UnNews:Man attempts suicide in order to win bet
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9 July 2007
HEATHFIELD, South Australia –- 11 p.m. Sunday night there was an unusual amount of activity outside the Heathfield Pub. An ambulance had been called to the scene half an hour earlier by bartender Mary Bosworth, who told the emergency services in considerable agitation, “There’s a man just outside the pub who’s just drunk an entire bottle of detergent or something! Get down here, quick!”
When paramedics arrived, they found the man in question, local resident James (commonly known as “Jim”) Frankston, sitting outside on the pavement with friend Mike Rodgers, holding a large, empty, and clearly toxic bottle.
However, when attempts were made to move Mr. Frankston into the ambulance, paramedics met resistance. “It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen” stated paramedic Cameron Waters, “the man quite clearly just drank a whole bottle of a toxic substance, which might be fatal if he doesn’t get medical attention before it takes effect. But whenever we go near him he starts getting angry and yelling at us to get lost and leave him be, and something about a bet. He almost gave me a black eye when we tried to pick him up earlier. The damn fool wants to die!” More paramedics were quick to arrive, but were forced to keep their distance and wait.
We managed to speak with James Frankston’s friend Mike Rodgers, who was standing nearby, noticeably inebriated. “Yeah, me and me mate Jim were in the pub drinking see, and we starts arguing ‘bout the afterlife. I was born a Catholic right, and I was saying that when you die you go to Heaven, but Jim had seen some show on the telly what convinced him that you just stay lying in the ground and that’s it. So I bet him 100 bucks that there was an afterlife. Jim agrees and he tells me he’s going to settle it there and then, so he goes outside to me ute, and he takes a big ole bottle of window-washing liquid (I wash windows for a living see) and he sculls the whole thing in a second. He’s a pretty good drinker is Jim. Anyway, I reckon I’ve got me an easy $100.”
We moved through the semicircle of paramedics and approached James Frankston. It seemed that despite the attempts of onlookers, he didn’t quite understand the gravity of his situation. When we asked him whether or not he was under the influence of alcohol he replied in slurred tones, “I may have had one or two. Or five. Or a dozen. Well let’s just say that… umm… Ok yeah, I’m drunk. Actually, my wife asked me this afternoon to pick up some milk on the way home, so that’ll be a challenge, ‘cause I wouldn’t trust myself behind the wheel right now as much as I’d trust… uh… I’m really drunk.”
We reminded him that he would also be hindered in this by his imminent death, and also questioned him on whether he had informed his family as to his recent decision of dying. “Oh… No, I forgot about that. You… you don’t reckon that Sharon would have wanted me to have asked her about it, do you? Oh man, I’m going to be in big trouble. I mean, she was furious when I bought our new Cadillac without speaking to her first.” We offered to contact his wife Sharon for him but he declined, stating “Well, I… I wouldn’t want to wake her up. And she told me to be home by 10. And not to get drunk. And she probably didn’t want me to kill myself either. No, best leave it for now.”
We then asked him if he wasn’t concerned by the fact that he would never enjoy the company of his mates, drink alcohol, watch the football, or speak to his loving wife and family ever again, and that if he is correct he will lie in the ground and rot for all of eternity. “Oh… umm… uh… Surely I’ll… It’ll be… But… Oh <expletive deleted>! B… but at least I’ll have won 100 bucks right?” We reminded him that he would not be able to collect his winnings as he will, in fact, be dead. “Oh… hey are those medical guys still here?”
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