shocking
Whe i was a nipper I decided it would be a god idea to find our how my pendant light switch worked !!!!
This consisted of a Length of flex hanging from the ceiling with a Push/Push switch on the end, I then decided to unscrew the two parts of the switch and then turn it on with my fingers inside !!!!!!
Not a good idea but thank god for DC Voltage !!!!

it threw me across the bedroom !!!!!!#

Aother good one wasnt my fault, I was working on a Customers Cooker (This cooker had a long flex with a 13mp plug fitted) when she asked me If i would like a cup of tea, as usual i said yes at which point she picked up the Flex to the cooker and plugged it in !!!!!!

I felt like I had been kicked in the chest for a couple of days after.

Same rsults as before a Flying service engineer !!!!!!!!
(pir881, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 21:11, 5 replies)

a catalogue....
When a nipper, I toddled into my folks' kitchen and pulled a handle up above me on a work surface to get whatever it was down. Handle was attached to a teapot full of boiling water. I got a rather rapid hot shower of scald. Cue being rushed to hospital.

When a couple of years older, found a bottle of cough syrup and drank the lot. Cue being rushed to hospital.

A year later, wanted to get some pretty cherry blossom down from a tree. How to get it down...oh, knock it down by throwing something up into the tree. Spied handy housebrick nearby. Threw brick up into air. Brick decides it's time to come down again, only my head is in the landing path. Cue being rushed to hospital.

A year later, while playing at infant school, walking in a straight line across the play area where the swings were after a kid had jumped off the swing and it was swinging wildly about. As I wandered by obliviously, the swing returned on its path and clouted me (old fashioned wooden-seats like they had back in the 1970s) in the side of the head. Cue being rushed to hospital.

A couple of years later, spraying random things with silver paint to make a spaceman costume for a fancy dress party. Silver paint nozzle sputters and clogs. I turn it round to examine the nozzle, then press the top of the paint can. Paint can fires a blast of silver paint straight into my right eye. Cue being rushed to hospital.

What an idiot.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Sat 29 Dec 2007, 20:58, 3 replies)

There is only one way to learn these things...
And that's the hard way. This post reminded me of the way I learnt never to mix wines...
It was a wet July day, and I was off to London for a forum meetup in Hyde Park. I'd met several people from there already but most of them I hadn't. I'm socially awkward enough as it is without people going off into their own little cliques around me, so I had an excellent plan to help make me a little more sociable.

Once I get there, off we trot to Somerfield, where I decide that cheap white wine is the order of the day. First mistake. It tastes like nothing so much as vinegar, but I already knew it got me very, very drunk, so down the throat it goes, fast enough to bypass the taste buds.

Nasty, nasty brightly coloured shots (£3ish for 8)? Don't mind if I do.

Evening comes and I feel no better. Lots of other people clear off to go to the hostel where they were staying, but a few of us stay and sit in a circle. I stayed, because I'd booked on the overnight coach home. Empty cake packets, bags, CDs, empty cans, etc are cleared away, but a half-bottle of red wine is left in the grass. I spy this and lay straight into it, once I've asked everyone if it's theirs. The entire bottle of white wine means it goes down far, far too easily.

Smashed glasses, being propped up by people I'd never met before that day, accidentally wandering (alone) onto Oxford Street, losing a tenner on the tube and a wasted journey to Whitechapel and back later, come midnight I'm sat with no shoes, on the leaking coach toilet, other people's piss swilling about my feet, pissing out of one end and being sick into the sink from the other.

I have never drunk wine to get drunk since that day.
(and now for someone completely different, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 18:53, Reply)

Basic co-ordination, spatial awareness and short-term memory...
I am deficient in all of these. It usually causes minor embarrasments when I bump into the only other person on the pavement in about 10 yards, but occasionally works out much worse.

I am a barmaid. In fact, I am writing this now at the end of the bar instead of soing barmaid-ily duties. This has caused all sorts of incidents, but the worst being about six months ago, when putting some bottles into the fridge, I neglected to look up when standing up. I thought about it, and due to my extreme lack of spatial awareness, I had decided I was at least 2 foot to the right of the till. I wasn't. The till drawer was open. I ripped half my ear off, due to the extreme force I stood up with. It hurt. It needed stitches.

