This could probably have gone in Twattery a while back...
Back in the days of yore, when me and my friends were in our teens and into smoking and drinking 'cos we were well cool, we used to go and muck about on the local farmland. Nothing exciting, just piss about and do what teenagers do; smoke Lambert and Butlers, drink our parents' gin, laugh at the cows stupid faces, that sort of thing.

On one particular day, we went to one of our usual hangouts, a particularly classy establishment otherwise known as a hay shed. We chose it because we had REAL ACTUAL GIRLS with us and we wanted to make vague attempts at touching their boobs, so it seemed like the perfect setting (The perfect setting when you are a teenage hornbag being 'anywhere').

The actual shed itself wasn't too big, about 3 metres high, about 6 metres back and chock full of delicious hay (what is hay actually for by the way?). If I can set the scene, me and my friend, Pete, decided to sit atop one stack of bales, whilst a couple of others were sat below and were were all enjoying each others company. At one point, one of our group (notice I didn't say 'friend' there...) decided to muck about with a lighter, and set a hay bale alight. Despite our protestations that he was a massive fucktard, he set it on fire whilst mocking our objections as, in his words, 'It's alright! It goes out!'. And he was right. It did go out. for a second or two. Just before the whole side of a hay bale went up in flames like a giant fire-lighter. Right. Under. Our. Feet.

In roughly the same amount of time it took for me to shit myself, the whole of my line of vision was filled with thick, black smoke which was also filling my lungs. Without me realising it, Pete had grabbed me, pushed me off the top of the stack and onto the floor where we tumbled out the front door faster than you can say 'this fucking shed's on fire!'. I thank him immensely for getting us out just before the whole bloody shed went up in a big, deadly and quite impressive fireball.

No thanks to our fucktard companion, we all made it out, without dying or anything, and ran until we were far enough away to deny accountability for the now smouldering rectangle which used to be a shed.

I felt awful for destroying that farmer's shed, or at least being there when it happened, but not so for the guy that did it. He found it absolutely hilarious that he almost killed us both and burnt some stuff in the process. On the plus side, he was on the front page of a local newspaper a few years back for being busted in MASSIVE DRUG ring. So y'know... Karma...?
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Thu 24 May 2012, 23:42, 2 replies)

I had a friend who used to play in a barn
when he was younger (about 10/11), and he used it as his hiding place. That was until it burnt to the ground when he was hiding in it.
(Mr Fudge It shouldn't be illegal to have sex with an eagle, Fri 25 May 2012, 9:48, closed)

Starting a fire in a hay-barn while you're in it: just think of it as evolution in action...

(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 25 May 2012, 10:38, closed)