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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.

Lasange injury
I once took off the entire tip of my little finger trying to open a frozen microwave lasagne packet with a fruit knife without defrosting it first. I screamed and screamed until my dad came in to see what was the matter and then I promptly passed out. The following week, heading in to work late and hung-over from a party and taking my toothbrush and razor in to the office shower to tidy up, I put my hand into my rucksack and sliced the tip off another finger. On a safety razor. And then passed out again. Not good with blood, me.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 20:42, 3 replies)
So there I was, right, in a ten by ten foot room.
Guarding a chest, not doing anyone any harm, and then this elf comes in and shoots a fireball at me.
That was my elf-inflicted singe-ry.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 18:31, 4 replies)
We'd just had a fire alarm at work, and after the mandatory stamping of feet, cigarettes, and moaning we all head in.

Of course emptying a 5 floor office (with attendant gym) of people makes it that much harder to refill, and there's a crush of people going up the stairs beside the building.

But ah hah, what's this? Beside the stairs, and next to a line of bushes is a little concrete path. So I do what anyone in my mind would do and dash up it, pausing only to flick some Vs at the PR team.

And walk right into a building support.

Wiley Coyote would've been proud.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 16:03, Reply)
Death slide
summer '83. hot, sunny and a day out in blackpool. as it was so hot and we were planning to go swimming, i decided to wear my swimming costume in an effort to stay cool.
now, back then, you didn't go to the fair without going to the funhouse. if you went to the funhouse, you had to go on the death slide.
i loved the death slide.
sadly, i did not consider the effects of sliding down a wooden slide at a shockingly steep angle, at speed, wearing a swimming costume.
the effects were that my costume immediately wedged itself into my arse crack, leaving my bare cheeks to skid(fnar) down the slide, getting extremely hot and pretty much taking the skin off. to stop this, i tried to stand up and run.
this did not go well.
i tumbled headlong down the slide, crashing into the side and breaking my toe. much pain,massive embarrassment and a backside like a baboon. not exactly the perfect end to the day. i didn't even get to go swimming!
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 14:33, 3 replies)
Clumsy twunt.
Hand on hotplate: As a wee toddler, a family member was holding me up so I could see the brightly glowing spiral cooking elements of the electric stove as Gran cooked dinner. I reached out and placed my hand on the lovely red-orange thing. Cue: mucho tears and a hand drenched in metho. No scars, thankfully.

Tree climbing as a lad: I climbed a huge eucalypt in the back yard of my home with a less than bright mate who suggested we should jump out of it, from about ten metre up. He did it, rolled and grinned like a Cheshire Cat. I did it and managed to land on a piece of reo (metal reinforcing rod for slab concrete construction) that was hidden in the right thick patch of ferns he had just safely landed on. It went into my quad a few inches. There is still a big divot in my leg from that one...

Horizontally slicing Turkish bread for Turkish toast for breakfast, as a trendy fool in the late nineties: Wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. Took the tip of a finger off. Cue: Turkish bread with fresh claret on the kitchen bench.

Pissed as a parrot: Had dinner in a trendy eatery in Balmain just before closing time after a lengthy session in a nearby pub. They closed the gates to the terrace house in which the restaurant was located so that no new clients would come in. I didn't notice the side gateway to get out, so climbed over the cast iron gate with fleur-de-lis spearheads, delicately avoiding snagging my boy bits while climbing over the top, but putting my foot down with my complete body-weight on the next layer down. Cue: Popping sound as the fleur-de-lis went through the sole of my footwear, and a boot full of blood resulted. I still have the scar from that one on my right foot and recall sloshing my way down the street to my good mate's home and leaving a trail of blood as I went.

Working hard: The chief engineer called me to the production area to assist on a technical issue. He was getting some really odd test results from a production part and he couldn't work out why. I sat at the analysis system desk and observed the reports and graphs. Deep in thought, I got up to walk across to where he was working so we could discuss parameter changes. The control pendant (i.e. BIG stainless stainless steel box housing the control interface for the machine) was in my way. Head down, walking briskly and deeply pensive, and considering how to instruct him to work around the problem, I smacked into a corner of it head first, splitting my scalp open. Three stitches later...

