Probably common?
A drunken attempt to mount the unlubricated 'woman formerly known as' Mrs Steve resulted in sudden agony of the old chap. Continued thrustage increases discomfort, but being drunk and enthusiastic, I continue doggedly until the inevitable conclusion. Withdrawal is followed by inspection of equipment and obvious blood. Indeed the frenum is torn.
"Oh! Well it wasn't me." Says the missus helpfully. Zero sympathy.

Only one of the reasons she's not still Mr Steve.
(Mr Steve is jobless and fancyfree!, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 17:57, Reply)

Having had my appendix out, I had been subject to a rather inconvenient local anaesthetic
meaning I was unable to squeeze my bladder, and thusly, not piss. There reached a point where I couldn't take it anymore, and the doctors decided, in the interests of the ward remaining a quiet and polite place, to do something about it.

I have never felt so much pain as when a tiny, hairy bespectacled nurse pushed a catheter down my jap's eye and into my bladder. I winced, I screamed. I'm unashamed to admit it.
"Ow, christ! That really hurts!"
He looked at me and asked
"Where?"

He wanted to hear me say the word cock. I know it.
(rnuk http://flickr.com/rnuk, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 17:39, Reply)

Pissing blood after bar misundertanding.
I was out for a pint or two when I was 18. A friend of mine who didn't smoke asked my for a light (for someone else), I knew he didn't smoke so I said somthing silly: "Who's that for Johnny McCoomb"? It so happens that a Gary McCoomb was standing close at the bar and his uncle Johnny had been thrown off the pier years previous with an anchor around his neck. I tried to explain that I didn't know his uncle and wasn't dissing his memory, to no avail. Gary promptly planted his steel toecap directly into my nuts. I went several shades of green, and retreated to the toilet urinals where I proceeded to piss about 1.5 pints of blood before being taken to hospital for 3 days.

I waslater know in college as 'One ball Paul' even though they are both still there...
(sativan, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 15:30, Reply)

Crack Commando Unit
Me and my best mate Colin were having a game of toy soldiers at his house as he had just bought a new army, consisting of bunkers tents and tanks, so he was keen to show it off to me. Now my army was a bit of a veteran team (think Dads Army) and had lost several casualties due to mum standing on some, the dog chewing a few and some buried in mass graves in the back garden, so my army was made up of half the original crew plus a few cowboys and Indians, a hans solo and a mr T.

After playing for a few minutes I was getting rather annoyed at Colins insistance that I kept missing his men and the fact that when I did kill a few he kept sending them off to the first aid tent for recovery and said they were fit to fight again. My breaking point was finally reached when my crack shot Squatting Bull threw a tomahawk at a group of 6 of Colins soldiers and he claimed he had missed….my Squatting Bull, well within Tomahawk throwing range, the very same man that almost single handily had wiped out Brians action force team only 2 weeks earlier, miss??? I was fuming.

I pulled the biggest booger out my conk, flicked it as hard as I could in the enemies direction and there it was…the first aid tent with a slimy snot dripping from the flagpole. “Hah, no more doctors now to patch up your wounded” I said, and with that Colin took action which went against all rules of the Geneva Convention. “Time for the big gun to come out” he said, dropped his draws and proceeded to urinate over my army. “Time to bring out the trebuchet” I said to myself. Now I say trebuchet in the loosest term, it was really a Lt Columbo right arm loaded with the TV remote, and with that I chucked it straight at Colins weapon of mass destruction.

He went down. I looked around at my pish soaken army. I looked back at Colin. He was lying face down, clutching his privates, pants still halfway down his legs with his backside stuck in the air. I thought to myself “Show no mercy on the enemy”. I turned to my Sergeant, Mr T, “Now is the time to finish off the Imperial forces, if we strike now whilst the enemy is vulnerable we can finish them off once and for all. I need a man who can go in and end this godforsaken war”. I took the biggest decision of my military career, one that with make or break me, and with that I promptly picked BA up, walked over to Colin and head first stuck Mr T into the Death Star.

A couple of days later I gave an even browner looking Mr T to my younger brother.

