b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Trapped! » Page 4 | Search
This is a question Trapped!

Pig Bodine asks: Where have you got stuck, trapped or tangled?

(, Fri 28 Feb 2014, 12:09)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Massive drugs
One night I ventured to a grubby student flat to try some massive LSD drugs.
All was going well, a pleasant experience, until I went to the bathroom.
There was no light, other than what the slightly ajar door provided.
I could just make out the black and white chequered floor tiles.
Suddenly, the door closed. Pitch black engulfed me.
Then my eyes adjusted in the moonlight coming through the window and I could make out the chequered floor again.
Unfortunately my drug-addled brain kicked in. What was once a floor was now not quite.
I had fallen through the floor. The tiles now above me like a solid net. Like an optical illusion gone wrong.
Panic set in.
Then the door opened, someone else wanting to use the toilet.
Relief, rescue, reality returning.
Until the rescuer realised that they were disturbing me and politely closed the door.
Pitch black engulfed me.
Then my eyes adjusted in the moonlight coming through the window and I could make out the chequered floor again…
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 23:37, 15 replies)
Pot hole in one
Many orbits ago, when I were knee-high to a pit pony, I was in the RAF cadets.
It was a jolly awesome time; we got to shoot real guns, fly real planes and eat real out-of-date rations. Yes, we had to wear dipshit uniforms and march around a bit, followed by a bit more marching around, but night exercises were a jape and being in the CCF meant I could do shooting instead of retarded rugby for Games (slightly posho school; not really my scene...)
One time, I recall not how exactly it related to air-forcing, we went potholing, possibly in the Forest Of Dean, down an old cave/mine system. It was all pucker and above-board and we had a guide and helmets with those lights on that Northern people seem to like. A top-tip at this point: if you're told to wear old clothes as you'll be crawling around down a (very) red iron ore mine, don't wear your cool jeans with big rips across the knees; your knees end up red from two causes.
Anyway, it was absolutely unlike any cave I'd been in before; you know, those touristy ones with the concrete walkways and handrails and coloured spotlights on the stalactites. This place was wild and full of wet bits and gravelly bits and no lights anywhere, just the lights we had attached to our helmets. At one point the guide got us all to switch out lights off to appreciate the impenetrable darkness. Deep.
There were various very crawly bits where we literally had out chins in the dirt and our backsides & helmets scraping the roof. We clambered and climbed, slithered & squirmed until we came to a point where there was a choice: either follow the guide through a long and very narrow twisty passage or take the slightly easier route around. Our guide advised the adults to take the longer route but assured us kids that we'd get through with no probs.
So off started, one by one, into this dark (duh) tunnel. It was indeed very tight and involved a couple of sections where it was necessary to twist from feet-first to head-first and back again. I suffer from mild claustrophobia, as I'm sure many people do, but had been doing alright until I became stuck, going head-first, downwards. The passage had narrowed in one dimension and I had evidently gone through it at slightly the wrong inclination resulting in my torso becoming wedged. I wriggled as much as I could but didn't come free. Somehow one arm managed to reach far enough to dislodge the battery-pack that was clipped to my belt, and this allowed me to slide backwards slightly, only to result in me becoming even more lodged.
Time and again I've tried to relate to people the feeling of being squeezed on all sides, and compared it to a bearhug, the difference in this case was that the bearhug was not from a jovial uncle, clasping me from behind, but solid rock. Where flexing one's arms and chest would provide a little wriggle room in the former case, such an attempt resulted in no give. Whatsoever. The rock, the cave, the continent, the plate, the Earth was hugging me in an embrace I could never brace against.
I panicked.
My breathing became quick and ragged, hard through my nose, and I started shaking. My body attempted to buck and every muscle from temple to tarsus tensed and relaxed in waves of spasms.
Then I began asking for help, at first in a whisper through clenched teeth and then more loudly. It seemed a very long time before anyone answered my screams, and I'm not sure how much self-control I had left.
Eventually a classmate appeared and offered some advice, whilst attempting not to snigger too hard my predicament. He was useless, but knowing there was someone else there, and that they had made it through, gave me enough rationality to think through how I was pinned.
We all made it out, and headed back to the helmet store to get scrubbed down before heading home, my fellow cadets taunting me all the way.
It could have been so much worse. Had we not all been filthy with iron ore and somewhat soaked from the water in the caves, my unforgiving classmates would have noticed the secret I dared never share until now: during my entrapment and subsequent struggles, my bladder had released and some of that piss had trickled downhill into my own mouth.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 20:55, 17 replies)
Once, while engaged, i stayed at the fiance's parents' house.
After an evening on the piss we returned home and went to bed, separate rooms.
When I had to get up for a slash I put on the landing light and crossed to the bathroom. By the time I came out around half a dozen large moths had come in through the landing window and were buzzing the light. For some reason (alcohol) i completely forgot where I was, got my necktie from the bedroom and went about zapping the moths with the end of it, whiplash fashion. I was well engrossed so I hardly noticed her mother's door open but I certainly noticed her disgusted expression as she gazed upon a fucked up naked idiot performing a lion tamer act on her landing. However nothing was said and we went back to our beds.
In the morning my g/f shouted up that my breakfast was ready and five minutes later I was dressed and dowstairs to find that her mother had left the house after throwing my full English out to the birds because I took too long to come and get it.
My fiance and I never married.
By the way, three moths killed.

