» DIY disasters

Expandy Foam, Part II
After my exciting tale of foam-based trouble, www.b3ta.com/questions/diy/post137148 comes this story of woe.

A friend of mine, P, had recently moved into a new terraced house.

He decided to get the front and back walls cavity insulated, being a fairly eco-conscious fellow, and this all went off without a hitch.

His confidence boosted, he decided to hire a "cavity wall pumper-ma-jig" (™) and to Do It Himself on the side walls.

He failed to realise that the side walls of this house were rather thin, and obviously shared with the people next door.

He drilled a hole, fitted the foam hose up to it, and left it running for a while.

This would've been fine, but it turned out that he'd drilled into the back of the woman-next-door's fitted wardrobe, and filled the entire thing up with hard-setting foam.

He knew nothing of this until she next went to get some clothes out, slid the door across, and was confronted with something resembling a giant scone, with edges of clothes peeking out like deformed, fabric raisins.
(Mon 7th Apr 2008, 11:18, More)

» Darwin Awards

The Tale Of Kaol And The Hoover
Back when I was in my first year of university I was living in a "Luxury, Catered Hall Of Residence".

Turns out it wasn't quite as described.
The window frame was unclosably-fucked, the walls had slimy, creeping mould-problems, the food tasted like it was made of boiled abortions and the retards that lived on my corridor seemed to have no purpose in life other than setting the fire alarm off at 3am every morning.

We had fortnightly room inspections, to make sure that we didn't have any items on the "banned list*" in our possession, and to check that we hadn't shit on the floor and smeared it on the walls.

I passed the above test, with flying colours, but was told to "hoover the carpet".
Fair enough, I thought.
So, off I went to get the municiple Henry, only to find that the morons that I lived with had "killed" it in an attempt to see "how many pints of water we can feed it before it explodes. Five, apparently.
I wish it had fried them.

It was 13 days before we got a replacement.
So, the morning of the next room inspection, I crawled out of bed, the room spinning from a night that involved too much cheap vodka and not enough sleep.

I started hoovering.

I wondered how powerful the suction was.

I decided to put the pipe in my mouth.

Turns out that a hoover can suck all of the air out of your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe and a horrible dry feeling, deep inside.
Takes a good fifteen minutes to recover from this rapid evacuation, during which time the room inspectors will find you, on the floor, mostly naked.
It feels like years of your life have been forcibly removed.

*A list that included "Inflatable furniture", "Posters" and possibly "Livestock".
(Tue 17th Feb 2009, 16:47, More)

» Unexpected Nudity

The Tale Of Captain Sparky
Picture the scene... A hot day in Summer, not unlike today.
You've been dragged shopping by your girlfriend and the air-con is busted in your car, rendering it hotter than the Royal Box in Hell.
This had happened to my dear friend, Captain Sparky.
He got home, a tired, sweaty and broken wreck of a man.
"Right," He thought to himself, "Time for a shower and a few hours of computer-based gaming."
So, he takes his clothes off, heads to the bathroom and, well, has a shower. As you do.

Desweatinating having been achieved, he turns the taps off, opens the glass cubicle door and stops dead.
There's a man looking at him through the bathroom window.
He's on the second floor of the house.
Thoughts shoot through his head.
"Am I being perved on by Spiderman?"
"Is there some kind of Zero-Gravity-Homo out there?"
"Why did he look so happy, then so, so sad?"

Turns out it was the window cleaner.
Captain Sparky is tall, thin and had, at the time, long blonde hair. From the back, in the shower, he could pass for a woman, fairly easily (I assume. I have no hard evidence for this. Maybe "hard" was the wrong choice of word. Anyway...).

So, Mr. Window Cleaner was up his ladder, perving away on this "young lady" in the shower, waiting to get a glimpse of The Goods. Instead he got a penis-flavoured shock, right in his face.
Serves him right.
(Mon 1st Jun 2009, 12:53, More)

» Blood

Kaol's many tales of blood:
Long, fairly nasty post ahead, beware!

As many of you know, I've worked in a saw mill as the health and safety manager. This means I've seen my fair share of accidents. And had to clean up the meat afterwards.

Hand, meet circular saw:

One of the gentlemen in the mill was sawing pieces of wood, same as every other day.
All it takes is one second of mind-wandering and OH JESUS HE'S CUT HIS HAND IN HALF!
Yes, this brainbox had managed to slice between his middle and index fingers, all the way back to the wrist.
Sliced a lot of blood-pipes, lost a pint of the stuff, all over the machine.
Now, a lot of blood went onto the floor too, and soaked into the sawdust there, drying quickly and forming strange, pick-up-able lumps.
Anyway, I cleaned the machine up as best I could, and some other guy started working on it.
Not long after, a horrible smell filled the building. After a bit of investigation, it turned out that there was a lot of blood and a few chunks of meat inside the machine, and as the blade span and the bearings heated up, the meaty leakages were burning like black pudding chunks.
Lovely...
Anyway, his hand got fixed, all good.


I can count to eight and a half:

Another gentleman was cutting away at wood on his machine when the blade jammed against the wood.
Now, rather than turn the power off, he got a socket set, took the maintainance panel off the machine and looked at the cogs and workings, poking about.

The insides of these machines are, to put it mildly, fucking lethal.
Many of the cogs and shafts spin faster than the blade does.

It was at the point when this quick-minded and clever man was elbow-deep in the workings of the machine that the jammed piece of wood splintered, the blade began to spin and the cogs whirled into life.

A digital degloving is nothing to do with unsafe internet porn. It's where the entire skin-covering on a finger is ripped away, leaving the muscle and tendons beneath.
This was worse than that, the muscles were ripped off the bone too, and into the workings of the machine.
This left him with a boney, tendony stick for an index finger, a meaty stump, spurting wetly for a middle finger and the blood from the missing parts chunked into a fine mist, covering his screaming face.
As I said, the outcome was that he can now count to eight and a half.

Forked in the leg. Hard:

In the warehouse there were forklift trucks. Forklifts are very, very dangerous things, causing more accidents that all the cutty-machines put together.
For this reason we only let trained people drive them, and kept the keys on the operators.
One morning, a real mensa-level brainbox from the factory floor finds the keys to a forklift on top of a pile of wood. Rather than hand them back to the operator, or leave them there, he decides that he'll take it for a spin.
"I've driven forklifts before, no problem", he thinks.
There is a problem though... The ones he'd driven before had the forks directly in front of the driver. Our forklift had forks on the "passenger door" side.
So, our brainy friend slams the thing into reverse, whips it round to the right and shatters most of the bones in the leg of another worker who's walking past.

I say shatters, it looked like he'd been shotgunned, at close range.
Bits of bone poking out the skin, a raw steak-mince texture, blood pissing out everywhere.

The ambulance arrived quickly, had to give him two units of the red stuff on the way to the hospital, and it took about six months of physio and operations to get the poor guy walking again.
(Wed 13th Aug 2008, 10:16, More)

» The thing I've been most ashamed of doing with a penis

Typing "first" with it.

(Thu 12th Mar 2009, 12:16, More)