Posting a vid
is a bit of a cop out, but this is some of the funniest slapstick I have ever seen. This man is utterly useless.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_BLggf-mqs
(Cylon Bum Raider already knows how this will end, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 10:35, 3 replies)

I've recently been in hospital
and on Christmas day we had a new lady join our ward. I was in the toilet, and overheard this loud exchange:

Mad old lady: "Nurse! Nurse!"
Male nurse came over.
MOL: "I need to use the bathroom but I'm all hooked up to this thing here (indicating drip), can you take it off please?"
MN: "Right now somebody else is in the bathroom, and I am just treating the lady in the bed next to you. Is it very urgent?"
MOL: "Oh somebody is in the bathroom already?"
MN: "Yes. As soon as they come out, I will help you. We can't take the drip off, but it's on a trolley so it can come with us."
MOL: "Oh I can wait then. Can you give me my buzzer?"
MN: "Yes, here it is."
MOL: "Which button do I press for the nurse?"
MN: "That one. The really big one."
MOL presses buzzer. "Did it work?"
MN: "Yes." Resets buzzer. "Now I'll come back as soon as the bathroom is free."
A second later I hear the buzzer.
MN: "Are you ok?"
MOL: "Well, that was quick! I'd like to use the bathroom please."

At this point I left the loo to see my mum trying desperately hard not to laugh by my bedside. The male nurse had not even left the lady's bedside before she buzzed the second time!

A few days later she ordered a cup of tea from the nurses before the breakfast trolley arrived, and though they were in the middle of the drugs round they somehow found a spare body to make her one. It sat on her table for an hour, then she complained to the breakfast lady that the nurses had brought her a cold cup of tea and it was undrinkable!
(sanity challenged, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 10:27, Reply)

Freefalling
When I was in the second year of University, we made the mistake of trying to arrange a 'nice' (read shithole) 'house' (read cardboard propping up a roof new-build) for our first foray out of the comfort of halls. The price we paid for our exuberance was that it was fucking miles out of the way.

Obviously this affected our actual learning very minimally, since none of us harboured any intentions of attending anything, but it did mean long walks home after nights out on the lash.

The route we used to take led us past a long ditch that ran along the side of the road which led into a nearby field. It was quite difficult to see how deep it was however, since it was obscured heavily by a multitude of overgrown weeds.

One night, feeling particularly witty, I decided to push my mate into the ditch. Having a not a large frame myself, but being noticeably larger than my mate, I was confident of quite a hilarious tumble, but he only went a couple of feet down the slope before recovering, bollocks.

I should have seen the revenge coming, but I didn't expect to be barged by a 6'2" chunky brummie as well, and the resulting shove lifted me free of the ground and in a graceful arch into the depths of the abyss, whereupon I found out just how deep the ditch was (very).

Fucking cunts. Not only had I sustained quite a fall, but I was surrounded entirely by stinging nettles, face, exposed arms, the lot, and my arse was wedged so firmly into the foliage, I couldn't actually get myself up! I lay there like a beached whale while they wandered about like lemons trying to work out where the fuck they had actually launched me too, before attempting a drunken rescue operation.

I had a painful walk the next day to the chemist to attempt to coax my mouth into asking for anti-histamines.

I really wish i'd shoved my mate harder first time.
( SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 10:16, Reply)

McDick
I was strolling out with my friends around Cardiff of an evening. A couple of pubs, then maybe a club or two. I was looking sharp. Very sharp. Super cool. Expensive threads, nice shoes, a puff of expensive cologne. Nice.

We were reservoir dogsing past the McDonalds at the top of the high street when for some horrible reason, I tripped on my own bastard feet. I went down like a felled ox. Cut my hands, chin, made a thread exposing hole in my best trousers. Worst of all were the cheers from the entire chav filled audience of the fast ‘food’ chain. They also made the ‘wanker’ sign at me.

I felt this tall ‘-‘
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:38, 3 replies)

DO NOT CLICK UNLESS YOU HAVE A STRONG STOMACH!!!
Like many who pay tax, work or are otherwise contributing to society in some way I have an inbuilt dislike of chavs.

Which is why this video makes me want to both puke at the nasty and laugh as the victim.

I must warn you, do NOT click if you have a weak stomach as the poor chav has a rather nasty accident brought about by his own vandalism....

www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIxVpKK-o5w
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:33, 9 replies)

Deliberate slapstick: We had an eccentric music teacher at school.
He was reeeeelly mad and whacky, but he was a damn fine musician.

