I slept in a bin once.
Whilst that may conjure up images of a bedraggled little homeless forced out of the family home with nothing but a well-practiced wank hand to make ends meet, I’m glad to say that the reality is far more innocent.

When I was about 12 the council provided the street with brand new wheelie bins. As you can imagine this opened up a world of possibilities for me and my friends and we took it in turns to clamber inside and push each other around. I'll never forget the look of abject terror on my friend's mum's face as her darling first born sprang out of the innocuous looking but strategically placed bin shouting 'FREEZE, SLAG!'.

Anyway, after two days of other such high-larious pranks my friends decided to turn Judas and pull a prank on one of their own - namely me. I was inside the bin, probably playing hide and seek or waiting for the bag of nerves neighbour's cat to wander past (I never did understand why it was so nervous), when my friends quietly placed a box on top of the lid and started filling it with steel weights. Hearing the giggling I decided to pop out of the bin and see what was so funny. Unfortunately there was about 80 KG of iron holding down the lid, which I promptly banged my head on expecting it to flip open. After an extended period of shouting and swearing and trying to tip the bin over (cunningly wedged against the wall) it slowly dawned on me that they'd left. So I did what any right-minded Brit in a crisis would do and had a kip.

They eventually let me out, although not before waking me up by taking it in turns to karate kick the bin. Gits.
(The Man with the Head Lurking with dinosaurs, Wed 3 Jan 2007, 18:18, Reply)