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Senior Member
3,732 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 ·
This is shamelessly stolen from a motorbike forum, the story of a bloke called Carl as told by one of his mates.

When we first start to drive we all do insane things, this bloke has done some gems. Read and enjoy...

Ever know someone who survives in spite of being a complete & utter wally ALL the time?

Let me introduce such a person by the name of Carl Gaines, He must be in his 30's by now (assuming he's still alive). He's about 6'8 & 9 stone.

Heres a few things this guy has done:

Pootling along on a VERY old Suzuki 100 (H reg, the FIRST time around, '68?). Car pulls out in front of him, he brakes, car accelerates, he accelerates, car brakes, he continues to accellerate right into the back of it & goes over the top. Lands in front of car. Gets up, rides home.
Complains of wrist pain, I takle him to Addenbrookes. He ends up with his right wrist in a cast. next day he complains about pain in left wrist. I again take him to Addenbrookes & bring him home with 2 casts on... His father looks at him, looks at me & says "NOW what the fuck did he do???" I explain thats it a continuation of the previous crash
2 weeks later he has the plaster replaced by fiberglass because he broke the casts using em as hammers to loosen wheel nuts.
6 weeks after the accident i take him back to Addenbrookes. We exit the hospital just as an SR71 fly's over on it's way to Mildenhall. Carl looks up, trips over kerb, re breaks left wrist as he falls flat on his face in the middle of the carpark. His dad was SO impressed with that one....

Carl buys CG125 to replace bent Suzuki. It won't start & he requests a tow from his place (Chesterton) to his dad's place (near Bourne). Only person available is me, only vehicle is his dad's 750 Virago with sidecar...
I attach rope to rollbar on sidecar, Carl ties the other end around his chest. I pull away, he flies over the bars & I drag him about 40ft up Chesterton High St.
We try again
This time he ties rope to handlebars, I pull CG125 out from underneath him & drag the bike 40ft up Chesterton High St.
We try one more time
SUCCESS!! so off we go, about every mile or so along the A45 he would drop the bike in gear & let out the clutch. This would result in a smoke screen of WWII Destroyer proportions. Takes about an hour, but I get him to his dads place.
His dads comment: "NOW what the fuck has he bought? & how the hell did he get all that gravel rash from being towed???"

Carl decides to fix the Suzuki, whilst straightening out the crash damage & doing a test ride he seizes the engine. He takes the engine apart & drops the clylinder off in Cambridge for boring.
2 weeks later his dad is having a party. Carl offers me "£10 to bolt the head on". Sounds like a bargain to me, 10 quid for 4 nuts? done deal!.
However, at the party he hands me a box containing the head, barrel, piston, rings, wrist pin, small end bearing,gaskets & some other bits. The price goes up & he agrees to pay the increased price.
I assemble the engine on the back patio at the end of the garden, about 150ft from the house. I tell him it's all done & to start it.
It starts 3rd kick.....

and immediatley redlines itself, it's revving at about 10K rpm....

I yell at Carl to turn the key off, he yells back thats it's stuck in the on position...

I yell at him to him the kill switch.....

He yells back that doesn't have one

I yell at him to turn off the fuel tap

He yells back that it's jammed

I yell "goodbye" & fuck off a bit sharpish before it explodes...

Carl takes the hint & follows me down the garden back to the house in record setting time.

After 2 or 3 minutes the revs dies down, I run back to the bike & knock the plug cap off. Silence has never been so golden.

At this point Carl produces a previously unseen bike part from his pocket & asks if this has anything to do with it....
It's the idle adjustment screw.... I pick up a nearby hammer, Carl's dad tells me not to waste good tools on thick skulls.
I install the screw start bike & it idles perfectly.... Carl then asks me about *running in* & then can't work out why everyone is falling about in hysterics.

And then there was another party......
Carl has somehow come to realise that people won;t hear the doorbell when the stereo is going tits out. He rigs up the doorbell to a strobe light in the front room. He forgets to tell anyone else about this & the first I know about it is about an hour into a pile of mushrooms I think aliens are landing when someone "rings the bell".
And then the fireworks come out, me & his dad set off a few dozen bottles rockets, holding them in one hand while igniting them with the other. We're doing this sat on the windowsill & firing into the back garden.
Carl decides he wants to try this, gets about 6 bottlerockets in his left hand, Zippo in right hand, both hands out of said window. Lights the blue touch paper and.......

