Its in the eyes.....

Hello readers,

  it, is not spiders.

Not like Valerie Singleton on Blue Peter in the 1960s. It, is horror. Staring, helpless, boiling misery caused by an event too unspeakable to describe. Although, one must try....

I must apologise because this anecdote came to me third hand, now fourth to you. It was shared by my Brother last time I saw him and he had heard it from his friend Ray.L.F who in turn had heard it from his Dad, who had worked many years ago in the steelworks.

In he past, since that is the time when Ray.L.F senior would have worked there, Steelworks presumably had numerous regulations to prevent death by explosion or other forms of combustion. It is plausible in fact that there was an outcome or procedure for every conceivable happenstance. One compensation claim advert themed rule concerned persons falling. Into a vat or huge container. Of molten steel. In addition to bursting into flames and being boiled alive from the inside, those unfortunate to be victim to this manner of incident could also rely on the assistance of their colleagues.

If one saw a colleague fall into a boiling pit of molten steel, there was a procedure. It was a stick.

The heaviness of the human body versus the thick gloopiness of the steel meant that anyone falling in would take a while to sink, and would initially float in boiling visceral agony. Survivors, it transpired, were not catered for. Because there would be none. Very quickly one would become broiled, setting aflame and quickly becoming soup. Even a few seconds in the molten hell would boil the insides before rescue could be attempted.

The advice therefore, was to helpfully push them under with a stick.

You know, to make them die quicker and lessen their agony.

There was a lot of exhaling and an awkward silence after this tale was shared whilst we drove home from Wee Fathas, before we both acknowledged that it was a sensible way to cut short the horror.

And I said, if I was witnessing this, I would use the the stick to shut their eyes first. I wouldn't want to stare into their agonised souls whilst the molten soup steamed them to death. And my Brother nodded, solemnly. And I said "assuming their eyes hadn't exploded by that time that is......"

Just another standard trip to Wee Fathas then....

Yanns