I’d apologise for length, but the gold chains prevented it going any further.
(Lt Columbo, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 15:17, Reply)

Ahh...
I'm starting to understand why B3tan Cdc's are magenta.. :S
(doos hows my random?, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 15:14, Reply)

Back in the days of BMX
i used to ride dirt - ha ha , very funny you dirty lot you.

but seriously, riding jumps that were pretty big if i do say so myself, and getting some considerable air me and the mates would always be hurting ourselves, its an occupational hazard.
(or a hobby-ational hazard since we never got paid for it!)
After numerous broken fingers, bashed kneecaps etc we were pretty hardened to the odd crash and burn.
Not so when it comes to the danglees. oh boy.
To cut it short _{said the rabbi} I went to jump a double (take of, big gap, landing pad - for those who dont know) only i was a little short of speed my front wheel landed way too steep, to counter this i pushed all my body weight backwards - and herein lies the mistake.
It is much better to go over the handlebars than tho land your arse on the back tire and use your bollocks for brakes.
beleive me.
It fucking hurt! no permanent damage was done, thankfully but ill never forget those moments of agony and the days of pain afterwards.

In other news a guy at my school was into fencing (y'know with swords and shit) he lunges, so does his opponent, opponent connects he squeals like a girl.
The guy he was fighting had parried his goolies, twisting one of them around itself.
This resulted in him being half the man he used to be.
if you dont like the length you can bite me.
(Name changer aka Mr E Mann, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 14:51, Reply)

Chalfont St Giles
When Mrs Osok was gestating our little lad, she obviously had some wierd voodoo stuff going, 'cos I got all the pregnant symptoms instead of her. I could handle the barfing, even the bigger tits (could coincidentally be alcohol related) but then one fine morning as I was in the shower giving the old crevices a good soaping, I discovered something had appeared.

Forget 'grapes', this bastard felt like a fucking walnut glued to a tea towel holder. My first reaction was to see if it could be prodded back in, as you do.

Don't do this. Really, really don't do this. I swear my bollocks retracted so fast I had hamster cheeks as my manly falsetto squeal awoke the neighbourhood.

Cue visit to nearest pharmacy. Being cunning, I waddled to the supermarket where I could obtain arse soothing products in the main shop rather that explain my symptoms to a deaf pharmacist in front of 20 easily amused spectators. (Look at the funny man...he can't walk without stabbing agony shooting up his ring...ha ha ha ha ha CUNTS).

Buy the entire stock. John Wayne back home. Squirt. Aaahhh. Read box (UP TO A FUCKING WEEK??? Whimper). Shudder at the sight of the 'internal' applicator (whimper, sob).

Okay, a week. Had better weeks, but being so damn hard I could handle it. No bother.Then...

I got a bit of a dicky tum (trans: think tubgirl) I think the shock of my attempted prod made my bowels decide to really fuck me up in revenge. Multiple bog visits for about a month, passing what can only be described as razor sharp chilli coated pebbles of poo, that needed forcing past Nobby, accompanied by agonised grunting, straining,more pathetic girly whimpering, praying that someone would shoot me in the head that second. Oh, and the discovery that regular bog roll develops abrasive qualities after a few hundred wipes and I may as well have shoved my arse in a belt sander. (Moist is good BTW. Unless they are stored by the radiator so that the top one or two dry out and become razor sharp, so when applied to the tormented arse....eeek).

And the final insult. Mrs Osok developed a strange taste for grabbing/slapping me on the arse (and a complete lack of interest in the rest of the trouser department once up the duff....). And I hadn't revealed the extent of my arse related torment. Exiting the throneroom one evening after my regular torture session, I get a full-blown SMACK across the area in question. Cue 15 stone bloke levitating (David Blaine you're a fucking amateur)... and causing my back muscles to go into a locked rigid spasm thing that lasted another week and meant if I could get on to that fucking bog it took me 10 minutes to get off again.

God fucking hated me that month, and I hadn't even said Jehovah.


I've also got chilli juice on my dangly bits, caught myself in my fly at the age of 8 and had to be cut free by my Mum, nearly self circumcised myself by repeatedly shagging with a half healed frenulum (new hot GF) and all pale into insignificance before the arse of doom. Shredded wheat anyone??
(osok Rebel without a clue, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 14:05, Reply)

my mate from uni
once inserted a hard boiled egg into his foreskin. didnt hurt but it was fucking funny
(hankoelspanko, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 13:45, Reply)

Surf. Bum.
If you've ever been surfing, you'll know that the boards come with a long piece of elastic that connects bronzed surf God to board, so that when they become separated, they don't waste hours getting back together again.

