When I was serving, a much known thing that most of our time, when not working, you are out on the town drinking as much as you can! Anyway, one night, in April 2003 after returning from the Gulf, we had a fancy dress night, a group of us headed out into town and ended up in the ever lovely Jester! Around 1am, I left the night club, worse for wear and didnâ€™t tell my mates, however, one of the lads ran out and said heâ€™d come back to base with me. I told he to bugger off and enjoy the night, I got into a silver Renault Megane taxi and set off, Camels Head gate please drives! I remember being sat in the back, in the middle, bending down behind the passenger seat trying to find my bag, kept repeating I needed my ID card to get in. Then I rem drives turning around saying â€˜luv, weâ€™ll get ya bag when we reach the main gateâ€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦..SH*T!!â€™, BASH, WHALLOP, BANG! I wake up in the front of the car, trapped in-between the gear stick and the dash board, legs wrapped around the driverâ€™s seat. Apparently, as I hadnâ€™t sent the heads on crash, being that I was looking behind the passenger seat and drunk, I was like a rag doll. Hit the front passenger seat, slammed my back up against the wind screen and landed smack where I was lying. Docs and Xrays show I should have shattered my skull, broken a few ribs and my right leg. I eventually walk away 13 hours later covered in massive bruises, hang over and come down form morphine, splitting headache and not memory from what happened. The taxi driver was slightly over the drink drive limit, the weather was that heavy rain you couldnâ€™t see through and he smashed 60mph into a parked car and apparently I was the one to blame!