Holy shit, SiX.
Are your eyes only two millimetres apart? You must look like one crazy mother.
(Ian Maiden, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 15:35, Reply)

just between my eyes
where a "friend" threw a pair of scissors at me, one mil either way and i would be blind in one or both eyes .)

edit: the scissors were slightly open
( SiX and his hat, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 15:20, Reply)

Plasma Telly
Whilst under the influence of drink and other substances I decided to sit on the floor at my mates party for 5 minutes. Said resting place was in front of his Plasma Telly perched on a glass stand.

Cue - Me falling back smashing head open on edge of glass stand, from which I stood upright and carried on talking to my wife as if nothing had happened.

(This is the part where Im glancing round the room to see if anyone had seen me do it) - Thinking I'd got away with said act, I then had no option but to collapse in a heap of shite with blood pissing out of my head.

Anyway, I now sport a 3 inch Scar on the back of my head - (makes me look hard when I have my head shaved you know!!)
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:47, Reply)

Only realised i had scars from this about 5 mins ago
was wonderfully drunk one night, on my way back from the pub, cutting across a field to enter my garden. Everything was pitch black, and all i could see was the light by our front door. Next thing i know is there's a big cracking sound and im hunched over something in pain. Turns out i'd walked into the side of our garden bench and then hunched overr and 'karate' chopped through the top of it! No serious injury but comical all the same. See pic

( Victor Meldrew, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:36, Reply)

I've got a few...
I was about 7 years old, having a bath. Cue little brother (3 years old) toddling into the bathroom with a Ken doll he'd beheaded. He threw it right at my head, where it made contact with my forehead, cutting it open somehow. Due to the warm water in the bath, it looked like I had a massive head wound, but after all, I only needed 3 stitches. From being bashed in the head by a 3 year old with a beheaded doll.

My other one happened my 3rd year at university. I was studying for an exam during a pretty nasty storm, and decided to go across the street to the shop for a coffee. Upon returning, my hands were full (walkman, coffee, handbag) and I barely managed to get the large steel security door to my dorm open. The bastard wind then caused the door to shut quite violently on my hand. When I looked at it, I was bleeding *through* my fingernails.
"This can't be good," thought I.
I went over to the health center and they gave me an ice pack and some tylenol, bless them.
Later on, I had a friend take me to dinner because I couldn't handle a tray, and I blacked out at dinner from the pain.
Subsequent trip to the hospital, where I had to have 5 shots in my hand, then have a heated copper coil poked through my fingernails to release the pressure of all the blood. I lost my fingernails, and the only scar I have from it is a hardly noticeable discoloration on one of the nails that was lost.
Oh and remember the exam? Prof made me take it, smashed right hand and all. Cheers.
(emgee, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:22, Reply)

drums!
Hello!

When i was about 5 i was playing the drums in a slash from guns-n-roses stylee using saucepans and a wooden spoon - in the heat of the moment (during an awsome solo moment) i was banging my head in the yes-yes-yes!! manour and caught my eye on one of the saucepans - fast forward 16 years and everyone makes fun of me as they think i shaved my eyebrow to look like Robbie Williams :(

scar number 2: grandparents had a new stone fireplace put in and as a keen 3 year old at xmas i ran into the front room tripped and cut my head open on their fireplace meaning xmas day for me in hospital - got my own back though - doesnt look like they can clean my blood off it as the stains are still there :)

woo - first post ever :P
(leftyleft, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:19, Reply)

The torture....the agony....
Worst anguish I can recall is the mental torment of thinking Barbara Castle and Barbara Cartland were one and the same person when I was younger. Remember; people grow old, but the pain lingers.
(Wrecked Tums, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:17, Reply)

Twilight Zone
I have a scar on my penis. However, what I don't have is a clue how it got there. It runs from the base, all the way to the top of my foreskin, and it's origin is a complete mystery.

