Where did he go?
A few years ago (I would have been fifteen or sixteen) I was sleeping over at a friend's house for an evening of Xbox and stuff. The "And stuff" turned into a 2am game of "jump on each other in the pitch black and beat the crap out of whatever is closest in any way imaginable". After round four of this, I was getting a little sick of being hit in the nuts (literally) and decided to get my revenge. After I flicked out the lights I did not return to my sleeping bag on the floor. I instead walked over to it, made some mussing noises and then sneaked with the stealth of an overweight ninja to the corner of the room.

Sure enough, anfter about five minutes, friend #1 (big guy) shouts "GET HIM!". Friend #2 (even bigger guy) jumps ino the space where he thought I was only to smack into the ground with an "oof". This soon turned into an "AAARGH" as he, not me, took the full force of the perfectly administered legdrop of friend #1. They proceeded to beat the hell out of each other, both thinking the other was me. I was, in fact, still in the corner - only moving to occasionally belt both of them with a pillow in order to further the mayhem.

I was eventually given away by my snickerings and a beating was administered, but the sounds of *whomp* "That's me! Get Mat!" *whomp* "That's still me! Get him!" *whomp* etc. will remain with me for a long time.
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 19:03, Reply)

Exploding Cigarette
When I was about 10 I persuaded my mum to buy me some 'fag bangers'. My mum had given up smoking and was somewhat irked by my dad continuing to smoke like a chimney.

My dad used to have about 5 pints on a saturday afternoon and regular as clockwork would sleep for an hour or two as the footie results rolled in.

This was my chance, I stole his packet of fags whilst he was sleeping and inserted the little cardboard triangle into the cigarette. And poked it to about halfway down with a match. I only did the one and there must have been fifteen in the packet. Quite small odds for a first time banger.

I put fags back where they were and forgot about it.

About an hour later dad wakes up extremely bleary eyed having spent all afternoon in the boozer. 1st thing he does is spark up.

Damn! That wasn't the trick fag, he's lit it up and it hasn't gone bang.

And then.... BOOM! The thing exploded in a shower of sparks and burning tobacco. It nearly took his nose off and ended up splayed out like a weird flower with some petals missing.

www.goofbutton.com/images/wtl_ec%20(3).jpg

It couldn't have been better timed since he was so unsuspecting.
( TheFinch is getting to grips with the complex plane on, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 18:51, Reply)

Tescos...
We decided to take the dog for a walk today. But he is a pain in the rear end, in that unless you have something tasty, he won't come back once you let him off his lead. So we stop at the giant Tesco on the way to the woods. Other half nips in to grab some sausages. I wait outside with the dog. At this point I should probably mention that my dog is a HUGE great big Dobermann. Wearing a rainbow striped collar. And probably whinging about being made to wait outside Tesco, away from all the nommy foods.
Anyway... he commands one of two reactions. People either stare at his majestic beauty. Or try to run away. Slapstick reaction number one, was the latter. A middle-aged gentleman of Asian descent (I've noticed that for some reason, most Asian people don't seem to like dogs, especially giant monster dogs like Dobermanns) was walking from the exit, reading his receipt, when he looks up, notices my dappy git standing there with me, and does a comedy leap to the side to get away. Unfortunately, a crotch height metal pillar was in the way... and the rest is history.
Then 5 minutes later, a couple with a sulking toddler come along. Said toddler is sulking, staring at the floor, lip sticking out half a mile towards Brent Cross, feet scuffling across the floor. Enter our favourite metal pillar. I never believed that a 30" metal collumn would ever make me laugh so hard, but the subsequent CLAAAANG! as he smacked his forehead into the post and staggered back with a look of "where did that come from?" had the whole entrance to the shop snorting with laughter. Surprisingly for a 3-4 year old, he didn't even cry! Yet, I'd put money on the lip remaining firmly stuck out for the rest of the shopping trip.
( Bathory, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 18:50, Reply)

Of Messerschmitds and cats arses
To relay this story requires the admission of ultimate geekness.

