I think I might have found the stupidest (and possibly most amusing) route to the injury couch, as follows:-
1) Attend Next sale with soon-to-be husband and dad in desperate search for shirt and tie for impending wedding.
2) Begin to descend escalator into bowels of shop. Look down. See that it is a seething, impenetrable mass of sweaty bargain-clutching bodies. See also that it is the childrenswear department, and therefore highly unlikely to contain the required items for a grown up man.
3) Seized by panic, decide that you must turn around and escape immediately. Think "I'm a runner now. I can handle this."
4) Run up the down escalator, with your dad, aged 27 and 56, respectively. Shriek with laughter.
5) Leap off awkwardly at the top. Remember why you stopped doing this as a child - it is monstrously precarious.
6) Wake up next day feeling as though your sciatic nerve has been put through a shredder and replaced in your hip along with a quantity of ground glass, and a red hot poker.