I also have appalling short term memory. This means if something is on the floor, even if I put it there, even if I've been told it's there 30 seconds before I get up, I will trip over it. It is inevitable. The worst culprit for this is the beam in my partner's bedroom. I've been staying there for two and a half years now. I know it's there. I know to duck slightly when I'm standing up. Every time I stand up the boyfriend shouts 'Be careful!' 'I KNOW!!' I scream in earnest... 'DO YOU THINK I'M COMPLETELY STUPID?! I'VE BEEN STAYING HERE FOR OVER TWO YEARS!!! STOP PATRONISING ME!!!' So he promises to not say it any more. And I stand up. And whack my head. This happens at least once a week...

Length? Once a week for 30 months...
(BelladonnaAnodyne Melissa's gonna wet herself, I swear..., Sat 29 Dec 2007, 17:24, Reply)

I
started to play Haydn's Cello Concerto and Shostakovitch Sonata AT THE SAME TIME

I should be dead

Edit: Not literally at the same time, that would be silly but ONE AFTER THE OTHER
ZOMFG
(The_Reaper, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 16:38, Reply)

Never eat raw grape Kool-Aid.
You'll be pissing blue for days.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sat 29 Dec 2007, 15:33, 4 replies)

And another…
When changing the starter motor on my first car (Escort MkIII for those interested) I neglected to remove the battery first. Nor did I remove the positive and negative from the starter motor. I just simply unbolted the motor and let it drop onto the bottom of the exhaust manifold. This resulted in a direct short to earth from the motor through the exhaust. Cue sparks etc… and a bubbling battery.

So what did I do that’s more stupid than that?

I dove back under the car to stop the motor from shorting and causing the battery from boiling over. Which I succeeded in doing… but had I been too late I would have recived scolding hot battery acid all over my face.
(SillyMoo, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 15:19, Reply)

Fireworks
Fireworks
New Years Eve 2005 at home , 3 minutes to go to 2006....A few rockets left over from Bonfire night.Now I have a few small ones but also one big fuck off one....Let the small ones go no probs(with thier launch tubes stuck in the ground).....Cue the BIG ONE....Finding that the rocket stem would not fit in smaller tube, I thought fuck it, stick it in the ground a few inches it,ll be ok ,WRONG!!!Lighting the blue touch paper me and my wife and two young sons stood back (from 10 metres away should have been 25 ) to marvel at the pyrotechnics..Cue the screaming whistle waitng for take off, me thinking GO YOU BASTARD then screaming RUN,realising its not going anywhere ,as the back door slammed behind us the night turned to day and the explosion shook the windows...Shaking I inspected the scorched earth and realised (whilst pissed up of course)read the fucking instructions!!!!! Hell of a way to ring in 2006 nearly mutilating me and my family
(andycrass loves two hats on, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 15:18, Reply)

Opposite of the question!
Just to be a rebel (ha!) I'm posting my quick tale of today where I managed to do something extremely clever (for an honorary blonde!).


I changed the battery on my car all on my own!

There.

And I didn't hurt myself or use too many swear words in the process!


I am not however going to mention how I ended up having to buy a new car battery...because that fits in with the question...and it's pretty feeble.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 14:56, 4 replies)

Beer aversion
My dad's pretty old school - he was a war baby, a mackem (a mackem being a person from around the Wear area near Sunderland, think a geordie who washes (jokes!)), and if these two fact nuggets serve up a stereotype in your brain thoughts, it's probably pretty spot on in this case. He wasn't gruff, in fact was a bit of a joker, but drank and smoked and was as set in his ways as you would expect.

Anywho, all this is incidental really. His favourite Sunday afternoon (of course, you could exchange Sunday for any day really) activity was sitting in *HIS* chair (complete with obligatory nicotine yellow surrounding walls - think Father Jacks chair in Father Ted...OK, not THAT bad), drinking a few mellow pints, having a few mellow fags, and generally mellowing out in front of whatever sports the beeb deigned to show that day.

