Quote by lucyweebaps
I'm sure we can make room for you chunky
Lucy xxx
I'll try not to knock over too many guests with my rump of plenty!
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Chunky__Love
Over 90 days ago
Straight Male, 50
Forum
Quote by Teesside Guy
You may find that Dr Jack Daniels may help you sleep! ( I dont mean the whole bottle, just a tall Jack n coke to chill you out. Works for me!
Funnily enough bud, I indulged in a couple of Mr Daniel's finest last night whilst writing down the story! That probably helped me sleep too..
Anyway, here's a picture of the cut itself, hardly worth writing home about, is it?
Rachel - I'm also a big fan of Geoff's books, and it's through his writing that I've learned how to deal with things like the Adrenal Dump your body suffers when faced with a 'fight or flight' situation, and how to deal with the after effects you suffer after everything is finished.
I knew that my pacing and such was down to the adrenalin pumping it's way through me, and even though my mind was buzzing the whole night afterwards I think putting the words down in black and white has really helped me clear my thoughts.
I'm amazed by some of the stories that others are posting in here as well. My thoughts go out to you all who've suffered similar or worse situations..
All I can say is thank you to everyone here that has either posted words of encouragement, or PM'd me telling me the same. Means a lot to me, and shows what a great community you all have here.
I'm glad to be a member.
I knew that my pacing and such was down to the adrenalin pumping it's way through me, and even though my mind was buzzing the whole night afterwards I think putting the words down in black and white has really helped me clear my thoughts.
I'm amazed by some of the stories that others are posting in here as well. My thoughts go out to you all who've suffered similar or worse situations..
All I can say is thank you to everyone here that has either posted words of encouragement, or PM'd me telling me the same. Means a lot to me, and shows what a great community you all have here.
I'm glad to be a member.
I drove home and parked up outside my flat about 14:55 today, (Friday 3rd June) turned off the ignition and grabbed the bits and bobs I had laying around the motor to take into the house. I got out the car and had taken no more than two steps toward the front door of my block of flats before I heard someone shout in a scouse accent, "Hey Big Guy!"
I turned to look across at the shopping centre that sits opposite my house, and saw a collection of scaggy looking, junkie sh!tebags slouching around the back of the centre all looking across at me as one of their number shouted at me. I ignored it and kept walking to the door of my flat, and again the boy shouted, "Hey Big Guy, are you a f*cking bouncer?"
I stopped and looked across, and thought it best to not admit that I was in case it set them off. So I said, "Sorry lads, not me".
This was mistake number one.
"You're a f*cking liar" screams the tall lad wearing a dark blue tracksuit top and bottoms, "You f*cking are a bouncer." He shot me a look of pure hatred before turning to his group saying, "Let's do him".
Now, the group consisted of two young lads, a fat blonde girl and two old lads that looked like they were in their 60's. I knew that if I ran to the security door and fumbled in my pocket for my keys, that by the time I had put the magnetic fob against the security panel, got in through the door and shut it behind me they would have been well in behind me, with access to all the flats in the block. Not wanting them to find out which flat was mine, I decided to stand my ground.
As they reached me I shoved the car stereo face and the keys I had been carrying into the pocket of my jeans, turned toward them and waited for the attack. I tried to remain calm, but I won't lie to you and say I wasn't worried. The two lads that came at me weren't that big, and they both looked like they were in their mid twenties, and I fancied my chances at defending myself against them.
Now, don't be under the misapprehension that I was thinking I was some kind of hardman at this point. No, my self belief came from seeing how out of their heads they obviously were on some kind of narcotic, and the nervousness I could see in their eyes when they saw me stand my ground as they charged me.
They attacked, and I spent what felt like five minutes throwing them around in an attempt to defend myself, (even though it was probably less than a minute in total) all the time growling at them in the hope that this would intimidate them to back off, and it would alert my neighbours who would hopefully phone the police for me. Back and forth they came, as I deflected, (and received) blow after blow, kick after kick..
