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This is a question Self-Inflicted injuries

Spanishfly asks: Ever injured yourself in a moment of frustration? When have you ever done something stupid or sensible that has ended up with you injured? Punched an Asda sign because they didn't have tiger bread? Yeah, us too

This isn't a question about intentional self-harm

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:06)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I was shovelling shit out of a pigsty with a four tine fork
when I managed to harpoon a kingsize cube of shit and straw that got stuck on the fork. I turned the fork over ready to smack it on the ground and dislodge the shite bale. Just at that moment, cue suspense music, the boar what lived in the sty came towards me. You don't mess with these quarter ton rasher trees so I pretended I wasn't looking at him and carried on. But I was looking at him, not at the fork and instead of it hitting the concrete it went straight through my instep and out the bottom of my boot. I squealed like a stuck pig and the unstuck pig cowered in a corner. Finished up in A & E with a pint of
anti tetanus.
Hope you're not eating.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 18:23, 1 reply)
Never ever ever
... try to break up a wooden pallet with your bare hands.
Those planks are springy. And if you hold one in both hands, then stamp down on it, it may not break and instead, it may rebound back at you.

Taking your thumb with it.

18 months and four operations, hours of teeth-gritting physio, and now a thumb shorter than normal that doesn't bend anymore. And aches in cold weather.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 18:14, 4 replies)
English being the only subject at secondary school that I felt remotely confident in, I used those precious hours to break out of my uber-nerd persona and become the very epitome of cool.

At least, that's how it seemed to me as I leaned my chair back to put my feet up on my desk in what must surely have been the coolest move since Fonzie invented the double thumbs up during a particularly surprising sexual encounter. Everyone would doubtless be blown away by my relaxed, easygoing charm and staggering physical ability in keeping the front two legs of my chair suspended inches above the dusty parquet.

As those who hadn't turned up for class distressingly, swottily early (i.e. everyone but me) started to file into the room, I let my head loll backward to show just them how much I didn't care.

Just as, no doubt, every girl in the room immediately became aware of my disdainful brilliance, the light caught my eye and my sinuses twinged - just - so.

Sucking up air with the force of a Rolls Royce turbine, I launched forward into a titanic sneeze, folding in half like some kind of demonic castanet and double-kneeing my forehead with laser precision.

Ricocheting back from my powerful patella-prangs, I reeled backward, flailing arms and teetering in space as I reached, then inched past the point of balance as the chair arced on its two spindly metal legs.

I went over, cracking my head on a bookshelf and then collapsing in an angular, twisted heap on the floor, the chair perched delicately atop like some kind of idiot-garnish.

The silence that rushed in was just as quickly dispelled by a gale of laughter.

I resisted the urge to get up and shout 'taa-daa', and settled for covering my beetroot face with my crashingly unfashionable curtain haircut.

Length? Just below the ears.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 17:50, 5 replies)
Another door slamming injury
Modern cheap hollow doors don't make a satisfying noise when you slam them. On a small closet, the door barely has the heft to close against the pressure of the air it displaces, so it often doesn't. The door to such a closet was left open and I bumped into it, which annoyed me a lot. I lived alone at the time, so it was doubly annoying that I couldn't blame anybody else. I hauled off and slammed the door as hard as I could. Into my foot. Cheap door, heavy shoe, that didn't hurt my foot at all. The door simply bounced off my shoe and hit me in the face. Only a small amount of blood, but the bright red welt down the middle of my forehead lasted for days. "What happened to you?" "I don't want to tak about it..."
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 17:25, 2 replies)
Every one loves needles......don't they?
Many moons ago before I lost my brown leather bagel hole in 'nam, by that i mean a nice operating theater in The Royal London Hospital, I was on a a boat load of massive drugs. Unfortunately not the recreational kind but the immune-suppressant kind called Humira.