Despite the fact I am on the wrong side of 40 and am meant to be all growed up, I have for a few years now rediscovered my childhood hobby of Airfix kits. Its a nice bit of stress relief and an escape from the never ending demands of work and fatherhood, essentially, having a creative outlet keeps me sane!.

So, in the early days of rediscovering this simple childhood pastime, before I took over a whole room in the house, I would build my little plastic aeroplanes on a tray on my lap in the livingroom.

One day, the wifes boss and his wife popped over for a quick social, and to set the scene of domestic bliss, I am sat in my easychair with a part built messerschmidt on my lap while everyone else is sat on the sofa drinking tea and boring the pants off me. The cat is happily draped over the back of the sofa purring sweet nothings into the ear of the boss's wife and the dog is in deep slumber in his basket on the floor at the other end of the sofa.

For those of you who have built a plastic kit, you may be familiar with the word "Sproing" for this is the sound occasionially made by a small plastic part launching itself into orbit when you cut it from the sprue.

It was time for the little plastic German pilot to be transplanted from the sprue into his cockpit, and true to form, as the stanley knife cut down to release him from the sprue there is a familiar "SPROINGGG" as the erstwhile 1/72 replica pilot took flight at close to supersonc speed sans aircraft!

DINK! he rebounded off the wall

SPROINK he ricocheed off the TV

And with a final POINK off the door he terminated his flight at some speed with a glancing blow to the cats rusty starfish which the cat had, up until now, been enjoying displaying to all and sundry, legs akimbo on top of the sofa!

This is where it all went a bit wrong

The cat lept vertically off the top off the sofa and with a crack hit the bottom of a shelf above the sofa, let out an anquished MROooowwwwlll and landed in a 4 paw full claw vice grip squarely on top of the head of the wife of the boss

The Wife of the boss let out a shriek as she was being efficiently scalped by the cat, now in the full throwes of the fight or flight decision and hurled her cup of tea into my wifes lap.

Meanwhile, the effect of the cat hitting the bottom of the shelf was enough to displace a vase of dried flowers at the far end of the shelf and with a Roing roing roing it slowly span on its base before falling off the end of the shelf.

The dog, woken by the noise, looked up, to get the vase of flowers square between the eyes! He then proceeded to go into a frenzy which first consisted of biting the ankle of the wifes boss as he was valiantly pawing at my wifes scalded mimsy to try to give relief and was thus a threat to canine kind, to then moving onto the beanbag which was duely ripped open with gay abandon showering the room in a festive haze of polystyrene balls.

Once the mayhem had susided a little, my quip of "bloody luftwaffe eh!" did not help as I had forgotten the Bosses wife was half German!.

Not my best day

Apologies for spelling ... pissed :)
( RadG Drinking Mojitos in the sun, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 16:33, 11 replies)

riding your dads racing bike
twas a warm summers day, myself and a couple of pals decided to go out on our bikes. We were 13/14 years old at the time and the lure of a monster truck show a couple of miles up the road from royston vasey (where I grew up) could not be ignored. My pals had nice shiny mountain bikes, whereas I was majestically astride my dad's old 10 speed puck (made in russia from old bridges ?).
Anyhoo, the genius of this day out was that there was a bmx track right next to the monster truck event, as you may know, the start of a bmx track is a huge mound of earth. High enough to see over fenced off monster truck spectacles.
Would anyone like to guess what happened when 3 teenage boys at the top of a bmx track got bored of the lacklustre monster truck show ?
I am by nature rather competitive. I took it easy on the first lap, wasn't sure how a 10 speed puck racer would handle a bmx track. I didn't win, but got round. The double jump (do they call it a camel or something) felt a bit weird, however I needed to win. Off we go again, picking up speed, you can go really quick on a 10 speed puck down the steep starting slope of a bmx track. The banked left hander proved no problem, next up that double camel jump thingi. This is where it all went wrong. The trusty 10 speed puck obstinately refused to gain any air at all, it seemed to have a magical attraction to the ground. The rules of physics did, however, apply to me. I attempted low earth orbit as I crested the second part of this jump, there was quite a lot of air to travel through before I returned to earth with quite a thump. My left knee took the brunt of the impact and burst open in spectacular style. It looked like a haggis hit with an axe. Quite an amazing amount of blood too, think monty python. All that was left was to limp across the field to the st johns tent at the dull truck show and wait for my parent to come and shout at me.
On crutches for bloody months, but the 10 speed puck was fine.
(danceswithferrets is leaking sanity, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 16:08, 2 replies)