true story but the embarrassment died decades ago. Well almost.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 19:43, 3 replies)
Pissed in a bathroom with the light off
The layout of my folks' house upstairs means that while it is quite easy to sleep-walk from a bedroom to the bog, because my dad sleeps incredibly lightly and is massively irritable if woken up by the slightest sound, I've learned (a la Mission Impossible) which floorboards are creaky and can walk around them. Unfortunately you can't do anything about the bathroom lightswitch pull-cord- in the midnight hour it resounds with a loud "Click-TWANGGGGGG!" against the silence of the night.

So, in my naughty youth when I'd go out to the pub on a Saturday night (16-17-18) and come back mildly wankered I would know exactly which path to come back home on autopilot, to get the key out, open the door, go up the stairs creep-creep-creep MAKE NO NOISE and slide into my bedroom silently and pass out.

Except when you wake up a couple of hours later busting for a piss when your bladder no longer feels happy storing the accumulated osmotic pressure of the 5 pints of Red Stripe you had earlier on that night.

Lurch up out of bed, vaguely upright but swaying like a puppet on a string, rebound off the door frames as you carefully creep out onto the landing and carefully shhh d'nt make a noise, got to be shhh, dad'll be upset, get to th' bog, no NO NO NO d'n't put the light on shhh 's noisy close the door shhh feel around there's the bog quietly piss shhhh...

Ohkeh. Ohkey. All done now shhh back t'bed.

It's dark. I am disoriented. the invisible room is spinning. WHICH WAY IS OUT?

Feel Feel touch wall follow wall in silence with touch what no, what is that? That's the bath, SHH making noise, SO door must be right behind me, stumble, WHOA almost fell over, SHHH try to see, no room is spinning, trip on bathmat BANG head bounces off wall, ow OW OW shit, which way is out? sink to knees feel-navigate in the dark my touch AHA the door, stumble back to room, bounce off walls on landing, back to room AHA FREE AGAIN.

Next morning, OWWW ow ow ow hangover. Look blearily into mirror. Why am I bruised?

Why indeed.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 19:06, 6 replies)
Awkward dinner.
Was once stuck in that awful situation where you enjoy a group dinner for the food immensely more than the company. And seeing as though this was a supreme and well cooked roast I was naturally ignoring conversation to the point of keeping my mouth full so I couldn't talk back. What I remember distinctly from this meal though was the gravy, it was magnificent. Some people think Bisto is enough and strangely in this instance it was. I probably took acid or something the hour before because it was astounding. Inevitably, beer was passed around, then wine, I was told later on that I was insanely drunk and upon trying to leave it was visibly obvious that I couldn't stand let alone move on my legs. It was rather concerning until I realised I was caught in a trap, I can't walk out, because I love you too much, gravy.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 17:58, 30 replies)
Rapid Death
The canoe story reminds me... I once went whitewater rafting, in the Rio Jacare in Brazil. About half way down, the boats were stopped and we were led out to learn how to shoot a rapid without a piece of equipment that I had assumed to be essential: a boat. The technique mainly involves learning how to position your legs to prevent rocks slamming into your testicles.