Or, in my case, connecting 'Frankie Say Relax' t-shirt and M&S swimming trunk clad usless teenager to hellish piece of wood, somewhere on a beach in Newquay. The inevitable happened as I fell off a monstrous wave, face-first into tampon-strewn water - the elastic cord did its job only too well.

TWAAANG-AAAAAARGH!

Sharpened surfboard connected with my rusty sherrif's badge at about 200 mph, causing the kind of injury that only occurs on Tom and Jerry cartoons.

"Strewth mate" said the bronzed surf God at the hire shop, "you're bleeding out your arse."

"I. Know."

"And yer trunks have split..."

Worse to come: We were on a camping holiday, and I got three days of galloping shits from my water intake.

The site toilets only had shiny white, and I had to apply eye-watering quantities of neat TCP to stop any chance of getting an arse infection. Join the dots yourself... Worst. Holiday. Ever.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 13:35, Reply)

That'll learn him...
I was five, my brother seventeen. Said brother took my chocolate bar which renedered me somewhat angered. My reaction? A leaping punch that connected with (what we later found out to be) his penis. The result? A swift trip to the hospital for an emergency circumcision. The moral? TAKE MY CHOCOLATE BAR AND I'LL FUCKING OWN YOU.
(God_of_the_mind, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 13:27, Reply)

Banjo string misery
I was 18 or 19 and having a right good session with my girlfriend on a sofa at her mate's house. Things were getting somewhat athletic and I withdrew ever so slightly too far, bumped on her pubic bone on the way back in and carried on. A moment later she asked me if I had come, obviously not as I was not a quivering wreck of sweaty teenager yet. 'Well, what's all that then?' she asked referring to the rather obvious moisture overload in her flange. Exasperated I withdrew and nearly cried at what I saw. There was blood pumping, yes pumping, from my bell end and dripping from her minge. I gripped my knob with all my might and ran up the stair to get it under the cold tap in the bathroom. I was shaking like a shitting whippet all the way and I didn't give a shit about all the blood that was flying all over the nice walls and lovely new white stair carpet. Rather too slowly I thought, I lost the erection and the bleeding subsided to a trickle so I could inspect the damage. It was indeed a snapped banjo string. We tried, oh how we tried, to have sex again but the pain of minge moisture on open cock wound is intollerable, it took a good 3 months to be able to do the job right. We spent a couple of hours bleaching blood stains from the carpet and wiping the walls and sofa cushions free of blood that night. My bollocks were like concrete as I was seconds from the vinegars when the incident occurred, a problem I couldn't manually cure for months either. Oh how we laughed
(bogus official shove it up your cunt, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 13:27, Reply)

worst of all
First of all I didnt do any of this to me, just a load of feckin doctors.

I was about 5/6 and I started getting a huge pain any time I tried to take a piss, so off we got to the docotor and told me and my parents that I have an undescened testicle. Now to me at the time I have no clue, took me a good 10 years to work it all out.
So in I go to the hospital to get me ball dropped. Little did I realise what they were about to do.
First they cut me from my waist line down to my penis, then they circumscied me, and that wasnt enough for them, they then cut open the sac's so that the scar runs from the base of the penis to about half way to me arse. Then probably just for a laugh they decide to cut all the way up my penis from the base to the very top.
So the scary bit was waking up to seen loads of stitches everywhere down there, and i mean loads, it was more or less back with the stitches, then of course are those salt baths ahhhh, fucking agony.
The funny thing was when I woke up I looked down and saw this huge thing around my penis, it was made out of plaster and looked like a huge penis, i remeber asking my mother "what have they done ? , have they stretched it ?"
cue fits of laughter from them and me not knowing what the joke was.
One more thing, if u get stitches as a kid they may look small, but they've stretched as an adult some of them is a good 1-2 inches wide, the fuckers.
The one good thing is for women, i've a case of desensitive penis, meaning i feel feck all so i can go longer, and yea thats a bad thing for me.
Puts trapping your lad in a trouser fly n perspective :P
(muineach, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 13:02, Reply)

