inch long scar...
above my right eye where my glasses decided they'd rather be on the back of my head and taking the quickest route. This was during a collision with a physicist on a bike. I got 6 stiches, he only got 3, pussy...
(northern seth back is giving him jip again, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:51, Reply)

"yeah, It's where i was hit in the back of the had with a Brick"
Technically true.

A brick did indeed make contact with the back of my head.

But it was me falling over at the age of 3 that caused it to do so. I ran into the back of my dear brother, and split my scalp open on the sharp edge of a notoriously hard type of brick (For the Brick-spotters amongst us, It was a "Buttington Red": a three-holed Brick, wet-cast with un-nervingly sharp edges, made with crushed sedementary severn-valley silt-stone mixed with water)

Deepest Aplogies for being a Brick-Spotter
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:44, Reply)

Broken Sternum
I was rolling a cigarette whilst riding my bike non handed. I got stuck in a rut in the road, suddenly vered left and into and through the windscreen of a parked Astra Van.
( Steerable_forehead Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration,don't fail me now, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:44, Reply)

Happy memories
I have a two six-stitch scars on my scrotum, corresponding exactly to the fixed locations of my lovely balls following an emergency torsion-related surgery when I was just 17. Nowadays, when the light catches it just so, my "happy sack" looks like a startled badger with a reasonably sized snout.

It's all coming back to me, as if the indignity of having my fledgeling pubic mane shaved wasn't enough, the (quite young and pretty) nurse who did it rasped her way through the process with no shaving foam. The post-prep scene was a bit like post-bomb Hiroshima - rubble everywhere with the occasional warped-looking building unaccountably spared. Oh! The humanity!
(fiery_jackass, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:43, Reply)

At the
age of 16 during a band rehearsal I was soldering some mics.

The only plug I could use for the soldering iron was in the stage floor under a grand piano. So I sat under the piano plugged the soldering iron in and let it heat up. The guitarist asked me to plug his amp into the socket next to the soldering iron, so I leant over putting my full weight on my left hand. Do I really need to say what happened next? Needless to say it left a pretty interesting burn in my left palm that only started to fade after 20 years. It didn't do my head much good either when I jumped up and nearly put it through the bottom of the piano.
( Goatpod, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:43, Reply)

an (incomplete) selection
2" long scar along my hairline from dueling with halfbricks on a building site at age 10

Thin patch on the end of my tongue from Biting through it whilst sittinfg down due to dizzyness.

scar on wrist from putting hand through drivers door of my car after friend whilst pissed and sitting in the passenger seat let the handbreak off on top of a hill. when I caught up and had opened the door ready to dive back in and stop it he put the handbreak back on and I went through the drivers door window.
(ceebs, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:42, Reply)

back of the hand
I've got a lovely one on the back of my hand, been there more than 10 years... my hand was stepped on whilst playing four square with some mates, and it skidded across the pavement. ouch.
got nice and infected and took forever to finally heal. Being young then i picked at it of course, which made everything much, much worse. It's rather light now, but still apparent.
(dr3wrocks, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:41, Reply)

Catching Cricket Balls
One fine school summer holiday I was playing with my brothers in the family house (we where too young to be out unsupervised) whilst my mum entertained guests.

We decided on playing catch with my elder brother at the top of the stairs and me at the bottom by the glass front door.

after many successful catches of a tennis ball my brother swapped it for a cricket ball and lobbed it at me. I then proceeded to try and catch the ball as it went smashing through the glass door, panicing a little I pulled my arm back out of the door complete with a moleste shard of glass down to the bone and a white t-shirt now bright red.

Went stumbling into the front room in a state of shock to see my mum almost pass out at the site of me while her friends all gasped.

oh the joys of being a kid. My dad did buy me a star wars figure for beeing brave though so it wasn't all bad.
( Smashy only 35 years of work to go :), Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:39, Reply)

Well, scars are a sign of stupidity,
and I'm a stupendously stupid person. Or at least, at times I am. Based on the number of scars I have, pretty fucking frequently.