When it was my turn, I assumed the position, and slid over the edge. There were some very busy seconds, then things calmed down and I assumed that I had passed over the main rapids. I waited to bob up to the surface.

And waited. And waited. Now drowning has always been a fear bordering on a phobia with me, but I was strangely calm as the seconds ticked by and I didn't reach the surface. I remember thinking, quite peacefully, that I hope I come up soon. But it seems I was caught in a vortex that was holding me under. The seconds ticked on, and my world was a tiny bubble of booming surf. I had no idea how deep I was, or which way was up.

Eventually one of the guides noticed that I hadn't appeared, and fished me out. It was probably a very short time, but it felt like hours. And no, my life didn't flash before my eyes.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 17:18, Reply)
massive drugs, obviously
Ate way too many magic mushrooms once and got trapped in my own mind - not a nice place to be when you're tripping so strongly you can't remember anything for more than a few seconds, and become slowly aware that you can't, convinced that you have crossed the threshold into madness.

I thought a giant box of washing powder in the kitchen was God and spent an entire day sat in front of it, basking in its holy glow.

I'm now an adult and have a proper job and everything.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 16:32, 22 replies)
Inverted Canoe of Death
I did a canoe course once when I was a kiddie - early teens I guess. It was in a pool and on about day 2 introduced the idea of "spray-decks" (I think they were called). This was essentially a skirt that you wore and stretched over the opening in the canoe so you could tilt or even roll it without it filling with water.

Now if you went over with a spray-deck on, you we supposed to try to get back over in one of several ways, or failing that dive down and out - only you had to pull a strap attached to the deck to release it so you could slip out.

To train for this life-or-death escape manoeuvre we were each in turn told to tip over our boat. We were then held upside down by the instructor and had to slap the bottom of the boat three times, rip off the spray-deck and emerge, gasping, back into the atmosphere. You can probably see where this is going....

Several people before me performed this task and emerged largely unscathed before it came to my turn. Obediently, I took a breath and rolled over. Everything was fine to start with - I'm pretty comfortable in the water and merrily bashed the bottom of the boat, took my grip on the release-strap and pulled. This, however, it were it all fell apart - or rather it didn't.

Instead of the deck parting neatly from the boat and allowing me down-and-out of my inverted floating coffin, I found my self pinned in by a spray-deck, powerless to escape and being held upside-down by a man who canoed all day for a living and thus had the upper-body strength of a silver-back gorilla.

Rocking up for a breath was not going to work and banging on the bottom of the boat provoked no reaction either - that was what I was supposed to do so I guess they just thought I couldn't count to three. I suppose, after a minute or two, they would eventually have turned me back over to see what the issue was but from my position of subaqua suffocation I didn't fancy chancing to that. So, clawing at the rim of the opening, I eventually dragged an edge of the deck out over the lip, ripped the damn thing off and burst back into air above.

I can only have been trapped for a minute or so, but powerless and head-down in the water it felt a whole lot longer. Right put me off wearing skirts that did (well, except at weekends maybe).
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 16:21, 9 replies)
I attached a cart to my pony.

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 15:05, 1 reply)
I was once sodomised against my will by the black guy from the A-Team.
I was well and truly T Raped.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 15:00, 4 replies)
I once sheltered under a large sheet of strong, flexible, water-resistant or waterproof material.
So that's my tarped story.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 14:58, Reply)
Has anyone said 'Al is a cunt' yet?

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 12:31, 1 reply)
Has anyone said Star Wars yet?

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 12:29, 11 replies)
Has anyone said last yet?

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 11:56, Reply)
I'm pretty sure someone should have quoted Elvis by now - that would be well lol.
"We're caught in a trap! I can't walk out! Because I love you too much bay-aby ... "
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 11:55, 6 replies)
This room is green.
I wanna go back to the blue room.
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 10:51, 7 replies)
I once did some mining in Chile.