I'm slightly more cautious these days.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 12:33, 11 replies)
One time, I like had this accident. Nothing I could do about it.
I had dysentery in Nepal and I done a right squishy poo in my pantaloons. Everyone was like ROFL and OMG. So, they had self-inflicted injuries because they laughed at me I killed them all and made it look like an accident. And then I got a firework and blew up a Yeti whilst slicing a yak up with a sharp knife.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 12:02, 3 replies)
Karma for a dick head
A little while back I had managed to go on an all day bender and decided that it was late enough, I was drunk enough, it must be time to go home.
Now, being that the last train had gone, the only way home was a two and a half hour walk or a taxi.
As luck would have it, I stumbled out of the club straight into a waiting cab.
"Did you order the taxi to *home town*?" asks the driver.
What a spot of luck. No I hadn't ordered it, but it was due to go where I needed it to, so I lied and commandeered some other blokes taxi (probably leaving him waiting outside for a good hour for another one)
At some point in the journey I thought it would be a great idea to do a bunk. I'm normally a fairly law abiding citizen and hate the idea of ripping off some poor taxi driver, but the booze was talking and I listened.
Directing the driver down a dead end street I hatched my plan. As soon as he had stopped at the end, I ran down a little alley and away. Not really a cunning plan, but it worked nonetheless.
After making sure I wasn't being chased I stumbled home, walked in, up the stairs and that's the last thing I remember.
Apparently the first thing my wife new was that she was woken up by a large thump, followed by the sound of taps running for some time.
She came to check and found me standing by the sink, attempting to clear the blood out of the bowl. I wasn't having much luck as the blood from the wound on my head kept pissing out and making it dirty again.
Eventually I was persuaded to go to bed where I quickly passed out.
The next morning I woke up feeling pretty shitty. I was nauseous, had a headache and felt like an utter cunt for skipping the fare on the ride home.
I eventually dragged myself out of bed to go to the bathroom to inspect the damage. At first I couldn't see any mark on my head and then realised that that was because I had injured myself above my hairline. I touched the scab and came to a slow realisation. It ran vertically up for a good couple of inches and was hidden at the moment, but what was going to happen when I lost my hair? I would have a line like Herr Starr running up by bald head giving the impression of one over grown bell-end.
I am still waiting for the day when I have to either shave my head and look like a walking cock or use option 2 and grow a ridiculous comb over.
Karma wasn't quite done with me. I bumped into a friend the next week who told me some arsehole had nicked his cab and the taxi firm had traced him down and made him pay for the fare. This made me feel a little better, as the driver ended up being paid and I reimbursed my friend for the trouble.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 11:18, 4 replies)
Electronics gcse and knives don't mix...
I was sticking together a small robotics project for my electronics gcse and had to hack through the top of a plastic RC car shell to fit the electronics. The Stanley knife got a bit stuck on the thicker plastic, I pushed it and managed when it cut to carry on through my fingertip, leaving a half-moon shaped scar to this day 20 plus years later. That, plus the associated solder burns on my knuckles where the flux kept spitting....

Mind you, not as bad as my Dad, who was mounting a playground roundabout and had it drop onto his hand, splitting the ring finger on his right hand down the middle right down to the knuckle. They squashed it back together at A&E, only shortening it by about a centimetre, though widening the tip a tad...
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 10:28, Reply)
Hot food then hot day...
Back a few years and I was learning to ride motorbikes during the height of a really hot summer. Many a long day was spent riding about that week or sweating profusely in the second hand gear I had. Yep, a winter jacket wasn't the best choice but it was all I had.

The evening before the last training day I decided to knock up a stir fry and after adding the sticky sauce I tossed the food in the wok and managed somehow when the sauce was bubbling away to splash sticky glutinous beyond boiling hot sauce all over my right wrist. Cue shitloads of shouting and running of cold water which took an age it seemed to get the sauce off my now red and blistering wrist.

Drugs, cooling cream and bandages later scoffed the "alright I suppose" stir fry and headed for bed.

Next morning I re-wrapped up my wrist, donned my gear at the training centre and felt the temperature rise.
Three hours later after sweating during the hottest of hot days we stopped off at a cafe and I checked the stinging of my arm. Removing the bandages the previously pinky and slightly blistered skin had swollen up and my wrist was now covered in oozing burst blisters and the bandages (of which I had no spares) were manky as hell.

Off to the bogs for some loo roll I re wrapped my arm and tied it tight with the bandages.

Two days later I failed my first bike test :(. 8 years later I have my licence and still some dark scars on my arm.