There would be the one directly in the top of my head, from when I was about 8 years old, and used to stand in my mates garden throwing darts into the air and seeing where they landed.

And of course, the one in the center of my hand, from probably around the same time, which came about because I wanted to cut an empty coke bottle in half, so I held it lengthways in my hand, got a big fucking knife, then pushed it clean through both bottle and hand. And I thought my mum would be pissed off, so I just scurried upstairs and proceeded to use wads of lav roll to mop up the blood..

My knuckles, from when I was on my bike at age 9, on the pavement, following my mate's dad's car as he drove home, when all of a sudden there was a pile of bricks in my way, and I had to swerve into a lamp post. Flew 5 feet through the air, then landed and skidded a further 5 on my face, hands, and knees. Remarkable recovery really, as it was looking pretty likely I'd have a funky face for the rest of my life at one point, and I was reminded throughout the summer on a daily basis of my stupidity, as walking home meant following the trickle of blood, which went from the bottom of the road in a constant stream right up to my doorway.

And then, my favourite, the gash in my leg. About 14 when this one happened- I was round at my best mates house, with another of my friends, and we had just polished off bottles of random unbranded whiskey and vodka, and were planning the rest of the evening. I reached forward to grab the playstation pad for a quick bash on Crash Bandicoot (Who I blame to this day) and slipped off the chair, and onto a pint glass, which shattered into my leg. Unfortunately, my friends were a little too pissed to realise quite how serious it was, and while I was lying on the back lawn gushing blood into the grass, they where playing with his little brother's go kart. Eventually, he decided he'd better do something, as I was looking pretty fucking pale at this point, so he went to the first aid box and returned with a box of elastoplasts. Only problem being that the gash itself was about 7 inches long, 2 deep, and because it was right by the tendon, the edges were pulling it open- so it was also about 3 inches wide. So he put on the biggest plasters he had, which immediately fell off in the flood of claret, then decided it was more sensible to use about 15 tiny ones to try and cover it up. Just before I passed out, I had the forethought to raise my leg onto a table- which is pretty fucking lucky really, because the doctor told me the next day that if I hadn't I may have bled to death. So, I obviously aint *that* stupid..

That said, the next morning, after throwing away the congealed plaster tastiness and wringing the blood out of my sock and shoe (both of which where still completely soaked through), I decided to go ahead with our plan and walk into town to do some shopping. Just before we were leaving, though, his mum saw all the little white tabs from the plasters littered all over the floor, and asked what had happened, to which my mate replied, "Oh, he had a bit of an accident." She decided she'd better take a look at it, as she's a nurse. She almost passed out.
4 hours waiting for my Dad at the hospital, continually being told off for leaving my trouser leg up because I was freaking out the clientele.
Still, wasn't too bad really.. 26 stitches in the end, 12 of which were internal.

Oh, and there's also the chemical burn on my wrist from the doddering, clumsy old bint who masquraded as a chemistry teacher at my high school.
(PsychoApeMan Riding a white pig to the edge of Lapland, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:34, Reply)

My List
4th Birthday - scar on head from jumping off wall onto broken glass
5th Birthday - scar number 2 on head hit with hammer by sister
6th Birthday - forehead scar - going down a slide head first (indoors) when a little shit shuts the door at the end of the slide.
Xmas 1983 - appendectomy when appendix bursts on Boxing day.
1992 - scars to both arms when carrying paving slabs that pinch and tear my skin
1994 - girl scratches me - 1 inch scar on back of hand
1995 - broken leg just above ankle after I collided with a car on my motorbike - my leg left a good dent though
1996 - 6 inch knee scar - operation to insert a rod down my tibia to help heal my leg from the bike accident (3 years it took - three years to walk again)

Sorry for long post
(Taff135, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:22, Reply)

Bloody Tiddles...
As a very small kid, as in toddler, our family had a cat that was all sweetness and light. Being such a friendly cat it normally delighted in being picked up and fiddled... maybe not by a one year old brat. Cue me being on the receiving end of a ball of claws. End result was/is an L-shaped scar on my left thumb that has not disappeared after 30+ years.

Skateboarding scars are too numerous to mention, only that gravel gives holes.

