Lots of water
On an oil rig off the coast of Spain. Standing on the helideck with lifejackets on ready to abandon it.

Blow out?

No. Some twunt had managed to set the laundry on fire...
(Audax, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 19:50, Reply)

Small fire getting out of control
A few years ago me and one of my friends were clearing the garden shack when we stumbled across a number of cans of old paint and terpentine. We decided to throw them away, but then said friend (member of the local fire brigade) suggested we put all the small amounts of liquid in one can and set fire to it. Just to avoid getting rid of these dangerous chemicals of course. So we went behind the shack and set fire to the paint. To our surprise the paint burns with thick smoke. To our even bigger surprise a mere 2 minutes after we started the fire we heared the first of a number of fire engines passing our house and driving to a hill about 500 meters away from our house. Although we were pretty sure it wasn't our fire they were looking for, we put the lid on the can to stop the fire anyway.
The biggest surprise came later, when we figured out that one of our neighbours had called the fire brigade because due to a very inappropriate viewing position he saw OUR smoke rising from one of the houses on that hill.
( RedWine President of the S.C.U.M., Thu 3 Nov 2005, 19:47, Reply)

My two A-level Chemistry teachers were real pyromaniacs
especially Mr. K, whose repertoire included the Thermit reaction, the ammonium dichromate volcano, popping hydrogen-filled balloons flavoured with metals to the explosions more colourful, and attaching one of these balloons to a stool by means of a string soaked in ethanol, then setting this on fire. However, his party piece was bubbling butane gas through a tray of soapy water, inviting people to scoop up the bubbles in their hands, then setting fire to the bubbles. He was the man.

My other chemistry teacher, Mr. S, was not as much the explosives enthusiast, but one of his best tricks was to pack a tennis-ball full of explosives, run a wire from it to a detonator, then blow it up from halfway across the playing fields. Even 200 yards away, you could feel the heatwave on its mission to scorch your eyebrows.

Now that I'm a second-year undergraduate chemist, I've seen plenty more ways of setting fire to things and blowing them up (one of the best is sparking hydrogen and pure oxygen together - very spectacular, and great if you want to make a miniature Hindenburg disaster.) Some of these are on my department's website. But one thing no-one so far has mentioned is the microwave; imagine what incendiary potential lies in a device that bombards any thing you put in it with high-energy radiation....

I didn't have to imagine it last year, when I'd got a block of butter in silver wrapping from the House Of No Milk* (the spreadable stuff had sold out) and stuck it in the microwave for a minute or so to soften it, as it had all the spreadability of a lump of granite. I knew something was up when the microwave started making ominous buzzing noises and flashing. I looked inside and saw the silver wrapper burning and sparking away. Miraculously, the butter was unspoilt, and some of it was spreadable! Get in!

I didn't have time to do any further experiments that morning, but when I got back, the first thing I did was to incinerate bits of kitchen foil in the microwave; talk about a fireworks display! It completely banjaxed the microwave, but it was getting old anyway, and the replacement had something called Chaos Defrost on it - get the fuck out!!

* The corner shop - so named because it never had any milk.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 19:22, Reply)

well when i was younger
i was a bit of a pyro...little fire over the garden, lots of candles etc in my room at age 5
one memory i have was the bright idea i had (cause i was a bright spark..hehe crap joke) decided to test the flamability (not a word possibly) of a tissue on a spoon..clue me running round the living room with this thing alight and dropping it on the new carpet...cue small fire. mother frantic and a nice big burn on the floor.

not allowed to touch matches for another 7 years..dammit
(bryony*niamh kneecaps exist to be hit with clawhammers., Thu 3 Nov 2005, 19:01, Reply)

hmm,, the most obvious one..
earlier this year, at the mtb busas..

clicky!