I like slap stick...
...in fact, it's my favourite Paul Newman movie.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 14:56, Reply)

At school while walking to class along a covered walkway my mate decided this would be the best time to express his glee by leaping up and clicking his heels together
The iron support above him that connected with his forehead had other ideas.

Blood, ambulances and unconcious drama meant that we missed Maths.

We can laugh about it now - well, he only laughs these days. And drools.

Not really, he's fine, considering.
( Michael Ellis contributes nothing, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 14:08, Reply)

Saw a drunk
waiting at the bus stop (there were actually 3 stops about 20 yards apart)
Bus comes and he holds out his hand and it sails past to the next stop.
Drunk runs and the bus drives off. Drunk then waits at that stop when another bus comes and stops at furthest away from him. He chases that and misses again. He decided to wait at that one when another bus turns up and goes to the thrid stop.
Drunk chases it and leaps just as the bus moves off. He caught it, but couldn't get his feet on the platform. He was dragged about 40 or 50 yards holding onto the pole then let go.
The bus carried on and he eventually got up walked up to the nearest stop, kicked it and said "F***k you all" then proceeded to stumble down the road in the opposite diection to the way the buses were going and went straight back in the pub.
(Captain Spacker I lick windows, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 13:13, 2 replies)

Walking TO the Pub
along the road in Cambridge that bisects Jesus Green and Midsummer Common my 2 friends from the Uni (not the posh one)Rugby team and I have started a pushing game - there's a little barrier about 50cm high that runs along the Jesus Green side of the pavement - So, were trying to catch each other out as we walk along... Wingnut had been toppled a couple of times by Geordie and it calms down until I decide to have a pop. I don't know how but I managed to catch him just right... his shins slammed into the barrier, as planned, he starts to topple over, as planned, and then arseplants straight into a waiting bin... not planned!!! At which point Geordie and I needed a drier pair of undies...

If I were a foot taller I would be playing in the NBA... 3 points :0p
(hengushrh is found at the Dole office every second thursday, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 11:45, Reply)

New bikes are exciting
A young plankton with a new bike (okay it was an old bike bought for $10 at a garage sale) but not just any bike a neon orange bike with PEGS!!! so one day riding over to a friends house I put my feet on the front pegs as it would look cool, like I was riding a chopper or something. so somehow the brilliant idea of sticking my feet in the spokes! oh it was a brilliant fall, the front wheel came to a deadstop, and with momentum the rest of the bike continued on in the only possible way, up and around! I managed to escape with a small cut on my elbow, slightly shocked that I just did a 3/4 frontflip without the bike ever leaving the ground and at the lack of injury I got up and went on my way.
(MrPlankton, Sun 24 Jan 2010, 6:55, Reply)

A boyfriend was poking at a faulty electric cooker with a screwdriver
when I heard a loud BANG!
and looked up just in time to see his cowboy boots flash past as he sailed backwards through the kitchen door.

Silly Rob - should've turned it off first.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 23:27, 3 replies)

A good few years ago now my friend and I built a partition wall in the office where we worked.
We'd finished the studwork and doorframe, but hadn't bought the boards to finish it off. As it was only a small office (well, two small offices now), to save space we propped the door in its frame, and moved between offices by climbing through a gap in the studwork.

