Got a call in the middle of the night a few years ago from an old mate who got stung and couldn,t sit to drive the truck home. We thought he was just lonely that night. Went out(150ks away) to pick up the truck and him. He used to harp on about always wearing the "proper gear when looking at ya boxes". We laughed so long and loud as to the place he got stung a couple of times. He laid on the bed of the truck all the way back to his place. His missus was then laughing so much we started to nickname him medicine balls. He still has not forgiven us all for being so cruel in laughing so much and telling everyone who knew about his discomfort. That's what friends are for.