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True stories...................
Being a driving instructor and a lorry driver i could fill this up quite a few times over lol start with a couple of good un's ....
with a pupil going down a one way street, and all of a sudden we have an oncoming car flashing his headlights! pupils brings the car to a stop and the guy gets out of the other car and starts screaming " it's a one way street you idiot!!! " quite angrily ... so those that know me well, i don't take too kindly too being shouted at 
so i get out of the car and with size i am shaved head and tattoos the bloke starts to look a bit sheepish and then i say in a calm and collected manner " i know, we're going the right way, look at the sign right next to you, we are!! slight pause ... who's the idiot now!! " you could here is wife shouting at him to get back in the car ... i just smiled and gave him a smug wave 
so i get out of the car and with size i am shaved head and tattoos the bloke starts to look a bit sheepish and then i say in a calm and collected manner " i know, we're going the right way, look at the sign right next to you, we are!! slight pause ... who's the idiot now!! " you could here is wife shouting at him to get back in the car ... i just smiled and gave him a smug wave This only actually happened last week, i couldn't help but let this one go on for a bit .....
Pupil was getting ready to move off from the side of the road, so she starts her routine .. clutch down gear 1, find biting point, set the gas, all round observation released the handbrake, brought the clutch up applied the gas nothing happened! .... whats wrong pupil asks? put the handbrake on and start again i say. Goes through the routine again and same thing happens again, i've broken your car she says. Ok apply handbrake and let's do this step by step.
So she starts clutch down gear 1 finds biting point and stes gas, so i step in and say do you think you got enough gas set? she replies yes i have. Ok i say, does the engine normally sound like this? and she says it's a bit quieter than it normally sounds. Then the penny drops, she finally realizes she has not even turned the engine on!!!
Comments
To follow from me:
'My fight with giant haystacks'.
'So this is what it's like to be dead'. ( or, wow ! that's a big banana ! )
Crate fight at the OK coral,
Sandstorm over Wrexham.
'It can't be broken or you wouldn't be able to walk'. ( why do I say these things? )
'Knock knock who's there?' ( you really don't want to know )
'One, two. three O'Deary' ( give me the odds on this )
During the late 70’s and most of the 80’s I owned a printing and packaging business in Manchester. Next door to our factory was a garage who’s owner was an ex-Policeman, a true character but with some rather dubious connections. He was also very friendly with most of the well known wrestlers of the time, most of whom were appearing on TV every week. I remember one quite frightening character who wrestled under the name of Rasputin, a large guy with a black beard and fearsome eyes. There were lots of other wrestlers who visited the garage but the best known by far was Giant Haystacks whose real name was Martin. Martin was a huge, huge man and to try to describe just how big in words doesn’t really work so I’ll give you a true example so please try to use your imagination. Martin had a Mercedes, a big Mercedes, a 450SL I think. He was able to stand at the side of his car and, without stretching, reach over the roof and touch the windows on the far side of the car. Try that on any small car and you will get the idea of just how big he was. Now to the meat of the story. The garage next door was very comprehensive as far as garages go except for one small detail. It had no toilets, none at all, so that meant that the folk at the garage and their visitors had to use our toilets in the factory offices. Now normally this didn’t cause too much of a problem, we were good neighbours and I got along particularly well with Dave the garage owner, unfortunately it did give some problems when Haystacks visited. Again use your imagination a little. The upshot was that every time he used the toilet we had to re-cement the bowl back to the floor. Now I’m a Qualified Printer and Engineer but the problem really couldn’t be fixed other than to re-cement it every time, so we put up with it for the sake of good relations, but mostly because we couldn’t find anyone to volunteer to have a word with Mr Haystacks about his toilet habits. I should mention