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The nurse asked me to remove the tea-towel and I said ok, but I can't guarantee what will happen, and explained about the amount of blood etc. She looked at me with just a little disbelief and said she'd take her chance. At that she removed the tea towel and blood squirted from my hand all over her face chest lap etc. 'Oh my goodness' she said and pressed the tea towel back against the wound. For reasons known only to her she again took away the tea towel and was sprayed with blood. With the words 'that's a cracker' she hoisted me to my feet and rushed me into the treatment area shouting ' I need help, we've got a squirter' By this point I estimate I've lost more than a pint of blood and although not squeamish I am getting a bit light headed.
A doctor and 2 more nurses came rushing over and decided to remove the tea-towel which I must be honest I didn't want them to do. It was becoming very surreal to me. They took away the towel and a cry of ''thar she blows'' went up........ok it didn't really but you get the idea by now, I'm holding my hand out and blood is spraying everyone, but particularly the doctor who immediately got me in an improvised arm lock and applied pressure to the wound. Now his first few attempts weren't very successful and he had to keep adjusting the points he was applying the pressure. This had the same effect as putting your thumb over the end of a hosepipe. Everyone, except me was being sprayed. The Doctor spent the next few minutes trying to stem the flow, and I was now on oxygen and not feeling too good.
Eventually The good Doctor managed to stem the flow and had my arm strapped to a drip stand in order to keep the wound as high as possible. Then came the time to stitch me up and the Doc was brilliant, how he managed it with blood flowing everywhere I don't know, but apparently he had to stitch it internally and externally as I'd punctured a rather important vein. Nine stitches later and I was having a cup of tea and biscuits on a blood soaked bed. It looked like a scene from a Quentin Tarrantino film and yet amazingly I didn't have one spot of blood on me. I couldn't say the same for everyone else I had come into contact with.
You might wonder what I was doing with the scissors to injure myself in the first place, well I was trying to puncture the top of a tube of antiseptic ointment.
LOL and thanks for the compliment.
Far from writers block, I have to pace myself for fear you'll all say ''oh no, here we go again.''
Crate fight at the OK coral
This one goes back a few years to when I owned a number of convenience stores. One of my stores (my first in actual fact) was in a small village and was the only shop, We had a great circle of customers and many of them were regarded more as friends than customers. Unfortunately like most shops there were also the less desirable customers, the awkward customers and the thieves. The thieves although small in numbers did cause some problems and my reaction to this was not pleasant when I caught someone taking my goods.
I had called into this particular store one morning and was working in the stockroom at the rear of the store. I had an office there and a CCTV set-up which covered both inside and outside the store. I also had ''panic button'' under the counter so that staff could alert me or the manager if there was a problem. This morning the buzzer sounded and so I looked at the CCTV screen to see a gentleman loading cooked meats into a holdall at the main chiller. I made my way to where the man was and watched him for a few seconds and was in no doubt he was planning to do a runner with about £40 of cooked meats.
Now my approach in these matters tended to be tuned to the person doing the stealing. We had caught many children in the past and a quiet word with Mum usually did the job. I caught a couple of teenagers stealing one time and made them brush, and then mop the entire shop floor. This gentleman however called for a more, shall we say, direct approach. He was a known 'druggie' and in my experience you never really knew how they would react to being caught. I walked up behind him, took a handful of his collar with my left hand, and a handful of his trousers with my right and hoisted him off the floor (the technical term for this manoeuvre is the shopkeepers wedgie). As I took his weight fully in my right hand I whispered in his ear that it would be good if he put all the meat back on the shelf. He made a sort of grunting noise and proceeded to put all the meat back. I then assisted him up the length of the shop to the door and released him whilst suggesting that he shop elsewhere in the future. A job well done........well not quite!