Until on about the third time through, when I forgot and went to go through the door as normal. Instead of swinging open it started to tip away from me. Trying to brace it I stepped forward... this now meant that both of my feet were jammed against the bottom of the door and I couldn't regain my balance. As one, the door and I fell forwards, slowly at first, but gaining momentum. Just as I realised that this event was going to end with me falling onto the photocopier and smashing it, my friend walked into the other office and saw what was happening. Springing forward, he braced himself against the other side of the door and pushed me back upright. Then took the piss mercilessly for days :)

Length? Only a couple of seconds, but it felt like I was falling forever O_o
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 22:34, 3 replies)

Buses.
I have, on more than one occasion, enthusiastically jumped off a bus and clocked my head on the wing mirror. I've not come to any harm yet, but I bet the driver was irritated that he now had a great view of the road to the left of the bus...
(William Posters is innocent, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 21:02, 1 reply)

G has very bad night-vision
walking with a friend through a field, he negotiated his way largely by following the glowing end of said friend's cigarette.

This worked until the cigarette was thrown into a ditch followed by G falling straight in.

On another occasion (a live role play event), he went for a pee in a bush, not realising that there was someone hiding in there. This person was pretending to be a scout and, fair play to him, kept quiet throughout his impromptu golden shower.
( Citizen Cavy Admires your passion for conformity, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 19:33, 3 replies)

POLITICIAN FUCKS DOG!
A (until recently that is) local Labour councillor in Scotland's capital was known amongst his colleagues for frankly being a prat even without the falling over bit. He also carried wherever he went an overstuffed briefcase full of unnecessary papers.

One day on Edinburgh's Broughton Street he was approached by a blind man with a guide dog who asked him for directions. Astonishingly, immediately forgetting the man's disability, our hero span round to POINT up the street where the guy wanted to go and with one deft clumsy swing smashed his heavy bag into the dog's face. The dog keeled over.
The scene witnessed by a mutual friend ended with a quick retreat by the councillor from the scene; leaving a stunned seeing-eye dog lying on the road while his owner asked thin air: "What's happened to my dog? What's happened to my dog".
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 18:09, 3 replies)

Walking along....
I always took particular pleasure in getting my girlfriend to do something stupid when walking along the street. On one such occasion I spotted a large dog turd ahead. She was lost in my steamy gaze and mindless drivel so I kept her suitably entertained while slowly steering her to the oncoming mountain of dog excrement. 3 - 2 - 1 ....a direct hit!!! She stood right in the middle of the turd. I think my almost instantaneous hysterical laughter was perhaps a bit over the top and may have been somewhat instrumental in implicating me in my premeditated plot.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 17:20, Reply)

Slapstick? Or farce?
A story that was related to me about the boyfriend of a former colleague of my ex. I wish I’d been there to see it.

It’s summer in the mid 1990s, the day is hot, and our hero turns his thoughts to barbecues. Inviting some mates around to partake in charred meaty goodness and beer from the safety and comfort of his extensive back garden, he sets up the barbie, chucks some charcoal and firelighters on, and gets to work. Except the bloody thing doesn’t seem to want to light and keeps going out. This is somewhat irksome, as every time he thinks he’s got the flames going, they die down to nothing again.

“What burns easily?” he thinks, and deciding that newspaper would be a good option, sets about stuffing old copies of the local “full of adverts and stories of vandalised gravestones” rag into various bits of the tray. Which are slightly damp on account of having been left in the garage, so the barbie still refuses to light properly.