at this point that I had recently stopped smoking. I had gained some weight and was a healthy 6’1’’ and 16 stone. Unfortunately it wasn’t all good news, I had developed a terrible temper during my abstinence and was up for fighting anybody and anything for any reason. On the day of the incident Mr Haystacks had been visiting and paid his usual call, armed with a copy of the Daily Mirror and a cup of tea and had been in the toilet for about 20 minutes. I instinctively knew it was not going to be a good day, but I didn’t at that stage, realise quite how bad it would turn out. Following Mr Haystacks morning visit we had re-cemented the toilet again and got on with our day. My wife mentioned that she was going to the bank with some cheques and off she went, only to return within minutes saying that Mr Haystacks had blocked her car in with his Merc. I said I would go and ask Martin to move the car so she could get to the bank before closing time. Mr Haystacks and Dave the garage owner were sitting with some other people in an office so I popped my head around the corner and asked Mr haystacks to move his car, which was actually parked on my car park. He must have been in a bad mood that day because unlike his normal amiable self he told me to F off. I said not to mess about and that we needed to get to the bank but he repeated his one liner. Not really being in the best of moods myself I told him that I was going to get our 5 tonne forklift out of the loading bay and that if his car was still there when I arrived, that I would pick it up with the forklift and move it for him. Mr Haystacks then went on to say, in great detail, all the things he would do to me as I walked off to get the forklift keys. The walk to the forklift truck was a long one and I was thinking about what it would be like to meet a steam train head on, but I was not in the mood to back down. I got the forklift, drove it round to his car and slid the forks underneath. I raised and tilted the forks and took the weight of the car off the ground. At this point Dave, the garage owner came charging around the corner waving Mr Haystacks keys and shouting to stop and that he would move the car. Unfortunately he was closely followed by Mr Haystacks who was also on a charge, waving his enormous arms in the air and telling all the world what he was going to do to me. There followed a scene from a Buster Keaton movie with me closely followed by Mr Haystacks running around the car and forklift and Dave trying to get in the car to move it. On the second lap, as I ran behind the forklift I grabbed a steel bar off the back and ducked under Mr Haystack’s outstretched arms, turned behind him and struck him across both calves as hard as I could. It stopped him in his tracks and he bellowed like an elephant. We stood looking at each other for a while and then I walked as calmly as I could back into the factory. I was very glad that I had re-cemented the toilet earlier as I spent the next 20 minutes in there. There were never any further incidents and in fact Mr Haystacks never tried to use our toilet again, or park his car on our car park.
They will reach a far wider audience and get the prime exposure stuff like this desreves.
SUNDAY MORNING ROLLERCOASTER
IN THE EARLY 90s I PLAYED SUNDAY LEAGUE FOOTBALL AND 1 SUNDAY JUST BEFORE XMAS WE WERE DUE TO PLAY A CUP SEMIFINAL. I HAD GONE OUT ON THE SATURDAY NIGHT BUT HAD DECIDED TO TAKE IT EASY AND JUST GO FOR A COUPLE OF BEERS EARLY DOORS THEN MATCH OF THE DAY AND BED.
DURING MY OUTING I MET UP WITH A FEW MATES WHOS GAMES HAD ALL BEEN CALL OFF THE FOLLOWING DAY SO THOUGHT MINE WOULD FOLLOW SUIT,MY PARENTS AT THE TIME RAN A SOCIAL CLUB NEAR MY HOUSE WHICH HAD A LATE LISCENCE SO POPED IN AND ENDED UP IN A LOCKIN UNTIL ABOUT 3AM.
9.45AM SUNDAY MORNING IM AWOKEN BY THE MANAGER OF THE TEAM HAMERING MY DOOR IN THE GAMES STILL ON AS IT WAS AT LITTLEHAMPTON FCS COUNTY LEAGUE GROUND SO IVE CHUCKED ON LAST NIGHT CLOTHES GRABED MY KIT BAG THAT HAS BEEN FESTERING SINCE LAST WEEKS GAME AND SHOT OUT THE DOOR.
WHEN WEVE GOT TO THE GROUND IVE OPEN MY BAG TO FIND IVE ONLY GOT LONG SCR*W IN STUD BOOTS AN THE PITCH IS AS HARD A CONCRETE.
THE GAME ITSELF WAS AWFUL ROCK HARD PITCH WIND BLOWING ABOUT FORCE 8. GOES INTO EXTRA TIME WITH SECONDS LEFT IN THE FIRST HALF THE BALL FALLS TO ME SITS UP BEATIFULLY AND IVE HIT A 35 YARD SCREAMER(FORCE 8 GALE ASSISTED) STRAIGHT INTO THE TOP RIGHT HAND CORNER CROWD ERUPTS(ALL 10 OF THEM) SUBS AND MANAGER INVADE PITCH LOOKING LIKE IVE SCORED THE WINNER IN THE COPA AMERICA.