Now when I started on these self injection jobs I had to have 4 in the first go to get the drugs up to the right levels in my body. "Do one in the outside of each thigh, one in the stomach and one on the top of my thigh to see how they all feel" the nurse says. OK me thinks, I'm pretty well versed in needle play now, should be a doddle.

CLICK! FUCKCUNTSHITSOCK OWWW! It felt like someone had inserted an acid laced needle and then run a tazer through it, cue massive leg spasm and me kicking over a tray of dressings. "Oh yeah you probably hit a nerve, that can happen" Great, thanks for that.Right time for no 2. CLICK! no dramas, a bit stingy but no problems.

Right now for the stomach. "Pinch a bit of fat and inject into that" now here in lies the problem. At this point I was 6 foot 2 and just over 8 stone. I looked like I had just walked out of Auschwitz and had been captain of the camps long distance running team. There was fuck all fat on me. So anyway, pinch fat (read skin) and place the auto injector over the target and CLICK. OH MY FUCKING LORD THE PAIN WAS IMMENSE, like the devil him self had clenched his toothed bunghole down on my thumb! but why the fuck was it in my thumb? I had positioned the injector over my thumb with a thin layer of pinched skin in between it and the needle had gone clean through the skin and into my thumb and had hit the bone. Trust me those fuckers pop out with some force.

My Nurse thought it was funny to let me learn the hard way. Never injected in my stomach again. The last one was no dramas.

Length: Sharp pointy and an inch long.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 17:07, 10 replies)
Double eyebrow
In the olden days I used to drive a Mini - a proper one, not a BMW pastiche.

I had just filled it with petrol (this was 1987 so it cost me about £5) and bent down to reach into the door pocket to fetch my wallet. I have no idea how but I managed to face plant on to the rain gutter around the roof directly on my left eyebrow. Those that know Minis of old will know that the gutter is steel and not very forgiving. The impact left me with a double eyebrow which was split pretty much from end to end - you could see bone.

I staggered into the garage with blood pouring down my face, into my eyes and all over my lovely white shoes. Somehow I managed to pay my bill and get back out to the car before I passed out. I don't do blood.....

Every day when I look in the mirror, I am reminded of that day as my left eyebrow has a distinct top and bottom half.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 16:26, 3 replies)
I found this on the internet and think it should win.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 16:10, 6 replies)
Not me, but my ex.
I was a skateboarder, she was into those new-fangled rollerblade things.

I was a lot better skateboarder than she was a rollerblader.

I went to see her in the first couple of weeks of her starting university, and we visited a nice park together for some skating.

Afterwards, we rolled down the hill towards home. We picked up speed, and as we got to the corner, I rounded it easily, with style, and also with grace.

She, however, went into the wall like a fucking cartoon - SPLAT - arms and legs splayed, probably a clang, and sat down heavily. I rushed to her and helped her up - fuck it was an impressive slam!

She was alright, but did manage to give herself a significant black eye, and graze her nose a bit, and generally look a bit facially sore.

Which made it all the more fun the next day, when we went to visit her friends.

"This is my boyfriend, A Vagabond."

"Yeah, whatever. You OK, babes? You know where I am if you want to talk about anything at all, right?"
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 16:08, 1 reply)
How do you get a peanut out of your ear?
Pour in chocolate and, um, actually, that won't work.

You have to go to hospital and have a doctor get it out.

Afternoon off of school though, which is nice.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:52, Reply)
i'm very good at injuring myself
mainly because i'm such a clumsy fucker. this year alone, i've fallen off a chair and snapped my wrist, got nosebleeds from walking into the same tree twice, almost dislocated my shoulder by running into a doorframe, scalded my feet making a cup of tea and stabbed myself in the thumb whilst chopping eggs. still, at least i'm not dead.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:48, 4 replies)
In my early teens I pretty much wanked all the skin off my penis.
Even with open sores caused by friction at the top of my shaft, I still fought through the pain to wank at least twice an hour every hour.

