Coming out of a nightclub in Woodford, in the early hours one Sunday morning, the future wife spots a vacant mini cab waiting for a fare, obviously mini cabs are at a premium at that time of the morning, so she successfully makes dash for it, negotiates the fare with the driver, and is sitting in the back seat of the cab waiting for me to catch up.
As I come trotting along behind, I trip over my drunken feet, and my head goes crashing into the driver’s side window.
As it was summer and the window was half open, my head goes completely through the glass, the driver thinking that he has come under attack, drives off at high speed leaving the missus in the back seat, and me sitting on the pavement bleeding and dazed.
I go back to the nightclub for help and hopefully first aid, but the bouncers tell me to FO, and as no other taxi’s would take me due to me being covered in blood, I had to walk the 8 miles or so back home to Shoreditch.
Not one of my better moments – 9 stiches directly underneath the nostrils, 4 in my nose, 4 in my forehead and within a day or two massive black eyes.
Although that sounds horrific, it gave me something to tell the lads in work about, and the missus still pisses herself laughing every time it comes up in conversation
It’s left no lasting damage, although I still have the scars under the nostrils.