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 10:15, 6 replies)
Has anyone mentioned Chilean miners yet?
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 9:29, 2 replies)
I was stuck in a waste crushing machine
unbelievably there was an actual monster in there too.

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 9:17, 1 reply)
I had a job in a warehouse cutting open boxes, putting a sticker on the chair inside, then taping them back up
When it was time to go I discovered I'd been locked in. I gave it a good hour, then thought "bugger it", and kicked the door until the latch broke.
It was suprisingly satisfying
(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 8:16, 1 reply)
we are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine and the machine is bleeding to death

(, Thu 6 Mar 2014, 8:00, 6 replies)
Escape was physically easy; socially impossible
Our family got together at my parents' house for Easter. In the afternoon we played a game of hide and seek with my brother's three young children. When it was my turn to hide, I hid in a cupboard in the bathroom - big enough to be an airing cupboard, but without a hot water tank in. The cupboard's full of shelves, so at first glance there doesn't appear to be space for an adult to fit. There's quite a gap under the bottom shelf though, and having moved a few things around I found I could just fit in.

Before long my eldest niece opened the cupboard to look for me there. She clearly didn't think it was a possible hiding place as she closed the door again almost straight away. I just managed not to laugh.

After about five minutes I could hear lots of people hunting round the house. Clearly the three girls had run out of ideas and had drafted in some adult help.

My brother-in-law Mark came into the bathroom, opened the cupboard door and closed it again, satisfied that I wasn't in there. Then he locked the bathroom door.

No, I thought, oh no, no, no, no, no! He was only checking the coast was clear before he...

Should I say something now, I wondered, before it's too late?

No - this is a great hiding place. I can manage to stay quiet for a couple of minutes.

I hope he's not going to sit down.

By time I could tell that he had sat down, of course it was far too late to reveal myself. There was nothing left to do but wait it out. Everything seemed suddenly very quiet: I'd have to remain completely still. And not laugh.

Mark had eaten something that didn't agree with him. He was there for quite some time.

I hope no one thinks to ring my mobile phone, I thought. Perhaps I can put it on silent? No - it's too cramped in here to move without rustling this polythene bag I'm leaning on. That would be enough to give myself away. But if someone does ring it...

The door handle rattled. 'Is that Mark in there?' asked one of the girls.


'Is Uncle Tim in there with you?'

I had to bite my hand to keep from cracking up.




My shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Oh, I mustn't make a noise now! Somehow, somehow, I've got to last at least until he's pulled his trousers up!

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the toilet flush.

The door handle rattled again. 'It's me,' said Debbie (my sister, Mark's wife), 'are you OK?' Mark let her in.

'I'll just check Tim isn't in here,' she said and opened the cupboard door.

'Are you sure you're OK?' she said as she closed it again.

Mark began to describe his unfortunate digestive symptoms.

'Wait a moment!' said Debbie, opening the door again, 'That looked like a knee! It is! He is in here!'

Mark stood there wide-eyed and red-faced.

'Hello,' I said, clambering out.
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 22:44, 22 replies)
Bricking it under a bridge
When i was about age 10 , a friend and I used to play on all the building sites, derelict houses and even into the sewers without ever getting into any trouble or bother.
Until a new overpass was being built and we found a great den sized gap underneath one of the newly built bridges, between two concrete supports.
Happily playing away in it one day when all the workers were on another part we didnt notice the construction noise getting closer until suddenly the light that was coming in suddenly went out..
Not wanting to get caught we kept quiet as bit by bit the entrance to our secret lair was slowly being bricked up. We crawled along to a gap futher along that led into a 15-20 foot drop under the bridge into a shallow beck underneath. But we were too scared to drop down so ended up going back and yelling.
The building stopped and some very shocked workers pulled out 2 very scared kids who got a right bollocking. The boss did want to take us back home for a parental telling off too but we ran away.
I had nightmares about it for ages
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 18:26, 2 replies)
Thanatos Engine
Once, many centuries ago, I found myself trapped in a Thanatos Engine. If you don't know, these are mysterious machines left dotted around the universe in pockets of hyperspace by higher beings, which trap and kill unsuspecting time travellers. No-one knows who made them or why, and there are many theories, the most popular of which blame my lot, the Time Lords, and the Time War, which seems to get the stick for all the weird shite littering the universe. My theory is that they were left there by either the Eternals or the Guardians, or us, or another super-race we don't yet know about, purely for Their own amusement. Maybe, if that's so, they were left over from the Game of Rassilon. Whoever is responsible, Thanatos Engines are a rare but very real risk for time travellers. I never thought I would ever fall foul of one, but fall foul I did and it would indeed be ironic if it was my own race, the Time Lords, that was behind the Thanatos Engines.