Mind you, they're nothing compared to the rod in my leg, steel pins holding it in place and the 5 scars on my hip and knee after putting my bike (and myself) through a lamppost. Snapping a femur is hard to do apparently, but I managed it....
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 10:17, Reply)
Tiny cable car across the river
Driving along, we noticed a cable across a river. There was a little cable car too. I guess they used it to measure water depth. We stopped and found it wasn't secured. We sat in the two tiny seats below the two wheels that rode on the cable, and rolled down the cable until we were halfway across the river. Then we stopped. It was uphill on both sides now, so if we wanted to get back to safety, we'd have to do some work. So, we put our hands on the cable to pull ourselves along. And one of the wheels promptly rode into my hand and ripped the skin off my thumb and fingertips, thrashing every sensitive nerve. Hurt like crazy, and we still had the entire distance to haul ourselves. Bled all over that cable on the journey back. Left unique scars on the fingertips too, so goodbye to any hope of a life of crime.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 10:12, Reply)
A Prestigious Story: Not me but my father-in-law
He was doing a bit of DIY, like he's done for decades. Sawing a bit of timber, easy peasy power-saw lost fingertips. Off to the hospital etc. Mother-in-law rang her daughter. Ring ring. Ring ring. All the people in the cinema turned to look at us, tutting at the anti-social pair who left their phone on when the cinema rules said not to. The wife left and took the call about her dad's missing fingers.

Then she came back and explained what happened. No, we didn't need to leave (her parents live about 3hrs drive away). We decided to finish watching the film. About twenty minutes later, a character in the film gets his finger shot off. About an hour later, a (sort-of) different character chops off his finger with a chisel.

Cut a bit close to the bone that did.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 9:14, Reply)
Bungee cord in the face and a cows arse
As part of my normal morning routine of feeding calves down on the farm, I have to open a home made feeding device whish is secured overnight with a few bungee cords and 6 bolts. As usual the little calves were swarming around me making my job really difficult, tiny hooves crushing my feet and sandpaper tongues licking my hands. ( I am not even going to start on cow breath at this point.)As my temper was reaching breaking point I was trying to get the last few wing nuts unscrewed whilst kneeling in cow shit, I started to unhook the first bungee cord. As predicted the 2 cords hooked together under considerable strain unhooked themselves in the middle causing one end to hit me square in the forehead and the other to shoot off the feeder and make a consderable thwacking sound as it hit a small cow on the arse. The result was an instant egg forming on the forehead for me and 40 calves bolting out the gate towards the house. With a thumping head ache causing me to be slightly blind I still had to go and round the little fuckers up.
(, Sat 30 Nov 2013, 1:18, 4 replies)
I used to have a licence for expolsives given to me because I qualified in pyrotechnics for
indoor and outdoor usage. All the stories on this current subject which involve explosives are dull. Please try harder. Blowing shit up is easy.

I have worked with very sharp blades. I have cut myself. Hardly interesting.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 23:56, 2 replies)
Slapstick DIY - Skewered
I was doing some DIY on the floor of my one-room appartment. I laid out the parts i was going to paint on an old newspaper and opened the pot of paint. To stir the paint, I took one of those bamboo skewers you use to skew marinated shrimp. I needed my hands free so i held it in my mouth.
When i knelt down to start working, i simultanously pricked my palate and my knee with the skewer.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 22:57, 3 replies)
The screwdriver slipped...
it went straight through the thenar space webbing (that's the funny little flap of skin between thumb and forefinger) on my left hand.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 22:12, 1 reply)
lol i broked my dick in ur dad lmabo

(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 22:08, 4 replies)
Flash - Bang, worried Dog.
In my youth and living in a small town I had several farmer friends. Come November the 5th they never bothered with fireworks but bought a box of agricultural pest-scarers and fooled around with them. I got a rope of them (14 to a rope) and figured a manageable time fuse was needed with these beasties. When the house was quiet I worked on a few materials to check timing and ignition. I had a large bowl of water nearby should the worst happen. It did and one of the pest-scarers ignited, I flung it into the water but the waterproof fuse was now going, cue bubbling water and me running for the door. BOOOM... Shake the room... The crockery by the kitchen sink was smashed to shit, I had ringing ears for weeks and a big cut to my left thumb from flying glass. The Dog mosied in and actually looked worried (but couldn't tell anyone).
Another episode was when I thought for a laugh I would put one of these in a tree outside the house last thing at night with a full rope fuse (good for hours). I waited with glee but fell asleep and woke up to a flash and huge bang at 4 in the morning. Well, not only me but the rest of the family. Cue vigorous conversation and concern, and worst of all for 5 minutes I was so stupefied I couldn't remember setting it up, but when I remembered naturally I found it terribly funny. So much so my sister ratted on me so I nearly suffered a self imposed injury there too.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 21:42, Reply)

It's the end-of-year college ball at the all-girls college (St Marys, FYI). Our band is playing in the cool-and-edgy basement, it's a great, hot, intense, sweaty gig. Crowds of female students dancing away - feeling like proper rock stars we strip to the waist (whoops and cat calls all-round) and finish on a jazz-funk version of Black Sabbath's "Paranoid". The crowd goes wild!

