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Devon Malcolm

When Animals Attack

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11 hours ago, Thunderplex said:

I went near a swan and it didn’t break my arm.

My next door neighbour's grandad is currently in hospital not because a swan broke his arm but because a swan attacked him in the park and gouged several chunks out of his arm with its beak. He has some sort of infection that is preventing the skin from healing but they can't find out what it is. They have done lots of tests but they can't identify it. They are currently in the process of getting his blood tested by vets. When I asked my neighbour what his grandad did to annoy it he told me that he was trying to pick the swan up because he thought it was ill. I think he might be some sort of swan nonce but I'm not going to say that to him. 

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Swans are terrifying. It was my nan who warned me about their arm breaking dangers when I was a kid on holiday and it's stuck with me ever since. A few years ago one attacked my car whilst me and the kids sat in it with the windows and doors locked. It bit the handle and everything.

I fought a seagull off my rose water and pistachio ice cream once in Llandudno. It fucked up my head but the ice cream was mine.

I swear I'm not a bird nonce.

Edited by Mr_Danger

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One summer I found a wasp nest. The stingy bastards had made a nest in my old mans compost heap. Being 12 I decided the best course of action was to eliminate them before they stung me playing outside. 
 

So I waited for my mate to come over, parents to go to work and hatched my fool proof plan. This involved a hose and a large tree branch the plan was I would hit the entrance to the nest with the branch while my mate opened fire with the lethal finger over the end of the hose water cannon. Any wasps surviving the water would be easy pickings to a quick stomp.  The nest would be flooded and I could continue to be Ian rush. 

So the plan kicked into action and all was good for about 2 minutes. Bashing the nest had indeed caused them to come out, the issue was they where coming out in numbers I hadn’t accounted for. Worse the water seemed to have very little affect on them.
 

By the time I dropped the branch I was already getting stung.  All told we took the best part of 20 odd stings between us. 
 

When my dad came home I lied and said the football hit the nest and we got stung trying to get it back. The exterminator came a few days later and the garden was safe again. 

Don’t mess with wasps 

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19 minutes ago, Lion_of_the_Midlands said:

Rose water and pistachio ice cream.  Sounds like the sort of ice cream a bird nonce would eat. 

Admittedly it sounds like something you'd get at half at White Hart lane but as a general rule when it comes to ice cream parlours if they have pistachio then I'm having it and it's a stance I'm (literally) willing to fight to the death to defend.

 

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I had to go into work for an evening event once and the boss' dogs were there. I've never had a problem with any dogs before in my life but for some reason, one of these dogs (who I had met several times before) decided I'd wronged them and started following me. Growling, teeth bared. I was doing some setting up and quickened the pace. He got quicker too. Ended up being chased round the fucking place before he got called off. He was a big dog and definitely would have taken a good chunk of me if he'd got hold of me. I have no idea what I did but it's the only time I've ever been scared of a dog.

I ended up being made to go on morning walks with him and the boss' assistant in order to show me he was alright really.

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Was stung by a wasp a couple of years ago as I was sat reading in a pub. All of a sudden, I felt this sharp burning pain in the back of my neck, I jump up, look around, and see this wasp on the windowsill. This was roughly around that period when they start dying off for the year and are getting bad-tempered. Even then, couldn't quite bring myself to kill it, so I just got it under a glass with a beer mat. Think it was a bit of post-sting mania that took me as I chucked it out of the pub door with a "...AND STAY OUT".

Other time I can think of, my family and I were at Cape Point in South Africa, at this restaurant overlooking the point and the sea, that was famous for its ostrich burgers. It was also famous for monkeys hanging around, which is why the waiters told us we couldn't open the windows. Somebody on the next table did so anyway, leading to one of the little bastards jumping in and nicking my little sister's burger. Thankfully the customer who'd opened the window felt bad and bought her another one.

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On August Bank Holiday Sunday 1990 we all went to Drayton Manor. My mam made me wear my new yellow t-shurt and we had a picnic there eating sweet and sticky banana cake in the sweltering heat. I got stung about 20 times and had to spend the day fucking sprinting from wasps hand in hand with my mum as I was 5. Couple this with the fact I was too small for any ride worth it's salt and it was the worst fucking day ever and the bus home wasn't til 6pm or so. 

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I've spent my life getting stung by bastard wasps. I don't know why. I'm completely indifferent to them but they always end up being on a chair when I lean back or flying into my mouth when I'm on a bike. I've even stood on two dead wasps with no shoes on and been stung. Fucking hate the bastards. 

 

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Also I'm massively allergic to the cats to the extent going near one renders me infected of chest for several days afterwards. That's an attack for me, and as such I reckon it's only fair that we should probably put all cats in a bag and drown them, like. 

 

They are literally trying to suffocate me. 

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I'm the same with cats, their payback for how much I hate them, I assume.

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I dont know if this counts, because it wasnt really an attack. It was more a favour gone wrong. It was 1993. Blackpool. I was wearing a red WWF hat and had a red space gun that went "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum" when you pressed the trigger. I'm about 9 years old here. Anyway, I was on a donkey (Billy was the name, Blackpool pleasure beach the place of origin.) The first day was class. The woman in charge of the lads must have taken one look at the basin pearing through the red hat and thought "definitely on the spectrum" and tied me in like a small child younger than my years suggested. I'm in junior school. I had "Bruce 4" on my back for fucks sake. I didnt need to be tied into it. Or did I??????

Well that went swimmingly. It was like being on a bike (one that you were tied to and your Dad was riding.) The next day we were down the beach again. I asked my Mam if I could have another go. No Billy this time, sadly. Instead we got Jack. Blackpool Jack, to give the name on his chain. This wasnt half as friendly. No harness either. Blackpool Jack didnt look like he wanted to be there, and especially didnt want to have me on his back. I gets on him, and the woman in charge of the donkeys began clapping to make them run. I didnt get the memo that you had to hold on to them, since I was essentially glued to the last one. So, no word of a lie, I bump like Mick Foley did at Revenge of the Taker through the announce table. 2 years before Christopher Reeves as well. Nearly fell on my head. That would have been a tragic storyline. Sadly I didnt do a Droz, because I'd have at least had sympathy and at the very least a trip to disney land as compo. No, I was fine, but my foot got hooked in the harness that was attached to it and dragged me around the pleasure beach for what felt like 20 minutes (I was 15 seconds.) Shite everywhere, too. Its only when you get dragged around a beach in front of holiday makers you see the evil in some people.

Edited by IANdrewDiceClay

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