One day myself and the guy who pee'd on the electric fence were playing darts.
Most people understand that darts consists of thowing darts at a purpose made target.
Our dart board currently had a picture of some celebrity on it, in order to enable us to practice our target shooting with my air rifle. Therefore we were using the next best thing as a target - ourselves.
The game was played with us stood at either end of the room. We would then take turns throwing darts into the floor as close to the other person as possible. What a fun game I hear you say ;-)
It was my turn. I lined up, took a deep breath, took aim and hurled my dart. It was a good one, it was going to miss my friend by inches - fantastic! He was not so sure. In a desperate attempt to save himself brought on by a primal instinct for self preservation, my mate decided to leap out of the way. It was a good leap, plenty of flourish and panache and worthy of an olympic high jumper. Unfortunately for him, all he did was ensure that the dart actually did hit him. He would have been safe if he hadn't moved.
All pretty funny, but the funniest parts to this story are firstly that my friend had decided that he would play this game with bare feet

and secondly his reaction. He slowly lifted his bare foot with a dart sticking out of it, looked at it for a few seconds, turned slowly to me and said quite calmly.... "I've got a dart in my foot".
Well, two weeks later after a load of anti-biotics and a plaster or two, he was fine.