Two year olds seem to attract head injuries like jam attracts wasps. 'Serious head injury' normally equates with '1 inch cut to the forehead, not bleeding very much at all”.
As I was a late developer in the fine art of injuring myself, I needed some practise. Which I think, dear reader, you will agree is what little brothers are for. They are of course good for a great many things, including but not limited to…

* Eating strange plants so that you can tell if they are poisonous.

* Making good use of hand-me-down clothing.

* Taking the blame for the broken vase that mum really, really liked.

* Getting paid much more than me, for much less work and never failing to rub it in after a childhood spent eating strange plants.

However, 'bruv' did serve as a good way to cause injuries without actually hurting myself.

I started early, by persuading him to jump from the very-safe-children's-climbing-frame that was at Blackpool's pleasure beach (long since shut own after a string of fatal repeat incidents* I mean, there was sand at the bottom, just that underneath this very thin layer of sand (about three grains deep) was a concrete floor.

But my piece-de-resistance was providing bruv with a nice little head wound of his own.

(Insert your own 'flashback' visual/sound effect)

Around the back of our house was a bit of waste ground, and like all waste ground, children will play on it. Mum considered it dangerous on a par with some Eastern European minefield, we were forbidden to climb over our back fence and play there (where she could see us from the bedroom window), and instead was made to go halfway across town to the local park.

Obviously this park was incredibly boring, and I suspect was considerably more dangerous than 'our' land.

So, of course we would play there – digging around in the things that people had dumped there (we even gave it it's own name, “The Dump” – original I know). The Dump was a treasure trove of old bikes, bricks, radios, planks of wood and bathroom tiles**

I had a schoolmate (let's call him 'Welly'), and he was allowed to play over the dump, which made us think that his mum was great.

Now, at the time of the crime I had just been caught playing in the Dump and so had been banned in even stronger terms than normal – but how could I miss out on all the great junk that was laying behind the back garden's fence. The solution was simple – get Welly to throw interesting stuff over to us, so that my brother and I could catch it and use it in our 'experiments'.***

This worked well until Welly found a car battery.

“Shall I throw it over”, he asked uncertainly.

“Sure” I said, in blissful ignorance of the terror ahead.

So it came flying over the fence, and, with the sort of slow-motion that only happens in really good Westerns, struck my brother in the head.



(that was me, bruv was too young to know how to swear)


(that was bruv)


(that was Welly running away)

“Bruv, don't cry – or mum'll find out”, I was to put it mildly shitting myself.

But no, would the little git keep quiet? We could have kept it hidden, washed the blood away, combed his hair over the wound, and given him sunglasses so mum wouldn't realise that one pupil was bigger than the other.

I'm not sure how we could have hidden the sudden loss of function down his left arm.

Instead he went running into the house, leaving me with a few seconds to decide what to do.

So I ran around in circles, only slightly more scared than when mum asked me to cut an inch off her hair, and I cut it so there was an inch left.

I'm afraid this is where the story gets blurred, the memory blanked out possibly due to the huge amount of trauma that my backside sustained a short while later…

Bruv managed to make a full recovery (in retrospect the injury might not have been as bad as I remember it), and to spite me has lent me loads of money that, with his “special” interest rates I'll never pay back****

So now – when I see kiddies with head injuries I just turn around to the mother/father/auntie/cousin and tell them “It's what kids do – just wait until he gets older”.

* – Not true, but a nice thought I think

** – For which I enjoyed a brief celebrity in being able to smash them over my head without apparent hurt – which, come to think of it may explain the blurred vision and constant headaches I have…

*** – Our experiments never involved hurting animals, just one more way that my brother has changed from childhood.

**** – To be fair, no interest rate, just something that he can hang over me when I ask him to make me a cup of tea

This 'Scaryduck' style post was really hard to do, and I don't think it's worked too well – maybe I should have written about things I've seen up people's arses.