Just thought I'd share that with you.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:41, 1 reply)
When I was about five or six, I was dicking around in the garden and I pushed a daisy up my nose. So far up my nose, in fact, that I had to be taken to hospital to extract it.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:36, Reply)
Showing off....
I was in a penpal thing in Kerrang! in 1996, and I ended up going to meet a girl in Washington, Tyne-and-Wear. My Dad dropped me off as he had business in Newcastle. She was called Sarah, and she was pretty and fun to talk to. We were gannin' doon tha' shops with some of her mates, and we walked through an underpass, where all the girls jumped and slapped an overhead light on the way through.

Eager to impress, I jumped, and punched it with all the strength I could muster. Everyone laughed at the Lancashire lad and we went on with our day. My Dad picked me up, I went home, and the next day my hand was around twice it's usual size. I went to hospital to find I had smashed the outside of my right hand and had to have a cast for about five months.

I don't really have a knuckle on the little finger of my right hand any more.

I didn't even get a kiss.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:34, 1 reply)

Putting on some warpaint at the mirror in the hall one day I felt a massive sneeze coming on. Not wanting to spray all over the mirror (in case it escaped from my hand), I turned around and sneezed violently.

What I had forgotten was that the upright vacuum cleaner was right behind me - had a fantastic black eye for ages.

Hurt like fuck, but I had great fun for the next couple of weeks looking nervously over at my (now ex) boyfriend and telling people "I.. I walked into a door.. really"
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:32, 1 reply)
I was at this warehouse rave once (I know)
and gave this guy a sip of my drink to take a pill with. next thing he's walking off with my drink.
I called after him and asked what he was doing, and in his drug fuelled haze he just laughed in my face and carried on.

I tried to grab him but only managed to hook a finger down the back of his t-shirt. I yanked him back to me and retrieved my drink by hoofing him one in the face.

The next day my finger was a bit stingy and bruised, turns out I had broken the tip of my middle finger. Had to have this gay finger cast on it for a while.

It's still broken

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:11, 16 replies)
I got concussed by a bouncy castle once.
Think I was about 7/8 and out with a summer playgroup at the beach.
The wind was picking up so they were ushering us off the bouncy castle.
A huge gust blew it up in the air with me and a couple other kids still on it. Lifted it right up.

I fell to the ground and it landed ontop of me :(
Next thing I remember I was in hospital.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 15:04, Reply)
I actually stood on a rake.
It hurts, a lot.

I had no idea what had hit me until after I picked myself up - I was nowhere near anyone else, so it was like being poleaxed by a ghost.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 14:56, 3 replies)
Smugly trying to look cool...
Arrived at the Odeon outside Coventry. Huge warehouse-style monstrosity of a multiplex with a big glass frontage. When you go in through the central glass doors, there's a box office desk about twenty yards away to your left... and another, identical desk the same distance away to your right. So my bestest friend and I walk in, and look left... bugger, there's a queue. A queue, it transpires, of unobservant dolts, because when we look to the right, SCORE! There's a rather nice young lady sitting there, just waiting to sell us some tickets. None of the dolts has noticed, so they're queueing like mugs. We, on the other hand, are now smug.

As is traditional, between us and the box office is one of those saggy thick velvet ropes designed to corral the queue into a space-saving zigzag. No need to walk around, oh no, I'm far too cool for that, and besides, the ropes barely four inches off the ground at its lowest point. Hands in pockets, I approach the rope, hop nimbly over it, and approach the nice young lady.

That's how it was supposed to go.

Hands in pockets, I approach the rope. I lead with my right foot, but my toes go UNDER the rope, not over it, lifting it. Thus, when my left foot leaves the ground, it also encounters the rope, and wraps round it. Now... if I was Buster Keaton, or Jackie Chan, I'd have tucked and rolled, and made a priceless moment of physical comedy look great.

I am not Buster Keaton. I am not Jackie Chan. I went down like a sack of shit. Hands in my pockets. Onto my FACE.

