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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Scarface and the jumping dog of doom
People that know me are aware that I’m a tiny bit accident prone. My fringe covers a multitude of retarded escapades and resembles the side of a learner drivers Vauxhall Corsa… it’s a tad banged up. Anyhoo… one of the worst scars in my possession is thankfully hidden behind one of my eyebrows and as we’re all telling tales of our fuckwittery, I’ll chuck mine down as well…
It was April the 10th, the day before my birthday. I was a merry soon-to-be 12 year old just sitting in the garden, enjoying a rare day of sunshine. My sister and brother were also in the garden, annoying our massive dog with one of his many toys. They were chucking a ball to one another while he excitedly danced around them attempting to intercept the ball. Watching from what I had initially considered to be a safe distance I laughed along with them as the dog was getting more and more excited. My sister, noticing the dogs increased excitement, decided to stop teasing him so she threw the ball nonchalantly in his direction. THWAK – the sound of the dogs teeth hitting the ball… BOING – the sound of the ball bouncing out of the dogs mouth and towards me… ARGAHHH – the sound of me realising what is about to occur… WHOOOSH DOOSH – the sound of a 9 stone german shepherd connecting with my face. Now I believe I blacked out for a moment or two because the next thing I remember was my ever-loving sister stomping over to me telling me to stop being a dramatic dickhead… and then I recall her screams as she turned me over and saw my bloodied face. Nice. Cue my sister crying, my mum crying, my granddad telling me I’m going to get lockjaw (gotta love optimistic old people) and my brother telling me I’m going to have one killer scar!
After being stitched back together again I spent my 12th birthday walking around a shopping centre, with two massive black eyes and a giant bandage on my head while everyone looked at me with sympathy and at my mother like she had beaten me up.
( , Tue 26 Jan 2010, 17:22, 4 replies)
People that know me are aware that I’m a tiny bit accident prone. My fringe covers a multitude of retarded escapades and resembles the side of a learner drivers Vauxhall Corsa… it’s a tad banged up. Anyhoo… one of the worst scars in my possession is thankfully hidden behind one of my eyebrows and as we’re all telling tales of our fuckwittery, I’ll chuck mine down as well…
It was April the 10th, the day before my birthday. I was a merry soon-to-be 12 year old just sitting in the garden, enjoying a rare day of sunshine. My sister and brother were also in the garden, annoying our massive dog with one of his many toys. They were chucking a ball to one another while he excitedly danced around them attempting to intercept the ball. Watching from what I had initially considered to be a safe distance I laughed along with them as the dog was getting more and more excited. My sister, noticing the dogs increased excitement, decided to stop teasing him so she threw the ball nonchalantly in his direction. THWAK – the sound of the dogs teeth hitting the ball… BOING – the sound of the ball bouncing out of the dogs mouth and towards me… ARGAHHH – the sound of me realising what is about to occur… WHOOOSH DOOSH – the sound of a 9 stone german shepherd connecting with my face. Now I believe I blacked out for a moment or two because the next thing I remember was my ever-loving sister stomping over to me telling me to stop being a dramatic dickhead… and then I recall her screams as she turned me over and saw my bloodied face. Nice. Cue my sister crying, my mum crying, my granddad telling me I’m going to get lockjaw (gotta love optimistic old people) and my brother telling me I’m going to have one killer scar!
After being stitched back together again I spent my 12th birthday walking around a shopping centre, with two massive black eyes and a giant bandage on my head while everyone looked at me with sympathy and at my mother like she had beaten me up.
( , Tue 26 Jan 2010, 17:22, 4 replies)
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