(stream or right-click-save-target-as - i'd say safe for work)

2 mins 5 secs in.. i'm the one about a foot away from the fire, which somehow didnt singe my eyebrows (wonders never cease).

appologies for length, and quality (i cant be arsed to chop and re-encode)

:)


(edit : also see 48 secs and 2:51 for more fire fun :D)
(5lab, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:56, Reply)

Post fire story, this is
Years ago, the Johnson's Wax plant/factory/building caught on fire with lots of exploding hot scaldy wax. The survivors (not too many, sad to say) were flown to a top notch burn unit in another country.

My friend Bert was the respiratory therapist that day* and so was suctioning some goo out of a patient's lungs. The red rubber tube came out about 10 inches longer than it went in. Bert was staring at it in puzzlement,trying to make sense of an impossible sight when the end of the tube turned around and looked at him.

Did I say the wax factory was in a part of the world where people routinely have parasites? Yeah. In this case it was a huge red worm inhabiting this poor gentleman's lungs.





*may have told this story before. If so, sorry.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:52, Reply)

I once knew a chap called Jez
He went backpacking around Europe, and ran out of money when he got to Spain. Unable to afford a hostel, he would build a bonfire on the beach, then sleep next to it, his jacket over him for warmth. His only friend was a stray cat, with whom he would share his meagre bits of food.

One night, he was asleep by the fire, when the cat started biting his fingers. Startled, he leapt up, throwing his jacket off him and straight into the fire. The jacket contained the only item of value he had - a Walkman his mum had given him as a going away present, which he was planning to sell to help fund his trip home. It was quickly consumed by the flames.

He was never very fond of cats after that.
(Pachey, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:47, Reply)

Click, click, boom
Me, my mum and my brother were going to go down the shops in our car.

Mum rolled the car down the drive and all of a sudden the window gets covered with condensation and the paint on the bonnet starts bubbling.

Eventually realising that our neighbour's hose wouldnt help, we call the fire brigade.

They said if we'd turned the key fully and driven down the road, the car would probably have exploded!
(reefus-, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:40, Reply)

The joys of butane refills
Ah, University days (and indeed "daze"). Amongst the many things discovered was the fun to be had with a can of pressurised butane.

Take a mouthful, and blow it out over a lit lighter for that great flamethrower effect - impress the ladies.

Or - even more fun - put the cap upside down onto your jeans, and spray through one of the adaptors in the lid. The result - a large patch of butane that burns very impressively without damaging you legs (too much).

Extend that - dab spray all down your leg for a flaming leg effect (but tuck your jeans in or it runs back up INSIDE the cloth and burns all your leg (and bollock) hairs off.

But the coup-de-grace was when SEVEN of us sat in a row at a rather boring party, all discreetly covered our jeans in butane and then the one on the end (me) sparked up. The joy of seeing the flame whoosh down the row of giggling drunkards was only bettered by the screams of the other guests who thought their number was up.

Ah, happy days indeed.
( Skotzmun Blah blah secret passage blah blah diamonds., Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:23, Reply)

The Garden Burns
I bought a place back in the late 80's which had a badly overgrown back garden. The garden was approx 70ft long and the last 30 feet or so was so overgrown with weeds and bushes and general crap that I didnt know where to start in clearing it.

It was the middle of summer and hot, the garden was pretty dry: "ahh" I had an idea. Pour petrol over the said jungle and throw a match on it. It will burn itself down to a managable level and I can clear the rest.

Great idea.

What i didnt reckon on was the dribble of petrol that ran out of the can from the bottom of the garden to the top close to the house.

Can safely stowed away I wandered down the garden, lit some newspaper like a torch and duly threw it at the jungle.

All I can remember is this "whomph" sound and a mushroom cloud appearing about 40 foot in the sky.

I ran like fuck with a trail of fire following me up the lawn towards the house. I think I was screaming like a virgin losing it to John Holmes.

Fuck knows how I never got a single burn but the lawn had a black scorch mark on it like something out of back to the future and the jungle looked like it had been napalmed.

I never was much of a gardener.
( Snollock Biffer I don't really sniff Bollocks, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:16, Reply)

last bonfire night was great.
My mate who'se a tree surgeon had a bonfire at his burn site, which is on some land owned by a holiday park. He and his mates from the park organised the whole thing. When most people had gone home, including most importantly the park bosses, we all went down to the park bar and had several beers.