My fella
is none too bright! He came home few weeks ago with his hand firmly down his trousers. It seems that he decided to have a trim 'down there' but instead of using a small pair of scissors like a normal person, He'd used a pair of kitchen devil scissors (the kind for cutting meat) and, proceeded to cut open his scrote. Not even immense pain and bloodloss could teach him a lesson and he still uses the same pair of scissors when he needs a trim.
(Legs 11 last got some loving on, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 12:35, Reply)

A QOTW I can relate to!
When I was a kid, we moved into a new house that had only recently been built. At the end of the drive there was a four or five foot drop into the garden and the builders had left some old doors propped up against the wall which me, my brothers and the neighbourhood kids would slide down. I should really have checked for rusty nails because on one of my descents I heard a ripping noise and then a slightly moist sensation. I'd torn my arse open and had to be rushed to hospital for stitches. Still got the scar now.

A few years later, I was cleaning my bike with special bike cleaning fluid (i.e. furniture polish) which buffed up the seat right nice. I went out for a bike ride with my mates, slammed the brakes on and slid, frictionless, off the seat and on to the crossbar. It was the first time I'd ever been hit in the bollox and it really hurt...

Finally, a couple of years ago (last year actually) me and my girlfriend of the time were getting saucy on the sofa. Horny as fuck, I had my clothes ripped off and she got down to her best La Senza scanties (red and black, whimper). She moved her leg, there was a slight pain and then a lot of moisture. I looked down and there was blood pouring from the end of my cock. She panicked, I ran to the shower, dripping blood everywhere. I didn't get laid that night...
(Ghostlight, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 11:01, Reply)

My brother
When we were little my older brother used to bully me in the older brother kind of way (nicking my stuff and calling me names). One day I had, had enough and I kicked him full on, right in the knackers. I may have even had a run up. He cried for ages.

Ha!
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 10:20, Reply)

Solero
Once at a party, a friend of mine who was the most awkward person around girls finally copped off (hurrah!) She was to meet him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. He dashed over to my group of friends all excited and asked us for a few bedroom gymnasium tips.

"Well"; I began; "food in the bedroom is always a winner. Try something cool which when replaced with your mouth will be a very pleasant sensation (or so ive been told)"

He darts to the freezer and grabs a nice fruits of the forest Solero and dissapears upstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, we hear a scream emanating from upstairs. This was closely followed by a naked girl running downstairs, through the crowded room and into the downstairs loo. oh yeah, with a fruits of the forest Solero firmly attatched to her flange.

Seems that icy produce is quite adhesive on wet surfaces. Imagine the tongue on a metal pole during winter. This poor girl had confectionary bonded to her clitoris.

No apologies for length girth or having to wash fruity sorbet off your flaps after trying this.
( Inigo Montoya Would wear you like a hat. A HAT!!!, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 9:12, Reply)

Ah, the Deep Heat/balloon knot interface!
My brother considerately rubbed Deep Heat into his wife's strained shoulder, then attempted a furtive starfish scratch.

30 seconds later, she's wondering where he learned to Riverdance.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 8:39, Reply)

Back when I was young, and maybe a bit dumber than I am now,
I decided to get my nipples and foreskin pierced.
I went for it on my 18th birthday. It hurt a bit but the guy was a professional and, having followed his advice to the letter, they all healed well.
My then grrlfiend was not happy at having to wait a fortnight before being able to play with my penis, but was very appreciative of the look, and later the feel of the foreskin ring.
However, she was never very gentle when it came to sex. So one night she attached a chain to all three rings, and proceeded to lead me around the bedroom by it. And then started to yank the chain, hard. Very hard. I soon wasn't hard. Especially when she yanked so hard that one of the nipple rings tore free of my flesh, I collapsed, whimpering to the floor and resolved never to play bondage games again. Thankfully only my nipple was torn, so no embarrasing trip to A+E with a torn foreskin was neccessary.
Length? Well, it's a bit longer than it used to be.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Sat 15 Jul 2006, 5:27, Reply)