Four scars over and around left knee due to ligament reconstruction.

2 parallel scars down both shins as a result of not getting out of a kayak properly (do not raise knees before getting arse out of seat...) when playing kayak polo and taking off the necessary layers of skin to bleed incessaantly.

Do emotional scars count? No? Thought not!
(Tibbins, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:20, Reply)

no little finger
once, when i was five my brother who was 4 decided it would be funny to chop the end off of my finger. with a meat cleaver. and then spray my dad's deoderant all over it. cue me crying my eyes out like fuck, brother with a very sore arse and a worried paramedic trying to find the top of my finger. they found it in a sippy cup in my bro's room. next week i pushed him down the stairs and he lost 2 front teeth


no apologies for lenth
(beast on toast has xpango=> http://www.xpango.com?ref=90520974, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:15, Reply)

My left hand
I was pissed a few weeks ago, and wondered whether stubbing a cigar out on the back of my hand would hurt. Tried it. It did. 'Nuff said.
(lardaholics anonymous, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:14, Reply)

Scars eh?
I cracked my head open when i was young. To this day theres a big old lump on my head where it was stitched up.
The annoying thing is that i cant remember how i did it, and i have been given at least three different accounts on what happened.
It involved a door is the only thing i remember. And a lot of blood and screaming (i was five).
Amazingly, i have never received anything close to a major injury since.
( Green Spanner and his magical lack of activity, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:09, Reply)

Walk this way...
We were at a party round a mate's last summer celebrating another mate's birthday. This was after having been at the pub all evening and I was well into a bottle of vodka. Some quite lethal grass was also being passed around. At about 3.30am my tired, sober and pregnant wife finally convinced me to leave with her so I trotted behind her onto the front path. At this point wifey decides to cross the front lawn, put her head though the open side of the bay window and shout "walk this way" (a la Steve Tyler in the video) along with the Aerosmith/Run DMC track that was being played as part of a "retro tape" inside the lounge.
This seemed like a fantastic idea to me and without a moment's consideration I followed suit. Through the closed part of the window. The fixed, single glazed part.
I was released from the hospital at 7.30am with a face full of deep cuts, the worst being between my eyes on the bridge of my nose.
I'll have that scar forever, plus the inevitable piss-taking for the rest of my life too.

What a twat.
( BobbyParadise, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:07, Reply)

Loads
But most nterestingly my right wrist has 4 seperate scars.

Two big ones from crashing in a 4 tonner when loose in the back (squaddie) and flying along the floor towards the cab, to discover a nice nail head on the way. Nearly lost my index finger.

1 from having my head put through a window at school and getting a shard stuck in my wrist (this cut the artery and was lots of fun) and . .

1 from having all the metalwork put in my arm after a motorbike crash.

Notably I had a girlfriend for 2 years who stated as a reason for our splitting that I'd lost my sensitivity. Now I'm an utter bastard, so I asked when I had EVER been sensitive and she told me that she had noticed my scars when we first met and she thought that I'd have to be a sensitive soul to try and slot myself 4 times.

She moved in with me because she thought I was suicidal, what sort of basis for a relationship is that?

I guess she was never thinking it would be that long term then eh?

Oh and I have a circular hole in my left ear over an inch across, but I did that on purpose.
( Lord Manley of Ven www.justgiving.com/manley - please?, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:03, Reply)

Ok then beat this :
I have (in chronological order):

5+3 stitches on left eyelid (age 5),
if they were joined i would now have a rather splendid pirates eyepatch or a glass eyeball -
I decided I could leap through a glass patio door after being led astray by spiderman cartoons on TV (ban this filth !)

3 stitches, upper lip (age 6)
friend threw toy metal car at me, cant remember why.

3 stitches forehead (age 8)
was swimming in a very dirty swimming pool in botswana and swam into the side. lucky there werent any sharks, because they would have smelt the blood for sure.

2+ 8 + 5 + 3 stitches to rear of right leg (age 11)
bitten by rottweiler on farm in swaziland in the arse end of nowhere. 60 km to nearest hospital with me bleeding like stuck pig on back seat of car. I could see the bone and everything. nice. my mother always told me to turn and walk away if dogs are agressive. if i had been facing it , it would have ripped my throat out.