It was coming to a point where I could sense things were swinging well in my favour, and I could see by their eyes that they thought the same as I did. They both backed off, and the lad to my right shouted across to the fat blonde girl, "Give me the knife!"
My heart froze, I watched as she opened her handbag and reached inside and my first reaction was to take him out the game so that he couldn't get that knife from her hand. I dived at him, and powered him to the ground thinking I had stopped the knife from coming into the game.
This was mistake number two.
I had clean forgotten about junkie number two, the slightly smaller and more weasel like one had ran around behind me, and had taken the knife from the girl. As I watched him extend the folding locking knife out my heart sank, and I knew that I was now in some pretty deep shit. The blade was a good 4-5 inches long as I watched it sway in front of me, and as I stood there transfixed by the swinging metal, I heard him say, "Not such the hard man now, eh?"
Now, I can honestly say that this scared the shit out of me. By the look in his eyes he was meaning business, and as I watched this blade get closer and closer I knew that I had to get myself out of this.
I backed away hurriedly, holding my hands up in front of me telling the guy that this was a bloody silly mistake, and that if he left now I would say fuck all to the police. He kept coming, swiping at me with the blade whenever he got close.
I tried to remain calm, hoping that I could get through to the lad before he stuck me like a human pin cushion. Twice more the blade flashed past me, how the hell I was dodging it was a mystery.
Eventually I stumbled, and seeing the opening he lunged toward me and slashed the blade across my chest. I had managed to move back as it hit me, so it didn't cause as much damage as it could have, but I felt the blade run across my upper torso as the lad stared at me with a smile.
I looked down, and could see no damage to the top I was wearing, so thinking I had had a lucky escape I stopped dead, faced the approaching lad waving the blade and said, "Enough of this shit. Neither you or I want to get hurt here. I can hear the police car coming now, and if you take off now I will say fuck all when they get here."
Hearing the sirens approach they stopped in their tracks, and the other lad that had been egging knife boy on realised I was right. He grabbed knife boy's arm and pulled him away, and they all turned and ran down past the shop and into the distance.
I ran into the flat to grab my camera, determined to get a picture of these b*stards to help the police identify them. I ran for the bedroom window that overlooks the back of the shop where they had stopped, and zoomed in with my camera trying to take a pic. Unfortunately the picture came out really poorly, as the digital zoom on my camera is pretty poor at best. I decided to go back outside and try and get a closer snap, and as I stepped out the front door the police car swung in beside me, (they had received three calls about the incident) and asked where they were. Once I'd pointed out which direction they had gone they shot off, and had managed to stop the lads on another street nearby and took them into custody.
I felt my chest stinging, so lifted my undamaged shirt to find a 4 inch abrasion across my chest, with maybe only an inch of that being broken skin. What I think happened was that the edge of the blade itself wasn't sharp, but as he dragged it over my chest the point must have connected with the skin without tearing the shirt. Anyway, it's only a minor cut at best, so I wasn't really worried about it.
I gave statements to the police, and had to take the night off work so that I could go along to the police headquarters to have pictures taken of my cut. They also wanted me to ID some clothing they had, but unfortunately that didn't come to pass and I'll have to go back at a later date to do that.
Here's the thing, once the dust had settled and I had time to sit down in my home to relax I started acting a bit strangely. I couldn't stop taking deep breaths for a good while, and I found myself unable to sit for long without getting up and doing something active, possibly to take my mind off what had just happened to me. I was pacing around the house like a caged animal, finding faults with stupid things around the house that I could get angry about, and then when I started phoning people to let them know what happened I was holding back tears in my eyes, and I seriously had no idea why they were there as I felt calm and collected recounting the tale over the phone line..
My mind was racing, and still is to an extent. What if I hadn't been able to move back as much as I did? What if that cut had been deeper and wider? Why the hell didn't I try to disarm the b*stard? They say that hindsight is 20/20, and I know that I shouldn't be pouring over what should have been, but I can't help thinking 'if only'.