If anyone has any information regarding to where it came from, I'd appreciate it if you forwarded it on to me.
(bunny_333, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:05, Reply)

Not the wisest of idea's...
In a drunken state I once decided that I would try juggling...using hunting knives of all things, see this wouldn't be soooo bad had I actually been able to juggle anything...needless to say I sliced open the top of my hand.
(wormeater, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 14:00, Reply)

I was three years old
and in the kitchen with my mother on a frosty January morning. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, gave me a knife to take to my dad who was in the garden at the time.
I opened the back door, and proceded to slip on the ice on the top step, tumble down 4 concrete steps and split my forehead open in a fountain of blood.
The scar is still there see (slightly faded now), but I still want to know why my mother thought it was a good idea to entrust a 3 year old with a knife in the first place.

Also, I have a scar under my chin. I borrowed a mates bike (pedal not motor) and came zooming down the hill very, very, very fast. Turned into the side street where my friends were waiting and slammed on the brakes. The rear brake didn't work, but the front one worked a charm. I went straight over the handlebar and travelled about 5metres on my chin.
I didn't borrow any else's bike after that ;)
( just mike, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:57, Reply)

a bigger boy did it
possibly regional but a game played at my school was British Bulldog. Basically terrified child stood in the middle while people ran to try and get to otherside of playground. Middle child tried to halt progress by various methods of brute force. Twas my turn in the middle and a classmate of mine (same age but 3 times my size) was attempting to reach the safe ground just beyond me. He runs at me at around 120mph while I think that this is my big chance to make a name for myself in tough guy circles. grab him just below waste height and he just keeps on running at roughly the same speed. My hip dragged along the ground and took a good inch depth of flesh away. couldn't wear clothing on upper half for days as it just stuck to oozing mess and had to be ripped off. still sport a remarkable scar. first post and I believe it's customary to apologise for length and general poor quality. thanks
(bluebiscuit, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:44, Reply)

my own fault
for trying to repair my mudguard whilst still cycling. I hit a stone and my finger went straight into the wheel. The bike stopped dead and I went flying over the top on the axis of my finger, jammed in the wheel.

I landed on my head (which hurt) and several x-rays later (to my hand and spine), the only damage was revealed to be a broken finger, shattered at the knuckle.

I've got some nasty scars where the hooks went in to hold the bone in place - lovely photo here. The finger started to turn on the knuckle as it healed, so they had to operate and basically twist the finger round by force.

I've got another operation this week, to try and free up the finger tip, which involves pulling the tendons out of the bone - the only risk being that the tendons could snap...
( thorpe www.voodootrombonequartet.com, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:22, Reply)

Bull-ocks
Last year, myself and my better half went to Pamplona to watch the Running of the Bulls. We decided to go and visit the bulls the night before they ran, I was mucking about on the rail, I slipped and fell flat on my knees, and then my face - my knees were a mess and my white trousers were soon red - with squelching shoes. Saftey point lady poured iodine into the cuts. They did not heal well and now look like chemical burns. Anyway, the next day was the worst day for runners in 8 years as most of them got mauled by the blood thirsty bulls. :)
(StupidGlueBoy, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:17, Reply)

oh oh oh, one more one more
to cut a long story short... age 4 playing superman, mum puts me into washing basket - my toddler-sized telephone box - to change into my costume. get a bit stuck putting underpants on the outside, tip over, head goes through glass pane on kitchen door. I cannot shave my head now as my scalp looks like freddy kruger's scrotum.
(jonnybignose, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:07, Reply)

paper cuts
my fingers are covered in what look like thousands of little paper cuts. and no I dont have a job as a page turnability tester.
I got horribly bad rope burn all over my hands about 4-5 years ago and the secondary infection the followed caused a dermatitis that was already in my system to flare up and now my hands dry out with horrible regularity. Sometimes they become so dry they split open when I move them. hence the multitude of small cuts.

its lovely. honestly.
( Nostrebor can't be everything all the time., Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:06, Reply)

more pencil musings
Age six, arguing with my brother(then age 9)about a crypic crossword clue (we were both somewhat gifted). to settle said agrument, big bro takes sharp pencil from my chubby clenched fist and rams it through my forehead. (the obligatory grey dot is still there of course, just in the middle of a bullet hole scar)
(jonnybignose, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 13:01, Reply)

Several...
1. Scar on thumb from modelling knife (I'd stuck the fuel tank on backwards, you see, and had to remove it - cut away from body, yes, but also thumbs...)

