feint lines

For the first time together in public,for your twisted voyueristic pleasure, here are my top four faints to date: Check back for updates.

Number 4: A Waxwork museum in cornwall 1984

The one that began them all, and the slippery path to squeamishness. A waxwork museum, on holiday with my parents and sister when I was 9 and she was about 7. The gory torture section appeared, with disclaimers warning people not to go in if they don’t like the sight of blood or sick stuff. My parents worried about my sister, asking her if she’s sure she will be ok, trusting me to be fine because I was older and male. I make it through the graphic waxy realism of people being drawn and quartered, their intestines spaghetti for an Italian floor banquet only to collapse at the sight of a pirate reaching out with has hand severed by an island native and a meter away from him, the stump gushing.This resulted in unremitting family teasing, especially my sister, and me having to sit through the story subsequently wheeled out at copious family gatherings, where it receives a damn good laugh from all bar one.

Number 3: A pub near Reading, April 1998

While with a friend and two managing directors of a data processing company I was visiting on behalf of my work. We stand in the pub drinking before our lunch. One of the MD’s decides to tell us all in great detail about his vasectomy. This was not good, John feels the world starting to slow, then the little grey spots appear and THUD John on floor, company panic. I then have to wake up and be pleasant,drink guinness, eat chips and be volumptously chatty over lunch while all I want to do is curl up, die, sleep and die some more, and not smile and be nice and die to ones self.

Number 2: The London Dungeon February 1998-

My Dad had always wanted to go to the London Dungeon, we knew it would be gruesome, but I am a big boy now, and should have outgrown my squeamishness. In we go, out I go. I awake to face a woman member of staff with a talk and blood soaked face with bloodshot eyes peering from the lacerations, asking me if I am ok while she holds my legs vertically. The sight of her sends me out cold again. I have to leave after seeing about four exhibits, but at least I got a refund. I then curled up and died on a couch in a coffee shop while dad continued the pilgrimmage de gore.

Number 1: British Airways flight BA001, 40,000 feet above the Atlantic, November 1998

My latest and best faint to date happened in a Boing 747, at 40,000 feet above the ocean, on the way back from the states. having awoken from a one hour kip at 5am, and after a large meal and baby bottle of airline wine, i get up and visit the (very) little boys room they have on board, just about finish my business, and wake to find myself kneeling on the floor with my arm hanging in the chemical toilet, and head resting on the steel toilet rim, not good.

I get up, and faint again. No one of course would know about this as i am in the sanctity of the nose powdering paradise. So I recover, drink some water and walk back down the aisle to my seat. Half way there I black out again and land in a seat on top of a sleeping passenger, who wakes with a start.

I come around, get up quickly and walk down the aisle, faint again and bang my head on the armrest of another chair on my way down. I awake with a sore head, finding it cradled on the legs of a fellow English passenger. (It was good to hear a British accent again) and two air stewards leaning over me asking if I would like a drink. I assured them an emergency landing would not be necessary and when he said they get one a month, declared how it felt ‘great’ to be a statistic I sat in the retards and hijackers seat at the back of the plane for much of the remaining journey, my head against the frost blasted plastic portal above the clouds.

I am now more squeamish than ever, and have to skip read passages of books detailing the macab, avoid standing up in cramped , seatless, hot tube trains, and all mention and sight of blood. The film casino recently knocked me out (thanks to the head in a vice scene). I thought i had disguised my fall as sleep, until Wondercow told me that people dont violently twitch when they sleep.
In the British museum I barely survived the sight of a 4,000 year old corpse with well preserved flesh and hair, curled up like it was dead or something, face grimaced, yellow teeth and raisined fingers.


A passing phase This is the page where i admit to you, humble viewer, that i John Kerswell,have a penchant for fainting. This is something that is not as funny as it first seems, should i be flying a jumbo jet, tightrope walking across a number of skyscrapers or performing brain surgery on a rare breed of Panda, it would have dire consequences. I collapse in all manner of scenarios, waking to find panicked strangers on the verge of calling an ambulance. It is really quite amusing after the event, but a pain in the arse at the time. Any way, I have fainted on streets, in toilets, in pubs and bars, the theatre, at the Lord Mayors parade and in the school first aid room, after shoving a chisel through my hand while trying to prise off the cover of a fake wooden electric shaver I had made.Most blokes cut their necks shaving, I just cut my hands instead.