It came to the dress rehearsal, and the teacher was mucking about on stage with the rigging crew. All was excited energy and hurried amendments, and I will never forget seeing him running across the stage, and, when he got to middle, leaping into the air like a gazelle, and performing a perfect 360 while farting loudly, to land with the grace of a ballerina and continue running into the wings.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:32, 2 replies)

Being a naturally clumsy, cack handed individual...
...this has afforded my life many opportunities to brighten your day as well as my cheeks (tops ones) with this Question of the Week.

- I was driving to a house viewing in a particular rush and pulled up outside the house where the estate agent was waiting and ‘being in a hurry’, flung open the driver’s side door with great force whilst stepping out. While I was in mid stride the door reached its apex and then swung back on the hinge catching me by surprise and hit my side while off balance. I faltered back and smacked the back of my head on the door frame, bounced out, hit the closing door again, fell into the car, and gave myself a black eye from the gear stick. When I finally got out of the car, slightly groggy, the estate agent was sprawled on his car bonnet seemingly so physically paralysed with laughter that he had also lost the power of speech. When he finally recovered and I was nursing my eye with a tissue soaked with coke, I was told that he had never seen a person beaten up by a car. I told him I have never been beaten up by a car before but next time I would be ready and kick the shit out of it Fawlty-style.

- My rubber band ruler gun backfired when I was hunting Mike Smalls in the biology lab and hit me in the eye. Hard. Then Mike Smalls was so incensed that I was playing predator and stalking him he pinged another rubber band in my other eye. I couldn’t see for hours and then my eyes were sensitive to sunlight for about a year afterwards.

-Recently out and about in the UK’s frozen precipigeddon at the start of January was a slapstick goldmime. The amount of people I saw slipping and sliding and bouncing off objects was literally hilarious. In fact I got beaten up for laughing at some lads trapped in a snow prison by some snowmen snowguards. Also, one snostitute.

- I was running away from bullies at top speed when one of them waiting in ambush behind a wall stuck out his arm in a ‘clothesline’ manoeuvre. However because I was going so fast and he got me right at the top of my chest, that I did a somersault and landed on my feet and kept running. However, thrilled as I was at my luck and ‘prowess’ this event critically destabilised my movement and I fell down some stairs almost immediately. Me? Broken collar bone. Bullies? Job done.

- conducting a play fight with some friends in sleeping bags on a camping trip. It was too cold to actually get out of the sleeping bags and we couldn’t stand up because of the lack of headroom in the tent, so we were delivering two legged sweeping kicks to one another and wrestling. We unfortunately got carried away and de-pegged the tent we were in and managed to roll down a rather steep hill into a shallow stream. It wasn’t gay though.

-started a new job, got told to get some stuff from the stationary room, inexplicably all the boxes and shelves fell on me. I was trapped for hours and no one noticed. I did some of my best doodles though.

There are more. When I think of some I shall post them.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:31, Reply)

Slapstick with Honda Accords
Several years ago I took a few days break to visit Byron Bay on the North Coast of New South Wales. As the sun was setting I was sitting down near the beach when some young, what would described in Britain as Chavs but what we would refer to in Oz as scum bags where playing a game of car jumping in the beach front car park.

For the uninformed this involves someone driving the car at a reasonable pace, around 20 or 30 km/h, in a straight line while someone runs at the car head on, jumps on to the bonnet, then the roof, then the boot and off the back.

I will admit that some of these guys weren't too bad at the pointless game.

There was one young bloke, the loudest, wankiest, pants around his knees, wearing jeans on a 35 degree day, pathetic haircut, young fuck knuckle of the group and he was up for his turn.

Although I can't actually remember it lets say for the sake of the story it was a poo brown Honda Accord, and quite possibly driven by Mr. T and as had happened a dozen or so times before, the aforementioned greatest disappointment possible from an orgasm, started his run towards the car, and as he took his first leap on to the bonnet got tangled in his own pants causing him to stuff up the take off and have his legs swept from under him and subsequently upended by the Honda, bounced off the roof head first and landed in a crumpled heap behind the car.

A complete totach!

