Bullace you saw Jimi and you have a 2 year old?

Well done old timer.

Ebit I had pneumonia as an asthmatic seven year old.  It was rough and my dad was worried I was going to die but I just remember the pain in my abs from coughing so much.

Why dice when you could be playing chess?

How hard is this for schools to work out? 

One person throws the javelin, discus or whatever.

LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE stands behind that person, away from the direction the projectile will go on, and in the case of discus or hammer (not that I’ve ever seen anyone doing hammer throwing at school) behind a fooking net. THAT IS HOW YOU DO IT. You do not stand children “off to the left” or an active javelin throw or let people throw the discus in the direction of an occupied cricket pitches FGS.

I always worry for those dudes who do the measuring and scoring in the Olympic javelin tbh. They always seem a bit over-keen to get out there and see where it lands. Why not chill over there out of the way until the pointy thing has stopped flying m99s?

I vividly remember (after being hit by the discus) that I had a packet of Marlboro Red (three pack which I thought was really cool and nicely held three cigarettes) slipped into my shirt pocket (I was young so had not released my sartorial error).

My m4te Dave pointed out that everyone could see this as I writhed on the ground in agony (and, for all he knew, potentially paralyzed). Thoughtless cvnt.  

I don't think I was in danger of death but, at about 13, I was in a school production and required to be dangling (hovering as a ghost) on set.  It was "our town" and we all had awful American accents.

I was rigged with, not a wire, but an adapted parachute harness bodged by the woodwork teacher... The harness was probably from the war.... the webbing rotted and I hurtled the 10-15 feet to the ground... my fall happily broken by landing on the lead.

The drama teacher said the fault was I was too heavy, the lead broke her shoulder... and it was all my fault apparently...

Oh, second one just remembered - walking above the Gornergrat glacier near Zermatt and missed the trail.  Decided not to retrace steps (which is what you are always told to do) but rather climb 100m straight up the slope (no ropes, pack on back, genius).  Was hoisting up and the main bit of rock I was holding broke away, leaving me dangling by the other hand gripping a sliver of rock.  Thank god I had been doing plenty of indoor rock-climbing and had a strong grip.  At least half a km down to the glacier floor - can still see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday. 

oh yeah...the diving bit too (Nexis' example). the regulator flipped and at 14 mtrs below surface I had 10 seconds to survive and I had already gulped water twice. 

Laz there were people at my school who were exceptionally intelligent but utterly uncoordinated who I suspect would be able to throw a javelin backwards whilst trying to throw it forwards so there is nowhere safe to stand.

Oh I forgot one - walking on the Cornish coast path near the cliff edge, slipped and was literally dangling over the edge, managed to pull myself back up with the edge I was clinging to crumbling all the time - never been so terrified in all my life- has put me off coastal walking tbh.

Warren yours is terrifying! 

ive had rock break off when climbing cossy stuff (roped) at a lower height than that and been sweating like a paedo in a them park.

a perfectly normal human being15 Jan 20 06:09

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How hard is this for schools to work out? 

One person throws the javelin, discus or whatever.

LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE stands behind that person, away from the direction the projectile will go on, and in the case of discus or hammer (not that I’ve ever seen anyone doing hammer throwing at school) behind a fooking net. THAT IS HOW YOU DO IT. You do not stand children “off to the left” or an active javelin throw or let people throw the discus in the direction of an occupied cricket pitches FGS.

This doesn't cure the issue of rank idiocy of teenagers which is absolutely prevalent in schools.

At my place in the early 80s we had a young man who was GB under 18 national champion with a javelin. As a result he spent a lot of time strutting around at school doing his thing to impress everyone (esp the girls) and firing off these javelins that seemed to hum out of his suspiciously well built arm and take flight in a way no javelin had done at that school, ever. 

Usually javelin efforts from teenage weeds went away, slightly up and wobbled down onto their sides without breaking ground or clearing any real distance. His, however, flew straight and far, up and away, with a rotation and real purpose and landed much further down the grass athletics area than people had planned for. 

As he got better, they had to make rearrangements on timing of throws and position of the launch area etc as there was an incident where an 800m run was taking place and one landed in front of a runner.  But it didn't hit the boy, he just dodged it nonchalantly (a Tangent/Best-Chetwynde moment avoided there). But that wasn't the half of it. In the way that school life does, this truly able athlete caused a brief craze of interest in track and field athletics, which had hitherto been the poor relation of cricket and tennis in the summer.  All sorts of unsuitable people started to get involved, impersonating this guy with his strange pimped strutting run-up, and his manly brace and eject technique. Almost all of the impersonators did not have his coordination or strength.

