Towards the end of a Monopoly board pub crawl
I chopped the end off my finger. Absolutely no idea how I did it; I'm guessing I trapped it in a door or something.

I do recall noticing it suddenly while looking for my friends in Leicester Square. It looked pretty nasty so I chewed off the flap of skin and dipped the raw flesh in a pint to try and make it heal faster. That didn't really work so I put my Monopoly Guy white gloves (£1 on amazon) back on to try and stem the bleeding, and promptly forgot all about it until I got home.

We regrouped and got home otherwise safely but were all utterly blitzed so my flatmate was the first person to notice, or at least to show concern about, my finger. "You really need to put a plaster or something on that," she said.

"It's fine," quoth the beer, using my voice. Who did this meddlesome hag think she was? A doctor? I was fully confident after receiving the instant medical degree bequeathed to anyone after drinking twenty consecutive halves of lager.

"No, it doesn't look good."

"It's fucking fine you old windbag."

"No," she replied. "You really, really need to do something before you bleed on the carpet."

"FINE," I relented, stomped off to the bathroom. Frugality and care being the watchwords of the alcoholically obliterated, I wound about half a roll of toilet paper around the offending injury, giving myself a gigantic round index finger which would've impressed the guys who wrapped up Tutenkhamun. I finished off my masterpiece with about 400 turns of sellotape which I found in the kitchen, while giving her the sarcastic stare of doom.

I woke up to find my bed covered in hundreds of rusty-stained lengths of tissue and briefly wondered if I'd drunkenly wanked myself into a bloody coma.

Anyway, we missed two stops this year so if anyone's up for the rematch...
( pineapplecharm D d M Y, H:i, Mon 2 Dec 2013, 15:06, 1 reply)

Halves of lager?
You pussycuntpisswhimpshitstainunternancy.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Mon 2 Dec 2013, 19:13, closed)