It happened just after I'd come back from mediating at the Draconian/Zygon Summit in the year 5793. I was shagged out (in more senses than one) and had returned to my TARDIS for a nice long hot bath and a pot of coffee. Lush! I'd just dematerialised and set my TARDIS in temporal orbit around the planet Valyonskia and was on my way to the bathroom when the whole ship shuddered as if struck by an enormous cosmic hammer and a light as bright as a thousand supernovas exploded in my head. I passed out.

I woke up to find myself flat on my back staring up at a grubby white concrete ceiling. My back ached which told me I’d been lying on the hard concrete floor for quite some time, but apart from that, I felt fine. I sat up to see that I was sitting in a long, slightly curving corridor, the ends of which were out of sight around the curvature of the high, white-painted concrete walls. I got to my feet and looked in one direction, then the other. They both presented the exact same aspect. Sick, eye-bruising light came from fluorescent strips embedded behind glass at regular intervals in the outer wall. The air was uncomfortably warm and dry. I stared at the diminishing perspective of walls, floor and ceiling. Where the hell was I? What was this place?

At first I was confused, and wondered whether I’d been drugged, kidnapped, or zapped into a parallel universe or VR-scape due to a TARDIS malfunction. Then anger came, anger at the cunts who had done this, and myself for drinking or taking whatever it was that had landed me here. I kicked the walls, ran one way, then the other; I shouted, screamed, tried to smash one of the lights (the glass was too thick), spat, and pissed against the wall. Anger spent, I slumped against the wall. Then somehow I realised were I was. I was inside a Thanatos Engine.

My mind flooded with fear. Thanatos Engines were designed for one thing and one thing only: to kill those who they trapped. For a Time Lord like myself, this meant eternities of agony. I would be killed, regenerate, be killed again, regenerate, killed again, regenerate, and so on until I reached the end of my regenerative cycle (and no Time Lords around to grant me a new one). I was then only in my third incarnation, so I had ten more to go! I cursed the Time Lords for the ‘gift’ of regeneration and also for creating the Thanatos Engines, if indeed we had.

Eventually my fear subsided, and a strange and welcome sense of calm settled over me. I was even almost excited; to see inside a Thanatos Engine, a thing of legend, was an opportunity not many ever got. And, of course, now I’d worked through all the reaction emotions, I was determined to escape. To escape a Thanatos Engine, such a thing had never been heard of! But bollocks to that, I was Doctor Skagra, I was special, and it would take more than some tossy ancient god-machine to get the better of me.

Yet to effect my escape, I would have to call upon the assistance of those whose names I had recently cursed. And so, cursing the buggers yet again, I took a crumpled fag packet from my jacket pocket, formed a small tesseract out of it, and composed a psychic message to the Time Lords containing all the details of my plight. I watched it dematerialise with a sneer on my lips, not expecting a response but – drat them! – hoping anyway.

I then set off along the curving corridor in the direction I’d been facing when I’d first sat up. The corridor went on its gently curving course for what felt like miles, and I walked for hours, wondering if the makers of this particular Thanatos Engine intended to bore its victims to death. The curvature was so slight that the corridor, if it formed a ring, would have had a diameter many miles across. Eventually, I noticed a change in the quality of the light: as I walked, the harsh fluorescence seemed to be tempered by a soft, natural luminescence. In the distance, I began to discern a small square of bright whiteness. On seeing this I instinctively broke into a run, but almost immediately pulled myself up. This might look like daylight, but it could just as easily be a dispersion field. So I slowed to a walk and approached the mysterious, tantalising light.