One day everyone was behind the Laz line described above and all looked safe and then a 16 year old hmongtard called Peter Simmonds picked up the spear. Peter Simmonds was not one of life's grand designs.  You would not see his frame depicted on Soviet Stakhanovite propaganda.   He was more of a preying mantis with an interest in soldering and dungeons and dragons. Peter had the coordination of a mixed breed, hungry, stray dog whose parenting included a whippet that had just been run over by the bin lorry.  Even his walk back to the start of the run up was perilous. He lurched from danger to danger as he leant down to pick up a javelin and on the way down the runway he struggled not to take his own eye out or stab himself in the foot as he tried to overcome the javelin's apparent desire to break free from his control.  

Peter made it back to the start unscathed, and without killing any of us, which was a mercy. Then he turned, lifted his weedy arm up so the javelin was by his ear and started to jog forwards like a young foal taking its first, feeble steps. Then he sped his pace up a bit and as he was approaching the line he put his arm back in a very grand way. There was something of Freddie Mercury's Live Aid tour de force in his assertive chest thrust. But, alas, he couldn't hold the damn thing level. The rear of the javelin hit the ground behind him and he looked back in alarm. This in turn seemed to bounce the balance of the thing over the fulcrum of his hand tipping the front of the spear forward violently and it was jammed into the soft ground at about 30 degrees just ahead of him. Startled and with hands in all the wrong positions, as he turned to look forward his whole body was wrenched off its balance and his feet were turned sideways, then he tripped right over left his own feet and somehow managed to force his own self onto the rear of the javelin, face first at about 45%. The weapon pierced his left cheek and across his mouth and up and out of his upper lip /nostril and he just lay there, hanging off it, staring back at us like The Scream, holding one hand on the shaft of the javelin and slumped half way down with bent knees. But he didn't hit the deck as it was so strongly planted in the ground that he was held up half and half. 

He made a noise I can only describe as "joeyish" to those familiar with that cultural reference point."Ngggh" and "hnnn" and "geerrroooweeeeah" were his main points, I think.    

Wghen I was little we had coal fires in the house as did most people then. However when I was about 5 we had gas central heating installed. At some point not long after that there was a gas leak. Luckily my parents became aware of it and got us out.

Actually possibly earlier - my mother was offered thalidomide for morning sickness in 1961. As she always tried not to take pills unless she really had to (always wise advice) she said no and thus I live.......

well you may well have lived, notwithstanding, but things would have been different.

You'd have to change your username to Thlydia for starters.

heh - many years ago I was banned by rof for posting as Flydia. and then typing very badly

I was once atop the Burj Khalifa and had overdone it a bit on the cocktails in the lounge. During the terrace tour I slipped but managed to hang on by my fingernails. I hoisted myself up Mission Impossilbe style. Thank god for the strength of acrylics!

Another honourable mention.

I was a caddy at a PGA golf tournament.

For practice the pros lined up and whacked their balls into a field. Because it was the 1980s the caddies stood out in the field and dodged the balls. The full time caddies had baseball gloves and caught them out of the air. I did not use a glove because I needed glasses and could not see the bl00dy balls in the air. It was terrifying. I tried to hang back out of range which was not easy as it was a PGA tournament and there was a mix of abilities from people like Nick Faldo and Greg Norman to my guy (a no name jobbing pro). My pro managed to hit one of the caddies smack bang on his noggin and he went down like a ninepin. He was okay but looking back it was insane that no-one said what the fvck kind of way to collect golf balls is this ???

A fooking hilarious one?

LOL @ the grenade wicket tale.

Muttley 14:54 - bravo!

I've had so many on my motorbike commuting into London that I could write a book, as there is always a twot of a driver around who takes risks the expense of a biker, who usually happens to be me. It's like riding with the Grim Reaper as pillion some days and I've been thrown over many a bonnet into the road. Written off two bikes that way. Anyway...

Really thought I was going to die when I nearly drowned swimming a drunken underwater length when skinning dipping at an office day out.

The closest I'd say is when I was cycling to work and going down a very steep hill. A car passed me and clipped my bike. I went flying through the air like an arrow and hit the ground head first. Would have broken my neck if I hadn't instinctively put my arm up. As it was I ended up with ripped muscles in my arm, neck and back. Went to the hospital in an ambulance and was left sitting in a wheelchair watching doctors and nurses chatting at the central desk. Only got seen when I asked. Cursory exam and some pain killers and told I'd be okay in a week. Total misdiagnosis. Had to have surgery to repair a sublux dislocation to my shoulder, have my arm strapped to my body for 3 months and then endure months of physiotherapy to be able to use my arm again. Body's never been right since. 

