment of ooooheerrrrrr ouch!

For reasons that I won't go into here (there will be a QOTW that suits one time I'm sure) the NHS have broken my kidneys. They currently run on about 30% which is all fine.

Anyway, they needed to find out how badly borked they were - biopsy HO!!!!!

I have a VERY fast metabolism, so my normal hospital when doing bits with my guts give me a bit extra sedative/numbing gunge etc but this not being in my new hostipal didn't. They also messed it up so I got half what I usually should have.

The tool they use to take a kidney biopsy is about the diameter of a ballpoint pen. As I felt it push through my skin I was crying out in pain. They told me not to be so silly. As the claw thing came out and took a chunk off my kidney I FELT EVERY SINGLE THING. The most pain I have ever felt*, and wouldn't wish on anyone.

That is all.

Og

*Other answers maybe will come but through falling off mountain bikes a lot and crashing cars I have broken a few bits inclduing my skull, which is nice. Oh and had various invasive inspections too. The kidney thing was by far the worst
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 16:01, Reply)

Never put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear...
Various painful ear stories!

A few christmases back I had a very bad cold and all the sniffing of lovely thick grog had resulted in my ears becoming quite blocked. That combined with poor fingernail maintainence and intensive pinkying my earhole resulted in an excruciating pop. Yes! I perforated my eardrum still couldn't here anything and was in pain that ibprofen and paracetomal couldnt cure! I've still not learned my lesson though, nothing gives me greater pleasure than pinkying a great golden nugget out my ear.

Friend told me this one...

Friend of a friends aunties second detached cousin in laws wife (and so on) had a bad habbit of putting cotton buds in her ears and leaving them there. One drunken night she cleaned her ears, left the cotton bud there done a bit of farting about as one does after a few cheeky waters and then jumped onto her bed with cotton bud weilding ear landing on the pillow sending the cotton bud into her ear like a cow slaughter bolt thingy majig. I was told there was a lot of interesting pussy colours on her pillow. Being a person of the variety that doesnt learn her lessons she done it again with the exception of rather than jumping on the bed she answered a phone with a cotton bud in her ear....

yes..

Be gentle I dont do this often :)
(ukraine space monkey, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 15:58, 2 replies)

high heels
with all the amazing scientists and technology out there, why can't someone please invent beautiful shoes that don't hurt like a muthafucka? after a long night spent standing on my lovely new sparkly heels i can barely walk this morning. i think i may have crippled the balls of my feet permanently.

although the shoes are so pretty i can't believe they really meant to hurt me.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 14:04, 14 replies)

Another Agony
Was in Florida around 10 years ago. Being a young idiot, I decided it would be clever to stay in the pool all day without putting sun cream on. Being of Irish descent, I am as pale as hell and don't tan well. The result, swollen red arms and massive blisters all along my arms, as wide as my arm and as deep as a pen. Absolutely agonising - I couldn't do anything for a week and when I got back to England the doctor said I can't get burnt again otherwise I could get skin cancer. After the blisters and swelling had gone down, I had an unusually impressive tan which I have not got since (I am back to near-albinism now).
(52486 office lolled on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 12:33, 6 replies)

Appendix
Apologies for lack of funnies.

I was on holiday in 2004 when I had an excrutiating stomach pain. I thought I had swallowed too much chlorinated water however I went back to the hotel room and spewed up all over.

Luckily my Mum knew it was something a bit more than a bug and called a doctor and I was promptly moved to a hospital in Benalmadena. Couldn't speak a word of Spanish and had to sign an agreement which could have said 'You agree for us to remove a kidney' for all I know. The waiting was agony. After removed I felt much better but every time I walked around I felt like the stitches were going to burst and blood spew out all over. That is the single most painful experience of my life.

Oh, apart from when the sadistic dentist felt it necessary to prod a metal probe into a cavity touching the inside, UNANAESTHETISED. My friend waiting downstairs said the whole waiting room looked frightened when I screamed.

But in the end it worked out quite well, we got an extra week in a luxury hotel courtesy of the insurance company.
(52486 office lolled on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 11:53, Reply)

Having carefully pre-hardened my feet
over a lifetime of never wearing shoes (running around the garden, rockpools on holiday, walking home from school shoeless and even now negotiating as much as possible without footwear)still didn't help me when my three ankle-biters came along in quite quick succession.

