That moment when you're drinking from a tin and the ringpull reaches out to grab a beard hair in a vicelike grip, but doing so gently, so that you're not aware of it until you finish your slurp, and try to lower the tin, which apparently is done with such force it feels as though it's ripped half your face off.
That.
The ringpull then laughingly displayed the hair like a trophy, never relinquishing it's dastardly prize.
Meanwhile, I only have half a lip.