Like I said I took the night off work, and after I explained what happened to my employers they were more than understanding. I even received a text from my main boss telling me not to worry, that he would take care of my lost nights wages for me. I really appreciated seeing those words on the wee screen of my mobile phone.
I also really appreciate that so many people tried phoning me and texted me so soon after it happened to check I was ok. Meant a lot to me that so many people were so concerned about my well-being. Thanks to everyone that got in touch, it really gave me a boost.
So what now? I'm sitting here at my computer and it's now 03:09 in the morning. I've tried sleeping and that sure as hell isn't working, I've tried watching some tv but I'm finding myself distracted and easily losing the thread of what's happening on the screen.. I'm sure it'll pass,
Anyway, there's the story of what happened to me today. Seemingly attacked for being a bouncer..
I turned to look across at the shopping centre that sits opposite my house, and saw a collection of scaggy looking, junkie sh!tebags slouching around the back of the centre all looking across at me as one of their number shouted at me. I ignored it and kept walking to the door of my flat, and again the boy shouted, "Hey Big Guy, are you a f*cking bouncer?"
I stopped and looked across, and thought it best to not admit that I was in case it set them off. So I said, "Sorry lads, not me".
This was mistake number one.
"You're a f*cking liar" screams the tall lad wearing a dark blue tracksuit top and bottoms, "You f*cking are a bouncer." He shot me a look of pure hatred before turning to his group saying, "Let's do him".
Now, the group consisted of two young lads, a fat blonde girl and two old lads that looked like they were in their 60's. I knew that if I ran to the security door and fumbled in my pocket for my keys, that by the time I had put the magnetic fob against the security panel, got in through the door and shut it behind me they would have been well in behind me, with access to all the flats in the block. Not wanting them to find out which flat was mine, I decided to stand my ground.
As they reached me I shoved the car stereo face and the keys I had been carrying into the pocket of my jeans, turned toward them and waited for the attack. I tried to remain calm, but I won't lie to you and say I wasn't worried. The two lads that came at me weren't that big, and they both looked like they were in their mid twenties, and I fancied my chances at defending myself against them.
Now, don't be under the misapprehension that I was thinking I was some kind of hardman at this point. No, my self belief came from seeing how out of their heads they obviously were on some kind of narcotic, and the nervousness I could see in their eyes when they saw me stand my ground as they charged me.
They attacked, and I spent what felt like five minutes throwing them around in an attempt to defend myself, (even though it was probably less than a minute in total) all the time growling at them in the hope that this would intimidate them to back off, and it would alert my neighbours who would hopefully phone the police for me. Back and forth they came, as I deflected, (and received) blow after blow, kick after kick..
It was coming to a point where I could sense things were swinging well in my favour, and I could see by their eyes that they thought the same as I did. They both backed off, and the lad to my right shouted across to the fat blonde girl, "Give me the knife!"
My heart froze, I watched as she opened her handbag and reached inside and my first reaction was to take him out the game so that he couldn't get that knife from her hand. I dived at him, and powered him to the ground thinking I had stopped the knife from coming into the game.
This was mistake number two.
I had clean forgotten about junkie number two, the slightly smaller and more weasel like one had ran around behind me, and had taken the knife from the girl. As I watched him extend the folding locking knife out my heart sank, and I knew that I was now in some pretty deep shit. The blade was a good 4-5 inches long as I watched it sway in front of me, and as I stood there transfixed by the swinging metal, I heard him say, "Not such the hard man now, eh?"
Now, I can honestly say that this scared the shit out of me. By the look in his eyes he was meaning business, and as I watched this blade get closer and closer I knew that I had to get myself out of this.
I backed away hurriedly, holding my hands up in front of me telling the guy that this was a bloody silly mistake, and that if he left now I would say fuck all to the police. He kept coming, swiping at me with the blade whenever he got close.