CHANGE FOR SECOND HALF OF EXTRA TIME WE CONCED A PENALTY AND THEN THEY REALISE THAT THE FORCE 8 IS NOW ABOUT FORCE 10 DIRECTLY AT OUR GOAL THEY SPEND THE LAST 10 MINUTES PEPPERING OUR GOAL WITH 30/40 YARD EFFORTS AND RIGHT ON FULL TIME ONE GOES IN AND WERE OUT MY MOMENT OF TRUIMPH AND MORE IMPORTANTLY FREE BEERS FOR THE DAY HAS GONE AND I TRUDGE BACK TO THE DRESSING ROOM.
ON REMOVING MY BOOTS IVE GOT SIX BLISTERS ON EACH FOOT FROM THE STUDS ON MY BOOTS. I THEN START TO REMOVE MY SHIRT ONLY TO FIND MY N*PPLES ARE ATTACHED TO IT. SO I HOBBLE WITH WHAT REMAINS OF MY N*PPLES BLEEDING PROFUSLY TO THE COMUNAL BATH. HEAVEN MY ROLLERCOASTER NIGHTMARE IS OVER.
IF ONLY, I GET OUT OF THE BATH TO FIND THAT SOMEONE HAD LEFT A LARGE PEICE OF WRIGLEYS FINEST IN THE BATH WHICH HAD ATTATCHED ITSELF TO MY (I AM QUITE A HAIRY INDEVIDUAL) A*SE.
I THEN HAVE TO ENLIST THE HELP OF THE REF,BOTH MANAGERS AND MOST OF THE OPPOSING TEAM WHO AFTER THEY WIPE AWAY THE TEARS OF LAUGHTER FIND A PAIR OF SCIRRORS TO REMOVE THE OFFENDING GUM.
Also, Over the last week, I have been picking it up and putting it down sporadically, untill I got to the point I feel it is ready. I have just saved it in word and will just cut and paste it when the time is right.
I have also drafted my second and fourth blogs in the same method, my third, I have an idea of what I will write about and have a couple of gags tickling round, when I am ready to put it down, I will start that one too.
When you read them, you will probably realise why my fourth is started but not my third.
That way, you don't need to be here regularly to put your blogs up.
I just hope they don't need me to write more than 4!
Look forward to reading your blogs Hayley, they sound fascinating.
As I was travelling towards the bridge everything went into slow motion. I could see the bridge looming but I wasn’t going to hit it. Oh! No, I was going to hit the large elm tree next to it. All this went through my mind in a split second……..and then nothing, I mean nothing. I found myself in the strangest position, I was looking straight ahead and could see small coloured lights, but at that point I couldn’t make out what they were. I was in complete darkness except for the little fairy lights, and a strange gurgling sound that seemed to be getting louder. I thought to myself , ‘‘I’m dead, this is what it’s like when you’re dead. There are fairy lights and gurgling sounds all around’’ and something was wrong, very wrong. As my senses returned I realised that I was in fact hanging like a parachutist from the seat belt, the fairy lights were the dash board lights which was now below me, and the gurgling was the river. Somehow the car was standing perfectly on it’s nose in the river which came just above the drivers window. Opening the door (SAAB Turbo’s were all 2 door) wasn't an option I fancied so I decided to make my escape through the boot. After a few minutes I managed to locate a screwdriver in the boot and sprung the boot lid.
I climbed across the seats and clambered out of the boot. I was standing on the towbar and stepped off onto what should have been the bridge parapet but was now the road. I set off running up the road in what was now a snowstorm and found a farmhouse about a mile down the road. It was after midnight by this time and all good farmers are tucked up in bed at that time, so I said a little prayer and threw stones at the upstairs windows. The nicest farmer on this earth opened the window, listened to my sorry tale and said he’d help, but that it would cost me £20. After some negotiation I got him down to £15 and we were in business. We got two tractors from a large shed and drove down to my car. When we got there the engine was still running under the water and the headlights, which were still on, lit up the river for 20 yards all round. We fastened chains to the towbar and out she came, engine still running, We had a good look around the car and it seemed ok so I drove it home, promising to go back the next day with the £15.