As previously mentioned, Lego is painful but their bigger brother the Duplo brick wins by a mile. Especially when you stamp on it as you are running to stop your two year old son emptying the contents of his juice beaker into the video. Matchbox cars really hurt too, especially when they are on their side with both doors open. Even old fashioned building blocks are similarly lethal to an adult foot. Kids feet fit nicely into the little curve on an upturned arch shaped one, but my giant feet are far too big and undainty to avoid the excruciating pain that comes with full throttle contact while attempting to stop said son giving his little sister a Baldrick haircut.

As they get older you have to contend with, Polly Pocket, Wolverine pen lids and drawing pins. I have extracted many of these particular bastards from my feet after a foray into kidspace and every one of them really hurt.

Even now, although i have further hardened my feet considerably, I still spend at least some time each day removing thistle thorns from our recently hacked overgrown garden which not only hurt when they go in but also hurt for a few hours after you have pulled them out, the bastards.

Length - about 9 inches (oh yes, they're big too) but you could sand your table or hammer in a medium sized nail with them.

If i feel like it i will regale you with my back pain saga later on, but even though it makes me look really hard and tough i was also reduced to doing some quite gross things during my period of invalidity so i might decide spare you that one.
(faghag, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 9:58, 1 reply)

Pube
While having a shower one morning I discovered I had an extraordinarily long pubic hair. It was a real whopper- so I excitedly woke up my girlfriend to show her. We spent an instructive and educational couple of minutes playing with it, wrapping it around my willy and enjoying other sundry activities, then solemnly decided the pube was a safety hazard and had to go. I stood in the bathroom poised with a pair of nail scissors, and chuckled to myself at the thought of getting the spazz hand and cutting my bell end open.

I then proceeded to get the spazz hand and cut my bell end open.

I'm not going to tell a length joke so much as wonder to myself why I just told the internet that story.
(I grew it myself, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 9:39, Reply)

Paper cut
Sounds like nothing, right? Now, place said cut on your fucking cornea (eyeball). Two days of not being able to see, excrutiating etcetera and of course the terror of not knowing what's wrong and panicking about blindness, before finally having to WALK to the Emergency, due to the insufficient empathy of my significant other (now Ex).
(the Angry Gumball Harmless American, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 4:32, 6 replies)

My Dad
isn't a b3tan, so I guess I will have to relay this one. He once developed urinary retention, I think this must have been after an operation, and there was no time to anaesthetise before inserting a catheter to drain his dangerously swollen bladder. That is pretty much all, I'll leave it to you guys to wince right about now.
(zenmeban thinks the weather could be better, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 1:52, Reply)

Pleurisy.
Quite a common condition I'm led to believe. I aggrivated mine because I wasn't aware of it.

I had no idea I was even ill. In fact - I was on top form. I'd been landscaping my garden with lost of manly pick axe work. I'd also been arsing around at the park with my kids (chin-ups are a lot harder after a 10 year and 5 stone break). I suspect it may have been one or both of these activities that did it for me.

I remember coming home and a fever coming on really quickly. I went to bed shivering violently with cold sweat pissing out of me. When I woke up I couldn't breathe. I've never had panic attacks but the feeling of suffocation tends to make one rather jittery.

Breathe all the way out - no ALL the way. Now inhale to about 5% of your lung capacity imagining that any further will feel like being stabbed between the ribs with a rusty exhaust pipe. I was bedridden for best part of a week. Every little movement causes a major fucking ouch. Getting up for a piss is like running a marathon in a barbed wire vest.

I never want that to happen again. That's why, like the dopey twat I am I'm still on twenty a day to keep any pesky lung infections at bay!

GC
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 0:41, 2 replies)

On behalf of my dear old ma.
Fair enough not myself, but witnessed first-hand and it's been a while since I last posted.


One Thursday night a couple of months ago I got a call on my return from work. My mother had been taken into hospital by ambulance. No more info than that, cue a rather anxious trip to A&E.

Background~
Mumsy isn't the picture of health. She had a stroke around 10 years ago (in her mid forties) but thankfully recovered well. She's smoked since she was 12 and in the last few years has leaned rather too heavily toward the whisky bottle. Added to this, her diet is shit and consists mainly of ready meals and chip-pan based foodstuffs.