His girlfriend walks into the room, says *Hi Carl* & the silly bastard turns around just as the rockets ignite...
GREAT! now we have one moron, one scared girl & a half dozen or so people in the throws of mushroom madness all trying to avoid the 6 rockets now railing around the room, bouncing off walls etc.

While all this was going on, Carl's dad had gone to answer the door. I'm also in the hallway

It was the Police...

They've come about the fireworks....

Carl's dad is doing a fine job of telling them it must have been next door & almost has them convinced. They ask about screaming coming from inside the house.

Carl (the main source of the screaming)opens the living room door at this point, runs past me, his dad & the cops into the front garden. Rocket zooms along the hallway. Carls dad ducks, I duck, Cop moves his head to one side as rocket goes whizzin past his ear & explodes directly behind his head. *WHOOOMPH!!*. The garden lights up like the opening day at the fucking Somme. I'm on the floor just about pissing myself laughing.
Carl's girlfriend runs sceaming past all of us with a bunch of burning curtains in her arms. Carls dad, in one of the greatest understatements of the 20th Century looks at the cops & says "You look a tad upset Officer, would you like a cup of tea?"
Fire Brigade arrive, luckily the only burning items are the pile of curtains on the lawn.
How no one went to jail is still a mystery.

Senior Member
3,732 Posts
Discussion Starter · #2 ·
Remember back a while ago? none of his bikes are working? well his pushbike was....
Me & his dad are going to work one morning along Newmarket road. We're in/on the sidecar outfit. We bump into Carl & he aks for a tow, grabs hold of the roll bar & away we go. Carl asks that we keep it down to 15mph. We get up to 25mph, I tell Carl we're doing 15mph, he says go faster, we get to 35mph, I tell him we're doing 20mph, we slow down for the big roundabout at Newmarket Rd/East Rd/Maids Causeway. Carl is enjoying himself as we nail it down past the Zebra pub. We're doing 45mph, he thinks we're doing 25mph.
There is traffic at the other end of the road down by King St. Carls dad hits the brakes, Carl doesn't. He barely avoids 2 or 3 cars & then he's into the roundabout, bounces off the side of 3 different cars (still doing about 45mph) & heads off up the street on the other side of the roundabout.
Then he makes his almost fatal mistake
He turned round, waves goodbye to me & his dad, hits the kerb, gets airborne & disappears down someone cellar steps, still attached to the bicycle. There are trashcans at the bottom of the steps. We hear the crash from the other side of the roundabout.
His dad looks at me, I look at him. He has tears in his eyes & says "I'm fucking SURE that idiot isn't related to me".

The Car Race:

Me & a mad Irishman (Jimmy) in a mini, Carl, his dad (Bob) & Bob's girlfriend in a Moggie Minor pick up. Carl is in the back....
We're racing from Diss in Norfolk back to Cambridge. We're ahead of Carl & Bob.
For some reason Jimmy decides to *fake a breakdown to freak em out*. We screech to a halt on the A45 near Newmarket, leap out & raise the bonnet. We're stood there looking bewildered as they pass us. We're at the bottom of a hill. Carl & Bob stop at the top of the hill. We see much arm waving from Carl in the back of the pick up, they are at least 1/2mile away. Suddenly Carl gets out of the truck & starts running down the hill towards us.

Jim says *wait for it.....*

we wait...

We wait until Carl is about 100ft away, slam the bonnet shut, leap back in the Mini & haul ass. Carl looks confused, As we pass the Moggie, Bob (having sussed our cunning plan) already has it started & is pulling away.
It took Carl another 6 hours to hitch a ride home, he wasn't very happy....

Stilt Walking:

At the same party as the strobe/fireworks episode...

Carl finds 2 9ft long curtain rods, they had been holding up what is now a smoldering pile of ash in the front yard. He thinks they would make good stilts. Carl doesn't understand the principle behind stilts. Namely, that they have somwhere to put your feet.
He stands on the arm of the couch, sticks the end of a curtain rod in each armpit & sets forth. Legs flailing, he falls over.. repeatedly.

