I was at school in the days when pupils were allowed to do things in chemistry lessons that might kill them. Now, of course, fatalities are only accepted in PE lessons, or in the janitor's house.
On one occasion we were told to measure out a quantity of some very volatile and noxious substance. No-one told us how to do this, so I decided that a mouth pipette would be approproiate. For those mercifully unfamiliar with chemistry, here is a man using a mouth pipette. Note how unsuitable it is for sucking on noxious liquids.

I put the end of the pipette in my mouth, then woke up surrounded by flames, smashed glassware, and my jeering classmates. And not one teacher rushed to offer me an out-of-court settlement of sixes of millions.

I was a school contemporary of 'Tom Brown' in those halcyon days (Careful - Jamie) before the nanny state took all the fun out of chemistry lessons.

At my class' strangely ill-attended 25-year reunion, the conversation among the half dozen of us who were capable of finishing a sentence without the use of respirators soon turned to asbestos mats. Those crumbly grey panels, so essential for the health and safety of the lab tables, were suddenly replaced at the start of our Second Year with sheets of hardboard. These weren't nearly so much fun and flatly refused to leave fibrous impact marks when hurled frisbee-style at each other across the room. Hell, you couldn't even snap bits off with your teeth.

We all agreed that it had been political correctness gone mad. Still, it raised a hearty laugh and several ashtrays full of thick, brown sputum.