Once outside and 'wedgie free' he turned around, putting his hand into the holdall, and produced ...................an axe. It was a very nice axe, about 14 inches long with a bladed front and a spiked back, a bit like a tomahawk. He then started waving the axe around his head and shouting what he was going to do to me. My first instinct was to run, but unfortunately he was in front of me, and behind me were two lady customers with children and the female staff. Just outside the door I had earlier stacked about a dozen milk crates ready for collection by the milkman. Without thinking about it I picked up a crate in each hand, as I did this the mad axe man came at me and all my years of playing golf came together in the sweetest strike I'd ever made. I think it caught him in an upward arc somewhere near the chin because it literally lifted him off the ground. As he fell tumbling backwards I threw the second crate which hit him on the back of the head. As I reloaded with two more crates he took off around to the other side of the surrounding fence. There then followed a ''handbags at ten paces'' scenario where we threatened what we would do to each other. He obviously now realised the power of a plastic milk crate and decided to beat a retreat,
I went in the shop where one of the staff had rung the Police and she handed me the phone. The Policeman asked if I'd been attacked with a machete, I said no it was an axe. He asked if I was alright and what had happened. I gave him a rundown of what had taken place and I was gob-smacked at his reply. He asked me if I had hit the 'gentleman' with my milk crate before he had hit me with the axe. I asked him what he meant and he went on to explain that if I had hit him first, then I could be prosecuted for assault. I laughed and said ''what you mean assault with a deadly milk crate.'' He didn't see the funny side as I did and went on to explain that if I had been attacked first then that was OK. I said that in my opinion it was probably a simultaneous attack from both parties. He accepted that and said that a patrol car would be with us shortly.
Within 5 minutes a big Range Rover with all the stripes came roaring up with sirens and lights flashing. A quick explanation from me and they set off to look for the victim of my cowardly attack. A little later they came back with the holdall complete with axe and said that he had escaped across the local golf course. They also said that the axe had a plastic covered handle and they would get fingerprints of that and the PVC holdall. In the meantime I had been told the mans name.....,,,,wait for it.........his nickname was 'Bonehead.' I also had video footage from 2 cameras, one inside showing him stealing and the second from outside showing the crate fight at the ok coral. The policemen viewed the film and said to keep it safe as the local Police would need it as evidence.
Three months later and our local Policeman called in the shop (he wasn't a regular) and I mentioned about the incident and that I still had the video footage for their evidence. He knew nothing about it but said he'd look into it. A week later I got a letter saying that no further action could be taken due to lack of evidence.
5 witnesses, 2 CCTV films, his name and fingerprints obviously weren't enough.
Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest.
The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer.
The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??
WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.
I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button.
Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
AWESOME!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul)while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.
I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another.
The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best ...
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and ...
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD .. . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE ...!!!
I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both n i p p l e s on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!
The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.
Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! A three second burst would be considered conservative!
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.
My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both n i p p l e s were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.
Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!
P.s... My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!
If you think education is difficult, try being stupid !!!
ONLY A MAN WOULD ATTEMPT THIS
During my mid twenties I was a party animal, in fact a night in, was a complete and utter waste of time.
I woke up one morning, still plastered, I mean staggering to the toilet plastered. Looked at my watch, it was half past nine, already an hour and a half late for work. At the time was in the Navy, was late for an important meeting so knew the proverbial would hit the fan when I finally got to work. Taxi got me to work just after ten. I took a deep breath and walked into the office to face my boss. I immediately threw my hands in the air, sorry, sorry etc, it won't happen again etc, put me at the top of your pooh list etc.
He looked at me incredulously and said "what are you doing here?"
More apologies before he interrupted me again.
"You came into work this morning at half past seven, but you were so far gone I sent you home"
It came around that we were to have a parade, a large formal affair on parade ground, guest of honour being Princess Anne. The morning of the event, myself and a colleague were getting prepared in my office. Trying to squeeze into a suit 3 stone too small had me in fits of hysterics. Finally got everything done up, but I looked like a prize tool. To say I was self conscious was an understatement and was dreading the moment I'd have to speak to the Princess. Anyway, I waddled my way to parade ground and formed up with other section heads at front of parade. The Princess arrived and after Royal Guard doing the salute, she was guided down our small formation. She stopped and had a quiet word with everyone, then came to me and as is usual looked me up and down making me feel even more self concious of such a tight ill-fitting uniform, before saying to me "and how much do you weigh"
"about seventeen stones your highness" I replied
"I beg your pardon"
"I weigh about seventeen stones Ma'am"
"That's very interesting, but I asked you where you worked" she said.