Oh, how I laughed. As I trotted over to take a closer look at the fallen dick head, who was bleeding from his face, but, not in the copious amounts one would expect, that I saw his leg. Most legs run up and down from the hip to foot but, this leg now had a 90 degree bend at the knee, sideways. I almost wet my pants from laughter.

I think one of his vacant compatriots summed the situation up best when he said as his mate lay there possibly about to die,

"fuck man, I wish I had videoed that"

edit: updated to include modern B3TA lingo
(bad_advice QOTW survivor from the first trollocost!, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:21, 4 replies)

Up to his neck in it
We had a portacabin delivered to work for the Goods in dept (2 guys and a kettle) and for a few weeks there were temporary steps up to it. One day however somebody came along to put a more permanent platform at the top of the steps. On said day it consisted of a woden box containing 5ft of wet concrete. And yes, some idiot walked to the top of the steps straight into the concrete. He was literally up to his neck in it. You really couldn't have staged it better.
(lawlam, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 9:12, Reply)

Andrew and I
were best mates at school. So one day, there we were waiting on the bus to take us there, when his little brother Willie came by on his bike, off to the primary school. He came bombing past us, waving as he went, with a carrier bag containing his packed lunch* dangling from the handlebars.

This bag, about half a second later, became entangled in the spokes of the front wheel. The wheel, hindered as it was by this plastic encumbrance, decelerated rapidly, whereupon the combined momentum of the rest of the bike and its rider pivoted on the front axle and sent Willie flying down the road. I've never seen anyone go over the handlebars of a bike so spectacularly in my life.

Fortunately he wasn't badly hurt, which is just as well as we were all pissing ourselves laughing.


*Such a bag is commonly known around these parts as a 'piece poke'.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 8:59, 1 reply)

You just wouldn't admit this
My friend Alan once showed up with a large lump on his forehead. Concerned only as far as to extract how he'd gotten this, he actually admitted the following;

"I'd just come out of the shower, and as I walked naked into the bedroom, Sally (his wife) was lying naked on the bed, legs in the air, saying come and get me".

He'd got out attention for sure...

"Well, anyway, I ran over to her, and went to leap between her legs, but missed. Her foot caught my stomach, pivoting me in mid-air, while the wheeled bed shot across the wooden floor and I head-butted the wall."

It took a while of stunned silence as we imagined naked Sally, before we burst out laughing.
(Kliper Filllets Getting noticed by twats on the internet since, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 8:50, Reply)

The top of our wall makes a new friend.
A good few years back I used to live in a house which was on the corner of a junction, so the front wall at the end of our garden used to stretch around a fair bit to the side of our house, all of which could be seen from our front living room window.

Me and dad were in the house at about half 3 in the afternoon. The Primary School up the road had just closed for the day and some of the kids were walking home. One such kid though was having fun ; he was busy doing a balancing act by walking across the top of everyone's wall. I glance up the road and spot him heading towards our wall, so I point him out to me dad.

This kid looked like a right hyperactive fucker, grinning like a cross between a gremlin and a downs as he marched across the neighbour's wall, leaning in occasionally to kick their flowers and garden arrangements before reaching our wall.

Just as he leaps upon our wall however, my dad picks this oppertune time to start banging our front window like mental. The kid hears it mid-leap and flinches, which is just enough for him to lose his concerntration. Legs go either-side, bollocks go up to his throat. The kid slumps off the side of the wall onto the pavement, crying his eyes out and limps all the way up the road while holding his crushed nads. As our house was situated at the bottom of a hill as well we could still see him in the distance a good 5 minutes later, walking uphill like a crab.

We laughed so much we nearly gave ourselves asthma.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 8:46, 3 replies)

Fall from... well, not grace
Back in my uni days when I couldn't afford to keep my car on the road at all times, there came a week where the weekly shop had to be done and all that was available for transport was a bicycle. Nothing fancy like a mountainbike, just a plain old (probably second-hand) city bike.

Having done the shop, my backpack overflowing (I was buying for 4 people and the shop probably weighed about 30kg) I was making my way home through the back streets. This was a safe course of action for me because I'm not the most confident cyclist on main roads at the best of times and the weight on my back was throwing my balance off... just a little bit. So I'm on the back road, my helmet dangling from my handlebars. In oz it is of course quite illegal not be helmeted when on a bike - if they had their way with 'public safety' we'd also be wearing knee and elbow pads, but I digress.

But I'm on the back roads in a quiet neighbourhood, no one is likely to care.