If you're wondering. The driver of the car got out after I'd dragged myself off the road to the pavement and had a crowd of people round me trying to help, saw what she'd done and jumped back in her car and drove off. Unfortunately, I wasn't wearing a helmet camera to capture the incident and I couldn't see the car registration because of the crowd blocking my view. I'll never forget her face though. I hope there is karma because she deserves a massive dose of it for what she did to me. 

When I was about six and a complete non swimmer with a fear of water I put two pairs of armbands on my ankles and jumped into the deep end at the local baths. Couldn’t reach up to get them off.   Had to get fished out, like a drowning Belisha Beacon. So stupid. 

Being on a bus in front of one that was blown up. I saw that the former bus was full and walked towards the one behind but changed my mind, and went back to the first one. A few seconds later a bomb went off on the one behind.

Being in a second country that was invaded by a third. The sounds of war were a daily occurrence; musketry by day, window-rattling artillery by night. We were evacuated after listening to broadcasts on BBC World Service. Said invaders went through the town while civilians (British and other nationalities) were away. There was no suggestion we ourselves could have been harmed, but couldn't rule it out

1: Aged 15 or 16. Had been necking cider with my friends. We were on the way to a curry. The road we had to cross was busy. I thought there was a gap. I ran out behind a van, and my right hand collided with the rear passenger door of a sports car that I had not seen as it was obscured by the van. Had I been a split second earlier, that would have been me on the bonnet. He skidded to a spot. All I could say was "sorry, mate, I scratched your car". He didn't even bollock me. 

2. Aged 31: Had too much to drink at a stag do. Decided to walk home. It was about 10 miles. At some point, decided it would be a good idea to have a nap. On the road. In the dark. On a country lane. Fortunately, the first car to come past stopped me, rather than running me over.

3. Aged about 10. Have posted this elsewhere. Was banging 1ft x 1ft sheets of metal against oil drums to make noise in a friend's garden, for the hell of it. It was a BIG garden. I was banging the sheet metal up and down. He was swinging it side to side. He let go. It frisbeed past my head, about a foot away. Would have decapitated/ taken top of skull off. He grew up to be a PROPER wrong 'un, and I still wonder to this day whether it was intentional. Like, a proper psycho. 

4. Oktoberfest, aged 19. 8000 people on the campsite. 3,997 aussies, 3,997 kiwis, us 5 poms and Billy the mad glaswegian. I met billy early in the day. He had a guitar. I played his guitar. Later that night, he accussed me of losing his plectrum. His words were "Dinnae make me angry, man. I'm pure radge psycho when i'm angry, eh?" to which my response was "What kind of animal? Like, a polecat or something?". Fortunately, my friend Tim found the plectrum. Unfortunately, I then pissed off the entire campsite by trying to teach them Oasis songs against their will, tripped over tents, trying to telephone my parents from a cigarette machine, and throwing up what I believe was bile.

5. Aged 14, cycling home from school. Jumped a curb. Front wheel fell off bike. I went over the handlebars, straight over the road, and smacked my head against the opposite curb. Passed out for I don't know how long. Don't remember much. Someone apparently took me home, where I broke into my parent's house in a daze and fell asleep. Then my mum took me to church (proper old Roman Catholic building), where i proceeded to have terrifying, concussion based hallucinations. Thanks, Mum.

Was playing mitcham golf course for the first and only time. Some fat Millwall type shanked a drive from a nearby tee box and it flew past my head missing me by about 10cms. I didn’t even see it, it was my pals who saw it. 

The aunt didn’t even shout fore and offered only a grudging apology. But he was massive so I’d didn’t say / do anything 

One more honourable mention – aged 8, I went on a school camping trip. There was a kid called Torbon who was a proper nutter (once at school pick up he locked himself in his car and pissed in his water bottle and then through it on his driver when they finally got the car door open). We were all teasing him calling him a fat spaz (he was really fat) and he tied an iron bar to a piece of rope and started swinging it round his head. I misjudged the timing and he hit me square in the face giving me a massive bruise across the whole of my face and nearly knocking me out. My parents were horrified when I was deposited back at school after the trip.

Also the camp site was on a farm and, lord alone knows why, their septic cess pit did not have a cover on it. Marvelously Torbon fell in. He had an iron constitution as he was not sick at all. I still chuckle at this.