At about midnight, we were called outside, to see that one of the guys had set up some fireworks. Some proper fireworks - the kind you have to have a licence to buy unless, as in this case, they have "fallen off the back of a lorry".

The guy lighting them was incredibly drunk, and the furthest you could get from the fireworks was about 10 feet. I'll never, ever forget the following display.

Some of the fireworks did the proper thing, but most didn't.
There was a big cube thing, with about 20 rocket things in it. You lit one fuse, and they all went off one after the other. Only it wasn't anchored to the ground properly, so they just went off in every which direction but up. Most of them fired against the buildings, but some went directly at us, and we only just managed to avoid being hit several times. There were chunks taken out of the wall behind us. For some reason everyone was laughing their heads off. The guy was staggering (literally) around with a light in one hand, and a bundle of rockets in the other. He occasionally held both in one hand while fiddling with some firework or other.

the finale rocket, of course, was too wedged into the ground to actually go up, so we helplessly watched it fizz away, wondering how big it would be. It was pretty big...
(teasus likes tea, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:15, Reply)

ex-pyro
i could ramble on about my flaming exploists for many a day, but alas i shall only tell one.

i used to be a model rocketeer to, so i once cut open, using a kitchen knife, one of the solid fule rocket engine to see what made em go.

inside you can find a solid black carbon lik rod, when crumbled into powder, you get some cool effects when mixing it with a flame :)
but no, i needed more! so i chose to use a reasonably sized chunk, some pliers, a gardening glove and a disposable lighter, i put the glove on my hand, safety first and all that, and with my gloved hand held the pliers holding the fules, then lit it with my other hand expecting a big bang/puff, not a 30cm long blue flame roaring into my non gloved finger, cooking it to the bone.

After a few days the skin fell off, and then you could see all the workings of a finger, luckilly i didnt have any feeling in it, but its all healed back now, and im typing with thevery finger :)
( palmr The speaking clock says:, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:07, Reply)

Turns out that ovens- especially ones with broken temperature knobs aren't good as temperature regulated pyro heating devices
Recently while mixing certian garden chemicals and a certian other cooking ingredient, I needed to melt the two together, my parents wouldn't allow me to put a pyrotechnic mixture on the gas hob in case it overheated and ignited. I eventually persuaded them that the oven would be safe- I could set it with an 80* safety buffer and the temperature was regulated.
The only problem is that the temperature dials on our oven are broken and you can't see what temperature you are setting them to- I have since found out that I set it 60* to hot and a 20* safety buffer isn't enough.
After pre-heating the oven and putting the mix in , it was taking a long time to melt so I went to play on the computer while I waited. The door was shut so the next I knew was mum coming in and going apeshit at me- the entire downstairs of our, fairly largeish, house was full of smoke and she only knew about it because she had been upstairs and had smelt it.
The oven was ok apart from a white residue which easily came off but I have since been banned from putting any of my pyro in the oven.
(madsporkmurderer, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:05, Reply)

ah , they're coming thick and fast today!
My father-in-law, Bill, when he was at boarding school, was quite the scientific type. He told me this story ~

Bill made a fantastic firework, but was caught by some master or other (let's call him Mr Jones, 'cause I can't remember) just as he was about to set it off.

As Mr Jones confiscated the firework, young Bill tried to warn him that it was pretty unstable, and he should set it off before it went off by itself. Mr Jones thought Bill was just trying to get to see his firework go off, and ignored him, putting the firework in his study.

Needless to say, the thing exploded, and Mr Jones' study was destroyed. However, when Bill was dragged by Mr Jones to the headmaster, accused of arson, he explained that he had tried to explain to Mr Jones what would happen if the thing was left alone. The headmaster turned to Mr Jones and told hi it was his own bloody stupid fault, and Bill didn't get into any trouble at all.