6 stitches right eyebrow (age 12)
decided it was a good idea to play at being knights on the back of BMX with dustbin lids and broomhandles. no, jackass did not pay me royalties.

2 stitches above mouth (age 19)
punched by chav with sovereign ring on.

3 stitches right hand (age 22)
taxi driver tried to rip me off in prague, so i told him where to stick it. he chased me, i decked him, chased him back to car, and put my fist through the passenger window in order to get to him and deliver pasting.

no stitches but a splendid scar (age 23)
had an abcess in my perenaeum (not sure of spelling) which they opened up.. I was a woman for about 6 weeks before it healed.

I keep trying to get more but luck seems to have been on my side since then.

photo evidence available on request.
( pregnantfridge, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 15:01, Reply)

blew a big fucking hole out!
Was bored
got a shotgun catridge and started to dissable the thing
So got all the shot out, set fire to the powder (*Flash* Woo!) so all I was left with was the metal; blast cap with that ever tempting firing pin. Laid it on a handy concrete slab and starting stabbing at it with my knife
1 - Missed
2 - missed
3- BIGFUCKINGBANG!!
All I rmeber was blinking and looking at the scorch marks on the knife then wondering why it was covered in blood. Oh. lost about half a pint . Didn't hurt but told me mum (whos a nurse) 'fell over' . Don't think she believed me as it was through to the bone of my pinkie.
I am a penis.

also loads of prop forward scars but not very interesting ones apart from the ones from errant studs that started to rot
Cool
(1st team orc, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:56, Reply)

Two vertical cuts on my right wrist
which look like a failed suicide attempt.

Came home from the pub one night to find that my girlfriend (who'd been clubbing elsewhere) had come back early, feeling ill. She's got some acid, which she offers me.

I spend the next eight hours tripping my tits off, while she sleeps. When she wakes up she demands a glass of water, which I'm in no state to get. She tells me what an ungrateful bastard I am, storms out of the room, pulling open the previously-kicked-in (by a guest, not us, we weren't that awful) heavy door, which collapses towards my head. As I raise my hand to stop my skull being smashed like a boiled egg, two nasty rusty nails gouge my wrist open.

Nothing brings you down quite as quickly as watching claret pouring out of your arm...
(michael_k_vegfruit, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:56, Reply)

when i was
a small child, i decided it'd be great to swing on the rail in my mum and dad's wardrobe (as you do). the thing collapsed on top of me. my mum rushed in to find me contained in a pile of wardrobe, with a little cut to my leg. as i've grown older, the scar has stretched and looks quite a bit more marvellous than the story would have you believe.
(roboglitch, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:51, Reply)

This wasn't actually my fault,
but it's a good 'un.
sorry about the poor image quality, but this is me aged 14:


because of this:

Anyone who tells you that there are no pain receptors in the brain is a bullshitter.
(Slurpy The Frog, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:48, Reply)

Not me
I remember that as I kid, I was keen to educate my little brother on the laws of physics. I devised a simple demonstration of centrifugal force involving a spade hung of one of the spokes of one of those garden washing driers. I would spin the drier and spade would rise due to the centrifugal force.

Unfortuantely I had forgotten to educate myself about friction. There wasn't enough of it. I gave the drier a good, hard spin, the spade rose, broke those pesky frictional bonds, flew off the spoke and smacked Nick full on and hard in the face.

Not sure if there was a scar, but bloody funny none the less.
(lardaholics anonymous, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:45, Reply)

My personal favourite
comes from the time I decided it would be cool to melt a crisp packet in a gas fire. I enjoyed the melting very much... all the pretty colours, the writing getting smaller and so on.

What was not cool was when the margin of safety between the burning plastic and my fingers became too small. I dropped the plastic, it stuck to my fingers a little, and a blob of it landed at the base of my thumb.

It burned for about about 10 minutes as I was running it under the cold tap, and I had blue plastic tattoo welded to my hand afterwards.