And I lay there for a bit. I thought about having a little cry. Then I got up. And I helped my bestest friend up off the floor. He hadn't tripped... he had literally fallen down laughing at me. He was still having difficulty breathing when we finally approached the nice young lady (whose face was a bit redder than I remembered) and bought our tickets.

On the up side, none of the unobservant dolts in the other queue noticed.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 14:31, Reply)

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 14:00, 2 replies)
i was at this wedding once and i were dancin on a chair like and i slipped and fell off and every1 saw me nickers lol

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:57, 1 reply)
i once ran in to a closed sliding patio door because i thort it were open lol

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:56, Reply)
I stood on this garden rake once and it popped up and hit me in the snozz lol

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:55, 1 reply)
Making a point
As a 13 year old stroppy teenager I was so determined to make my view known by slamming the door as hard as I could that I neglected to make sure my fingers were not in the way....

Imagine what happens if you hit a baked bean with a hammer.

The end of my middle finger sort of burst open, the nail looked like what would happen if you dropped a cherry pie from the supermarket bakery - a pattern of broken up topping with the red insides escaping everywhere.

Mum bandaged things up and I had to try and sleep with my arm above my head as it didn't stop bleeding for days. Dad meanwhile repainted the doorframe which looked like a butchers counter top.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:47, 2 replies)
I was sprinting across a gravel car park to catch a ferry in Portugal, tripped over a bit of concrete and landed on my face.

Some guy helped me up, I said "am I ok?", he made a "not really" face and helped me over to the ferry station, where the guards saw me catching blood in my jumper, sighed and called for an ambulance.

At the hospital they removed a few stones that were lodged in my face, sewed me up and released me into the streets. For the next few weeks people asked me if I'd been in a motorbike accident and I had to tell them "no, I just fell down" or when I got tired of that "I'm just not very good at shaving." It's healed now, but I've got an ugly scar across my chin.

I could've just waited half an hour for another ferry.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:30, Reply)
I've accidentally spiked myself a couple of times.
First time was on Glastonbury Tor one summer solstice. Having a smoke with a mate and chatting to a hippy dude, hippy dude suddenly says, "Hey! Do you fancy some tea?"

"Sure!" we say - you get parched up there after a while, especially if smoking.

Hippy produces from his bag a little burner, pot, tools, and brews up!

"Good tea, this" he says, and we nod and murmur in agreement, "Made from mushrooms" he says.

"Cool" we say, stoned out of our gourds. "Er ... " I say, a 20-Watt lightbulb in my head flickering into action, as I stare at my now pretty well finished cup, "You mean ... magic mushrooms?"

"Yeah ... " he smiles, a little patronisingly.

"Ah ... "

Some live drum n'bass do - it's in one of the little storage units under one of the railway arches in Hackney somewhere. It's been decked out, has a little stage for the band, DJ and speakers, and even a little bar selling tea, water and cans of beer. There's a bowl of sweets on the bar, day-glo everywhere, and a lot of strobe lighting.

I'm going straight - I love the feeling of being high on E, but I want to try and feel it "clean", so I've necked a couple of Red Bull and am having a great time.

I'm chatting to a friend, leaning on the bar, grab a handful of sweets, and we share them as we chat.

Boy it's a good gig.

Really good.


Whacked off our faces.


We've got a band rehearsal. It's Friday, we decide to get some beers in. I decide on a few bottles of Guinness.

My drumming is terrible at the best of times. That night it was awful.

Because, unbeknownst to me, I'd discovered Nigerian-strength Guinness.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:19, 10 replies)
I cut myself
Because he didn't bum that baby, he was framed, and the price of black hair dye is extortionate.

I'm going to write poetry because the tears are making my mascara run.
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:19, Reply)

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:13, Reply)
Damn 2nd
and all I've got to show for it is a blister on my F5 finger
(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:09, Reply)
knocked this up

wasn't a grate idea

(, Thu 28 Nov 2013, 13:09, 8 replies)

This question is now closed.

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