Id nearly forgotten about this one...........
About 20 years ago I had a house mate called Boner, he wasnt the brightest guy in the world but had a heart of gold and one day he decides to mow the backyard where we were living, he got maybe 1/4 of the way through the job and my Toecutter ground to a halt so off he buggers and grabs his Mums Victa corvette.
After another 15 mins of bad language he realises that his Mums Vette aint up to the job so he goes off and grabs some of the sheet steel I had and tries to make a side chute for the mower so he can get rid of the catcher (The grass is 3 foot high BTW) and on his triumphant completion of the chute he roars off into the scrub for another shot only to realise that the chute keeps popping off the back of the Mower.
Being a resourcefull bloke he abandons the chute and just okky straps up the flap on the back of the mower and plunges back in to the scrub again with the mower roaring its nuts off and crap flying out the back of the mower so I wander back inside and grab a few beers.
3 mins later I hear a blood curdling scream and race back otu to find he has mowed a beer bottle and the neck of the thing is now firmly embedded in his shin...................
So after 10 mins of will I or wont I I yank the bottle neck out of his shin, he removes his dacks and bandages up the very bloody lower leg n toddles off for a beer or 5 and thats the end of that or so I thought.
Out of beer I call a cab and off to the local bottle shop I go in search of more refreshment coz watching him mow has made me thirsty and it on,y seemed right that I keep the boy well lubricated with amber nectar and when i get back and hop out of the cab with the cold slab I hear the mower going hard yet again in the back yard.
Did I mention that Boner wasnt too bright?
Anyway I wander around the back of the house with the slab, crack 2 stubbies and sit at the recently unearthed picnic table holding up a frosty one for Boner as he rounds the corner and comes into view but valiantly he soldiers on for another trip around the yard signalling to me he wont be a sec.
A few moments later he hits something else we later found to be a busted terracotta planter and cops the full force of a decent chunk in the nads.............
Did I mention that he was mowing in thongs and undies?
Another scream this time in a higher pitch and I just wandered over and shut the mower off, waited a few moments till he got his breath back, handed him the beer and suggested we call it quits for the day before something else in the grass took off his foot, leg or head.
Weirdly enough he was very agreeable.
As a footnote the next weekend he went to return his Mums mower and as we were giving it a tidy he noticed a blade missing lol and after that we got a Mowing bloke in to cut the grass, we figured it was safer by far.
