Some weeks, finding inspiration for ideas for the next column can be a challenge. Facing such an incident of writer’s block, a topic came to mind, unexpectedly, last night as I impaled my index finger on a wet wipe lid.

Yes, you may mock my apparent over-dramatisation, but the pain was tangible and hurt ten times more than when I broke my wrist (yet another bicycle injury) two months ago. I, having bought some ‘end of line’ family plastic tubs of wet wipes for ten pence a packet, proceeded to push the first wet wipe through the barbed, sharp, triangular plastic spikes as I inadvertently pushed too hard, and my index finger became lodged.

Not only that, but I could not move a millimetre back as the spikes were all digging into my finger which was now, within a few seconds, turning black and swollen as I ran from the summerhouse to the house with a wet wipe lid stuck to my digit.

I have often read about such buffoons online, usually involving an act of apparent sexual deviance, and thought there’s no way you could slip and accidentally have a marrow or similar foodstuff lodged in your rectum, but now I’m not so sure.

Thankfully, through tears, mine of pain, my wife's of laughter, she managed to pull a spike away with a knife and I freed the finger one. The mocking continued as I equated my story to the chap who got his arm stuck between a rock and a cliff some years ago and cut his arm off as I explained that was my plan B if she had not been in. Her response of ‘ok dear’ as I slinked off to the self pity step in the back garden was not my finest hour, but thankfully I, and the index finger, live to fight another day.

The homestead is a dangerous place. In 2021, 6.98 million people attended A&E after suffering a ‘fall’ in the home, with many attributed to DIY, followed by falling down the stairs (mainly when using an unsecured ladder) and 1.8 million visits due to ‘poisoning whilst using DIY chemicals’.

My situation is not unique and I’m just thankful I didn’t have to drive with a wet wipe lid on my hand to A&E before a four-hour wait when, undoubtedly, I would have lost the finger. If I ever lose a limb, God forbid, I want to have a story to tell: ‘I got shot saving someone in a terrorist massacre’ or ‘gangrene after surviving for 40 days after getting lost in a south American jungle’, not falling victim to a wet wipe lid.

I put the question out to friends: One showed me pictures of his leg after cycling on the Olympic velodrome where, during a crash, some of the wooden flooring came loose and speared him through the leg. The pictures are a sight to behold for the squeamish among us. Another recounted a story of a musician type who jumped on his drum kit stool after work one night, as the foam gave way, and the spiked metal seat bottom entered his rear with force resulting in a number of surgeries and a long-time off work.

My mother, a former A&E nurse, takes pleasure in recounting stories of the scores of folk who have had home-based accidents, a huge proportion of which involve items being inserted into orifices that they should not be inserted into. Vegetables seem to be a favourite and include melons, courgettes, sweet potato and the classic foodstuff of choice, the cucumber.

As for me, I have now retired from wet wipe usage and will risk germs as I have learnt my lesson, as I find inspiration for future columns in the most unlikely of places, including the town called pain…

  • Brett Ellis is a teacher