As a young un, I had this endless fascination with the beer he drank (and the fags, but that was more a macabre interest - I hated the things). I loved taking little sips from the ends of the cans, playing with the foamy head and what not. I would have been about 5/6. Anyway, to make a statement that'll pretty much end the story, in terms of you guessing what that dumb thing were what I done - my dad would use the empty beer cans as ashtrays. I was far too young to notice the concealed glee on my dads face, too young to question why he was actually proffering me the illicit nectar. Certainly too young to chug a gruesome mixture of ash and flat beer, and feel a soggy fag butt brush my lips.

So. Apologies for a whole lotta guff without much payoff, but it certainly was dumb. The upshot of this is a mild aversion to beer - couldn't drink the stuff initially, now will have the odd pint, never get drunk on it. So that's my dad's legacy - a lifetime of merciless ribbing for my lady drinking ways (but they're doubles people! *cries*).
(bacontrout got ska, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 14:15, 2 replies)

oh well...
uhmm
i think i can tell you a winner.

you probably know that booze in large quantities is not good... after that story i quit drinking strong stuff on a regular basis.

me and some friends went once to a small house in the country, belonging to the grandma of one of them. we got booze, weed, well everything we needed to be happy. since it was summer, we decided to make a bonfire late at night and sit in the yard, cooking up some rakia (that's grape brandy) with honey and drinking it while warm. it tastes great, but goes down like juice, despite being 40%. after a few mugs... well you get the idea.
at some point in the early morning, sleeping on a chair at the table IN the house, i wake up, being totally wasted, and really need to take a piss. so i do - right onto the table. the host comes in, realizes what happened and gets VERY pissed (pardon the pun). he starts shouting at me and i apparently have shouted back, so he beat the shit out of me, kicking me with the knees in the face. well i was pretty messed up after that, and some say for a good reason... all i know is it hurt like shit and we stopped hanging around together.
brilliant, innit?
( Zhmei HEY B3TA I WAS ON YOUR DINGY ISLAND AT LAST!1!, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 13:20, 4 replies)

4 hours ago
Owing to a driving error on my part, I drove my car off a bend and off the top of a wall, then on its side down the road for 70 yards. Now I'm preparing to watch it go to the scrapper. I was lucky not to be hurt or hurt my passenger and I feel pretty terrible about it.

Time will give me a perspective, but right now it feels like the stupidest thing I've ever done.
( Milkman Dan, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 13:09, 4 replies)

cock arrabiatta
when in first year trying to impress my GF, i had her over planning to cook a lovely meal. (spaghetti arabiatta...classy) cooked with loads of chilli. everything was just simmering when she gave me a call saying she'd be over in 20 minutes. forseeing a night of fun ahead i nipped off to the showers for a quick shuffle [and wash]. she arrived -i presented lovely meals in my room [plus token poorly chosen mood music]. 2 minutes later i started feeling the most intense agony all over my penis- 5 minutes later sweat broke out on my forehead- ten minutes later i couldn't bear it anymore- dashed to the sink filled my pint glass with water and spent the next hour with my flaming red penis in a pint of water avoiding eye contact with said giggling now slightly disgusted GF.

penis + chilli never mix
(Xearo is cow tipping your cashcow, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 12:42, 6 replies)

The Chop
How could I forget this one?

A few years back I went out on the lash and got absolutely slaughtered etc etc… Fast forward to the morning after when I have the inevitable hangover from hell and I have to cut the grass. No problem thinks I, 20 mins and it will be done and I can get back to bed. So out with the Flymo and on with the job.

Now I should probably set the scene here. I’m wearing Lonsdale trainers with no grip and the grass is pretty damp and the garden is on a hill. As I’m finishing off the edges there’s a particularly large clump of grass at the bottom edge of the garden. I then had the bright idea of lifting (yes, lifting) the Flymo onto the clump in order to be done with it and get back to bed. As I lifted the Flymo back towards me BANG! … I’m suddenly without warning sat on my arse and I’ve dragged the Flymo on top of me over both feet and the mower shoots my left foot out to the side.

