God I was just laughing at these thinking I'm not a faller over thankfully.
And then I remembered and it's all come horribly flooding back.
At work about 15 years ago I was newly promoted and thought I was all that. I wore suits with very long wide legged trousers and 3 inch stilettos...
First time this was proved to be a bad idea was down the stairs at work. I caught heel of a stiletto in the opposite trouser leg and went tumbling down two flights. No one saw that one and I learned what was to become my very useful trick of rehemmjng trousers with a stapler.
I had minor trips like this and it was a running joke that most of my trousers were rehemmed in some fashion. Staplers mostly for running repairs.
I was walking across the office and tripped on nothing, heel got caught again and I did a slow-motion exaggerated Mr Bean flail right across the office before face planting into the lap of my most challenging member of (male) staff.
But I was saving it all up for the big one, the previous falls were just practise for my piece de resistance.
We had a new chairman and the board were invited to meet them for a private dinner in a private club. We were on strict instructions to drink only one glass of wine with dinner. Total best behaviour. Amazingly we managed it - we were a very boozy company. At about 10 the chairman left and it was like a bunch of teenagers when the grown ups have left for the night.
I consumed a lot of cocktails and at one point I decided to go up to the roof to have a cigarette. Up until that point I'd been congratulating myself of my relative sobriety. A bit of fresh air and nicotine and suddenly I was not quite so confident. And rightly so.
In my defence they were very steep, very dark stairs and I was wearing...yup. Wide legged trousers and 3 inch stilettos.
The inevitable happened. I was briefly aware of the need to sort of tuck and roll to break my fall. Like a jockey, not a pissed idiot in stupid shoes.
I remember nothing else until I woke up in hospital, still pissed and with two of my colleges staring at me. Apparently I'd cannon balled from the stairs into the bar, scattering drinkers and come to rest at my CEO's feet, unconscious, with my neck at a funny angle and a pool of blood coming from my head.
Mild panic apparently ensued, an ambulance was called and I was stretchered down the remaining 3 flights of dark, narrow stairs with everyone thinking I was dead.
I was in hospital overnight and had cuts on my head and chin glued together. I was black and blue all down one side, it appeared I did indeed tuck and roll. Literally and very effectively if my aim was to cause as much damage and alarm as possible on my rapid headfirst exit from the stairwell, rather than saving myself.
When all the painkillers wore off I spoke to my boss and he assured me that what goes on tour stays on tour and that I could just say I'd tripped on a mat or something.
I was off work for a week and returned to find that the first thing he did on ascertaining that I was alive was to walk into my department and say, "You are never going to believe what your stupid fucking boss has done now.."
10 years on, I still have scar under my chin and I've not worn and stiletto and trousers since.