I tried to remain calm, hoping that I could get through to the lad before he stuck me like a human pin cushion. Twice more the blade flashed past me, how the hell I was dodging it was a mystery.
Eventually I stumbled, and seeing the opening he lunged toward me and slashed the blade across my chest. I had managed to move back as it hit me, so it didn't cause as much damage as it could have, but I felt the blade run across my upper torso as the lad stared at me with a smile.
I looked down, and could see no damage to the top I was wearing, so thinking I had had a lucky escape I stopped dead, faced the approaching lad waving the blade and said, "Enough of this shit. Neither you or I want to get hurt here. I can hear the police car coming now, and if you take off now I will say fuck all when they get here."
Hearing the sirens approach they stopped in their tracks, and the other lad that had been egging knife boy on realised I was right. He grabbed knife boy's arm and pulled him away, and they all turned and ran down past the shop and into the distance.
I ran into the flat to grab my camera, determined to get a picture of these b*stards to help the police identify them. I ran for the bedroom window that overlooks the back of the shop where they had stopped, and zoomed in with my camera trying to take a pic. Unfortunately the picture came out really poorly, as the digital zoom on my camera is pretty poor at best. I decided to go back outside and try and get a closer snap, and as I stepped out the front door the police car swung in beside me, (they had received three calls about the incident) and asked where they were. Once I'd pointed out which direction they had gone they shot off, and had managed to stop the lads on another street nearby and took them into custody.
I felt my chest stinging, so lifted my undamaged shirt to find a 4 inch abrasion across my chest, with maybe only an inch of that being broken skin. What I think happened was that the edge of the blade itself wasn't sharp, but as he dragged it over my chest the point must have connected with the skin without tearing the shirt. Anyway, it's only a minor cut at best, so I wasn't really worried about it.
I gave statements to the police, and had to take the night off work so that I could go along to the police headquarters to have pictures taken of my cut. They also wanted me to ID some clothing they had, but unfortunately that didn't come to pass and I'll have to go back at a later date to do that.
Here's the thing, once the dust had settled and I had time to sit down in my home to relax I started acting a bit strangely. I couldn't stop taking deep breaths for a good while, and I found myself unable to sit for long without getting up and doing something active, possibly to take my mind off what had just happened to me. I was pacing around the house like a caged animal, finding faults with stupid things around the house that I could get angry about, and then when I started phoning people to let them know what happened I was holding back tears in my eyes, and I seriously had no idea why they were there as I felt calm and collected recounting the tale over the phone line..
My mind was racing, and still is to an extent. What if I hadn't been able to move back as much as I did? What if that cut had been deeper and wider? Why the hell didn't I try to disarm the b*stard? They say that hindsight is 20/20, and I know that I shouldn't be pouring over what should have been, but I can't help thinking 'if only'.
Like I said I took the night off work, and after I explained what happened to my employers they were more than understanding. I even received a text from my main boss telling me not to worry, that he would take care of my lost nights wages for me. I really appreciated seeing those words on the wee screen of my mobile phone.
I also really appreciate that so many people tried phoning me and texted me so soon after it happened to check I was ok. Meant a lot to me that so many people were so concerned about my well-being. Thanks to everyone that got in touch, it really gave me a boost.
So what now? I'm sitting here at my computer and it's now 03:09 in the morning. I've tried sleeping and that sure as hell isn't working, I've tried watching some tv but I'm finding myself distracted and easily losing the thread of what's happening on the screen.. I'm sure it'll pass,
Anyway, there's the story of what happened to me today. Seemingly attacked for being a bouncer..
I work full time nights, usually from about 7 or 8pm until as late as 3 or 4 in the morning. So when I get home I'm still usually wide awake, and sit up for a couple of hours winding down by watching a bit of tv, or sticking on the Xbox.
Then, with my days free I'm either out at the gym, at the swimming pool or in the house relaxing, usually with a bit of xbox play! I'm not addicted by any means, but I do get stuck into it if I have a free minute..