It comes to the guitar solo, and BANG! We suddenly shift gear from slow funk to full-on metal as I hurtle into a hilariously over the top speed-widdly tapping frenzy, the girls go even wilder and I climb the amp stack giving it the full-on rock god treatment. It doesn't *get* any better than this!

Climax of the solo, big drum roll, and I leap like Dave Lee Roth off the amp stack, arm wheeling like Pete Townshend at his finest.
I pull the splits in mid-air.

I remember that we're in a low-ceilinged basement, just *after* I crack my head on the a pipe in the ceiling, spin wildly in mid-air, and land on my hip & elbow from a height of about 8 feet up.

Half-unconscious, flat on the floor and crippled with pain, I've bent my guitar lead's jack plug into a right angle with the impact, there's no sound coming out, and I still have a full minute of the song left to go.

With one hand, I pull myself round to my effects pedals, plug my guitar into a patch cable (about a foot long) and finish the song completely horizontal.

I'm in pain and unable to walk for about 4 days afterwards, and 20 yrs later I *still* have the scar in my forehead from the bolt in the pipe.

Rock 'n' roll, maaaaan, roggenroll
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 19:14, Reply)
I once allowed a small child to skateboard headfirst into my nuts knocking me backwards into a swimming pool while I was standing at the altar with my bride, to ensure I won "Funniest Home Videos"
and it's long been a sexual fantasy of mine
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 19:05, 5 replies)
Ring Finger
I have heard that you wear your* wedding ring on the third finger because it's connected directly to your heart. Not too much of a surprise really since I guess every bit of you is connected to your heart but I can verify that there is a nice little artery running down the inside of your ring finger...

Many moons ago in a chemistry lab far away a young Ugi was washing a chromatography column - essentially a pyrex tube about 2 feet long and an inch or two wide with a tap on the bottom. And it slipped. And being the lightning-reflexed youth that I was I caught it. Only I caught it a fraction of a second after the bottom end hit the sink.

So suddenly I am holding on to a massive hand-full of bits of pointy glass where my lovely column was but moments before. Amazingly it cut me with only one tiny piece - a shard went into the inside of my then-bare ring finger sending truly impressing squirts of crimson Uginess into the air with every heartbeat!

It stopped quickly and healed well but for a few moments I made a truly impressive human fountain from a cut only half an inch long - and the side of that finger felt cold for years after.

*not you you - I mean "one" only it sounds just too ridiculous to actually put in writing
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 18:20, 14 replies)
Once upon a time, stuff happened...
When I was but a wee lad of 12-ish, I had an idea.

You know model rocket engines, right? And "crater makers"*? Okay.

The idea was as follows: Attach fins to rocket engine, attach crater maker to front, put in tube, fire, boom, yay. It worked too: When the engine burned out, the parachute ejection charge would light the crater maker's fuse, and shortly thereafter, noise would happen.

Then I got a friend involved, and took it to the next level. He nicked some primers from his dad's reloading bench(small pistol magnum for you gun geeks), we glued them into the crater maker's opening, stuck the front part of a biro on there, and put a nail in. Now the missiles exploded when they struck hard objects. While the noise was the same, the hilarity was greatly magnified.

And then, on that fateful day... I loaded up, fired the thing, and... fell over screaming. We believe that one or more of the fins ripped off in the tube, causing the rocket to nose-dive into the ground about ten feet in front of me.

Result: Three shrapnel injuries (god knows what would have happened if it hadn't been thick-coat-season), a case of tinnitus still going strong after over 20 years, and the old "you are such an idiot, sometimes I wonder if your mom swam in a nuclear reactor while you were in progress" speech from the parents.**

Still got the scars :/

*An empty CO2 cartridge stuffed full of black powder
**And later, a surreptions "Nice engineering work, I'll help you do it right" from dad. Ace!
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 17:39, Reply)
Flash! Ah-ahhh!
Another childhood hobby of mine was building model rockets. This was before it was actually legal in this country, so you couldn't get proper model rocket motors. I was reduced to buying firework bottle rockets, and stripping them down to separate the rocket part from the stars and other shit that I wasn't interested in. Then I'd build a model around the motor, and launch it.