Taking the next obvious step, he gets the jerry can out of the boot of his car, and proceeds to pour a “bit” of petrol on the charcoal to help the flames along. Lighting a match, he places it carefully in the coals and watches, when suddenly…

Huge flames start dancing wildly from the coals. Oh fuck. A bit too much petrol, perhaps. Get some water, chuck it on. No impact whatsoever. Panic sets in as the fire is now becoming a mini inferno and threatening to spread. Shit. What else? Oh yeah, on chip pan fire adverts they chuck towels over to dampen the flames don’t they? I’ll do that. So, our hero gets the biggest towel he can find and repeats what he’s seen on the telly dozens of times. Except in his panic, he forgets to wet it first…

The towel rapidly goes up in flames, adding to the blaze and threatening to reach the little wooden picnic table situated in the garden. Oh Christ, this is getting really bad. Get the towel off the barbie quickly and stamp on it to get the fire out. Gingerly, (and somewhat stupidly) he reaches for the one piece of towel not currently on fire, and whips it from the grill, only for a wayward flame to slightly burn his arm. He lets out a yelp of shock, and his immediate reaction is to violently throw the towel as far away as possible…

Only for it to land in the garden hedge, which is tinder dry due to the unprecedented lack of rainfall... Next thing the little group of sausage munchers know is that the whole hedge is rapidly set ablaze as the fire spreads with startling speed. Cue his panicking girlfriend ringing the fire brigade, imploring them to come quickly, whilst our hero and the rest of the guests desperately rush to the kitchen to fill as many receptacles with water as they can find and try optimistically to dampen the mini bush fire that is threatening to take out half the neighbourhood.

The fire brigade arrived within five minutes and got the flames under control. The barbecue, unfortunately, was completely fucked, and the hedge reduced to charcoal as a result. Which was quite ironic, really, given the circumstances.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 23 Jan 2010, 16:57, Reply)

No brakes.
I liked nothing more in the summer holidays a few years back than riding my beat up old mountain bike around with my friend D.
One day though, my bike was fucked, so I borrowed my sister's. It was purple, with pink bits, and the brakes were shite.
I was riding up the road just going past D's house, when a car came up behind me, so I moved to one side, since it was a choice between getting run over or shifting ass. Heading straight towards D's dad's car, I braked. They didn't work.
Bear in mind I was travelling at about 3mph here, so when my front wheel hit the car's bumper, there was no dramatic buckling or crash; I simply slid over the handlebars and headbutted the car neatly in the centre of the bonnet.
D's dad drove around with an unexplainable dent in his bonnet for several years.
(SoneMe, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 16:48, Reply)

I might as well post mine, seeing as I suggested this question.
I had a lovely bowl of soup, and as I sat down to eat it I accidentally put my hand in the bowl instead of on the spoon. I instinctively flung my hand away from the heat and somehow dumped the bowl all over my lap. I then had to pull my trousers down as it was scalding my legs (in the process exposing my old, greying, holey knickers to everyone else present). As a result of the hand-fling and the standing up I threw a 'curtain'/wave of soup across the room.
( Bob Todd whee, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 16:17, 1 reply)

What a carry on ...
At the studios where one of the two bands I'm in rehearse, there is a vending machine in the hallway. We frequent this during our tea break at about seven in the evening. This also happens to be the time when the sessions swap over so the hallway is often busy with people.

The two guitarists and I saunter over to the machine. One of them (my fiance) is totally blind, the other is also not great in the seeing department and I have only peripheral vision in my right eye, so figuring out the contents of the machine is always a laugh.
We stop at the glass fronted cavern of delights and crowd to it, eager for our choccy fix.
I'm in the lead so I bend down to press my face against the glass in order to search out where the mars bars are this week, and promptly connect my arse with the groin of the other guitarist (let's call him Rob, for that is his name), who happens to be tall, blond and someone I wouldn't kick out of bed for eating biscuits, were I not happily attached. He is inching forward to the machine behind me at the time so we bump rude parts in a big way, and he deftly catches me by the hips to avoid further groin / bum injury to both of us. I am so embarrassed at the saucy collision that I jerk forward on instinct, and promptly head butt the glass front of the machine.
I fall in a little heap on the floor. He nearly takes a tumble on top of me but saves it at the last minute and tries to help me up.
Much to the amusement of everyone passing by, and the puzzlement of my fiance, who can't work out why one minute he was holding my arm waiting for a bottle of Lucozade and a Double Decker - and the next minute I had disappeared downwards with an "oof."

