When my father was alive, his procedure was to ladle out some of the drippings into a sauce pan, add flour, and use that to make the gravy. In the instance with my Samurai brother, the bird was so big that there wasn't any other place to put it so he started carving with the bird in the pan, and he got overly exuberant. Stabbing the pan wasn't part of the plan, he just slipped.
I don't allow him to "help" in my kitchen any more. Although, in recent years, we haven't seen or spoken with each other and I can't say that it has left any noticeable vacancy in my life.