Until the police car pulled up to me. A young pair, both male, I managed to talk my way out of a ticket which I could ill afford. After cautioning me to always wear my helmet when riding I thanked them, put my helmet on, got on my bike... and, with the weight of the shopping on my back throwing my balance off completely, very slowly and gracefully toppled over onto the sidewalk.

At least I had my helmet on. Which they pointed out.
( Tiffany Aching 's bowl of oatmeal tried to stare her down and won, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 7:49, Reply)

Perhaps the second time I played golf...
...which would make it my penultimate game, as it's a bit silly. My mate took a terrible stab at driving, his ball careening away some 60 degrees off target. He trudged off in its general direction.

Who would have thought I could hit an identical shot? My slice skimmed three feet above the ground a good 50 yards, power without direction, and hit him smack in the arse.
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Fri 22 Jan 2010, 6:04, 4 replies)

Dad's Bag
He was traversing the fence over the wood pile warning us not to play up there as the palings were rotten.

Then the fence gave way and he fell with his full body weight astride the wood below.

Silence, shock, and then the four young boys laughed their tits off, tears streaming down our little faces.

After having a vom Dad pissed blood for about a week.
( hismastersvice cunting flange-jammer, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 6:00, Reply)

Navigating...
...across the wilds of Dartmoor, engrossed, nay *enveloped* in my OS map, I failed to spot the large open shaft directly in front of me.

Length, about 10 feet down. I'm told the map hung in the air, cartoon-style, a brief memento of my vertical passing.
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Fri 22 Jan 2010, 5:51, Reply)

So funny I couldn't laugh for about ten seconds...
And then the floodgates opened.
So I'm at a wedding, a backyard job, and the bride's parents are, for the first time in years, in the same place at the same time.
There's no real animosity any more, they just divorced and moved on.
Did I mention they're both blind? Oh well they are. Her father completely and her mother almost completely.
So.
There's the ceremony, the speeches, the food, then the music starts up and the bridal waltz takes place on the patio.
I'm inside, chatting to the father of the bride and his new wife (also blind) when the mum (the one who can just see, keep up here), comes over to interupt.
"Come on you two, lets get out on the dance floor and show them how it's done!" she says.
She takes one on each arm and skips happily off to the dance floor, walking straight through the gap in the sliding doors while the other two slammed face first into the glass on either side.
According to someone who was facing me, I somehow managed to get a look of complete horror and utter delight on my dial at the same time.
( difficultchild, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 5:51, Reply)

Jogger's Fall
Very unfortunately my mum's car once broke down on a side road. Luckily my dad drove out his car with a tow-rope and attached it all up just to get out of the way really. He went back to his car to start it. Looking out of the window I saw a jogger pumping along. You know the type- pompous, chest puffed out, more concerned with people looking at him than technique. He headed between the gap of our cars, and the look of pure sheer shock on his face as he tripped over the tow-rope was a joy to behold. He stood and began hopping as he'd banged one leg up (he wasn't hurt badly) and shouting. I popped out of the car to apologise to him (I was about ten) since my mother was convulsed in helpless laughter as she crouched over the wheel.
( Amberl was stripey and dominated Europe, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 2:08, Reply)

We spent most summers making some *forever* drive to Cornwall or similar...
...at about 3am because my Dad wanted to 'beat the rush' as they are wont to do.

We'd always be woken up and bundled into a car that was filled with more useless crap than even our house seemed to be.

One day we arrived and stopped at the car park of the chosen low rent Caravan park, the obligatory mini-stove was fired up to provide a cup of tea and Dad decided we MUST fly the kite we brought with us. So as we sat and watched eating sandwiches which already tasted like they had gone off, he goes off to show us how it's done. Running backwards to get it in the air.

We notice a car door open behind him, but do we tell him? Do we fuck. He ends up somersaulting over the door and landing in a dejected heap. Literally screaming with rage why we didn't tell him.

We obviously answered by laughing for about 3 days.

Don't keep waking us up at 3am to take us on a shit holiday to Cornwall where it rains for 7 straight days then Dad.
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 1:44, 1 reply)

Just remembered another one..
.. which should have been at the forefront of my mind due to the permanent scar on the bridge of my now-wonky nose.