Bill went on to be a nuclear physicist, in charge of a power station at Hinkley point, but thankfully he didn't cause any explosions there.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 18:04, Reply)

Pyromaniac kid
As a youngster I had a rather inexplicable fascination with matches and the like. Probably most kids do. But I'm possibly one of the only people to claim fame to having set fire to Farnham park. Twice. I'd have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for those pesky firemen.
( Mr Spleen Can do better. C-, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:58, Reply)

BUSA Bonfire bonanza
Myself and some likeminded lunatics made our way up to Scotland earlier this year for the British University Sports Association mountain bike championchips a weekend of lots and lots of beer (us high performance athletes call it carb loading) and some cycling. The normal campfire bonfire games were played (BBQ the naked scotsman etc.) Then we decided that we had a few too many tins of oil to take away with us so started lobbing WD40 cans and everything else onto the fire. Because the ground was knee deep in mud we were all drunk and it was dark running away from shrapnel was a really great laugh. When we ran out of flammable stuff we decided to throw a tin of beans on. Those of use who knew what it was stayed well back but after a couple of minutes everyone else went back to the fire assuming it wouldn't work, 2 seconds later a massive bang which flattened a section of the fire and coated some norther nutter with scalding hot beans. Bloody beautiful
(lankymike, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:57, Reply)

for some reason,
when I was at college, the Christian Union, which I ran, was asked to take part in the Christmas carnival. We were requested to dress up as presents, and carry lit torches alongside the floats, asking for money. For some reason we agreed...

We had this handicapped guy with us, and for some reason, he was also given a flaming torch, and set to walk just behind my then girlfriend in her cardboard box wrapped in crepe paper. He kept getting kind of hypnotised by the fire, and gradually lowering it down so it was almost touching the packaging on my gf's costume, and I spent the entire parade trying to prevent my grlfriend from going up in flames.

Sorry - he never actually succeeded in his attempt at cooking my girlfriend, which I realise would have made it a more interesting story...
(teasus likes tea, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:55, Reply)

Pissed on vodka....
quite legless... rolled into campfire.... Not nice, but my mate dragged me out and somehow i was unburned.

Also in a night club, i was grabbing my coat and some fucknut must have thrown a cigarette stump into my pocket... My coat smouldered away whilst i was wearing it... didn't burn but was quite devastated to discover i was missing a sleeve.
(Kayozz, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:48, Reply)

a few months ago
Not long after having had to go bankrupt, discovering I had a long term illness, and various other fun problems, my family and I had to move in a hurry.

We hadn't managed to find a place to live after needing to move out of our last rent, and a nice lady from church offered to put us up for a few weeks while we carried on looking. A nice lady called Anne we didn't really know that well. It was a lovely big old farmhouse, and she and her husband had spent the last 12 years making it as lovely as it was. Apparently it'd been a shell when they moved in, pretty much.

Two days in, she sees my wife putting some clothes a bit too close to the aga to dry, and she made joke that we didn't want to do that, or we might burn the house down, and the "we'd all be homeless!" much jollity.

Only the next day, we popped back to the house about lunchtime, and there was smoke coming up from in between the floorboards. We were just wondering what on earth could be casuing this, and decided to 'phone Anne at work to ask if there was some underfloor heating that may have gone wrong...

The 'phone didn't work at all, and we wandered around for a bit before realising there was another 'phone upstairs. I went to go upstairs, but there was quite a lot of smoke up there. In fact, even with my jumper over my face, I couldn't get further than the 3rd step up. The smoke downstairs was obviously being forced down the wall cavities, and up through the floorboards, there was som much of it.

At this point, I realised it might be serious, and we ran over to the nearest neighbours to call 999.

We hadn't been able to contact Anne, and we were in a total panic, wondering what we'd done to somehow cause the fire. We decided that if it was indeed our fault, we'd never set foot in Cornwall again.

We hadn't found out the cause of the fire when Anne pulled up to see her house surrounded by 3 fire engines, lots of smoke and loads of firemen. Given that we'd been there 3 days compared to her 12 years, I'm sure Anne thought we'd done something wrong too, but she was amazingly not rude to us about it.