At a barbecue last week
My judo-loving friend decides he wants to "teach" me, a new move, meaning practise it himself. This, for some reason, involves planting his ankle squarely in my knackers and tossing me over his head by my own weight (on my knackers) somehow managing to strike my face below the eye somewhere on the way. That was fun
(Slyph, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 4:52, Reply)

crack in the box
This is not a story about my pain, but it still makes my eyes water.
I played cricket in a C grade team when one of the A grade bowlers was coming back from injury... he was quick.
The inevitable happened, he struck a batsman right in the box - the batsman predictably went down in pain. We all stood around in mock sympathy as he grimaced and writhed. After a minute or so it was apparent that the pain was not receding. So our silly mid off / first aider (good combination!) investigated.
The cricket ball had split the box down the middle opening a crack wide enough for a fraction of a second to accept a substantial fold of skin, wherupon it closed again on said skin.
Took a screwdriver to reopen the crack and release the batsman, who, once he'd found a new box, continued his innings.
( woowoowoo, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 4:47, Reply)

not me but a patient, thankfully
when i was a student, I had a placement in a group home for people with learning disabilities, some of them when they showered had to sit on a litlle plastic chair, as their balance wasn't so great, and to help all the water drain they had little holes in them. This poor unlucky chap managed to get his plums stuck in these little holes, as the butt monkey student it was my job to try and free them, no matter how much soap, washing up liquid, vaseline I slapped on they weren't budging, so had to call the fire brigade out to cut him free with those scarily big cutter jobbies! poor chap looked terrifed! I think the trust I work for now are VERY careful about the sizes of the holes in those little chairs!
(mr_mobs, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 3:14, Reply)

Never confuse labels
When I was a teen, and in the habit of experimenting, masturbationally, I'd heard that vaseline was the best lubricant. So, next time I was in need of some light relief (probably about 2 minutes later - I seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time shaking hands with the old feller in my adolescence), I went to the bathroom, and grabbed the Vaso.

In my eanestness, I went back to my room, and de-lidded the container, and applied a BIG swathe of lubricant to my turgid todger, only to find that a) Vaseline and Vicks Vapo-rub have almost identical jars, b) the skin of the penis, while erect is very thin and sensitive, c) Menthol burns like almightly hell on the privates, d) it takes a lot of cold water to wash off Vicks, as by it's nature, it is water-resistant, and e) when in pain, you can lose an erection very very quicly.

Abandoned the concept of Vaso after that.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Sat 15 Jul 2006, 2:49, Reply)

More than once
Once at school, boredom forced us to make up a game that involved dice, and a 'double-or-quits' style game of inflicting pain onto your opponent. Foolishly, I didn't cash my two drop-kicks on David early enough, and it ended with him kicking me square in the plums.
(A Good Egg, Sat 15 Jul 2006, 0:12, Reply)

Back in my even more youngerer days...
At the age of about fifteen, I was loitering at the bus stop, waiting for the bus home, when one of my 'mates' punched me in the bollocks as hard as he could. Had me rolling around on the pavement trying not to throw up.

Hey, not a great story, I know, but what can I say? Sometimes real life isn't as amusing as the TV makes it out to be.
(Krunk Hey hey, ho ho, 1100110, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 23:52, Reply)

hurted my nethers!
Now that I am typing it, it don’t seem so interesting. So I will bore you with it, instead. I got booted out by my bird, and got the council to put me into a condemned maisonette (lucky bastard!). The toilet seat was loose. I always intended to fix it, or complain to the council, but they had been so nice giving me the shit hole, I didn’t like to moan. So I didn’t fix it, and didn’t complain. I got up one morning/afternoon- sometime during daylight. Went for a tom-tit. Have you ever heard of a cantilever? I think that is the engineering principle that almost left me cock-less. I sat on the floating seat, ready to discharge from both ends. Trying to shit, and puke at the same time, I realised the puke was coming first. I tried to stand up, and as I did so, taking my weight off the seat, the said seat went down at the front, trapping my dick between it and the toilet bowl. So I tried to sit back down to take the pressure off and adjust my bits. But this just increased the pressure and the pain. So I took the weight back off the seat, only to find it didn’t help. I was stuck, dick trapped between seat and bowl. Stand up(ish), pain increased. Sit back down, pain increased. So there was I, still half-pissed, dick trapped, any movement causing pain. I eventually took the strain, and stood up sharply, releasing my member, bog seat clattering on the floor, me screaming, shit and puke everywhere. I still to this day don’t know how it happened. I’ve never been able to reproduce the situation. Mind you, I haven’t tried too hard.
(Smiling Carcass, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 23:42, Reply)