After a number of drinks a friend and I were putting the world to rights whilst out smoking in the garden. I was leaning on the washing line, with it under my arms running across my chest. Obviously far more diligently minded than I was at the time, my friend advised me that what I was doing could quite possibly end in tears and placed himself in front of me so that any mishap that could occur would result in me falling into him rather than meeting the ground. In agreement, I stood on my own two feet and stepped away from the washing line while we continued our conversation.

In my state, the above events that had passed not two minutes before soon completely left my conciousness. Without consideration for my friends wise words, nor with the safety net of him standing in front on me, I held the washing line with both hands outstretched and rested my weight on it. It gave way, snapping at the point I was leaning on. My face hit the patio, nose and forehead first, with the frayed ends of the line in each hand...
(Grobie, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 1:19, Reply)

Faceplanter
One summer morning, back in my uni days, I disembarked from the bus and went to walk up the hill to my first lecture of the day. The bus stop was located on the main road, next to the uni rugby field, with a long, wide, raised garden bed between the pavement and the end of the field.

Rather than walk around to the end of the planter, as it ran the entire width of the field and the bus stop was in the dead centre, I would usually just step up onto it and stride across it in a couple of steps. This particular day, I hopped up onto it, took one step forwards, and...

WHUMP

My foot connected with a small stump, about 5cm high, that I had failed to notice and I faceplanted quite spectacularly into the dirt. I didn't even have a chance to take my hands off my backpack straps and try to stop myself, it happened so fast. Face to floor in less than a second. Oh well, I thought as I lay there getting my breath back, I was the only person who got off the bus, probably nobody saw that.

I then picked myself up off the ground only to see a group of twenty or so school kids from the nearby private school on the other side of the road, pissing themselves laughing and pointing at my misfortune. Little bastards.
(oball needs Satan more than he needs me, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 1:10, Reply)

No slapstick here
But I have eaten a bush or two.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 0:27, 1 reply)

Smashing pumpkins
When in high school, I decided to do track and field and settled on pole vaulting because you didn’t have to run as much and were pretty much left to yourself as the coach couldn’t be bothered. The sport tended to attract the shadier, dope smoking types, but I loved the acrobatic nature of it all. Of course you’d get the occasional broken pole, or someone would miss the pits (mats) altogether, but it was overall fun.

At this time, they were in the middle of to replace the metal crossbars, which bent easily, with fiberglass bars. These would spring back into shape if some idiot ran into it after failing the vault. Now, the old metal crossbar would have simply bent and I would have tumbled to the pit, straightened the crossbar and tried again. My faithful reader, this was not to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had been making some good vaults and was going for a new personal record. The approach was good, the bend in the pole was good and up I went. Unfortunately, I only managed one leg over the crossbar – must not have run fast enough.

As if time stood still, I was perched at 11 feet up, momentarily suspended, gripping the pole and my leg on the crossbar. Slowly, the fiberglass bar began to bend, followed by an equal bending of the pole away from me. Still I held on, not sure what to do. The bar bent further; the pole bent further. The bar bent further; the pole bent further – fiberglass can really bend a long way!

Eventually the inevitable happened: the crossbar went sproing! the pole returned to its straight position *FWAP* right between my legs and I fell to the pit unable to breathe or even see due to the sparkly things I saw before my eyes. As I lay there moaning, certain that I’d cracked a couple of eggs, the next guy in line kept yelling for me to get the hell out of the way. Dickhead.

I finally was able to struggle to my feet, careful not to put my legs any closer than a few feet apart. I then slowly shuffled, more bowlegged than John Wayne, all the way back to the lockers oblivious to anything or anyone. Once there I dropped trou, and proceeded to run cold water from the drinking fountain over my cojones, suffering from dry heaves.

It was days before I could walk normally, and although I hadn’t broken my birds eggs, for years I feared I would never sire a child. If I think too long about it, I flashback to that pain and get queasy.
( BrokenCoccyx doesn't mind if you grope on, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 0:12, Reply)

Bin Jump
I thought it would be a great idea to jump over some bin one morning as I walked to the school bus stop. My mother probably wondered what was going on as I broke out of her hand grip and started running down the street at full pelt, right at the bin half way down the block.
Needless to say, my feet didn't make it over the bin and I fell down, hurting my knees and pride. So I got up and ran to the bottom of the street and hid round the back behind my nan's house as I felt so stupid.
No one knew where I was and a lot of people spent ages looking for me, for an hour or so. I could hear them calling me for ages but still hid.
When I heard talk of calling the police I had to give myself up.
I really didn't know to tell them.
( --- ---, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 0:02, Reply)

Ouch
Just remembered this'un.
The other day while at the gym, I decided to walk between two benches. I did not, however, see the bar sticking out, and walked right into it nuts first.
Did I bounce off? Did I fuck. I had to flip over the bastard taking the bar with me. Cue loud crash, me laying there laughing and crying at the same time holding my ever loving sack.