OK Panic time… I look around me to see if anybody saw… no sign… I look at my foot… big gashes down the side of my foot and my big toe. So what did I do next? I thought… hmmm looks a bit nasty does that… So I tidied up the lawnmower and extension lead leaving a big trail of blood everywhere with every intention of DRIVING myself to A&E. I’m obviously in a state of shock but don’t quite realise it yet.

Anyhoo… blood loss and what not starts to get the better of me and I start to shake and panic a bit so instead of phoning 999 for the ambulance I phone my ex GF to find out where A&E is because they moved it from one hospital to another here in Sheffield (UK) and I couldn’t remember which one. I still for some reason didn’t think to call 999 and I didn’t dare look at my foot. Instead I had wrapped a tea towel round it to stop the blood flowing as much.

In the end the ex GF rushed me there herself and I had to have the end of my big toe from the knuckle onwards amputated as the mower had shattered the bone into trillions of little pieces and there was no way it would ever heal. I also suffered deep lacerations on the side of my foot.

On top of that I couldn’t walk properly without crutches for 6 months and I had lots of pain and suffering for about 2 years. Everybody took the piss something rotten like it was funny to lose an appendage, its not! … It hurts like hell! ... It’s OK now though, you can call me stumpy.

Length? It’s about half the size of the big toe on my right foot.
(SillyMoo, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 12:16, 3 replies)

You know those little straws full of orange sherbert...

They really shouldn't be selling them with a readily made snorting straw. It felt like my nose was going to fall off.



and I was sneezing orange for about an hour.
(ecilA Alice...has nothing to do, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 11:40, Reply)

The way of the ninja
They say one of the major tenets of being a ninja is to never let your guard down. One day, I did just that which nicely explains why I am not a ninja.

I was in the second year of university, in halls with my friends. The trouble was, my friends had a rather... unusual sense of humour.

So, to set the scene, there I was, showering away, not a care in the world. I may have been singing "La Bamba" as well, whilst shampooing areas I am sure you wish not to be told about. So, there I am, singing away, covered in suds when I heard a hammering at the door.

Wondering what this could possibly mean, I stop my singing thinking it may have offended one of the people in the halls. The hammering continued... in fact, it sounded like they wanted to get in.

At the time, I didn't know why. Eventually, the door was kicked open, by which time I was in my towel more than a little annoyed with this state of affairs. Incidentally I should mention that the people who had kicked the door in were much bigger than me. Bear this in mind, as it is important.

So, I politely ask (well, actually I asked what the fuck they were playing at) what they were up to, and they responded by grabbing a hold of me, ripping my towel off me and shoving me out on the fire escape. Naked, in the middle of the day, in the middle of March. A rather cold day in March, in fact. Never let your guard down, kids.

Suffice to say I didn't have to apologise for length on that day.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sat 29 Dec 2007, 10:25, 2 replies)

I've been holding off for a while on this
But I guess it's about time I made my mark on this particular qotw, with my own litany of extreme dumbness. But before I start- a thought for you- why is it that the extremely intelligent among us also manage to do some quite spectacularly dumb things?

Either way, here is my first tale of woe. I was about 17, and living in a first floor flat with my then housemate, my Mother. Just before we moved into our current house. And as teenage boys are apt to do once in a while, we decide we need a bath. Although for me this isn't just once in a while, I was actually quite clean for a teenager, as opposed to something that Saddam Hussein would have happily considered unleashing as a weapon of mass destruction.

So, I start running the bath, getting the mix just right. And then I got a phonecall from a friend, and happily go and chat to him for a while, thinking the bath will be ok as the taps are running quite slowly. Now for the quick of thought amongst you, I guess you can already see where this is going so I will cut to the chase.

I finished my conversation, and then switch on the TV for an hour or so. Yes, I'd forgotten the bath was still running. Now when I remembered, and went back to the now sodden bathroom, I thought... shit. I was more nervous than a raw army recruit when he sees that sergeant major he's heard all the rumours about. I got the mother of all roastings that would make a pig on a spit feel sorry for me.

To get to the point, the flat downstairs was flooded- as in completely ruined. The water had destroyed everything. Suffice to say my parent, the tenants downstairs, the landlady and the insurance company were not that happy with me. And I'm not at all surprised that the tenancy wasn't renewed.