Next morning I woke up, and what had happened seemed like a dream. Apart from the SAAB badge being missing from the front of the bonnet and the smallest of scratches the car was unmarked. I drove back to where I’d had the accident and paid the farmer. I went down to the bridge to have a look. I could see my skid marks in the grass area, and the tree I was sure I would hit was unmarked. However. Next to the tree was a felled tree lying across the front of the bridge parapet. I worked out that the car had hit the felled tree, shot up in the air and belly flopped onto the bridge. It had then tipped over and slid down into the river taking most of the bridge with it, and ended up on it’s nose. I couldn’t believe my luck and once again looked around the car. I looked underneath and there were stone scratches on the quarter inch thick sump guard which was across the front of the engine bay. The underside of the car on SAAB’s in those days had a steel guard covering the whole of the underside of the car and encased the exhaust system which sounded normal. I drove home thinking what a lucky chappy I was, no damage and better still not hurt.
The story doesn’t quite end there though. About 2 weeks later I washed the car, After washing it I got the Hoover out and started doing the inside. I did the front then climbed into the back seat to clean. I hadn’t actually sat in the back of my car before and I remember thinking that an adult would have a job getting comfy. I’m 6ft and my knees were literally up under my chin. I carried on Hoovering but thinking something wasn’t right about the back seats. I decided to check the car out properly and removed the carpets in the back. I was stunned, I got out and waked away from the car and looked at it from about 20 feet. The car was literally bent like a banana! I had to take the insurance rep to the bridge for him to see it for himself. He really didn’t believe me until he saw it for himself. He said my insurance claim form was now permanently affixed to his office wall.
Glad you liked the story......... more to follow if you can stay awake
In all honesty there have been at least 3 other occassions when I have walked away from incidents that should have killed me, or at least ended up in plaster for couple of months. I might do series of shorties about them, they are interesting, I think!
here's mine:
5 years ago i went on a school trip(i'm 18 now) to Pra Loup in France,to ski for 7 days.I had never been skiing before and had only had 1 practice session on a dry slope before heading off to try the real thing.The days were split into 2 halfs:
morning-9am-12pm was proper stuff,we had a genuine teacher and were shown all the good moves and taken to the easiest slopes on the mountain to practice them.
afternoon-1pm-4pm was called "free-ski".This was when the instructer simply toured the mountain and we would follow closely behind.
So,its the first day and we are in the basement of the hotel we are staying at with are huge suits on.We had to remove our normal footwear here and put on our skiing boots before a 5 minute walk(would have taken about 90 seconds in normal shoes) to the foot of the mountain.This walk was very icy and skiing boots are not exactly the easiest thing to walk in.As you can imagine this involved a lot of falling over and pointing and laughing by the locals.We get to the foot of the mountain where we are to wait for our intructor to meet us and i think great,worst part over.
i think the stories in this thread will teach us never to think that again!
The instuctor arrives and we go to the ski lift and the guy say:"show me your ski passes"
at this point everyone takes out their ski passes and i realise that mine is at the hotel.You know what that means?I have to run back to the hotel in ski boots(which again involved falling over pointing and laughing),change my shoes in the basement,back to my room,find the pass in a room in which 4 pre-pubesent teens have spent the night,far to exited to sleep and would much prefer to wreck the place,back down to basement,put ski boots back on,run back to mountain(which again involved...well,you get the idea) and finally get up the mountain where all my friends have been waiting for ages are not very happy with me.
Then,suprisingly,the lesson goes beautifully and i am star pupil.Then we come to the "free ski" in which me and a friend crash into each other and fall behind the group slightly as we pick ourselves back up.We get it together and carry on missing the fact that the group has turned a sharp corner.We then head straight on and across a black slope(the slopes were graded by colours showing their difficulty,black being the most difficult)This means that there are a bunch of pro's coming straight for us frightening speed!As you have probably guessed,we got hit...very hard!So hard in fact that my friend dislocated his shoulder and had stay at the hotel for the reat of the trip!I however,got lucky and simply shook it off.
