Real-life slapstick
Fact: When someone walks into a lamp-post it makes a very satisfying and hugely hilarious "Ding!" noise. However, it is not quite so funny when the post is in the middle of town and you are the victim. Tell us about hilarious prat-falls.
Thanks to Bob Todd for the suggestion
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 12:07)
Fact: When someone walks into a lamp-post it makes a very satisfying and hugely hilarious "Ding!" noise. However, it is not quite so funny when the post is in the middle of town and you are the victim. Tell us about hilarious prat-falls.
Thanks to Bob Todd for the suggestion
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 12:07)
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Saldy there wasn't anyone there to witness it, but ...
My first weekend to spend consisting of just me and a proper girl - really fit, really up for it (details had been exchanged of what would be happening) - and who's parents were away for the weekend and had left her the house to herself.
It was the early 1990s. I was 17, she was 18. It was Saturday morning. I was getting ready for an hour's train journey through the West Country summertime countryside, to explode out into a world constructed only of the stuff poetry and porn is made of.
Naturally, to preclude all this, I listened to a steady diet of heavy metal, old school punk and new-school indie at top volume, while I laid out my finest, blackest band t-shirts, and made sure my dishevelled look was just so.
One particularly riotous, rebellious song came on, and I moshed enthusiastically around my room gleefully, tripping on a fix of caffeine, nicotine, hormones and the sheer, unadulterated, magnificent joy of the teenage horn.
I BELTED my head against my wardrobe, causing it to fall half-into me. In my stunned haste, I spun 'round, smashing my face against my shelf full of books, tipping several of the heavier volumes on top of myself, and one particular tome landing cornerside into my crown, causing me to sit down heavily on my bed, to be pelted by the rest of my books, my cassettes and CDs, the speaker of my stereo and all the other various pariphinalia and shelf crap of a teenage punk's life.
As I sat there, surrounded by the debris, I realised that in all the excitement my cigarette had dropped onto my bed and was burning a sizable hole in my duvet and it's cover.
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 17:43, 2 replies)
My first weekend to spend consisting of just me and a proper girl - really fit, really up for it (details had been exchanged of what would be happening) - and who's parents were away for the weekend and had left her the house to herself.
It was the early 1990s. I was 17, she was 18. It was Saturday morning. I was getting ready for an hour's train journey through the West Country summertime countryside, to explode out into a world constructed only of the stuff poetry and porn is made of.
Naturally, to preclude all this, I listened to a steady diet of heavy metal, old school punk and new-school indie at top volume, while I laid out my finest, blackest band t-shirts, and made sure my dishevelled look was just so.
One particularly riotous, rebellious song came on, and I moshed enthusiastically around my room gleefully, tripping on a fix of caffeine, nicotine, hormones and the sheer, unadulterated, magnificent joy of the teenage horn.
I BELTED my head against my wardrobe, causing it to fall half-into me. In my stunned haste, I spun 'round, smashing my face against my shelf full of books, tipping several of the heavier volumes on top of myself, and one particular tome landing cornerside into my crown, causing me to sit down heavily on my bed, to be pelted by the rest of my books, my cassettes and CDs, the speaker of my stereo and all the other various pariphinalia and shelf crap of a teenage punk's life.
As I sat there, surrounded by the debris, I realised that in all the excitement my cigarette had dropped onto my bed and was burning a sizable hole in my duvet and it's cover.
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 17:43, 2 replies)
I am insulted that you think such an event could quash my drive, madam.
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 17:54, closed)
( , Thu 21 Jan 2010, 17:54, closed)
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