Everyone should try it.

I was 26 at the time.
(lardaholics anonymous, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:36, Reply)

war wounds
well i can remember having a scar on my penis courtesy of a girl i was seeing giving a rather unconventional handjob...its the first time i ever sawed it bleed...eeek
(i_walk_bing_crosbys_dog, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:32, Reply)

Another one
About eight years old, and getting out of the car. Decide it would be a good idea to try to put the lock button down through the gap between the front of the rear door, and the metal bit that separates the rear door from the front door.

Cue brother slamming car door as he gets out, and a well broken finger, bent back at about 90 degrees on the middle knuckle, very very painful. Off to hospital to get it sorted, lots of morphine and screaming as the nurse bent it back into place and splinted it up.

Fast forward two weeks, and my mother slams the same hand in the front door, breaking three fingers including the heavily mutilated one.

My finger developed a massive lump (about half the size of a golf ball) on the middle finger of my left hand, which is still there twenty two years later.

It is very ugly, and I can see people on the bus/tube etc. staring at it. Luckily, my girlfriend claims that it is very useful.

I'm at work, but i'll try to add a photo later.
(buggerlugs fold staple mutilate, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:32, Reply)

Only a small one
nearly an inch long, across the joint of my index finger, right hand (topside, not palm side.)

Aged nine-ish, I decided it would be fun to scalp my sister's Barbie with my lovely new Swiss Army Knife. Brand new, as in never used, as in impossibly sharp.

Sitting with my captive's feet between my knees and hair held tight in my left hand, big fucking grin on my chops, I swung for all I was worth.

Naturally, I was holding the bastard knife the wrong way round - blunt edge hit the hair, knife closed on my finger.

She still has the barbie, the barbie still has the bloodstain, I still have the scar.
(unholysmoke, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:30, Reply)

Nice big scar in middle of hand
Looks like crucifiction scar or something.

Actually when I was younger, got a needle stuck in there, quite by accident when crawling on the floor. Didn't realise for several hours, it was just a very odd pain. Looked awesome on the X-ray.
(R-T-C Got arbitrage profits?, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:27, Reply)

how about this..


sorry for size - dont have access to resize atm

that'll remind me not to ride into cars, on my bicycle, with a 50mph closing speed..

still got light scarring on my neck and a big one on my shoulder from that..

i have lots more, but i've not got access to my hosting atm so cant post. best one is a 2" scar just above my right nipple, that teaches me not to ride down hills naked

(actually, you can see the crash at www.5lab.co.uk/biking/we_love_the_coch.wmv - its about 2/3 of the way thru)
(5lab, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:17, Reply)

Not much history as yet


This is actually a pretty fresh scar. I was a passenger on a motor scooter when a cyclist (yes, a cyclist!) managed to knock us off. It made a pretty good mess of my collarbone (see picture 1), this scar itself is middle picture, the red marks are actually where my skin was pulled off when they took steri strips off yesterday, and the stitches out. The first nurse had to go and get a second nurse as she wasn't strong enough to pull the stitches through... the third picture shows the reason I will be buzzing in metal detectors from now on.
(Lurkazoid, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:14, Reply)

72 Stitches in 3 Sittings
I have a bloody big scar on my elbow, inflicted by doctors after I smashed it by falling off my bike when I was 18. I was... driving without due care and attention :)

I knocked myself out when I did it, and woke to some senior citizen leaning over me saying "Y'alreet there, son?". My reply went along the lines of "Yeah, I think so-OW! F***IN' 'ELL!" He wasn't impressed, but my elbow was in a few more bits than it should have been, so bollocks to him.

The doctors had to put a respectable Meccano set in there to hold it together (38 stiches) and then take it out again 10 months later (32 stitches), with a minor repair inbetween after I fell on it and popped two of the screws out through the skin of my elbow (2 stitches). And the physio? The girl was half my size, but I've never feared anyone's thumbs so much, before or since :)

Apologies for length, but the scar's a big 'un. I still have the Meccano in a jar, somewhwere.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Fri 4 Feb 2005, 14:14, Reply)