So,we carry on and the rest of the free ski goes fine.Then at the end one of the more advanced teachers suggested taking some of us for some extra free ski time.I agree to go but fail to realise how advanced the group i am with is and the fact that the teacher had no idea how bad i am,and he heads straight for a black slope...which is on the side of the mountain...which has about a 100 foot drop off the side.
Because the slope started off at an easy angle,i didnt realise the danger.As we go down i start picking up speed and inevitably tumble,i am going so fast that i dont stop and simply slide across the snow straight for the drop,and most likely my death.Luckily for me the only person behind me in the group catches what has happened out of the corner of his eye and(in true action movie style) slides in front me and stops me about 10 feet from the edge.
The rest of the session is called off as 2 of just nearly died and now all of these guys are mad at me aswell!To make things worse my hero will not accept a mere "thank you" as reward and makes me(he was alot bigger and older) spend most of my spending money buying knider suprize' for the wholle group who i had "let down by not telling them i was rubbish".
it was a good trip.
The first was when I was 9 years old. Me and my friends were very lucky to live in a semi-rural area with woods, fields and lakes surrounding our house. As a youngster I was what could be described as a ‘bit of a lad’ and was always up to mischief in one way or another. One day I decided that we should build the best ‘rope swing’ in the world and so set about trying to tie a length of rope to a branch of a tree, which stretched out over the lake. The challenge was to get the rope out as far along the branch as possible in order to be able to swing out across the lake. All was going well, I’d climbed the tree with the rope wrapped around my chest and was shimmying along the branch when the branch broke. The branch bent and ejected me and the rope into the lake. The good news was the rope and I parted company on the way down, the bad news was I couldn’t swim. I remember hitting the water and the surreal sensation of millions of bubbles roaring up in front of my face. The next thing I knew I woke up on the riverbank , face down with my friends Father pressing my shoulder blades into the ground. Luckily for me my friends Father had come home from work early and taken a short cut across the field we were playing in. Fortunately he was a good swimmer and had done lifesaving in the army. I became very poorly within days and spent the next 14 months bedridden with just about every infection you can name; Glandular Fever, Scarlet fever, Kidney infections, and Rheumatic fever were the more serious results of nearly drowning in a dirty ex-mill pond. The good news is that since then I never suffer with anything, colds and flue last 24 hrs and are gone, I have a highly tuned immune system as a result of that incident.
_______________________________________________________________________________
I smoke, yes I know it’s bad for me, and my better half keeps telling me so, but smoking saved my life once, truly it did. When I started my business in 1978 things had to be done on a shoestring budget, I’d managed to buy a 4 colour printing press but it had made a huge hole in my start up capital. Being a talented lad and a qualified Printing engineer I decided to deliver, build and commission the press myself. This was a big job for one man. The printing press was 12 feet high, 8 feet wide and about 15 feet long and weighed approx. 10 tonnes. The tricky bit was that to build the machine it required the ‘bridge’, a large 2 tonne section to be hoisted to just over 12 feet in the air so that the other two main sections could be inched into place underneath it. It took me 2 nights using a block and tackle (hoist) and some rope I’d borrowed from a farmer. I was really pleased with myself, I’d worked hard, overcome numerous problems and now I had the 2 tonne section of machinery lashed into the roof trusses. One last measurement confirmed that I had got the height needed to position the other sections in place. I stood underneath the ‘bridge’ feeling rather pleased with myself and decided to have a cigarette as my reward. I walked across to the loading bay door, took out a cigarette and was just about to light it when the whole lot came crashing down. 2 tonnes of machinery from 12 feet high should have equalled SPLAT! The need for a cigarette had saved my life, It took me another two weeks to repair the damage, and after another week I had the machine up and running. 8 years later I had 12 machines, some costing 100 times more than the first one, but the original was always my favourite. We had history me and that machine.
There have been other narrow escapes but I won’t bore you all with them. Suffice to say I have been run over by a mobile crane, and most recently fallen, top to bottom down the stairs and spent a good spell in hospital as a result. Luckily I landed on my head. Apart from head, rib, back and spleen injuries I came out relatively unscathed once again. My wife says I should have been a stuntman.
Thats quite some adventures you have had, and makes me realise how uneventful my life has been...
I could tell a story about falling off my bike and suffering a grazed knee and moderate bruising, but it doesnt really stack up does it...
Ray