Apr 11, 2008


Due to ongoing attempts to become the Briz Vegas-based reincarnation of Xena: Warrior Princess, I've been getting into fights with roving packs of street toughs again:

That nice big red welt is the latest addition to my ever-growing collection of scars and bruises. Its origins are in fact far more lame: I burned myself on a very hot pan while steaming some carrots and mushrooms. And they say vegetables are good for you.

My skin is rapidly becoming like the surface of some far off distant moon as photographed by the Voyager probe - all pock-marked and asteroid-damaged. Someday soon I'm going to have to run away to join a travelling freak show, and charge punters sixpence a viewing. Not to mention that combined with the mysterious brownish circular bruise below it - I now look like I have a giant exclamation mark carved in my flesh. My right arm couldn't be more surprised.

Has anybody else got some good scar stories? My crowning glory (literally) is the sharp six-centimetre one on the back of my head, suffered during a valiant battle with a trampoline aged 8, and now a talking point for hairdressers when they happen upon it during a trim. But the origins of most of my others are too embarrassing to repeat.

At least not before I get that sixpence.


  1. I too have mysterious bruises, random scars and bumps, phantom injuries. My body is like a topographical map of some war zone!

    My best scar story... well, it could be the mangled knee after going head first over my bike when I was 12. Or the surgery scar from where they removed the eye end of a needle that had broken off in my foot when I was 5. Or perhaps the 3 inch slash on my right forearm where I swung my arm into a broken louvre.

    And The Wah will love this... I have scarring on the back of my thigh from a jellyfish sting! I'll sting the fuckers back one by one if I have to!

    But my best injury is being kicked in the face when I was 12 by a shetland pony. No scar, but a broken nose bump!

  2. Hmm, a shetland pony you say?

    I too, have been savaged by this almight devil of a beast.

    I innocently went to pat a lovely chestnut Shetland while visiting Loch Lomond in Scotland some years ago... without warning the foul equine snatched at my jacket pocket and began gnawing furiously. I remember the Wah and his sister/partner-in-mockery laughing hysterically as I batted at the horsie.

    Grr... those Shetlands have chaos and disorder in mind, you mark my words...

  3. The only time I've needed stitches was when I cut my finger with... a bread and butter knife! I have the scar to remind me of that moment.. That was in my 20s.

    I also have the massive scars on my knees from falling off my bike as a kid... one of my front teeth is also mostly cap from the same major bike stack. My parents were not so excited that I fell off the bike and chipped that tooth, just after I got my adult teeth...

    I'm very lucky that I don't have scars on my butt... when I was about four, I defied my parents' wishes and ran off to slide down a big metal slippery dip (I thought they were worried about the time it would take). They might have been worried about the time and wrangling 3 kids back to the car after a picnic in the sun etc. or they might have realised that a girl in a summer sun dress didn't have much protection from the bakingly hot metal that is a slippery dip late in the afternoon of a summer day. I screamed the whole way down, and had to go to the doctors every day for nearly two weeks to get the dressings changed.

    So, as you can see, my klutziness/predisposition for doing silly things was expressed from an early age, and nurtured throughout my life!

  4. Pry open the fore side of the shellfish with a sharp knife. Alas the far side of the shell yielded to my violence much, much easier. The blade sunk deep into my hand and a self stabbing was my scar.

    The physical deformation was the least painful aspect.

  5. Ouch!


    "You don't win friends with salad, you don't win friends with salad, you don't win friends with salad cha cha cha"

    Apart from the growth that is growing upwards from my shoulder (ie my head), I'm pretty much scar free on the outside. This is despite me once going head first through a glass door and on another occasion going over the handlebars on a pushbike as well.

  6. I've had my fingers sliced open from doing karate (too many people kick with long and sharp toe nails), I've been attacked by the neighbour's dog (which deserves to die a painful death), I've sliced my thumb open with a brand new Swiss army knife, and when I was 6 the Santa in my local mall couldn't say my name and I was horrified that he didn't know who I was. I think the last one was the biggest scar.


  7. Wait! I forgot the best one!

    The cat (Smudge) once ran down the hall at full sprint, jumped onto the couch (or she was attempting to, had I not been lying on it at the time), and used my face as a springboard to leap onto the top of the nearby bookshelf.

    I now have a faint scar running from my hairline down to one eyebrow at a 45 degree angle.

    She's now lying on my bed dreaming of mice, or something, while snoring and flicking her tail and whiskers.


  8. I've found I can burn or bruise myself on practically anything. I consider it my life's work - I mean, what's the softest thing you can think of?...a pillow? Chances are I could still get hurt by one.

    I burned myself at work the other day plunging coffee - when it squirted up on my arm. Then I got about a half hour off filling out the paperwork, so it seemed worthwhile.

    My most notable scar is probably the one on my left palm. I did it when I was about 11, tripped over a brick and gouged my hand on a piece of metal or something. 14years later, it's still pronounced enough to curb my career in bare-handed crime.

  9. At least you know how you get your injuries. I get phantom injuries all the time, where I'll look down and notice a massive cut on my arm, or an enormous bruise on my shin that I neither remember getting nor felkt when I got it.

    There is only one logical explanation for this- I fight crime in my sleep.

    I've taken to wearing a superhero costume to bed so I don't have to fight crime in my pyjamas. Well, a *different* superhero costume, the Spider-Man suit was getting a little worn in the back...