I mentioned to Carruthers the other day that walking past the serious burns ward at Stoke Mandeville hospital was always disconcerting. It honestly smelled of cooked meat. I only did it when I had to have a blood test (back in the days when that was scary to me, before the NHS started selling my blood on eBay or the black market or something) so it didn't make me hungry...

I bet I would smell like bacon.

Other Worst Ways To Die
 

Feet first through a poorly-tuned wood chipper.

Buried alive in a pine coffin.

Thats lighter wood to you boy.

tarheel

Get run over by a Goldwing.

tarheel

What, no recipes? Might I suggest a simple sage, onion and cranberry stuffing, and a mustard honey glaze?

And if you feel guilty about it afterwards we can dig a grave and you can throw up into it.

Hah!

So funny!

:hurl:

A few months ago I was walking down the street and I run into my old friend Bruce, "Hey Bruce, what's new? I haven't seen you ages." I ask.

"Don't call me Bruce, Call me Mr. Lucky!"

"Huh?"

"Last month I was driving along minding my own business when I notice a semi loaded with steel, change lanes coming straight at me. I can't go around him because I'm blocked by a school bus on my left and there is a rock wall on my right. Just when I think it couldn't get any worse I see in the rear view mirror another semi, this one loaded with concrete pre-cast forms bearing down on me at top speed.

"The next thing I knew I was sitting in a hay wagon loaded with new-mown hay next to a voluptuous farm girl. I was miraculously ejected from the vehicle and landed unscathed.

"I sued both trucking companies and won a $25 million judgement from each of them."

"Holy crap! You are Mr. Lucky."

A couple of weeks later, I run into him again, "Mr. Lucky! What's happening?" I ask.

"Don't call me Mr. Lucky." he says, "Call me Mr. Lucky Lucky."

"Say what, now?"

"I decided to take a vacation to Hawaii with some of the scratch I got from the accident. Things were going great until we were just about to land when the plane had engine trouble and began a rapid descent. Unfortunately there was another plane right in our path and the two planes collided. Both planes were immediately destroyed, torn to shreds. Me and a stewardess were in the lavatory joining the mile-high club when it happened. The whole lavatory, with us in it, flew off in another direction from the rest of the wreckage and we made a safe landing in the water. Some dolphins pushed us to shore and we were the only survivors.

"We sued both plane companies and won $100 million and free first class airfare for life. Not only that, but the dolphins also pushed out luggage to the shore along with us."

"Wow. No question about it, you ARE Mr. Lucky Lucky!"


A few days ago, I run into him again, "Mr. Lucky Lucky! How's life treating you?" I said.

"Don't call me Mr. Lucky. Call me Mr. Lucky Lucky Lucky."

"Uh oh, what happened this time?"

He began, "Last week I was in bed with that stewardess I met, and we were really going at, hammers and tongs, when her husband (she never told me she was married!) burst in the door, pulled out a gun and shot me in the ass!"

"Ummm, How is that lucky?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? If he'd come in five minutes earlier it would have been the back of my head."

This thread keeps making me think of this song:

You are not alone, Your Fobbleness.

Reading the thread on the phone, scroll, scroll, scroll, scroll... The title bar of that vid appears on the bottom of my screen and the whole earworm pops into my head, instantly, complete.

You are not alone, Your Vness.