Carl is one of those *scruffy buggers* with all the sartorial elegance of a homeless bum. He's wearing TWO pairs of Levi's. The outer pair being so shreaded that they are little more than rags. I point out to him that the reason for his failure is his legs swinging about & suggest that he slide the curtain rods between the 2 pairs of Levi's. His dad looks at me & furtively pulls a camera out of his pocket.
We get the curtain rods up his levi's & out the holes near the front pockets, Carl stands on the arm of the couch again, He sets forth. He makes one step & looses his balance, However, with the rods up his trouser legs he can't put his feet out to stop the fall. The guy who owns the house realises Carl is going to land in the middle of the coffee table. Halfway to the floor, the doorbell *rings* & everything goes into slo-mo because of the strobe lighting. He heroically pulls the coffee table out of the way just in time & Carl plunges face first into a marble fireplace instead. The end of one curtain rod hits the end of the coal shovel in the fireplace. There is a lump of coal on the shovel. The lump of coal smashed the chandelier, the shovel went thru the speaker on the front of the television.
I'm on the floor CRYING with laughter.

The Night He Lost His Virginity......

Carl arrives home with some Fen Rd slapper from Cambridge. He promptly heads off to his bedroom with said slapper. Carl has a brother, Ricky...... Ricky, Bob & I are downstairs watching TV. Ricky grabs his ghetto blaster & heads up the stairs. There's a bit of shouting & Ricky returns without the ghetto blaster. He keeps checking his watch. After 45 minutes he goes upstairs again & returns with the GB. He extracts a tape.
He then explains that the first time he went upstairs he'd openned the door to enquire if Carl & the gal would like a cuppa tea, On being told to bugger off he left the GB in the room, with *record* pressed....
He then returned 45 minutes later to get it before the tape clicked off alerting Carl & the gal....
Ricky puts the tape into the stereo & rewinds it. He presses *play*........
.....just as Carl & the gal enter the room....
No one says a word, there is much grunting issuing from the stereo.
Carl says *This is good, where'd ya get the porn tape?"
The gal realises whats going on & storms off. Carl ignores her departure.
Carl is really liking this *porno tape*.......

right up until the part where they started talking....

Her: "Did you cum?"
Carl: "Well, either that or I think I pissed myself"

I fell off the fucking couch I was laughing so hard, Bob has tears rolling down his face, Carl is beating the living snot outta his brother.

As mentioned elsewhere we used to go to Glastonbury....

One year we all decide we need new tents. Someone has discovered a camping supply place with an outdoor showroom. The added advantage is it's out in the boonies.
Fast forward a few days:
We all meet up at a pub (so we've had a few...) & head out to the camping place. It's pitch black & there isn't a street lamp within 10 bloody miles.
We climb over the fence & find out that the tents have there storage bags inside, bonus!
We set out collapsing & rolling up some tents. This takes the better part of 45 minutes. The truck is parked about a mile away & one of us signals the driver with a torch.
At this point we have all the tents over the fence & most of us are on the outside...... Except me & Carl.
Carl decides that he's Rambo & does one of those *half climb/roll over the top of the fence* moves.
I can't see anything in the dark, but I reconise the sound of a fence collapsing & a body hitting the ground. I walk in the direction of the noise..... & step on the back of Carls neck. There follows a bit of cursing & he gets up. I thank him from saving me a climb over the now flat fence.
Somehow we'd all missed a HUGE fen drainage ditch on the way in..... Carl didn't have any trouble finding it on the way out tho. SPLASH! much cursing & blubbering. Carl gets to ride in the back of the truck being as he is now somewhat wet. Any idea what being soaked to the skin, in the back of an open truck, with the wind blowing, during a 40 mile drive, at night, does to a human body? Took him a week to recover & he ended up with the smallest tent.

Remember the bottle rockets? Me & Carls dad had a profitable sideline doing BIG firework shows (did the one on Midsummer Common a couple of times). We also did a bit of movie work with stuff such as Flak Simulators.... These look like a lightbulb, only bigger. Electricaly detonated by 4 or more Volts. The stem is the propelant, the *bulb* part is the effect There are 2 kinds:
1, Day: HUGE!! Bang, Very large black smoke cloud
2, Night: HUGE!! Bang, Fucking enormous orange fireball.

They are launched from a tube much like a mortar, Bob has 3 tubes mounted on the roll bar of his Moggy Minor pickup.
There's a Police helicopter flying over Glastonbury looking for drug dealers etc.

It's doing flyby's at about 500ft....

Flak Simulators explode at 1000ft.....

We have a crate full of them......

We fired off 9 rounds.....

The Helicopter left in a hurry for some reason, a Harrier turned up 10 minutes later.