And since then I've never had a bath. I decided to be smart and stick to showers instead... but that's another story.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sat 29 Dec 2007, 10:07, Reply)

Dumb things ive done?
I just tried replying to someone's story and ended up posting a new story... out of context.
Lovely

*deleted*
(fisherOfApples123 -=destroyer of toilets=-, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 7:43, 1 reply)

Went to Grays and then fell in...
Once upon a time I was seeing a lovely (if slightly mental) young girl from Grays in Essex.

It's a lot like Springfield of the Simpsons fame but closer to the Thames (Grays that is...).

So my good 'friends' come to meet me out in the arse end of nowhere for a drink and we proceed to imbibe the greatest brew ever created by man (some kind of cheap lager I expect) for some hours.

[enter stage left 3 pissed blokes from inner Esses]

"I know [says one of us], we'll walk and then get the bus. that won't take too long"...

He was right, it's not a long walk, it just happens to be along a sea wall type fortification about 12 foot above average sea level. On tidal waters. When the tide was out.

I fell off. Off the side that had the stretch of mud instead of beach. That was 12' above said mud.

Twice.

It hurt.

she never complained about length or girth (and was actually bery complimentary)so why should I start now...
(MikeStan, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 1:51, Reply)

I never thought of myself as being a sado masochist!
On leaving my mother-in-laws dry wake (so not even got alcohol to blame!) I fell down a pot hole and went flying across the concrete and scraped my nose, lips and cheeks not too mention the blood pouring from my knee!
Leaving a christmas night out sober(again no alcohol to blame!) i spectacularly fell down the stairs and ended up with egg sized lump on forehead!
Slipped on icy steps and bruised my ass (no fun having bruises there as you can't show them to anyone and again no alcohol to blame!!).

Fell getting out of car and bruised my face so badly folk thought my hubby had beaten me up to the point of my colleagues discreetly leaving a zero tolerance leaflet in staff room for me.....if only they knew him to be the most gentle person on the planet!!! (once again....no alcohol!!) All this within a space of a few months!

I think the moral of this story is to stay drunk and i'll be quite safe.
('O' She's my rolemodel!, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 1:50, 1 reply)

When I was at school...
Nothing was ever simple. This included opening doors. Now I'm a good 6'1", and the doors in the Geography block were not particularly tall. I decided, in my infinite wisdom, to 'ninja kick' the door open. This involved me jumping into the air, legs outstretched...
And winding up on my back, wondering why me glasses were snapped in half and there was blood on my forehead. Guess I jumped too high...
( Mr. Jack cracked the elite b3ta inner circle on, Sat 29 Dec 2007, 1:41, Reply)

bloody hell where do i start?
cracked my head open a good six times (scars still visible) including but not limited to:

head first through a glass door, flag pulley bit falling on the back of my head, being hit with a toy car, wobbling about in a plastic clothes basket and twatting myself on the sharp edge of a cupboard and last but not least whilst working (slacking) at the enigma zone (now defunct lazer quest but BETTER) in lincoln I was playing a game of said sport and hurled myself down a flight of stairs to catch pete (stumpy, for those who are interested. well, you had to give yourself a game name... i was pyro, woo) and caught my head on a previously unseen beam, cracked it open and rolled down stairs. was still first when i got there, mind. oh thats only five

got myself fired twice once for being a pot dealer allegedly ((i wasn't)), the other for being a drunken lunatic (((which i was))).

erm, shouting at my new boss, when her bloke waas there (he runs the company, quite literally)

cant be arsed with this any more, off to put the cat out
(harestylenumber1 loves weiner, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 23:09, Reply)

Please Don't Click
This isn't one of my tales, it's a repost from Rock And Roll Stories. Almost choked laughing the first time I read it as I could see myself doing exactly the same thing.

Cheers

Slightly off topic but involving rock, and a sock. Names changed to protect the
involved, and because I can't remember them.

Once upon a time in Nottingham Rock City there was a drunken punter named David
and a surly bouncer named Goliath. Now David must have looked at Goliath in the
wrong way or made comments about his mother or been wearing the wrong shoes or
something, because Goliath decided to knock David unconcious, totally ruining
his night.

