Off topic: If you think you've got problems, read on!
Thread poster: Dave Greatrix
| | Dave Greatrix
Local time: 08:40
Dutch to English
Australian bricklayer report
This is a bricklayer's accident report, which was printed in the
newsletter of the Australian equivalent of the Workers' Compensation
board. This is a true story. Had this guy died, he'd have received a
Darwin Award for sure.......
I am writing in response to your request for additional information in
Block 3 of the accident report form. I put "poor planning" as the
cause of my accident. You asked for a fuller explanation and I trust
the following details will be sufficient.
I am a bricklayer by trade. On the day of the accident, I was working
alone on the roof of a new six-storey building. When I completed my
work, I found that I had some bricks left over which, when weighed
later were found to be slightly in excess of 500lbs. Rather than carry
the bricks down by hand I decided to lower them in a barrel by using a
pulley, which was attached to the side of the building on the sixth
Securing the rope at ground level, I went up to the roof, swung the
barrel out and loaded the bricks into it. Then I went down and untied
the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the bricks.
You will note in Block 11 of the accident report form that I weigh
135lbs. Due to my surprise at being jerked off the ground so suddenly,
I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless
to say, I proceeded at a rapid rate up the side of the building. In
the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel, which was now
proceeding downward at an equally impressive speed. This explained the
fractured skull, minor abrasions and the broken collar bone, as listed
in section 3 of the accident report form. Slowed only slightly, I
continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right
hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley.
Fortunately by this time I had regained my presence of mind and was
able to hold tightly to the rope, in spite of beginning to experience
pain. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks
hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.
Now devoid of the weight of the bricks, that barrel weighed
approximately 50 lbs. I refer you again to my weight. As you can
imagine, I began a rapid descent, down the side of the building. In
the vicinity of the third floor, I met the barrel coming up. This
accounts for the two fractured ankles, broken tooth and several
lacerations of my legs and lower body. Here my luck began to change
slightly. The encounter with the barrel seemed to slow me enough to
lessen my injuries when I fell into the pile of bricks and fortunately
only three vertebrae were cracked. I am sorry to report, however, as I
lay there on the pile of bricks, in pain, unable to move, I again lost
my composure and presence of mind and let go of the rope and I lay
there watching the empty barrel begin its journey back down onto me.
This explains the two broken legs.
I hope this answers your inquiry.
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| It's unbelievable! || Jun 14, 2004 |
It cannot be a true story.
Confess you are a writer and want to gain audience here.
[Edited at 2004-06-14 19:35]
| | Ralf Lemster
Local time: 09:40
English to German
| The Sick Note || Jun 14, 2004 |
This story is based on a wonderful Irish song often called the Sick Note (the site contains a link to the version performed by the Dubliners - I've heard it live a few years ago, it's brilliant):
Dear Sir I write this note to you to tell you of my plight
For at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly grey
And I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today.
Whilst working on the fourteenth floor,some bricks I had to clear
To throw them down from such a height was not a good idea
The foreman wasn't very pleased, the bloody awkward sod
He said I had to cart them down the ladders in my hod.
Now clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.
And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
I shot up like a rocket till to my dismay I found
That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down.
Well the barrel broke my shoulder, as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head
I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half the bricks, fourteen floors below.
Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more
Still clinging tightly to the rope, my body racked with pain
When half way down, I met the bloody barrel once again.
The force of this collision, half way up the office block
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty state of shock
Still clinging tightly to the rope I fell towards the ground
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel scattered round.
I lay there groaning on the ground I thought I'd passed the worst
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst
A shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
As I lay there bleeding on the ground, I let go the bloody rope.
The barrel then being heavier then started down once more
And landed right across me as I lay upon the floor
It broke three ribs, and my left arm, and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today.
| || |
Local time: 04:40
English to Spanish
| Typical of Amazing Stories! || Jun 14, 2004 |
It cannot be true!!! But it is great!
[Edited at 2004-06-14 19:57]
| True or not... || Jun 14, 2004 |
... it's brilliant!
| more like Paddy! || Jun 14, 2004 |
Lesley Clayton wrote:
... it\'s brilliant!
Ah yes, in Ireland, you can get away with ringing in sick, tell them you\'re \"dying\" (automatically assuming it\'s from a hangover and not for real) and come in fine the next day!
Of course, now that I\'m a freelance, I can\'t really get away with it...
| | Henk Peelen
Local time: 09:40
German to Dutch
| I thought this only happened in animated cartoons || Jun 15, 2004 |
This guy seems to have done the opposite of what the film industry use to do: he created a live perormance of a cartoon.
