Whats the worst injury you have sustained when decorating the Mess for Xmas

#1
One of the guys in the office is walking around like he has been harpooned in the back with a red hot poker. This obviously life changing injury was sustained during the time old tradition of decorating the mess for Christmas.

The poor old bugger over stretched when putting tinsle around Phill the Greeks picture and is now walking like he has shit himslef.

So what is the worst injury you have received whilst decorating the mess for christmas?
 

TheresaMay

ADC
Moderator
DirtyBAT
#2
I haven't managed to get around to the decorating yet...

All these "What's the best", "What's the worst" threads you keep starting have frankly kept me gripped to the edge of my seat.
 
#4
The poor old bugger over stretched when putting tinsle around Phill the Greeks picture and is now walking like he has shit himslef.
Firstly - he is blagging it, just turned out for the customary free barrel of out of date lager.

All these "What's the best", "What's the worst" threads you keep starting have frankly kept me gripped to the edge of my seat.
Secondly - me too :excited:
 
#5
Thanks for the nice comments glad that i can be of service. Yes my sarcasm meter has just gone bat shit!
 
#7
Give me a chance, i was saving that one for next week!
 
#9
.
I once put some tinsel up in our Mess with a bolt gun, whilst perched on one foot, on an old ricketedy wooden stepladder, which was right next to a huge glass window with gas bottles and a rusty spiked fence the other side. Nothing happened ... because I not a fuckwit.
 
#12
Wasn't decorating the mess but to paraphrase trooper "on a cold belfast night" in South Armagh... Whilst passing those tension filled dark hours at about 3 am there I was all alone, cock in hand, in my wire mess enclosed sanger. What do I do? Spoff on the radiator or into the eye piece of the IWS?

Being a sharing kind of bloke I decide to do both, I then proceeded to snag my helmet in them little rubber things you're meant to open by pressing your eye to the eyepiece then burnt my cock on the radiator. Top soldier me.
 
#13
Years ago. getting towards the end of the actual decorating bit in York and decided to try to impress some WRAC bint with big tits but a nice face so got up on bar on my knees and started trying to attach some mistletoe when she comes up behind me and pulls my ankle. Fucking falling face-first (an improvement possibly?) but I decide to catch myself. Left hand goes out and catches corner of bar and bends thumb back to wrist. Fuck me, that was sore. She was awfully sorry, good BJ a couple of weeks after if I recall!
 
#17
Me and my mom are excited,
My Daddy comes home today.
He's been overseas for ages,
and every day, we pray.

My teacher is called Mrs Alice,
She prays for the soldiers as well.
When we hear that ones fallen,
She solemnly rings the school bell.

The bunting is out on the roadside,
The flags are alive in the breeze.
The strains of the star spangled banner,
Whisper their way through the trees.

But on the way to the airport,
My Mom received a call on her cell.
My Daddy is not coming home today,
And Mrs Alice is polishing the bell.

Did my Daddy take a bullet from Terry?
Did he die, saving the life of a brother?
To me, my Daddy's a hero,
He would sacrifice himself for another.

My Daddy's coming home in a coffin,
Draped in the stars and the stripes.
Mrs Alice will be ringing the bell,
As a marine plays a lament on his pipes.

I asked one of the marines at the airport,
To tell me how daddy died.
Whilst decorating the mess hall,
He lagged in a plug socket, and fried.
 
#19
:? "but"?

Does not compute. Error. Malfunction.
You beat me to it,what the fercks her FACE got to do with it, the man has serious gender issue problems, get yourself off to an abandoned sangar somewhere and sort your knob out.
 
#20
Me and my mom are excited,
My Daddy comes home today.
He's been overseas for ages,
and every day, we pray.

My teacher is called Mrs Alice,
She prays for the soldiers as well.
When we hear that ones fallen,
She solemnly rings the school bell.

The bunting is out on the roadside,
The flags are alive in the breeze.
The strains of the star spangled banner,
Whisper their way through the trees.

But on the way to the airport,
My Mom received a call on her cell.
My Daddy is not coming home today,
And Mrs Alice is polishing the bell.

Did my Daddy take a bullet from Terry?
Did he die, saving the life of a brother?
To me, my Daddy's a hero,
He would sacrifice himself for another.

My Daddy's coming home in a coffin,
Draped in the stars and the stripes.
Mrs Alice will be ringing the bell,
As a marine plays a lament on his pipes.

I asked one of the marines at the airport,
To tell me how daddy died.
Whilst decorating the mess hall,
He lagged in a plug socket, and fried.
Thank you, its what he would have wanted,
 

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