"Sorry," I says to Rob as he helps me to my feet, "I didn't know you were behind me."
"I bet you say that to all the boys," he winked.
(Cue Sid James laugh)
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 13:16, Reply)

Pearoast: chav vs window
So we'd just had a nice Sunday lunch at my Mum and Dad's and my girlfriend and I set off home. With the girlfriend driving we made our way down the street my folks live on. It is about a minutes drive to a T junction at the end.

About half way down some baseball cap wearing little scrote, faux adidas trainings bottoms hanging round his arse, riding a BMX, screamed out of a side road in front of us causing us to have to brake sharply. He then weaved all over the road, occasionally turning to laugh at us.

Now my girlfriend isn't the most patient of drivers. An otherwise friendly and loving lady turns into a spitting demon of rage if she deems someone is holding her up on the road in any way (especially a chav). Some choice words were being aired and she accelerated up behind him in an attempt to get round.

By this time the T junction was approaching. The girlfriend put her foot down, whipped round the chav and sped towards it. The Chav didn't like that too much and attempted to pursue, his little chavvy legs pumping for all they were worth.

Now going quite fast the car brakes were applied fairly hard for the junction.

THUMP!

It seemed the Chav had overestimated his braking ability. I turned around in my seat to see him up against the back window, his cheek nicely flattened against the glass, his arms splayed against the back of the car where he had tried to stop himself.

The junction was clear so to the tune of a muffled "aw fuckinell" we gently accelerated away. I watched with a big grin on my face as the glass peeled away from his cheek, leaving him standing there, with his hands in the air and his bike seat firmly wedged up his arse, where it had levered itself when the bike hit the bumper.

I laughed all the way home.
(stubbledchin, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 12:42, 5 replies)

Stairs
When you were little did you ever like to see how far you could jump down the stairs? Two steps, three steps! The daring fourth step?

Well I did. I was an easily pleased boy.

Twenty years later i'm visiting my folks house and just descending the stairs after going for a piss, when my synapses fire and I recall my younger escapades.

"I'm much bigger now" I thought "i could easily manage the forth step. Hell why not the fifth? What's the worst that could happen?"

I launch myself from the scary fifth stair, which because I'm so much bigger doesn't seem scary at all!

SLAM!!!

My child like joy is brought to a swift end as the top of my head slams into hallway ceiling right on the corner where it meets the wall that extends up the stairwell, a hazard i had not encountered before as I had always missed it what with being a small child and all.

"Aaaaaaargh!" I cry as i continue my downward journey, now distinctly more horizontal.

I ended up sat on my arse in the hallway with a splitting headache from a head that was now embedded between my shoulders.

"What the fuck are you up to now?" Asks my dad who has come to investigate.

"Fluurgh" I reply.
(stubbledchin, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 12:23, Reply)

I should have been a stuntman.
Picture the scene... It's a beautiful Friday evening on Oxford St. I've just left work after a couple of cheeky beers in the office, and am wandering up the street towards the bus stop. And then I spot a 73, in all its old Routemaster glory, waiting at the traffic lights. So I start running after it. And it starts moving off. So I run a bit faster.

By this time I have an audience - some girls looking out the back window from the top deck are cheering me on - so naturally efforts are redoubled. The bus is moving quite quickly now, and I don't know if I'll make it... But I'm there! With a gazelle like spring, I'm on! Nice'n'safe, one foot on the platform, both hands around the pole. Phew.

At which point, the strap on the record-bag style, erm, bag, slung over my shoulder, decides to snap. And with that sudden jerk, my feet slip off the platform, my hands slide down the pole and my body ends up stretched out on the road, being dragged up London's busiest - but not, take it from me, smoothest - street.