	BLACK OUT Hall of fame For the first time together in public,for your twisted voyueristic pleasure, here are my top four faints to date: Check back for updates. Number 4: A Waxwork museum in cornwall 1984 The one that began them all, and the slippery path to squeamishness. A waxwork museum, on holiday with my parents and sister when I was 9 and she was about 7. The gory torture section appeared, with disclaimers warning people not to go in if they don’t like the sight of blood or sick stuff. My parents worried about my sister, asking her if she’s sure she will be ok, trusting me to be fine because I was older and male. I make it through the graphic waxy realism of people being drawn and quartered, their intestines spaghetti for an Italian floor banquet only to collapse at the sight of a pirate reaching out with has hand severed by an island native and a meter away from him, the stump gushing.This resulted in unremitting family teasing, especially my sister, and me having to sit through the story subsequently wheeled out at copious family gatherings, where it receives a damn good laugh from all bar one. Number 3: A pub near Reading, April 1998 While with a friend and two managing directors of a data processing company I was visiting on behalf of my work. We stand in the pub drinking before our lunch. One of the MD’s decides to tell us all in great detail about his vasectomy. This was not good, John feels the world starting to slow, then the little grey spots appear and THUD John on floor, company panic. I then have to wake up and be pleasant,drink guinness, eat chips and be volumptously chatty over lunch while all I want to do is curl up, die, sleep and die some more, and not smile and be nice and die to ones self. Number 2: The London Dungeon February 1998- My Dad had always wanted to go to the London Dungeon, we knew it would be gruesome, but I am a big boy now, and should have outgrown my squeamishness. In we go, out I go. I awake to face a woman member of staff with a talk and blood soaked face with bloodshot eyes peering from the lacerations, asking me if I am ok while she holds my legs vertically. The sight of her sends me out cold again. I have to leave after seeing about four exhibits, but at least I got a refund. I then curled up and died on a couch in a coffee shop while dad continued the pilgrimmage de gore. Number 1: British Airways flight BA001, 40,000 feet above the Atlantic, November 1998 My latest and best faint to date happened in a Boing 747, at 40,000 feet above the ocean, on the way back from the states. having awoken from a one hour kip at 5am, and after a large meal and baby bottle of airline wine, i get up and visit the (very) little boys room they have on board, just about finish my business, and wake to find myself kneeling on the floor with my arm hanging in the chemical toilet, and head resting on the steel toilet rim, not good. I get up, and faint again. No one of course would know about this as i am in the sanctity of the nose powdering paradise. So I recover, drink some water and walk back down the aisle to my seat. Half way there I black out again and land in a seat on top of a sleeping passenger, who wakes with a start. I come around, get up quickly and walk down the aisle, faint again and bang my head on the armrest of another chair on my way down. I awake with a sore head, finding it cradled on the legs of a fellow English passenger. (It was good to hear a British accent again) and two air stewards leaning over me asking if I would like a drink. I assured them an emergency landing would not be necessary and when he said they get one a month, declared how it felt ‘great’ to be a statistic I sat in the retards and hijackers seat at the back of the plane for much of the remaining journey, my head against the frost blasted plastic portal above the clouds. I am now more squeamish than ever, and have to skip read passages of books detailing the macab, avoid standing up in cramped , seatless, hot tube trains, and all mention and sight of blood. The film casino recently knocked me out (thanks to the head in a vice scene). I thought i had disguised my fall as sleep, until Wondercow told me that people dont violently twitch when they sleep. In the British museum I barely survived the sight of a 4,000 year old corpse with well preserved flesh and hair, curled up like it was dead or something, face grimaced, yellow teeth and raisined fingers. UPDATE.......Update...... October 4th 1999. Drayton Doctors Surgery Yes. A cholestroal test involves taking a blood sample with a needle of seemingly infinite capacity, after 14 hours of going without food. I sat down and told the nurse I was a little squemish, and she shouldnt panic if I pass out. I looked away, I didnt even see the needle. She strapped my arm and put it in. Fine, just like an injection, I had survived three of those last week ~~~~suck suck~~~~~~ a few tugs of the end of the syringe and she had some blood, "ok" I thought "I dont feel great about this, but she's got it now, so pull it out and I can go home" ~~~~~~~~~~~~suckle suckle~~~~~~~ "I dont feel too good " I said. "Breath deeply" she told me, I did, it didnt help. ~~~~~~~SUCK SUCK SUCK~~~~~~~ it kept pulling from me, my life force, "I'm definitely going to faint" I said as the grey window sparkles were back in my sight, just like when someone xerox's your dream... cut to black. a few voices. dissorientation and the picture of a barn owl staring at me from up on the wall as I open my eyes. Around me were two doctors and three nurses (no wonder the waiting room is so full!) looking down on me. I was lying on the floor, head on a pillow. I'd picked the best place to pass out this time. At least she had managed to fill the bottomless syringe at last, and pull the thing out of my arm before I went. The doctors went back on duty and nurse prick thanked them for their swift action, I expect she hit quite the panic button..they also told her she should do it with me lying down next time, like thanks doc, a bit late by then! One of the nurses made me a cup of tea and gave me a biscuit. Ten minutes later I used both of them to fill a bed pan with vomit. It was certainly a productive morning spent on the floor in Drayton surgery. Needless to say I shall never give blood, that must be like having the millennium dome attached to your arm by a vaccuum cleaner and someone turning it on to full suck!

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