When he recovered from his ordeal, David planned his revenge.
A week or so later Goliath was again guarding the doors to rock city, jostling
gig-goers and grabbing meaty handfulls of underage girl's girly bits. So our
hero cooly walked into the scream bar on the corner, removed a sock and filled
it with 2 pool balls then secreted the sock sling in his pocket and marched off
to confront Goliath.

"Oi Goliath! Remember me?" David demanded, jabbing the bouncer in the chest.
"Yeah. You're that little cnut I sparked out last week." came Goliath's
response.
"Yeah? Well remember this!"
Faster than greased lightning David grabbed his pool ball sock sling and swung
with all his might at the bouncer's head and...

Gently patted the giant bouncer's cheek with a wooly sock.
David had held
the wrong end of his cosh and the balls had fallen out into his pocket.

Now I'm sure most of you have experienced that moment of panic when your pupils
dilate, you exhale and inhale at the same time and you freeze just after you've
done something incredibly stupid and dangerous and your brain is frantically
trying to figure out a solution to your stupidity. Then all of a sudden there is
that moment of clarity when you calm down and realise exactly what to do, well
this was one of those moments. David knew exactly what he had to do, it was...

Hit Goliath again with the sock! Hit the giant violent bouncer again and again
with the woolen sock until he was dead.
David withdrew his sock from Goliath's growling mug and pulled his arm back for
another wallop and....

Woke up in hospital for the 2nd weekend running.



Hat-Tip to Bellamy's Enemy
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 22:30, Reply)

The other night
the boyfriend and I were having a late-night phone conversation as I'm home for Christmas and we miss each other to distraction. Things got steamy, as things do when you're apart, and with it being 12.30 and my parents were asleep, I shut my door, got under the covers and continued the conversation.

Today, my dad hands me a promo leaflet for T-Mobile with "NO MORE DIRTY TALK!" written across it. I looked horrified till he said mum had told him I'd wanted to change contracts.
( Maladicta, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 22:06, Reply)

Got Another Story!
.
This one time, in band camp...........





Gets coat....
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 21:59, 2 replies)

my grandma
i dont know if we'll ever forgive her for accidentally ironing the nintendo lead.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 20:36, Reply)

BANG!
I have a friend who is a self employed builder. At the moment he's about half way through a massive renovation of a building in the wilds of Northumberland - the owner is a millionaire who wants some stables converting into a home. Nice.

Now, Reg is a lovely bloke, and gave another friend a labouring job, paying way above the going rate. All Brad had to do was help out, fetching and carrying, tidying up and assisting the other tradesmen, for which he received over a grand a month. Not bad at all, really.

Did I mention that this was in the wilds of Northumberland? I did? Good.

So anyway, one day Brad is asked to dispose of a bag full of spent shotgun cartridges - there's a lot of shooting goes on on the estate, and you don't really want spent shells lying all over the place. Especially as some of them might have been duds that hadn't gone off for some reason... Health & Safety and all that. No, no, you want to get rid of them in a safe and controlled manner, like burying them for example.

Brad, though, didn't. No, being the type of person who educated himself through watching TV, and the Open University in particular, he thought he knew everything about the disposal of ballistics, and wasn't going to listen to anyone regarding the proper and safe way to render them harmless. No, his way was best (honestly, if you ever met this bloke you'd know what I meant - decent feller, but you can't tell him anything).

So he emptied the bag full of shotgun cartridges onto an open fire...

When Reg heard the explosion, he wondered if there was some shooting going on, then realised that the noise was too close for that. Investigating, he saw Brad, still peering into the fire and wondering what the fuck has just happened. His eyebrows were totally singed off, nasal hair was gone and his fringe was just a tad on the crispy side.

The fact that he was still stood peering into the fire after this had happened tells you all you need to know about him really.

On another occasion he was asked to dispose of a door. Which he did, by throwing it onto a skip. A skip that was piled high with other assorted rubbish...

Apparently he watched, rooted to the spot as he threw the door onto the top of the pile, and continued to watch as it slid gracefully back towards him, before connecting heavily with his forehead and knocking him flat on his arse...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 28 Dec 2007, 20:00, Reply)