2. Don't shave while drunk. Uni, eh? Only tidgy and on my lip.

3. Tip of my finger - our pet rabbit bit me. The next morning, so my dad said, it ran away to live in the woods. 18 years later dad confeses he'd wrung its neck for hurting me so badly. Shortly after this confession my ex runs away to live in the woods.

4. Dent in forehead following a tree-felling accident. My four year old logic told me that the dangerous place to stand as my 6 year old brother cut down a tree would be in front of him. Therefore the opposite of this - the *safest* place to stand - would be behind him. Cue much blood. My brother hastily drops the axe and claims I did it myself, the wee bast. Probably scared he too would have to go live in the woods.

5. Shingles scars.

6. On Saturday I sliced my hand open and had to go to hospital to have it stuck back together. I could see my tendon. I cut it washing my car. What a numpty, eh? Still, i'll have another scar.
(Fat Bear is adjusting your breasts on, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 12:58, Reply)

I have the usual collection of small, insignificant scars
that you collect on the way through life, the pick of which include a small one on my thumb that proves you shouldn't rush grape-picking when using rusty secateurs, a patch on the back of my hand where I was closing a gate and trapped my hand between the gate and the rough stone wall and several small ones on my middle finger where it broke when my brother pulled out the deckchair support "for a joke" and crushed it as the chair collapsed. I also have a birthmark on the back of my neck just under the hairline that looks like a scar, so much so that once when having a haircut the barber insisted that I'd been hit with an axe, "'cos I know some dodgy geezers and they've got scars like that".

The best has to be these ones though.



They mark the place where two screws were inserted and then removed from my ankle following a particularly nasty break at the end of August last year. You may notice there is still some swelling and bruising around the ankle; I'm reliably informed that this could take 12-18 months to go away.

And, if you're particularly interested, you can see what it looked like at the time here. (Linked as it's not safe for the squeamish.) I still have the scar halfway up my leg and a collection of small ones around the break, where the skin looks slightly "older" than the rest of my leg. Oh, and I've no feeling in the skin on top of my left foot thanks to the damage done to the nerves in my ankle. Apparently, if the bone you can see pressing on the inside of the skin had broken through they would have removed my foot rather than try to repair it, which is comforting to know.
( S tr app y, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 12:28, Reply)

once upon a time.......
my friend and i decided to have fun with his car and an office chair while another guy filmed it, all well and good until at 35mph the office chair decides to start rotating, cue getting scared.
This act of stupidity not being enough we tried it a second time but be made it so the chair couldn't spin, so cue the second run a nice cool 38mph and the chair distergrated throwing me oto tarmac in shorts and teeshirt and goggles getting very graved and scratched. from this incident i have a sacr on my forhead of about 3" and scars on both legs up my theighs of abotu 7-8"

SORRY FOR THE LENGTH
(Bored, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 12:24, Reply)

I got wood...
At my junior school they forced us all to play sports of an afternoon. Being summerish it's cricket, one of my more hated games.

Am padding up, ready to go into bat, when some neanderthal decides it'd be interesting to see what happens when a random piece of wood lying around outside makes a connection with my 10-year old skull.

The piece of wood in question just happens to be a chopped log about 9 inches high, wide and deep, and is the reason i now have quite a large dent towards the front of my head, just behind my hairline.
(squirrelysquirrel, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 12:01, Reply)

Burnt head
Not me but an old boss. Let me descibe the chap. He is a Chartered Engineer and is Manager of Project Engineering in a Chemical Refinery. We have to work very safely and carry out risk assessments for most of our tasks.