I guess he should first take classes at the school of acting before to put on a show.
[Edited at 2004-06-15 09:33]
Local time: 08:40
Dutch to English
| You're right Ralf! || Jun 15, 2004 |
[quote]Ralf Lemster wrote:
This story is based on a wonderful Irish song often called the Sick Note (the site contains a link to the version performed by the Dubliners - I\'ve heard it live a few years ago, it\'s brilliant):
You're right Ralf. I have just downloaded it from Kazaa - and it\'s even funnier!!
| Another urban legend, or a really effective therapy || Jun 16, 2004 |
I found this in a forum:
Do you believe in anger management?
This so up my alley.
When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on
someone you don't know.
It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and remembered a phone
call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and dialled it.
A man answered, saying, "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. May I
please speak with Robin Carter? " Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. I had transposed the
last two digits of her phone number.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an a*****e!" and
I wrote his number down with the word 'a*****e' next to it, and put it in my
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd
call him up and yell, "You're an a*****e!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'a*****e' calling
would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, Hi, this is John Smith
from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're interested in
the Caller ID program?" He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an a*****e!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently
I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot. The idiot
I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window, so I wrote down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first a*****e, ( I had his
number on speed dial ),I thought I had better call the BMW a*****e,
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house, and the car's
parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Don, you're an a*****e." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed
Now, when I had a problem, I had two a*****es to call.
But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used
to be. So, I came up with an idea.
I called a*****e #1.
"You're an a*****e!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"a*****e, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with my black
Beamer parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, a*****e."
Then I called a*****e #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, a*****e," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are!"
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, a*****e, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived
at 1802 West 34th Street, and that I was on my way over there to
kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 3 News about the gang war going down on West 34th
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street.
There I saw two a*****es beating the crap out of each other in front of six
squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
NOW, I feel better.
Anger management really works!
| || |
Thanks a lot for sharing this, Edwal! It made my day!
| | Jack Doughty
Local time: 08:40
Russian to English
Translated (slightly abridged) from a recent posting in the Russian forum by Sergei Tumanov:
To the former commanding officer of “SS-4138”
Secret. To Lt. V.V. Konetsky.
From Lt-Cdr. N.D. Dudarkin
I hereby draw to your attention the fact that stopwatch No. 11 522 475 b 4, produced in 1931, can no longer be use for its intended purpose.
On 28th July 1953, I, Lt-Cdr. Dudarkin, took a course of action which led to the unintentional loss of the said stopwatch. The date of its last check was May 1936.
At 1400 hours local time, I directed my Zeiss binoculars onto some women, date of birth approximately 1930, standing on the dock in Archangel port. One of them was nothing special to look at, but using some blunt instrument to point towards our ship, laughed hysterically. Affronted by her behaviour, and feeling irritable, having been on duty at sea for four days, I made a sudden movement, together with the binoculars, which caused the measuring instrument to fall out of my tunic pocket and fall overboard, but it stopped two metres short of the water, because I had tied it to a cord in compliance with orders. However, the binoculars also fell overboard and sank. Since they did not belong to the ship, they do not have to be written off. An attempt to rescue the stopwatch by the cord failed, because Seaman F.F. Kurva jumped in after the binoculars and seized the cord, unintentionally breaking it. This caused my body to lean out still further, so that the following fell into the water out of my tunic:
1. Weights for maps: 08 items.
2. Protractors: 02 items.
I was keeping all this property on my person because there was no room for it in the Duty Officer’s pouch.
Chief Petty Officer V.D. Chuvilin jumped overboard to try to save Seaman Kurva, but in doing so, knocked over Seaman-Cook Mukhuddinov, who was passing by with dinner on a tray. The following fell overboard from Mukhuddinov’s tray:
1. Tea service.
2. 14 bottles of wine.
3. Cutlery and crockery, under 08 headings.
The whole crew was by then leaning over the side, creating a dangerous list, which had a negative influence on the spare motor-pump. The pump broke a tank containing 10 kg. of distilled alcohol. The alcohol leaked into the spare parts store and rendered the following unserviceable:
1. Various mallets, etc. – 25 items.
2. Wire-cutting pliers – 08 items.
A marine chronometer in a metal case fell onto the sea maps, and all these fell onto the deck and then into the water. All these objects suffered the same fate as the stopwatch.
Several tarpaulin jackets were thrown overboard, in the absence of a lifebelt, to save seaman F.F. Kurva, who, fully living up to his reputation, sank all these objects.
In view of the above, I request that the aforementioned equipment be written off the State property list and charged to our unit, and that those responsible, particularly F.F. Kurva, be appropriately charged and punished for their offences.
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