As I got nearer I could see that it was a square of sky, white as paper, flecked with grey striated clouds. I ran the last hundred metres or so to where the corridor ended abruptly, as if the end had been sliced cleanly off. I peered over the edge to be met with the dizzying vista of a two-hundred-foot drop onto sharp, jagged rocks. To either side, a vast white wall stretched into the distance. And above too – I looked up but I could not see where wall ended and sky began. Ahead, the vista of sky was almost blinding, and in the distance I could see the line of the horizon stretching from side to side into the distance, curving ever so gently. Beneath me, between the wall and the horizon, the harsh, rocky plain.

Apart from my ragged breath and my pounding heartbeat, there was no sound whatsoever. I called ‘Halloooo!’ into the desolation, but there wasn’t even an echo.
So that’s what They – whoever They were – wanted me to do! Fall from the corridor’s end to a messy death on the rocks below. Fuck that. I turned and set off back along the corridor, oddly disappointed. There had to be more to it than that. Or were They expecting Their victims, driven mad by thirst and starvation, to leap willingly to their deaths? Again, fuck that. I set off back the other way along the corridor, deeply apprehensive for what I might find at the other end.

Once I passed the now-dried piss-stain I was in new territory and my trepidation increased. What would I find? Another deadly drop? Or something else? Some other means of death, something more fiendish?

I soon found out.

In the distance, I discerned that the corridor seemed to end – the lights stopped, and there was a blankness. As I got nearer I saw that this end of the corridor was the closed opposite of the other end – a concrete wall blocked the entire way. As I got close to it I saw that its edges didn’t quite meet the walls of the corridor – there was a gap of about an inch all the way round. I tried to peer through this gap and in doing so touched the wall with the palms of my hands. Immediately the wall shuddered and lurched, seeming to fall towards me. I quickly darted back, staring up at the blank concrete white face. And then with a groaning and rumbling, the wall began to advance along the corridor towards me.

I backed away in shock. The wall – or block, or whatever it was – continued to advance, at a rate of about a metre every ten seconds. I pummelled my fists against it, to no avail. Then I turned and walked quickly away, my mind racing, the true fiendish implacable horror of the Thanatos Engine dawning on me.

Whatever I did, I would, eventually, be pushed out the other end of the corridor to plunge to my death on the rocks below.

It was inevitable. Like death. Which was, I supposed, the point.

I ran back and beat at the wall, and screamed, and raved. And – it stopped!

But only for about ten seconds. Then it recommenced its rumbling, inexorable advance.

One thing was now obvious about the designers of this Thanatos Engine: They were cunts. Fucking, fucking, *FUCKING CUNTS.* Almost certainly, then, the Time Lords.

I ran all the way to the open end of the corridor, and stared out at the dusty plain. It would take ages, days maybe, for the moving wall to reach this point. I could just sit on the ledge, stare out at the view, wait for it to nudge me off onto the rocks.

‘Bollocks to THAT!’ I shouted, and jumped. My body plummeted onto the sharp rocks and was smashed and broken to bits. I died.

And, of course, I regenerated.

I had resolved to kill myself, working quickly through my remaining regenerations until I reached the end, but, in my new incarnation, I found this idea abhorrent. Perhaps it was something to do with having a new body, but I wanted to live! I therefore set out into the rocky plain, not even looking back at the giant concrete white edifice that contained the Thanatos Engine.

I walked for what seemed like days, using regenerative energy to sustain myself. At length I found a small wood and a lake. I’d walked so far that the Thanatos Engine could no longer be seen, it was somewhere out of sight beyond the horizon, waiting like death, or disease, out of sight but not out of mind. I fashioned a home out of stone and lived by that lake for a few centuries, sometimes yearning for freedom, but content to have escaped the Thanatos Engine, the only being ever to have done so.