He was having a bonfire and decided to teach his 10 year old son how to relite a fire using a canister of petrol.

Next day he came to work with one eyebrow, a very red face and his hair looked like it had been cut by Crazy Meg. We found out later that his wife had tried to straighten up what was left of it.

His face still goes red when it gets cold.

The best bit was when he came into work on the monday we were all in a Health and Safety course discussing fires and explosions. Much sniggering and exagerated "So you wouldn't pour petrol on a fire" type comments to the course leader.
(Yellow Car is now red, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 11:15, Reply)

Slit Wrists Anyone...?
I have a big scar on my left wrist.

One night I was at home bored and in the process of getting pissed. My parents were upstairs when I heard a bit of shouting... "great" I thought, "they're having another benny". Half an hour later I hear screams and my mum shouting rape. In a drunken rage I grabbed a knife and legged it up the stairs hell-bent on killing my dad.

In the scuffle that ensued, my parents dived on me and my wrist got slit while the knife was being forceably remvoved from my hand.

Turns out they thought I had gone out and were trying out some roleplaying games to spice up their sex life.

As you can imagine this little adventure left me with more than just physical scars.
( andy206, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 11:04, Reply)

ooo one that i can answer
When I was young, Home alone 2 had just come out on video my darling mother rented it for me. However I was naughty and sent to bed thus not able to watch the end of the film. Upset I made my way up to my cabin bed. Now my cabin made was rather a cheap design with flimsy metal bars for ladders plastic handles and not very substantial screws.

Which i was in bed for a while mum had a change or heart and called me downstairs. Hurrying to get out of bed i climbed down the ladder the following happened, all in the space of 2 seconds...

A screw broke, rung gave way, I fell plunging toward my 3 foot death on my way down breaking a plastic wardrobe handle with me knee with serrated sharp parts cutting into my leg causing a nice gash on my leg and leaving nice bits of plastic to imbed them self’s in me, my other leg caught the problem screw which made another nice slice.

Slowly making my way downstairs leaking blood as I go. I wanted to watch the film so much i stood by the door so my mum couldn't see my gushing legs. When she did notice, straight down the A&E! 3 Hours later I was next to see the doctors when some prat water skiing [AT NIGHT???!] jumped in front.

So mummy took me home, doctor said I should of had stitches.

Least I have a two nice 3 to 4" scars down both legs! ^_^
( nowimboard shouted "Bring On The Trumpets!" at, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 10:29, Reply)

That'll learn me, fucking show-off...
Back in the day, when I was a wee lad of four years of age, I was joyfully playing in the bath. My mother had some of her lady friends round of tea and whatever when one of them spotted me bathing (I washed with the door open in case I, uh... drowned or something). Said lady then called lady companions to come see - I was good looking chap, so I was, and they all swooned at my cuteness.

It was at this point I thought I'd give them a treat. I hopped out the bath in all my four year old glory (it may have resembled an acorn back then, but WHAT an acorn!) and began to tap my foot.

Have you guessed yet? Oh yes, I began to dance. Grooving to the music in my head, I was the shit. Throwing in a dramatic twirl here and there and seductively shaking my backside, I even used a little pot as a prop to cover my manhood during my performance. These women were close to fainting.

And then came the finale... which was a little anti-climatic. I was thinking of spinning round whilst removing the pot and falling into some sort of "jazz hands" position, I hadn't quite decided as I was improvising. However, the actual ending and desired effect of my performance was greatly different to which I intended... I achieved the spin, but in mid-spin it began to go wrong. As everything fell into slow motion and looks of horror swept across the faces of my audience, I fell and slammed my chin on the edge of the bath. The impact caused my chin to split and blood to spray across the bath and myself.

And so there I laid... a bloody naked mess, a little pot rolling out my hand and stopping at the feet of my spectators.

The next thing I remember was arriving through the doors in hospital. My mother quickly took me (which was good) but didn't think to dress me (which was bad). Cue much worried/confused/disturbed glances as a pissed off, naked, blood-covered four year old boy staggered towards the emergency room.