What a wind.........drove back from Manchester to North Wales last night. We were in a big 4x4 with a roofbox on top. I swear the front wheels were trying to take-off going over the Thelwall Viaduct.
anyway.....
time for another true story please Elsa
who did I happen to bump into but none other than the infamous vinny jones, I promptly said hey vinny hows it going son, He took one look at me and said pii ss off tw at, I thought to myself, I gotta teach this pudding a lesson, I said, Who do you think your talking to wee man? He said, You sir, I promptly walked over to him and truthfuly expected him to run but he stayed there on the spot looking bemused, As I neared him he leaned over and you guest it, The fool tried to bite my fri ggen ear, With my lightning reflexes it all seemed like slow motion, I speedily droped to my knees and rolled under his legs giving his family jewels a swift kick on the way through and naturally roll onto my feet and into a standing possition, I was giving it the full bruce lee treatment by now, the stance, The eeooowwa an all that, Vinny looked realy scared by this point and began to cry like a big baby, I was begginning to feel sorry for him at this point but what changed my mind and focussed my attention elsewhwere was something in the sky.
Vinny as you may know is also a movie star and has some very influencial friends in the movie biz, The dod in the sky was getting larger as it approached, The next thing im sure you might not believe but none other than superman himself was standing right in front of me, Like the preverbial speeding fri ggen boolshit, I thought what the heck , Im not backing down for no freak, I tried in vain to leap over a tall building with a single bound and only managed a couple of feet, super smug baskard looked at me as if to say ill show you how to do it, He waved at me and said ill be right back son, I said come ahead im scared of no one, Anyway he promptly leeps ove the bank of scotland in saracen street, Meanwhile I phoned some neds I knew at the other end of the bank and told them to attract supermans attention while I go and obtain some kryptonite whitch isnt easy in posslepark in glasgow, I popped into tescos and no luck and then I even tried the greengrocer in vain and obviously he just laughed at me when I asked him if he sold kryptonite, while this is all happenning vinny is looking at me smugly thinking your for it my son, I rand into the nearest newsagents and bought some geen putty just in time for supermans return, I said come ahead you fa nny, He looked at me and said, You messin with ma bud vinny? I said yeah what of it ya freak in pants, he calmly walk over to me thinking no need to use any fancy moves with this glasgow boy, I held up my putty and said, You want some of this , He took one look at me and then looked at vinny and said, Your on your own vinny boy, Im off, He flew away like a pure d ick and vinny was screaming at him , you Big dirty coward, I nearly started giggling while I showed superman my putty but luckely kept it in, I think this was the biggest bluff of my life and made me feel great, I felt sorry for the vin boy and took him into the sarry head for a pint and told him never to mess with a glasgow boy , He said ,I promiss and do you forgive me? I told him ill think about it, I send him some hate mail from time to time to keep him on his toes.
just another day in the life of a glasgow boy
prior to deployment to GW1 we had to go on a course to hone our skills,and learn some new ones.
in any military environment, you must keep whats called" duties " these include gaurding the camp or being part of the emergency party, fire fighting and the like. The m.o.d in their wisdom sent a party of 14 on this course.myself and one other were the senior people on this course so they broke us into two parts, of 7 each.
as the leader of my part i had the job of driver,( hey i wanted the easy job ) so one saturday afternoon that we were duty we needed booze,and after finding there was a carryout shop in a town about 10 miles away, i took the fire engine on a training run, we found the local spar,and almost emptied the shop. beer,spirits (no wine )
no girlie men in my squad. when we got back, we parked behind our biulding in the trees out of sight of any prying eyes.
there was a local market garden close by so, we got some food and biuld a fire and had a barbie.
well the party was in full swing,we had a radio, booze and food, the fire was well established and everyone was having a whale of a time,relating past adventures, and reliving conquests with the women we had met.and looking forward to our deployment to the gulf.
by the time that we noticed that the fire was speading,well out of control,we were all so drunk that nobody could do anything, no-one in those days had a mobile (true, there were times that people didnt have mobiles )
i had to stumble back to the gaurd room to phone the FIRE BRIGADE, by the time they got there, not just the trees were on fire but yes the fire engine as well.
after this event, a few days in jail were deemed necessary by the powers that be,lucky for me and the rest of the guys, our flight was due,so they had to let us out.
to the best of my knowledge, this is the only time that the civilian fire services,have ever been called, to put out a fire on a fire engine.
Oops lol
I got the tickets good and early and paid around £75 each to get some really good seats. I got the tickets sneakily delivered at work and the suprise was set.
I completely forgot about them and never showed up. Me and the wife on the night of the concert just stayed in and wathed tv. I found them in my filing cabinet a couple of weeks after we should have gone lol.
I have bought some more today for nov 30th at the m.e.n arena but have told her this time,er, just in case.........
This story goes back to 1977 when I was the technical-sales manager of a printing-plate company in Manchester. I had a company car, a Ford Cortina at the time and it was a very nice car, and only 2 months old at this point.