Anyway, we get to the hospital and are told it's suspected food poisoning cos she yakked and keeled over half an hour after her tea (Vesta packet chow mein!) she'd had a shot of morphine from the paramedic and another after admission but was still in very evident pain (doubled over and crying out with abdominal pain). Given her history as summarised above we thought her kidneys had packed up or something.

After a few hours watching her writhe in pain (even with another morphine hit) we were moved to another hospital in the city where they would examine her further. A few hours there and they had to stop giving her morphine. Her eyes were the proverbial 'piss-holes in the snow' and to administer any more would "seriously threaten her life". This was early hours of Friday morning, she had to wait another 36 hours on enough morphine to fuck up a rhino still writhing in pain (oh, and burping like nothing I've heard before. You know those huge ones you can do after downing a litre of fizzy pop - think 6 to 12 of those in immediate succession).

Anyway, long story (already!) much shorter, they opened her up on the Saturday afternoon and whipped out around a foot of dead bowel. (Look up twisted bowel) basically a section of intestine double-twists on itself and blocks the intestine as well as cutting the blood supply to the section of bowel.

When we next seen her on high dependency, she was loads better but they weren't happy with her blood oxygen level so she wore a mask. The mask wasn't doing the trick so they swapped it to an inflatible helmet, still no good so they knocked her out again and put her on a ventilator in intensive care for a week where she swelled all over like a balloon due to sepsis.

Apparently these after-effects were due to her shitty lifestyle, but the bowel problem was fuck all. It could happen to you or me today. So listen up fatties, smokers and drinkers (I tick all three boxes) You may not need to wait for the heart attack or lung cancer. A random illness may just be enough to fuck you right over.

Apols for length & lack of funneh's.

GC
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Sun 1 Aug 2010, 0:17, Reply)

Me and my horse have an abusive relationship.
She's the abuser. I do my best to show her love while she does her best to find a variety of new ways to hurt me, I've tried calling the RSPCA on her but apparently it doesn't work like that. She's a hormonal, accident prone nightmare with skin like filo pastry and a very low pain threshold; her default setting is violence first, remorse later so quick reflexes are often vital to my continued survival.

The worst she's ever got me was after trying to complete a set of exercises suggested by an equine physio to help with lameness in her hind legs. It involved picking up her foot and tracing small circles in the air to help loosen her up and doing this was either going to make things better or worse. Well it made her worse and her default reaction to pain is quite understandably to lash out.

So that course of action was swiftly abandoned but I still needed to pick up her hind feet without having my face kicked clean off my skull. I needed to get close enough to let her know that I wasn't going to hurt her every time I touched her leg so I got a friend to hold up one of her front legs (while dodging her teeth) so that she couldn't pick up a back leg to kick with. Well that's the theory anyway. What actually happened was she was prepared to throw herself on the floor if it meant me ending up in pain as well. So 450kg of horse culminating in an iron shod hoof managed to jump on three legs onto my five toes, which smarted a little.

Then I was left with the dilemma of how to move her off my toes without getting kicked.
(Brambly Slag is strangely attracted to Steve Buscemi, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 20:23, 3 replies)

Huge ovarian cysts...
One on each ovary thanks to Endometriosis... the larger one on my right ovary burst, causing pain and vomiting similar to appendicitis, which is what was diagnosed...
Four days on a surgical ward waiting for a theatre to become available, liquid morphine didn't even touch the pain. Waves of griping, cramping agony coming and going every minute or so for four days.
The surgery they ballsed up. I now have a foot long scar from just above my rubiks to between my charlies.. and a four inch diagonal one on the right side of my tummy where they went in looking for the appendix that never was.
I reckon morphine just doesn't work on me....
( Sallyrsm, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 18:59, 1 reply)

Snip
After polluting the gene pool with 4 children I decided to have the snip, all went well....

very plesent experience, very jovial doctor - typical b3tan sense of humour, I actually spent the time joking away watching You Tube clips (this was just after the Cadburys Gorilla advert came out, and laid watching this clip - was hoping and praying the doctor didnt air drum with his scalpel!!)

After this, caught the bus home, every single pothole... lots of pain!!

To cut a long story thankfully short, my left bollock decided to swel up to the size of a tennis ball, which is all very well in the lunchbox department unless you are 6'4 and sell luxury furniture for a living.. my height meant my bollocks were just above dining table height, so when stood talking to a customer it looked like I had laid them on the table ready for carving!