In the end, the tesseract worked. Someone answered my distress call, and so I was rescued by the Time Lords – or rather, one particular Time Lord. Guess which one? Yes, that cunt the Doctor. It pains me every day that I owe the bastard my life. It makes me hate him even more and I sometimes wish he’d left me to die in that rocky wilderness. Anyway, rescue me he did, and, as I had regenerated into a female body, I became his companion for a while. Yes, I, Doctor Skagra, was the Doctor's companion! I now burn with shame at the memory, and curse that incarnation of me. I try to forget her just as the Doctor once tried to forget his 'War Doctor' incarnation. I refer to her as the 'Twat Skagra' though I'd wager that's what you lot think of me all the time anyway. I didn't stay with him for long, though, and legged it when my sense of gratitude wore off and I came to my senses.

And at night I still sometimes dream of that white corridor and the implacable death that waited within it. Death comes to us all, even Time Lords like myself, and all of us, by merely existing, are trapped within our own personal Thanatos Engines. Now there’s a cheery thought.
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 18:10, 11 replies)
Another childhood one...

We were playing War on a bit of waste ground (remember that?). I always liked playing the Nazis, since they always lost - which gave me scope for many spectacular, swan-divingly overacted gurgling death scenes.

In this particular game, we decided that the Nazis were pinned down in a foxhole under mortar fire. So, me and another lad crouched down in a hole, and pulled a piece of corrugated iron over our heads. The others then set up a volley of flints, half-bricks, clods of earth, bottles, and anything else they could lay their hands on. The noise was deafening, but very satisfying - it really felt realistic, and got the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing.

After a while, though, the novelty wore off. Time to move on, we thought. At which point (Crash!) we realised (Boom!) that it might have been a great idea (Blam!) to have set up (Smash!) some kind of (Thud! Kerblam!) protocol for escaping.

It was suggested that we wave a white flag. But it turned out that anything we had that might have once been white, no longer was...
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 17:07, 2 replies)

it's been along time im here to say I would of punished that kid too pill bucket followed by a bucky of bucket water then popping ur head out and lol well fuk in telling me where to stick it if I was standing in front of myself 16 years ago pud I'd fuk in kick his unintelligent yeah but please sort it out pud and yet I may of took a very very interesting route followed by lo self esteem I turned to her ion boom then methadone boom the everything hey don't bang cherry are Adès just say in I gotta to fuk outta in Thailand and we've all got there just gotta use I haven't enlightened they say we chop mum up and u got it coming to me oh no if a man could have body shady broken battery but a heart and a brain basicly god I'd luv to read that book called garretts he got chipped I got dipped I got tortured and I want I'm owed 16 more days shackled to a post that's seen many I feel privileged to have all this anger h8 cus I was there when u went out as tuck legends even I'm cursed n bout 243234burst into a ball of fire thamkrabok buhddists detox monastery I looked at em after coming outta ma convulsions I thought of Craig I said u ain't Killin me u ain't getting me to suicide my ugly Fuking ass and have my soul in crusted in there hornet riddance cell I wanted that bullied of that beauty of a bullet go through my head I said fuk in punk rock lined the chair up so the ex celebrated blood wood patterns I said Russian roullette please hey this monk called jjine there all extriads right I want out they took all the wire all I had was ma shackles to wrap around my neck na so screamed and bideford I did put in there for along period they say my mum's outside my cell door in a wheelbarrow and I have retractable bearings that's blades I flick out some at random sizes the worst being a bear rin in my right frontal lobe now bearing got big spikes so I got cams in eyes injected with silicon drunk my own piss off the floor rice water hope and psychosis so deep that I made my any man's worst nightmare not dieing how ur going to die burnt to a tree or buried alive of course bamboo gadfly 28 days no 7 days I signed my paper if I die 1st 7 days it's not there fault oh join if my mum's gone u just wait to c what my little will conjure u may puncture my body burn me but when I'm gone to 6 ft underground every night I will be there not just getting u but the fuk as reversed a very nice voodoo black magic ritual c I learnt a lot triads with inca tarts have got it right I said what append when ur getting fuk in smashed ..They do nothing they believe it's there bad karma flying back from there reflection total enlightenment is astronomic ly hard to do its different for me respect friendship to give rather than scrounge steel cus it comes back and im still in bidy 2 respectfully friends rattle on then walks mmMm mmm this towns people can fuk off I love life hope all is well I'm sure we all got it covered but fingers raised il be dead hopefully soon and I can't wait cus there's an re action to every action 30 next month gonna do a 8th lung punched please don't worry cud be a worser off position I'm avin a fit it feels shit I'm in pita lance that became surgery on my brain go on do a lung oh and I got it right only way ask r u doin still pumpkin techno out ignite the passion up into bucket launch of a ah how fact off I really and im pickin on u im goin to c Stuart lock and tell him shattered a task just is not the way. Suffice to say I pissed in my own mouth.
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 16:55, 11 replies)
Surprising 70s tale of not suffocating.
As kids do, "let's play hide and seek" with my gang of local friends on an otherwise boring featureless summer afternoon at my folks' place when I was about 8.

