Once smashed the end of my Ulna in many little bits, which fell on the floor because well, there was a massive hole in my arm. You know that feeling when you hit your ‘funny bone’? Yeah, that times about a thousand.
I would have dearly liked to have held my arm up to stop it flapping about but, sadly I’d over-rotated my other wrist and it was now in 16 or so bits, oh and I was laying on my back on a big rock, being eaten by flies whilst my mate went for help, for an hour.
Not sure if that’s worse that catching my foot on the sodding sofa leg with cold feet or joint first, I **** hate that and I seem to do it every other bloody week in winter.