Let's split
when I was courting my wife, we were getting amourous at a friends flat. We started to mess about, being a little rough on entry I felt something give. Yep, I'd split myself. I ran to the loo for toilet paper to stem the bloodflow. There was only one roll in the shithouse and it was on top of this cystern. I pulled at it and the lot went down the bog and got soaked. I managed to stem the floe, but I was cautious about entry for quite a few years afterwards.
(hal9001, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 23:17, Reply)

Tight Fit
About 7 or 8 years ago I was driving down to London from Newcastle when I felt the need for a jimmy riddle. I stopped at a service station to use the bog, but as I entered one of the 2 the cubicles I noticed a hole in the side which went to the adjacent netty. I stopped for a minute, and thought, hey, that looks like one of them glory hole thingies.

Just then, I heard the door go and somebody enter the nextdoor toilet. It was at that moment I made a decision. You're only young once I told myself, so I whipped down me keggs and proceeded to push my meat through the hole. Even though the hole was tiny, with a bit of a squeeze I managed to slip the fella in , then stood there waiting patiently for fun time.

A few minutes passed by...I heard a couple of logs hitting water...bottom wiping procedures...followed by a flush. Then it started. A few slow tugs, followed suddenly by much harder pulls, I was starting to worry it might come off in the persons hand if they pulled any harder. Anyway, I've never been a man of stamina so after about 30 seconds I felt my load shoot out into oblivion.

I withdrew my man from the front line, and looked around for some bog roll to wipe my chopper with. I couldn't find any?? It was at that point I noticed the toilet roll holder peeking out from behind the u bend and it hit me...the hole in the wall was not only correctly positioned as a glory one, but also at the right height for the holder. I'd only poked myself through one of the screw holes hadn't I.

I left the cubicle realising my error, but as the other guy seemed to enjoy it too I simply chalked it down to experience...Until, that is, I saw who it was that came out that cubicle......it was David Blunkett..."I never knew they put soap dispensers inside the cubicle now, that one seems a bit jammed though, but after a few hard tugs I soon got it in the end".

Everytime I see him on the news now I can't help chuckle to myself "That's David Blunkett, he nearly pulled my todge off, Heh heh heh you've washed your hands in Lt Columbo gunk you have"
(Lt Columbo, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 23:16, Reply)

The most uncomfortable week of my life
For some reason unknown to me I decided to shave my pubes, it didn't go well. I was red and itchy for days but eventually it calmed down and went stubbly. Then I discovered an ingrown hair in a not so easy to see place. It took (and I'm honestly not exaggerating) over 30 tries to get the bastard out.
A few days latter I thought it would be bearable to go out on my bike again. So I'm speeding merrily down the track and turn a corner and there in the middle of the track is a rabbit not looking at the peak of health. I brake and more or less pull my bike off the track. Smack. Straight into a tree, whacked my head and fell off the seat onto the frame of the bike. I bruised places I didn't know it was possible to bruise.
(frozen_ginger_beer, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 22:57, Reply)

OW! IT BUUUUUUUURNS!!!
Many a time (most saturdays in fact!) before taking to the rugby field, the boys will put deep heat on any aches and pains, not wash their hands and go for a slash.

Nowt compared to one saturday when I did the same, except instead of taking a piss, I was negotiating the release of the chocolate hostages. Then came the, er, mopping up and my finger tearing through the paper, leaving a smear of deep heat on my baloon knot. For several days after, sitting down was rather a challenge!! You didn't wanna know that...
(colonelegghed, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 22:56, Reply)

Visiting Manchester University
in the sixth form, before I made all my choices and that gash. as I got there turned in the the courtyard of the main building, and looked up at an impressive clock tower or something, and said to my mother "oooh, that's a ni........."

and that's as far as I got, you see, what I hadn't seen amongst the crowd was the blunt, cast iron, knacker high bollard that had stuck itself right in my oblivious way. Upon striking this implement I did the full bend double whilst trying to count my spuds thing. This would have been bad enough on its own had my mother not burst into hysterical laughter causing everyone in a fifty feet radius to turn and see a rather embarrased captain wow to stuggle to the nearest door and find somewhere for a good lie down
(captainwow No, not that one!, Fri 14 Jul 2006, 22:53, Reply)