There was enough garden/garage/bushes/trees to hide in or up but they'd mainly all been used before. BUT! In a fit of inspiration I realised that NO ONE would think to hide in my mum's car. Using the "count to 100" (1-2-3-4-5-20-30-60-100! COMING READY OR NOT) I got the car keys off the peg and ran to the car at the bottom of the drive.

Unlock the car, get in the car, oh no the windows....I'll be spotted. AHA! Get on the boot, no windows. The perfect hiding place.

Dash around the back, unlock the boot, scramble in and close the lid. Ha hah, they'll never find me. Ten minutes pass, silence. The findees are wandering past the car with the finder, I can hear them "Maybe he's gone in the house?" Glee glee glee I have outwitted them all.

They can't find me. I am all ready to burst out from my hiding place and SURPRISE THEM ALL, ha hah again!

How do you get out of a car boot from the inside? It's dark. I can't see anything. My searching fingers getting increasingly desperate can't figure out how to undo the lock from the inside- indeed it was not designed to be in a Mk 1 Ford Escort.

Oh dear. Oh dear indeed. Panic. HELP HELP HELP. No one heard. HELP HELP BANG BANG KICK on inside of boot lid. No one came. Flurry of blows, kicks and hits on the boot lid while yelling at the top of my lungs.

Finally over the sound of Grandstand on the TV, dad comes out to investigate the noise. Clocks what has happened -calls through the boot lid "Don't worry I'll just get the key and you'll be out of there in a jiffy."

Dad ambles calmly back to the key rack. Keys are missing. Dad looks around quickly then it dawns on him that I needed the keys to unlock the car. Comes back to the car.

"Have you got the keys in there with you?"


"With the leather keyfob on it?"


"Which also has the spare key on it?" (WHY?)

-Feels around in the dark-

"I think so."

Cue dad calling a locksmith to get the lid open before I suffocate.

Despite the fact I clearly recall the locksmith not drilling the lock but merely trying one after another of a dinner-plate sized keyrings' worth of at least 300 different master keys on, it took another 30 minutes or so to spring me.

Given that this was the 70s and kids were dying in abandoned fridges as hiding places, I consider myself quite lucky.
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 16:47, 19 replies)
Herp derp schnerm fnerm daydreaming while fishing in a hypothetical asteroid cloud schnerp schmurm rapt Oort angled.

(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 15:54, 7 replies)
I was an engineer involved in transmitting
a live football match from Sheffield when thousands of supporters became trapped in the stadium. Anyone to do with footy and most other people will know about the incident. Being there and witnessing it was definitively traumatic. One of the crew fainted, another vomited and two just ran out of the box as the pictures came through accompanied by horrific screaming.
When the transmission started the director didn't know whether to just cut it but he thought that, although horrendous, he couldn't afford to miss something so important. In the end he decided to broadcast the footage in silence and I received the instruction in my phones, "The Hillsborough Live, cut the sound off, too sick."
(, Wed 5 Mar 2014, 12:49, 8 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1