I try to cover my scar with a beard to avoid people asking me "how did you get that then?" Not wanting to tell, my usual response is "Uh... I got stabbed."
(bunny_333, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 9:39, Reply)

Faux pas
A 4" scar in the centre of my forehead. The cause...

Introduced to my wife's new work colleagues for the first time at a 'quiet barbecue'. Bit nervous, one too many, got up, tripped over pet dog waiting for next sausage, stumbled, moved forward to regain balance, stubbed toe on flower pot, started dancing the 'stubbed toe shuffle' on lawn, fell down steps leading to disused WWII bomb shelter, cracked head open on reenforced concrete mantle of said bomb shelter, passed out, awoke to sight of 3 middle aged ladies padding me with yards of damp cotton wool, blood throughout kitchen and hall, then 4 hours in casualty with the friday lager crowd. Invite to next work do still pending.
(Spedster, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 9:26, Reply)

childhood experiment
There was a beam across my living room ceiling that was a bit lower than the rest. I wasn't quite tall enough to touch it with my hand when I jumped, so I decided to try touching it with a pencil. A sharpened one. With the eraser end.

I still have a gray dot in the middle of my palm.
(blush, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 9:19, Reply)

I deserved it
I have a scar on my right eyebrow. It was caused by a piggy backing incident. Its about 1am and me and a mate are on our way back home from the pub, we are both very drunk. He decides that a giving me a piggy back is a good idea. I get up on his back, he lurches forward and launches me headfirst into the pavement cue split head, fractured cheekbone major grazing etc. Still I was so drunk I didnt realise the full extent of injury till the next day
(fluffy, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 9:12, Reply)

Blood is thicker than water.
Two small but significant ones - 1. top of my right arm. My cousin was pissing about with a 4 inch flick knife he got on a school trip to france. Shame he pressed the button when the point was about 3 3/4 inches from my flesh....

2. Crease of my right arm, Was having a blood test when nursey wrenched the needle out but unfortunately slipped, dragging it across my arm and, yes, vein. Cue nice fountain of blood and both me & the nursey fainting.
(Let's all have an asbo, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 9:00, Reply)

hmm scars...
Back when I was a wee lad of 16, I did work experience at a BMW garage. There I am, with a Z3 up on one of those fancy car lifting thingies trying to undo the nuts holding the break pads in place with a large wrench. Damned thing won't move. Mechanic told me to "Give it some wellie!" I did and the bloody wrench came off and I smacked myself in the mouth, looked startled for a moment and then folded up like an accordian. Cue much laughing from the guys and continued humiliation for the rest of the week. I have a small scar and a chip off one of my teeth to remind me never, ever, to "give it some wellie" again...
(BigJoeWil is perfecting the art of procrastination since, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 7:02, Reply)

not me ,but i was there
back in junior high my friend had a birthday party. his parents owned a motel right beside a waterpark near the outskirts of the city, so we gat a room to ourselves. we decide it would be a good idea to break into said waterpark (it was then middle of winter) and slide down the ice that had formed insode the tubes. off we go. we use a jacket to cover the barbed wire, and we climb on in. NOTE* if you or anyone you care about decides to slide down a frozen waterslide - DON'T!!* i almost flew off the edge at about 50 feet to the ground. i'm amazed one of use didn't wind up paste...anyhoo, there are apparently motion detectors in waterparks and 2 squad cars show up... we, in a great pubescent panic scramble to the fence, throw the jacket over and run like hell... but one of my friends, scott, missed the jacket when jumping over. i heard a rip and that was that, we're all fleeing to the motel room. once inside, i notice scott has something on his crotch...blood. he looks at us in horror, and puts his hand down his pants, and draws up lotsa blood - very Stand By Me. turns out he ripped his nutsack and now has a healthy scar on what were otherwise ( so i have been told) a magnificent looking pair of nads. he was a twat then and i'm sure he's a twat now.
(goorf, Mon 7 Feb 2005, 3:11, Reply)