So at this point, the bus is gathering speed, steaming up Oxford St with me fishtailing along the road behind it... I didn't dare let go cos I had no idea what was coming behind me, and I was pulled a good 150 meters before I managed to crane my neck behind me and see the road was clear. So I let go, eventually skidding and rolling to a stop.

I'm not exaggerating, but my little escapade had brought Oxford St to a standstill. People just stopped and stared open mouthed. I got up, brushed myself off and walked about 50 yards back to where a woman was standing holding the remains of my bag.

"Are you alright?!" she asked, clearly expecting me to be dead.

"A lot better than I should be," I mumbled, taking the bag and limping off to the tube (decided against the bus), face burning with embarrassment. The pain only started when I was safely downstairs and hurt overcame the shame.

Since Oxford St has more cctv per mile than anywhere else on the planet, I'm still expecting this footage to appear on 'Aren't People Cunts III'.

And people moan about bendy buses. I think they're fucking great.
( FridgeBadger, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 11:15, 1 reply)

Cartoons
Walking through my local town centre a few months ago, the world seemed to go through 180 degrees all of a sudden.

Odd I thought as I picked myself up. No warning, I just went arse over tit - instantly.

On further inspection it was an actual banana skin that some twerp/monkey had discarded on the pavement.

Next time you see Daffy Duck slip on one of those, don't think that'd never happen, it does and will.
(Croque Monsieur, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 9:37, 1 reply)

swedish longball pearoast
year 9. pitch was a bit damp and interform was coming up. this meant swedish longball. I was batting. I swung for the ball. I missed. I somehow kept the bat swinging and let go, sending it round the back of my head. it came back round and hit me square in the face.
did I mention it was in front of 100 people?
(venort apparently exists, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 9:14, Reply)

Getting up on the wrong side of the bed.
My girlfriend insisted that we swap our usual sides of the bed. That is why this morning, still half asleep I climbed out of bed as usual.

Unfortunately this meant that I headbutted her square in the face rather than ending up out of the bed.


I'm just not enough of a morning person to cope with the idea that a lunge to the right will no longer be an option on 'waking'.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 6:26, Reply)

biking
The scene: A carefree summers day in a sleepy village somewhere. The birds are singing, children play, the smell of fresh cut grass hangs heavy in the air. Im daydreaming as I am cycling along on my trusty mountain bike thinking of the girl at school with the big norks. My jeans got caught in the pedal chain (as they invariably did since I removed the chain guard in a fit of 'whats this left over bit' style maintenance). so there I am, lazily coasting along my street, trying to wiggle my jeans free of the chain with the aid of some back pedal action....

WHAM. Straight into the back of a parked car (renault 5 if you must know), with a family inside fresh from delivering leaflets to our street. Imagine hearing this almighty whack while sat in your car, then turning to face the sound to find a young shamen plastered face first, arms wide slapstick style to your back window. They seemed very concerned, but in my head all I could hear was the oldschool type TV gameshow fail sound effect "wah wah waaaaaaaaaaah" on repeat.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 2:17, 1 reply)

I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR
I SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORVI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOORVI SLAMMED MY HEAD INTO A DOOR

BADGERTBADGERBADGERMUSHROOMMUSHROOM

awesome
(Fancy a weekend on my Raymondo Luxury Yacht?, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 0:56, 4 replies)

Drink!
After a few sherberts in St Helens, me and my mates decided to get cash from the Tesco for a few more. One of them made a remark that probably would be laughed at when sober. Yet this seemed to make me throw a kick at my bud. Thing was, under the influence, I tried kicking with both legs, in a sort of glitched Street Fighter move. Cue me landing on my arse, a walk of shame back to Chicago Rock with my mates pissing themselves laughing, and a sore elbow for about 2 weeks. And not even recorded on camera for £250. :(
(The Blue Brony Flogging a Dead Horse Since, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 0:32, Reply)