Salads are bad for you..

h57xiucj2z946q

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2011/05/31/3231232.htm?section=world

Now who ever got poisoned from a kebab?

trout

Damn you cucumbers!

*shakes fist at all salads*

I have a very dear friend (he owns a chip shop) who swears blind that he was poisoned by grapes. He claims to have eaten grapes only once in his life, and he had a burst appendix the next day.

When I called his wife after the operation, to see how he was, she told me when he regained consciousness ... his first words were "them fuppin' grapes!"

**Vai**

Axl Slow Ivory wrote: »

http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2011/05/31/3231232.htm?section=world

Now who ever got poisoned from a kebab?

Me! Food poisoning of the highest and most disgusting order.

Blitzkrieger

People always blame a dodgy burger when they're sick, but in reality, you're more likely to get food poisoning off the lettuce on the burger than the burger itself. That's why I always pick mine off......

OutlawPete

trout wrote: »

I have a very dear friend (he owns a chip shop) who swears blind that he was poisoned by grapes. He claims to have eaten grapes only once in his life, and he had a burst appendix the next day.

When I called his wife after the operation, to see how he was, she told me when he regained consciousness ... his first words were "them fuppin' grapes!"

Reminds me of my Dad a few months before he died.

He never drank much at all (maybe twice a year he'd have three pints rather than just the usual two) but there was a golfing do for everyone that was retiring that year and when he came home he was paralytic. I had to show him where the sitting room was. I decide to make him coffee and as I was doing it I heard a unmerciful ruckus and ran in to find him on the floor after having tried get passed the television, which was minding it's own business in the corner of the room :rolleyes:

So I take him to the toilet where he hurls and almost falls while doing so, carry him back to the sitting room where I lay him on his side with a bucket on the floor and a blanket on top of him. For almost two hours I sat in the hall making sure I could still hear him breathing, convinced he would choke on his own vomit. Eventually I go to bed around 7am when I hear him stirring and breathing a little better.

Then around midday I hear this knocking on my door and I'm half asleep and it's my old man half way through an apology speech but I have no idea what he is saying, so I say: "Dad, I can't hear you, what did you say?". This time louder and sterner he says: "I said that I think what must have happened me last night was down to some Olives they gave us at the hotel".