Length? Olympic bar with about 150 punds on it, more than enough to do some damage
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 23:51, Reply)

Some years back i worked with a Welsh bloke and one night he's over at our shared house and a gang of us are having a few bevvies. Anyway he starts telling us (not entirely without incredulous retorts), all about how he is a pretty good break-dancer, actually boyo, and is a bit of a name for it back home, which is of course a red rag to a bull for the rest of us. We start daring him fairly mercilessly to prove it, so he mans up to show us what urban dance chops they DO teach in rural North Wales.

Throwing on a cd, we sit back and watch as he he starts dancing a bit and then goes for a strong opener of one of those moves where they dive headfirst at the floor, called, i believe The Caterpillar

Time, of course, just fucking stops.

Eyes widen all round as he contacts the carpeted floor cleanly with his forehead. His feet are still somewhere up near shoulder height, fuck knows where his hands are, NOT where they should be presumably, and the thud you felt in your gut rather than heard. He collapses with what sounded like a huge sigh and, lies still-ish on the floor, almost but not quite unconscious, and mumbling.

Cue a bit of actual concern and a couple, ahem, of laughs. Mr Welsh sits up with a bit of help and mumbles something about not having done that move for a while and how we should all fuck off, bunch of cunts etc. He sits back on the sofa, where we all noticed a 2 inch thick red welt forming aggressively in a vivid reddish purple from his hairline, past his ear and down his neck about level with his chin.

Poor sheep shagging bastard had about a week at work of explaining how he copped the mother of all cheap nylon carpet burns right on his face and even had to give a talk looking like he fell asleep using an exhaust pipe for a pillow.

Length? About 7 inches.
And he never did get round to demonstrating the Cambrian Headspin.
(Matty73, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 23:51, 2 replies)

Fishhook
Yesterday, I was at a team event at one of the local lakes. There were around 50 of us all having a good time fishing.

It's also raining pretty heavily in Southern California at the moment and the weather is that bad we've even had a couple tornados touch down (which is practically unheard of here). So the lake was muddy as all hell, combined with a bunch of puddles. A bunch of us literally fell over on our arses while trying to land fish - funny moment was when one of the guys was laid on his back still reeling the fish in!

I managed to fall over in spectacular fashing as I was casting my line out, which resulted in the hook pinging back and catching me in my lip.

Spent a half hour wandering around the lake with a fish hook in my lip trying to find my nurse friend so she could take it out for me!
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 23:51, 8 replies)

More painful than childbirth?
The now ex Mrs Anthropos and I went on a camping trip with some friends in France a couple of years ago, I had taken a polypin of beer (36pints) and some serious damage had been done to it on the first night.

Ex Mrs Anthropos was not the world's best sleeper and would often do the thing where you twitch just as you are falling asleep. You know the one where you just start to dream and fall of a cliff and jerk awake? Yep that thing....

Lying peacefully drunk on an airbed, bellyfull of beer, with my mates, my girlfriend falling asleep while I gazed drunkenly at her pretty face, what could be better?

WHUMP!

She has woken up, and with a swift, jerking motion buried her knee deep twixt my Davinas.

Pain.

Pain like I have never felt. Childbirth? Pah! I got up, stumbled around for a bit with my hand down my trousers checking I was still in two pieces.

Everyone hanging around outside at the campsite either laughed at me, or slunk back towards their tent at the sight of me lolloping around with all the grace and decorum of a blind puppy with no legs.

Then I stood barefoot on the still-glowing-red-hot embers of the campfire we had built. More pain. Watery blisters on the soles of my feet for a week.

It then dawned on Ex Mrs Anthropos quite what she had done. Rather than do the decent thing and apologise, the drinks consumed made the scene in front of her hilarious. This did nothing to improve my mood.

I slept with my back to her for the rest of the holiday.
( Anthropos Was making beer on, Thu 21 Jan 2010, 23:36, Reply)