So one day I'm experimenting with fuses. I'd constructed a new type, and was testing it. But my lighter was running out of gas, and a draught kept blowing it out. So I grabbed an empty pot, stuck my hands into it for shelter, and sparked the lighter.

Now, when I say "empty pot", I actually mean "Pot full of all the extracted stars and other flash powder that I'd removed from the rockets, which looked exactly the same as the empty pot". So I sparked a lighter in a pot filled with about five or six rocket's worth of pyrotechnic effects. And my hands.

It didn't go well... No lasting damage, as I managed to drop it pretty sharpish, but I had enormous blisters for weeks afterwards. What was worse was that I couldn't admit to my parents that I was in any pain, since I was of course absolutely definitely forbidden from "playing with fireworks".
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 17:22, Reply)
I accidentally ironed my own face.
It was quite sore for several days.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 16:55, 3 replies)
I once totally drank, like, loads of booze and then was ill afterwards.

I got better
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 16:34, 2 replies)
Fireworks Night Fun
A few years back whilst I was at university a friend and I were massive smokers and during our sessions smoking out the house we from time to time came across a video on YouTube that would spark in us some motivation.

The video on this particular occasion was off some Americans out in a field with a potato canon firing spuds hundreds of yards at a time. The perfect project for a couple of stoners.

So off we set to Plumbase to buy the relevant materials. When asked by the guy behind the counter what we were making he nearly died laughing and insisted that we should use it for firing shit at people.

Anyway, pipes and glue in hand we headed back to Harry's to put it all together.

After a couple of hours of cutting plastic piping and gluing it together the canon was built. We'd even cleverly developed an electric trigger for it using a hob lighter that would ignite the aerosol in the chamber and fire the potato into oblivion.

So smug were we with our achievements we lit up another doobie and basked in our glory. It was at that moment I decided to admire our handy work and check the ignition system by looking down the barrel and pulling the trigger.

The chamber was empty, no aerosol sprayed in, no potato, so everything should be fine right?

Wrong! We had cut the piping with a hack saw and not bothered to clean off the cutting shavings, the tubing was then glued together with epoxy resin. Who'd have though that the fumes from the glue would ignite in the chamber when the trigger was pulled, not me that's for sure. In a flash I was blown into the air and hot melted plastic blasted into my eye socket.

It's amazing how quickly smug stoned turns into blind panic, quite literally. I rushed down tot he bathroom and start rinsing my eye out and pulled several pieces on melted plastic from under my eye lid. Harry came in and we wrapped my head in a wet tea towel and made our way to A&E.

In all the excitement we had completely forgotten it was Fireworks Night and so when we finally rocked up at A&E in complete fear that I was going to lose my eye, there was absolutely no sympathy from the nurses or doctors on duty. In fact, whilst I was waiting to be seen they made me tell the story of what had happened to every person that passed us as a warning not to fuck around with explosives, especially on Fireworks Night. I think the nursers and doctors actually enjoyed watching me retell the tale over and over - it certainly helped the message sink in!

Luckily the damage wasn't permanent and I still enjoy the use of both of my eyes, but I certainly won't be dicking about with explosives for a while.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 16:34, 1 reply)
Flaming Sambuca...
...if ignored and left alight, due to lengthy phone conversation with concerned mother (assuring her that no stupidity will occur whilst celebrating the end of exams), can lead to perfectly circular burn blisters on the palm of the hand.

(Yes, the bedroom hand.)
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 16:32, 9 replies)
You can't see it, or smell it. But you can feel it when one end of two wires you are splicing is connected to the mains. The resulting involuntary backward jarring of the elbow into a wall was enough to fracture the elbow bone. And that is very not nice.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 16:20, 3 replies)
I watched liar, liar with Jim Carrey
It gave me a migraine.

/ got to get into anecdote kings with this surely
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 15:50, 2 replies)
Do you like fish sticks?
There was a box of fish fingers that had been at the back of the freezer for a while so I reached my hand in to take some out, inadvertently scraping my digits along the sharp deep-frozen golden-breadcrumbs. Pulling my hand out I realised I was bleeding.
When I tell people I once cut myself on a fish finger, they give me a funny look...
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 14:44, 7 replies)
I put my hand on a still-hot hob
I wouldn't recommend it. It's ouchy. Once the healing is done you get to see what your palm looks like without lines on it, but that's not worth it.

The nurses covered it with some sort of cream, covered that with gauze, and held that in place with a white fingerless glove thing. This was a huge help in allowing me to keep up to date with all of my friends' latest Michael Jackson jokes. Arseholes.
(, Fri 29 Nov 2013, 14:36, 10 replies)

This question is now closed.

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