(So if any of you are on xbox LIVE, drop me a pm and I'll give you my gamertag. )
Then, with my days free I'm either out at the gym, at the swimming pool or in the house relaxing, usually with a bit of xbox play! I'm not addicted by any means, but I do get stuck into it if I have a free minute..
(So if any of you are on xbox LIVE, drop me a pm and I'll give you my gamertag.
) It's not really in 'the line of duty' when I was injured as such, but I was at work when I damaged the wee soldier so it does kinda count!
Was about a year ago and it was getting late on in the club. I was busting for a piddle so I ran up to the toilets and unleashed the fury against the porcelain. Things were going well, I was draining the main vain and trying desperately to avoid the splashback then as I gave it a wee shake to loosen off any hangers on, (Lets face it lads, "No matter how much you shake your peg, at least one drop goes down your leg ) I stood back and ripped up the zipper on my work trousers.
However, in my haste to get out of there I had forgotten one important thing. To return my little soldier to his barracks before pulling up my zipper. :shock:
I felt an almighty pain, and I looked down to see my poor wee friend intertwined with the metal teeth of the zipper. Now, any sensible man would see this travesty and make haste to the nearest A&E. No, not commando Chunky Love. Gritting my teeth like Rambo preparing to stitch a wound, I ripped the zipper downwards to free my dirty water gun.
Now, can I recommend to any other men out there that should you ever get entangled in your Wranglers that you do NOT pull down on the zipper. For the love of god, seek out a man of medicine who knows what the hell they are doing and leave it in their hands..
I looked down to see a very bloody stump wink at me, so at that point I thought it best to make haste to the nearest hospital.
Anywho, ran out to the car and raced like a mad fool to A&E. Slammed the car into a parking space and scarpered inside. Was impressed how well the receptionist managed to stifle her giggles whilst entering my details into the computer, and took a seat in the waiting room.
Shortly guided to a wee treatment room, where several nurses and doctors came through to 'inspect' the wee patient. (Remembering of course folks that it was cold, early in the morning, erm... have I said cold? Ach ok, no excuses.. It wasn't at it's most glorious of length)
Finally after lying there for about an hour bleeding, a middle aged indian doctor arrived who had obviously had just been dragged oota his bed. I think someone said he was a specialist, (Do you get willy mangling specialists?).
Anyway, made it my first priority to make this guy my new best friend, as he quite literally held my future in his hands..
After a quick inspection he said that he would stitch it back up, but should it get any worse over time the old '1-2-3-4 skin' will be getting the chop. So, laid back while I received two local anesthetic injections into the base of the penis, (Good god, I nearly backflipped back into the waiting room. Which undoubtably would have impressed the old lady sitting waiting for her husband) then the stitches.. :shock:
"So, worked here long?" said I in a vain attempt to break the embarrassed silence that was hanging in the air whilst the good doctor, looking very unimpressed, manhandled the meat and two veg... You know, it's amazing the patterns you see in roofing tiles when you do your damndest not to look at what's happening below..
Anyway, to cut a long story even longer, the doctor finished off his sewing with a mean looking cross-stitch, and snipped the thread off. (Can I just add that the snipping noise was not enjoyed either.) 8 stitches in total. And that's not some kinda idle boast to try and make out I'm some trouser gargantuan! No, those stitches were arranged 'inside to out' around my winky's polo neck.
At this point I dared a wee look at the downstairs car crash, and thank the big man I was lying down.. Jesus, it looked for all the world like one of those chest bursters from 'Aliens'.
Anyway, after a few cautionary words of advice and some pills, a handshake with the doctor signalled my departure from the hospital and my swift journey home in the motor.
Now, the worst part was that for about a month afterwards whenever I went for a piss it felt like I was passing hot magma, and the wee soldier swelled up to near three times it's size! (Which would have been impressive had it not turned a kinda black colour..) It healed up eventually though, and now I've been left with some natural ribbing where the teeth caught me!