Thankfully it turned out that it was an electrical fault in her bedroom. A badly wired socket had shorted and set fire to the curtains. And apparently if we'd not turned up when we did, no-one would have seen the fire until too late, when the whole house would have had to have been pulled down.

Oh, and the room we were wandering around in was directly below the fire, and the ceiling was about to collapse.

Just to top it off, a couple of months later, when were in our own house, we had a big flood, due to a burst pressure tank that had rusted through.

My prayers over those few months were very sweary.



"Oooh, that was long" said the worship leader to the preacher.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:46, Reply)

Set a neat little fire..
..round the back of our church as I didn't want to go to Sunday School.

..went anyway(was forced) and giggled at the smoke coming out of the organ pipes..

.. had only started the fire near the vent inlet for the organ LOL
( Signify, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:38, Reply)

Spud-u-bomb
I have a genius friend called James who is quite adept at making improvised explosive devices using his vast knowledge of chemistry. Over the years we have blown up lots of things with gratifying amounts of noise, flames and smoke.

His best ever invention, by a long, long way is the patented 'spud-u-bomb'; Cook up a lovely cocktail of chemicals in a frying pan (being careful not to destroy your house). Pour chemicals into a hollowed-out large baking potato. Insert fuse and block the filling hole with a suitable bung. Light fuse. Retire a safe distance (about 50m should be enough).

The thing that is great about the invention is that not only do you get to make massive explosions and generally scare the living bejesus out of passing civilians, but you can eat the flash-baked remnants as a tasty treat.

Huzzah!
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:34, Reply)

Bleedin' Chemistry
Picture this. Cold september day, and you get to school and find out its a cross curricular day and youve got science. Shit. Well, to make it a little more fun i accidentaly (deliberately) spilt a full spirit burner of Fucking Pentanol. Now, chemistry students will know that this stuff is as sticky as fuck and sticks onto *anything* given time. Start of break, i Spill it onto a table. Middle of break (no teacher) i light it with a splint. 2 mins later "thefuckingtableisonfire! aaahhh" and its spreading to the tray of alcohols. FUCK! cue lots of fire, an evacuated school and an exclusion for 2 weeks. and got grounded. and had to clear up. Remember, kids, alcohols are fun only use spirit burners like you should. dont fuck around.*


*the above comments do not apply
(beast on toast has xpango=> http://www.xpango.com?ref=90520974, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:20, Reply)

Flaming Turbans
A few years back we travelled to India for a friends wedding. We went from Mumbai/Bombay to Aurangabad and from there to Pune/Poona, where the wedding was to be held.

Lots of Brits (of all colours and creeds) were in attendance for this fantastic Hindu wedding. As part of the celebration all the non-locals were kitted out with Kurtas (formal Indian men clothes) and Saris (format Indian women clothes). Really helped us feel part of the celebration, even if we didn't really fit in so much.

Before the main part of the three day celebration really kicked off, the men queued up to have Turbans fitted. Six feet of red patterned material wrapped around your head VERY tightly by three guys trained to do it very fast. The turbans were ceremonial and had a large 'tuft' of material fanned out at the top.

After the men followed the groom as he rode on a horse to the wedding place (symbomic of him coming from another village, apparently) we hoisted the bride on a palanquin to parade her around the wedding party. Four guys were given torches and stood at the corners as we carried her around.

I almost dropped my side of the palanquin as I saw one chap set fire to his turban because he wasn't holding his torch up high enough. Fortunately a friend of his said 'YOUR TURBAN IS ON FIRE!' and he dropped the torch and just lifted the entire thing off his head and threw it to the ground. He stamped it out, picked up his torch, and carried on.

We go the bride to where she was supposed to be with no more inflammatory incidents...
(kiwanotree Meh, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:16, Reply)

Flame Boy
At uni, a friend & I were attempting to repair a car. This ended up with us in our lovely student kitchen stripping the carburetor down in to the early hours of the morning.