This also meant that I had the tendancy to catch them on table corners quite regularly.. which in the showroom I work in meant a very polite smile, then a walk to the toilet to bite the doorframe as the excruciating pain subsided.....
(the_icks has the sweet essence of giraffe, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 18:37, Reply)

My friends balls
My good friend got his cahones crushed while he was doing Jitsu, apparently it's a hardcore predecessor of Ju Jitsu. Anyway, he got kneed in his nads crushing one of them against the inside of his leg. He tried to cycle home but had to push the bike because his balls had swelled up due to the amount of internal bleeding. He passed out and woke up in hospital, half a testicle lighter, with a 1cm tube sticking out of his nads to drain the blood. When the docs removed the tube it was about 8cm long and apparently was the most painful part of the whole thing.

I felt no pain what so ever but almost felt sorry for him. . .almost.
(Mattyla "will make you moist" at, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 17:46, Reply)

I didn't know I was allergic/sensitive to spermicide
And there's really only one way to find out, isn't there?

Met a lady in grad school. Took her back to my place, and we bedded down for the night, too tired/drunk to do anything until morning. Next morning, snap on a condom with spermicide (I bought them to be extra-safe but hadn't used them yet). We go to it; she leaves for work; I go about my morning clean up.

I decide to take a leak and scream. It BURNS!!! My first thought: she gave me something. Then I regain some logic and realize it'd take more than 45 minutes for it to fully infect me. So what the f*** is happening?

I go to work, and every time I use the bathroom, screaming agony and burning pain. Even when I am not passing water, burning, aching and pain. I suspect the spermicide.

The boss leaves, so I call the women's clinic begging for a little insight. They won't see me because I am male, and they won't give advice over the phone. Finally, the woman says, "I won't give advice, but something like that could happen, and anyone suffering with it should drink plenty of clean water to flush it out." So, the advice is to keep pissing until it stops burning... Well, the water cooler is distilled water, so work is a day of literal pissing and moaning, as we the rest of the evening.

I spent the night watching tv with an ice pack between my legs, too.
(ChiTown Guy Dating when 35+: sane, single, attractive - pick 2, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 17:38, 5 replies)

Kent Beer Festival 2009
Kneeling down atop a beer bottle which promptly breaks.

www.wastedspace.co.uk/knee1.jpg

ouch.
( zacherynuk @echo off, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 17:29, 8 replies)

I am really quite drastically hungover right now
and on top of that, I fell asleep on the bus home. With my head resting against the window. The vibrating, bouncing window. Unfortunately I was still pissed at that point; too pissed to do anything about it as I half-dozed even though the side of my face was being rattled off the glass. I reckon I spent a good half hour effectively banging my head against a wall.
The entire side of my head hurts, and I can feel the line down the centre of my skull where No Pain becomes Pain.
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 17:15, Reply)

Many years ago
my Dad owned a scrap yard (not a steptoe and son affair though), he employed an illegal chinese immigrant lets call him Dave. One Saturday afternoon he is sitting in his portacabin/office doing bossy things (reading the paper, drinking tea) when the China man comes to the door with his hand behind his back asking for a plaster. My Dad obviously want's to see what he has done to which Dave replies, no only plaster, Can't go to the hospital, only plaster. Pops looks at his hand he has managed to slice through two fingers and they are barely hanging on with a bit of skin (he had been stripping copper wiring without proper safety equipment, in the 80's H&S didn't exist) my Dad promptly faints when he comes around Dave has managed to put on about 20 plasters, didn't go to the hospital and didn't get deported. Crazy Dave.
(Bababoon, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 15:58, Reply)

Broken bottles and hands - not a good combination..
I did this recently to my hand, courtesy of the free bubbly we give out to birthday bints at nightclubs.

One of us had given a bottle away to this bloke, but he handed it back (probably because it tasted terrible..)

In a moment of complete stupidity, I tried to put the cork back in by gripping the bottle with the left hand, and smacking the cork in with my right.

The neck shattered. My hand bled. Nice.



Length? - About an inch long and nearly an inch deep..
(danniekavanagh did nothing constructive on, Sat 31 Jul 2010, 15:52, 6 replies)