I've got a good birth story - twas the night we drew one all at Charlton (Di Canio scored from 25 yards).
About 3 in the morning she woke me up saying the baby was coming, I looked outside and noticed the ice on the car so chucked on two pairs of socks, trackie bottoms couple of t-shirts, a fleece and a benny hat. Loaded the missus and sprog #1 into car, dropped missus off at Watford General and took sprog#1 to her Grand-parents in Hemel. Hit 130mph on M1 way back to Watford, dumped the car outside the maternity ward and legged it up the stairs onto the Maternity ward.
Now this is where it gets hazy, the temperature in Maternity Wards is kept reasonably high and I was slightly over-dressed and charged up from all the racing around - and it was at this point I passed out and smashed my head on a radiator.
When I came to I was on a chair in reception with someone speaking in Spanish to me. Apparently when you are concussed you are likely to vomit, which is what I promptly did. I'm told that I insisted on staying but they wouldn't let me in the room, the missus said they compromised by leaving the door open so I could watch, the missus told me I clearly had no idea where I was and she saw me sat in a chair surrounded by bean bags which I kept falling off the chair onto.
Strangely, I then woke up naked on a table in Accident & Emergency with a Doctor sticking sticky things to all my pressure points (including my sack) and discovering I had 11 stitches in my head. The story goes that I was somewhat crazed at finding myself in such a situation that I comandeered a Doctors uniform (my clothes were puke splattered) and asked to immediately be shown back to the Maternity ward. At some point on the trip back to Maternity (I was in a wheelchair unfortunately) I became somewhat intolerant of the porter who was still rambling away in Spanish, that I threatened to kill him if he didn't fuck off and leave me alone. Shortly after I was picked up by the Police down Vicarage Road by the Red Lion Pub.
The missus wasn't chuffed the next day when I had to call home and ask her to load the newborn into the car and come get me from A&E.
What a cunt I am.
Moral of the Story - Wear a t-shirt and shorts.