Anyway, it starts on a Friday night and I'm sat at home watching TV when the boss suggests that I go to the off-licence and buy her some chocolate. I get in the car and drive the mile or so to the shop. I'm just 100yds away and stopped in the centre of the road, indicating to turn right. A gap appears in the oncoming traffic and just as I'm about to make my turn a Ford Capri hits my car up the rear end. Now, if you remember I said I was just starting my right turn but unfortunately the impact caused my car to lurch forward at a rate of knots and it didn't quite take the route I had intended. In fact it went across the road and straight through a Florists window.
On Monday morning I managed to get the car into work and went up to see the Transport manager. He was a grumpy so and so at the best of times but seeing my 2 month old Cortina really made his day. ''I suppose I'll have to rent you a car then'' were his words. Now being a guy who likes to please, and anticipating his reaction, I'd already worked out a cunning plan. ''No need'' I said, ''I'll use Alan's (one of the reps) car and he can use a van for the time it takes to get mine fixed'' He liked that and agreed with just one remark which was ''don't bu**er that one up as well''
So, that night I took the reps car home without incident. The next morning was when the fun really started though. My journey to work took me down the M62 (now the M60) towards Manchester and along the notorious ''Death Valley'' section near Prestwich. Now what happens next isn't funny as two people died in it but this is what happened.
I was in the outside lane doing about 70mph and it's raining. I have plenty of space between me and the vehicle in front and the van behind me is also being sensible and leaving plenty of stopping distance. We are travelling on the downhill section and passing a slip road which joins onto the main carriageway. I don't remember actually seeing anything happen but suddenly there was a car careering across the 3 lanes ahead of us travelling from the inside to the outside lanes.
I hit the brakes and for a few moments wasn't sure if I could stop before hitting the car in front. Anyone who has been in a high speed crash will tell you that time seems to slow down and you are aware of things at a fantastic speed. Anyway there came a point when I was sure that I had control and that I could stop before hitting the car in front. My next thought was what was coming up behind me and I looked in the mirror and saw the guy in the van behind me literally standing upright on the brakes with a look of horror on his face. I stopped, I put my arms around my head and waited for the impact. It didn't come - the van stopped inches from my car. I took my hands from my head, breathed a sigh of relief, then all hell broke loose. A transit van 4 cars back from me didn't manage to stop and he shunted 7 cars into each other. I was knocked unconscious against the drivers window and was woken by a tapping on the window. It was a Policeman and he couldn't open the doors because I had depressed the door button in the crash. I was told to stay where I was (in the outside lane) and that they would come for me. The bonnet pf my car was folded up like a tent and the boot had burst open. There were no lights or indicators but the engine still ran ok.
We were all moved and dragged across to the hard shoulder by the Police and we all stood around holding our necks. The guy in the transit and the first car he hit were sadly taken away in black bags after being cut loose by the Fire Brigade. Eventually a Policeman came talking to me. We decided the car was driveable and that as I was only going a few miles he said I could drive to Old Trafford and the office. He said to make sure I gave hand signals and gave me his card saying that if I got stopped to contact him and he would sort it out.
With that I drove away and came off the motorway. It was raining very heavy now and I had all the windows open and was getting rather wet but to be honest I was in shock and just didn't care. All went well until I got to the 5 way traffic lights at Old Trafford Station. The lights were on red when I got there and so I stopped. I was 300 yds from the office at this point. Suddenly there was an almighty bang and I was shunted out into the middle of the junction. I just sat there.
The driver of the 7 tonne wagon was very apologetic and rather concerned that I wasn't at all concerned that he had just shoved me out into the crossing traffic. When I pointed out the damage to the front of the car and explained that I'd just been in a motorway pile-up it all made sense to him. I told him not to worry about it as it didn't make any difference to the damage already done, and he gratefully left pdq. I sat there in the middle of the junction for, well I don't know how long, and eventually started the car up and limped around the corner to the office.
As long as I live I will never forget the look on the Transport Manager's face as he walked across the car park and at the same time as I came round the corner in what had been an immaculate 2 week old car. I stopped in the middle of the car park, climbed out of the car, calmly handed him the keys and went up to my office. Not a word was spoken between us. I sat in my office staring into space for quite a while, nobody came in, nobody asked what had happened, but one guy brought me a cup of tea, put it down, and left without speaking.
They say things come in 3's and for me that weekend they definitely did.