Having finished putting it back together, the shiny carb sat on the worktop, beside a tray of petrol that had drained out of it.

Guy (aka FLAME BOY), obviously satisifed that we had finished, lights a cigarette, and then throws the still lit match over his shoulder (like I said, it was a student house).

The lit match lands in the tray of petrol, & ignites. As it lights, he then proceeds to blow out the flames.

He then takes on the oh-so-familiar crazed look he has at times, while saying "did you see that?", while at the same time taking a match out of the box, lighting it, and holding it above the tray of petrol "and said watch this"

My frantic arm waving & shouts of "no, no, no......." had no impact on him, and he let go of the match, after which flames appeared again. He then made sure he had my attention, and attempted to blow the flames out again. Except they didn't go out. Eventually we managed to get the flames out, and then we ran into the back yard gasping for air.

And on another occassion, the same mate chased me around the same kitchen, with a can of WD40 and a disposable lighter, trying to light me with his "homemade flamethrower".

And another mate, at school had a habit of lighting things in chemistry, particularly books while I was reading them.

I seem to attract pyromaniacs.
(nonstopdancer, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:15, Reply)

Dublin '05
In July this year, my mates and I went to an alcohol based trip to Dublin.

We were staying in a lovely hostel at a cost of around £8 a night and drinking inside was not allowed.

We had come back from the Porterhouse, possibly the best bar in the world ever, and I must have had about 8 pints of "Brainblasta", a lovely 7% ale, on top of about 5 pints of other ales. After getting back to the hostel, a bloke who we named "Australia" (due to his home nation) offered me a hell of a lot of Bacardi Black... and weed.

So, this is now about 5am and I'm absolutely trolleyed. We find someone's Daily Mail on the floor. Yes, even in Dublin, they have the Daily Mail. I suggest setting fire to it! hahahah! How stupid that would be!

My friend Turner sets fire to it.

Now, in Dublin, they don't take kindly to English loons setting fire to newspapers. Even if it is the Daily Mail.

So, I decide to put the fire out. Bearing in mind that this is in the middle of the street.
Since the only liquid I have is Bacardi Black, I decide that this would not be wise (because I wanted to drink more of it...obviously)

So, I do what any conscientious person would do in such a situation. I piss on it. It worked. The fire was put out. And I didn't burn my cock! Hurrah!

But it was during pissing on it that the Hostel workers has decided to call the police (or the garda as they are known in the land of Ireland).

Garda: "Look mate. Perhaps you should just leave now. I've only stopped drinking 45 minutes ago meself and I can't be fecking arsed with this." **Proceeds to car where he drives off**

So one of my mates, Shep and I end up staying on the streets for a night before finding another hostel.

Wasn't a great fire. But a good story nonetheless.

Apologies for 4th dimension
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:08, Reply)

Woolies fire
I used to work in my local Woolies to gain cash, staff discount and grief from staff and customers alike. Anyway, opposite the building was an old cinema (which is now a Waterstones - all that expense and they make a listed building a bookstore that must take £50 a week profit).

They were busy renovating the building and a couple of colleagues (who were on a well earned break) and myself could smell smoke. We looked over and saw they were making a lot of dust and assumed that they were burning a few bits and pieces in the process.

My colleagues had to go back down to the shop floor while I continued drinking crappy coffee and chilling out before returning to the living hell that is retail. The smell of smoke was getting stronger by the second and looking over to the building work didn't show me any increase in smoke and dust.

This carried on for a few minutes until I noticed that the nearby bin had turned into a chimney with billowing smoke and a few flames thrown in for dramatic effect. Fireman Betpet to the rescue!

I ran into the little kitchenette, filled a vase with nice, cold water, ran back in and poured the water into the bin. The fire went out immediately and I felt really pleased with myself. Smug git!

Once the bin had cooled down a little, I proceeded to take it to the managers office to report my mini adventure and got a staggering response of, "Oh, someone must have left a lit fag in there. Aren't you due down on the shop floor now?"