Was about a year ago and it was getting late on in the club. I was busting for a piddle so I ran up to the toilets and unleashed the fury against the porcelain. Things were going well, I was draining the main vain and trying desperately to avoid the splashback then as I gave it a wee shake to loosen off any hangers on, (Lets face it lads, "No matter how much you shake your peg, at least one drop goes down your leg
) I stood back and ripped up the zipper on my work trousers.However, in my haste to get out of there I had forgotten one important thing. To return my little soldier to his barracks before pulling up my zipper. :shock:
I felt an almighty pain, and I looked down to see my poor wee friend intertwined with the metal teeth of the zipper. Now, any sensible man would see this travesty and make haste to the nearest A&E. No, not commando Chunky Love. Gritting my teeth like Rambo preparing to stitch a wound, I ripped the zipper downwards to free my dirty water gun.
Now, can I recommend to any other men out there that should you ever get entangled in your Wranglers that you do NOT pull down on the zipper. For the love of god, seek out a man of medicine who knows what the hell they are doing and leave it in their hands..
I looked down to see a very bloody stump wink at me, so at that point I thought it best to make haste to the nearest hospital.
Anywho, ran out to the car and raced like a mad fool to A&E. Slammed the car into a parking space and scarpered inside. Was impressed how well the receptionist managed to stifle her giggles whilst entering my details into the computer, and took a seat in the waiting room.
Shortly guided to a wee treatment room, where several nurses and doctors came through to 'inspect' the wee patient. (Remembering of course folks that it was cold, early in the morning, erm... have I said cold? Ach ok, no excuses.. It wasn't at it's most glorious of length)
Finally after lying there for about an hour bleeding, a middle aged indian doctor arrived who had obviously had just been dragged oota his bed. I think someone said he was a specialist, (Do you get willy mangling specialists?).
Anyway, made it my first priority to make this guy my new best friend, as he quite literally held my future in his hands..
After a quick inspection he said that he would stitch it back up, but should it get any worse over time the old '1-2-3-4 skin' will be getting the chop. So, laid back while I received two local anesthetic injections into the base of the penis, (Good god, I nearly backflipped back into the waiting room. Which undoubtably would have impressed the old lady sitting waiting for her husband) then the stitches.. :shock:
"So, worked here long?" said I in a vain attempt to break the embarrassed silence that was hanging in the air whilst the good doctor, looking very unimpressed, manhandled the meat and two veg... You know, it's amazing the patterns you see in roofing tiles when you do your damndest not to look at what's happening below..
Anyway, to cut a long story even longer, the doctor finished off his sewing with a mean looking cross-stitch, and snipped the thread off. (Can I just add that the snipping noise was not enjoyed either.) 8 stitches in total. And that's not some kinda idle boast to try and make out I'm some trouser gargantuan! No, those stitches were arranged 'inside to out' around my winky's polo neck.
At this point I dared a wee look at the downstairs car crash, and thank the big man I was lying down.. Jesus, it looked for all the world like one of those chest bursters from 'Aliens'.
Anyway, after a few cautionary words of advice and some pills, a handshake with the doctor signalled my departure from the hospital and my swift journey home in the motor.
Now, the worst part was that for about a month afterwards whenever I went for a piss it felt like I was passing hot magma, and the wee soldier swelled up to near three times it's size! (Which would have been impressive had it not turned a kinda black colour..) It healed up eventually though, and now I've been left with some natural ribbing where the teeth caught me!
Quote by Nicola&Alan
lol wild willy,
im a bit too far away for 12 noon, im up in scotland, but i will make a mental note that your hands are like shovels!!!
Christ, I've got the same problem.. To give you an idea how big my hands are, ring sizes go from A to Z. My ring finger is size Z+11.. Makes it a nightmare trying to find warm gloves to wear at work!
6' 3", 52" chest, size UK14 feet.. Man, I'm an inbred freak.