14 thoughts on “‘Scaryduck’”

  1. As a younger brother I have the scars to prove your story is true. The one on my calf is the remains of a nail which went in blunt end first. Have I let my brother (an A&E consultant) forget it ? Not bloody likely.Re:Things up bums. In a different life I used to flog drugs for IBS and laxatives so I was er, big in guts. There were two funny things I remember. One was sitting in a ground floor room watching a training video on the use of rigid endoscopes. Not that intersting but absolutely fascinating to the windows cleaner outside. The other was a talk by gastro consultant to us sales reps. He finished with his “top ten slides”. Pictures of things that people had mysteriously “fallen on”. The one I remember most vividly was the re-appearance of a guiness bottle – narrow end first ! Big bro' has similar things to tell.

  2. “maybe I should have written about things I've seen up people's arses”That would have been fascination. A family friend works at a health clinic and a man came in one day with a light bulb stuck up his arse. Don't ask why… The doctors didn't want to try and pull it out for fear it would break and leave shards inside him. So you have: one middle aged man laying on a med table with his rear end exposed, and a team of doctors circled around his butt trying to figure out how to get it out. I find this extremely amusing. Exentually, after hours and hours of the guy's arse in the air one medic came up with an idea on how to get it out. They ended up shooting up hot wax into the lightbulb until it was filled. Then they were able to pull out one very durable lightbulb.

    So yes, I think arse stories are quite amusing. I think you should tell some.


  3. Foreign Bodies can be useful sometimes. Recently had a child that had inserted a penny up their nostril (they did'nt trust the bank) . During examination I asked the child how old they are. They said “+” years old, Dad said “-“, a good 3 years younger. After a bit of investigation (and realising that the child had a better vocabulary than I do and would have been considered gigantic for a “-” year old) the child did indeed turn out to be “+”. Dad was on the run from a city in the north and had taken his child with him, child was “known” to other agencies.Thing's up arses' are fairly rare occurences though I think. I only ever saw 2. First was a Lynx deodorant can (with cap) and the other was a corgette. Both patients were male and very embarrased. The X-rays are always something else entirely!

  4. P.S (sorry Tom, not spamming) The reason that theres usually a lot of Doctors around with this kind of thing is that everyone likes a good laugh and will even tolerate being paged in the middle of the night to go and see it!

  5. Fine use of the footnote there, could use more swearing and nudity.I ought to try a Reynolds-style post now.

    — Scaryduck.

  6. I worked with a guy that had just quit the ambo service, and some of the stories he could tell had me laughing for days. Shame its at someone elses expence….

  7. Typical friend of a friend type story but here you go:My partner's sister is a nurse. Apparently a guy came in to Accident and Emergency with a long length of copper wire that had been inserted up his penis. So much had been inserted that it had coiled up inside him. When asked what had happened, he replied that he had fallen asleep on a park bench and had woken up like that…

    I make no claims as to the veracity of this story. Doubtless every hospital has a similar account.

    Melina G

  8. As a regular Scaryduck reader, I can say that your story succeeds on all levels. Well done.Ricardipus, whiffling.

  9. Used to be that my sister got into all kinds of trouble for stealing sweets from the pantry. I'd look very sweet and commiserate with my mother about my sister's bad habits. Truth to tell, I did as much thievery as my sister did.

  10. Very nice attempt at a “Scary” story. Good use of swearing and footnotes, but the story comes too close to having a moral to be a true Scaryduck story.Still much better than I could do.

    — WyldWoods

  11. Almost a convincing Scaryduck post, apart from the notable lack of spectacular projectile vomiting – surely you could have worked that in with a mild concussion angle?:-) Otherwise entirely authenticish!

  12. Many, many years ago, when I was about 3 or so, I ate some holly berries. This, as you may imagine, didn't really do much to me, but my Mum freaked out. Phoning doctors, phoning the district nurse, all the rest of it.

    Then my Dad came home. “What's the matter?”

    “Gordon ate some holly berries!”, wailed my mother.

    “Oh. Yeah, he did that the other day, too…”

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