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I just came out of the womb unlucky. I wish I was joking but I really am not.
I come from Yorkshire, and you know that if something is going to happen whether it be funny, bad or dangerous, then chances are that it will happen to me. I mean, I've always been a very boisterous kid, very rough and tumble and, most of all, just straight-up clumsy. All of this I find funny, so don't feel bad if you laugh, its all good.
I remember being in primary school and playing bulldogs (If you don't know what that is, it's simple but long-winded to explain, so Google it). The thing is, when I was young we used to play rugby-tackle instead of catch. It made the game more fun, you know? Anyway, we were playing, me and all my pals, in the middle of winter in the playground. We can't have been much older than nine-years-old. We were on the tarmac, as the field was too muddy to be on. Anyway, I made it to like the fourth round of the game and was doing really well. The fifth round started and three of the lads teamed up to tackle me and, bang, I hit the concrete, broke my arm, busted my nose and, most importantly, lost the game! That was the third bone I'd broken, and I was only bloody nine!
The stuff just kept happening then.
I remember going to a party when I was slightly older, having way too many beverages and getting bored and walking off. To my testament, I'd tried to walk home as the party really wasn't doing much for me, but like I said, I was drunk. So there I am, on my own walking back. It was like four miles back to mine, which really isn't a lot where I'm from. Anyway, about twenty minutes in, I lost my balance and started running to try regain balance, but it didn't work and I went hurtling through a hedge. I'm there on the grass and just thinking "I'm too drunk to continue this walk. I'll take a quick nap and sober up, then I'll go again. It will be a whole lot easier." It sounds like a good plan, right? Anyway, I took my jumper off, folded it up as a pillow, and, bang, went straight to dreamtown.
Then, I'm awoken to what seems like a lot of commotion around me. It was still dark and couple of people in dressing gowns were running around like maniacs. Turns out, the hedge I'd gone through wasn't a field. It was actually a front garden and the grass I was on was this couple's lawn. So, unsuspectingly this gentleman got out of his bed to get a drink in the night, only to glance out of the window to find a teenage fellow with a few cuts and bruises (from the hedge) laying there, motionless in his garden, in the early hours of the morning. There was no doubt in his mind that he was looking at a beaten corpse, which to be fair is completely rational given the circumstances from his point of view. But there was an upside. You should have seen the guy's face when he thought I'd been raised from the dead. It was priceless.
I know these stories might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I mean, if enough people are into them I'll happily write some more stories from the rich tapestry that is my life.