I was naturally underwhelmed by the gratitude I was shown for saving the store from being evacuated and costing thousands of pounds of fire damage (there weren't going to be any more staff in the canteen until lunchtime - 2 hours away).

Saying that, a no smoking policy was introduced in the building by the next day.
( betpet is the fun in dysfunctional, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 17:06, Reply)

Not me, but my cousin.
At Uni in Lincoln, managed to set his jeans on fire by hanging them too close to the fire to dry - this isn't particularly comment-worthy, it's almost the same story as one already on here (but without the zip-up-in-one babygro pyjamas mentioned elsewhere).

The only thing that makes it worth telling is that the fire brigade were called, neighbouring houses evacuated etc, much to the consternation of the locals, who started a bit of a campaign against students "being a danger and wasting tax money".
One of them even wrote to the local paper and asked of my cousin "Why doesn't he go home to Essex and live in an asbestos hut?", which I thought was a little strong.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 16:54, Reply)

Blue Blazer Club
So there I was, propping the bar up on my 19th birthday when along came a friend of mine, a Royal Marine as it happens. Seeing as how it was a special day, he decides to induct me as an honourary member into the Royal Marines' very own Blue Blazer Club.

What's that, you ask?

Well, one takes a capful of Sambuca and lights it. One earns their Blue Blazer by downing the capful of Sambuca without extinguising the small, but hot, flame. Success allows the flaming-capful drinker to be amongst supposedly august company.

Notice how I keep saying capful?

Seeing as the liqueur was on an optic, there was no cap to be found. "Never mind", I say feeling rather full of the dutch kind of courage, "Fill a glass with the stuff and we'll use that!"

I should have known it was a bad idea when my Royal Marine friend, who had seen live action in the Falklands and was therefore officially 'Hard', cowed in fear and passed the flaming glass to me. The glass was a large sherry one and the flame was about 6 inches high.

Snatching the glass up I tossed it back, only to somehow miss my not inconsiderable mouth and pour the flaming alcohol all over my face, which unwittingly obliged this anecdote by catching fire. Fortunately, my friend was alongside me and used his hands to put the flames out. Unfortunately, in his panic, he seemed to forget that 1) he was the Royal Marine's heavyweight boxing champion and 2) by hands, I mean fists.

So after punching me very hard in the face several times, the flames were finally out. "Blimey", say I, "that was close. Good job all that beer earlier is acting as an anaesthetic. Shall we forget the Blue Blazer Club and have another round?" Heroic old me had several more beers before returning home, only to be rushed to hospital with quite serious, but thankfully only superficial, burns to the face!

Sambuca - christing bollocks, more like!
(monkeyboys like monkeygirls, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 16:53, Reply)

Smoking fags really can kill you...
My mate always used to sneak crafty fags in the machine room of a very, very large IT company. Never any trouble with this until the day he didn't stub a fag out fully and it set light to the wastepaper bin. Being a bit thick, he decided to stamp the fire out by putting his foot in the bin.

Cue much hilarity around the room as he starts hopping around with a flaming bin on his foot, neither able to put out the flames or extract his foot from the burning recepticle.

And then as one, everybody suddenly remembered that they were in a multi-million pound computer room with a Halon fire system - 30 panicky seconds to get out before a painful and difficult to explain death...
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 16:53, Reply)

Fire and gut reactions
Science lesson at school- i cant remember for the life of me what we were doing but it involved a few ingredients, three of which were fire and cotton wool and alcohol (not meant to be used together/mixed without proper equip!).

Anyhow this fella accidentally set fire to the cotton wool and, in his haste to put it out did what we all do to small things on fire...

he tried to blow it out- hard.

Obviously being cotton wool it flew rather than extinguished and caught in some of the alcohol vapours creating a bit of a flash that, as it occured straight in front of his partners face, made him go Daz white avec fear.

The moral- dont try to blow out cotton wool- it doesnt work!
(Keyser Soze, Thu 3 Nov 2005, 16:51, Reply)