We didn't fire any more off that weekend.

Senior Member
3,732 Posts
Discussion Starter · #3 ·
There was some big anniversary going on. Something to do with Drake & 200 (300? 400?) years I believe.
We have 2 Ammo Barges moored in the middle of the harbor & they are FULL of electrically det fireworks, Several £1000 worth.
Everything is set. I'm on one barge along with Bob & Carl. We have miles of bloody wire all over the place & 100's of mortar tubes loaded ready to rock. They are controled by timers to the split second.
For the finale we have a 24in mortar (yes, 2ft, it's a big fooker). It's at the far end of the barge. We're not sure we want to even be in the same county when it goes off. We are in radio contact with the boss on the shore & the guys on the other barge.
The show starts, we light up Plymouth harbor like a bad night in Dresden. Everything is going great.
Then we have a 6in mortar misfire. It detonates in the tube & the entire rack falls over. The misfire was the 1st of 6 in that rack, the other 5 go off 1 second apart, except now they don't go up, they go horizontal. This causes some panic on our part as this leads to other racks being knocked over. It's all going pear shaped & shit is flying in every direction but up. Half of it is exploding on the fucking deck we're stood on & the other half is launching directly at the crowd on the shore, luckily we're a long way from shore.
We're pulling wires out all over trying to stop the mayhem, Bob is throwing batteries overboard. Me, Carl & Bob are hit several times by 4, 5, 6, & 8inch mortars, we're basicaly running around on fire. I saw Carl stop an 8in mortar with his chest & it knocked him 20ft along the deck. They detonate so many seconds after leaving the tubes so if ya get hit with one as it launches ya have 3 or 4 seconds to get out of the way before it explodes. However, there are literally dozens of the damn things rolling about the deck & they are all primed & *ticking*. We were actually picking them up & throwing them over the side. The thought that we are on a Royal Navy Ammo barge does nothing to calm any of us down. I'm hoping there isn't a pile of 4.5inch shells on board that they forgot to unload..

Then the 24in mortar goes off,

There was a muffled *phut* which indicated another bloody misfire. The mortar does manage to leave the tube, it even leaves the barge. It lands on the breakwater by the harbour entrance & explodes on impact.
Some idiot had rowed out to the breakwater for a better view of things. He was hiding behind that little wooden hut at the end of it. The mortar landed the other side of the hut. He got a VERY good look at the 24in mortar exploding, the first I knew of someone on the breakwater was when he went past me at head height with no clothes on.... screaming in agony. At that moment the fireworks finally stopped & the last sound I heard was a large splash as the guy hit the water. The police fished him out & took him to hospital.
I ask Bob where his radio is, he replies:
"Well, everything was going to hell, rockets were launching horizontally, You were on fire, so was Carl, I'm dumping batteries overboard & the fucking boss on the shore gets on the radio & says to me "er, hello? have you capsized??" at that point it went to join the batteries...."

And that is the reason there is no longer a small wooden hut on the end of the breakwater.....

The end of season party...
After the fireworks shows we'd pile what was left into the truck & haul it back to Bob's place. After the summer we'd have a HUGE pile of tubes & wooden racks. We used it for a bonfire. The entertaining part of this was that some tubes would contain unexploded fireworks. They would explode once we set fire to the pile tho....
We'd all be out in the garden having a geat time & every few minutes something would explode in the bonfire. Sometimes stuff would actually launch.
I'm stood there with 4 or 5 other idiots about 60ft from the bonfire. We're on the side of a hill. Carl is next to me. One guy drops his cigs & the EXACT second he bent down a rocket came out of the bonfire heading straight for us. It missed everyone in the group, it would have hit ciggy guy in the back had he not bent over at that moment.
He missed the rocket going past but heard the *whoosh* & saw it explode in the woods. In fact we're all looking at the woods.
Then there is a yell from further up the hill, it's Bob...


Yes dad?

Ya fucking hat is on fire son!"

We all look at Carl & sure enough, the bobble on his bobble hat is fully engulfed in flames. Given his height & weight he looked like a frigging candle on a birthday cake.
Luckily several of us had glasses of beer & were only too happy to put the fire out.


Senior Member
887 Posts
Absolute genius! I'm in the middle of my office pissing myself laughing with tears streaming down my face! :xD

Senior Member
3,137 Posts
that guy should write a book about the exploits, brilliant
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