Shandon Par Posted September 26, 2020 Share Posted September 26, 2020 5 minutes ago, throbber said: The look of shock on the young lads face is great as well as he totally wasn’t expecting it and is completely on the back foot from there on. That’s the best time when to give someone a crunch on the nose just before they build up momentum and so they know they’ve crossed a line. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bert Raccoon Posted September 26, 2020 Share Posted September 26, 2020 3 hours ago, tree house tam said: See when violence is brought to you and there's no way out, I used to thrive on that shite. A bit like the moment the c**t asks begbie what's it the f**k to do with him, his reaction, not the fact he starts it in the first place. That used to be my reaction. I'm obviously older and wiser as well as half as fit so would probably walk away laughing now but know I can more than handle myself if the need should arise. Walk on songs to me mean rules, there are no rules imo but saying that if I had to choose I'd go for fight back by the Exploited, nice and fast like most of the fights would be with you c***s. Mon then 3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Popular Post Steve_Wilkos Posted November 18, 2020 Popular Post Share Posted November 18, 2020 About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. 23 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
coprolite Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 59 minutes ago, Steve_Wilkos said: About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. You had me until the end. A Mercedes in Middlesbrough? No way! 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DanMc99 Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 1 hour ago, Steve_Wilkos said: About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. so when was your first pro fight? 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Shandon Par Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 1 hour ago, Steve_Wilkos said: About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. I’d guess that’s an extract from Tommy Robinson’s autobiography? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Florentine_Pogen Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 7 minutes ago, Shandön Par said: I’d guess that’s an extract from Tommy Robinson’s autobiography? An extract from someone's sphincter mairlike.............. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DA Baracus Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 Is that tragic copy and paste effort supposed to be funny? 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
19QOS19 Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
vikingTON Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 'Middlesbrough's finest pubs' are all in Stockton anyway. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Marshmallo Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 4 minutes ago, virginton said: 'Middlesbrough's finest pubs' are all in Stockton anyway. Yarm, in this bear's opinion -3 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Derry Alli Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 I'm sure that Mr Wilkos has stolen that story from Bob Mortimer. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Bairnardo Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 I'm sure that Mr Wilkos has stolen that story from Bob Mortimer. Well I am greenying it because he chose to subdue his assailant with a body shot. The punch of the aficionado. -1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Cosmic Joe Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 A few "Aye did ye?" 's on this thread 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tutankhamen Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 On 14/09/2020 at 18:48, MONKMAN said: One of my favourites. Seeing a Nazi getting knocked out will never not be funny, in my honest and humbled opinion. Glad to say my old man shot a few in Normandy back in 1944 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
D.A.F.C Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 On 26/09/2020 at 07:43, Shandön Par said: 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
D.A.F.C Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 6 hours ago, Steve_Wilkos said: About ten years ago, me and a mate caught up for a few pints in Middlesbrough town centre. He’d been working away for a few years, so we thought it would be pleasant to shoot the shit for the first time in ages, and generally check in to see how each other was doing. And that was exactly what happened - good few pints in some of Middesbrough’s finest pubs and a few laughs along the way. It was around half elevenish at night and my mate was a little boozy, and we were crossing Linthorpe Road to get to a final pub and then order a taxi home. As we were crossing the road, my slightly inebriated friend stumbled slightly and I quickly put my arm around his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t a more catastrophic/ hilarious spill. As he regained his balance, we heard some uproarious laughing from the side of the road we had just crossed, followed by a broad Middlesbrough accent declaring “fuckin’ hell, take a look at those batty boys!” We both shook our heads in a ‘just ignore them’ type of way, and proceeded to cross the road. It was when we took another look back we noticed that we were being followed by a group of young adults - about 5 lads and 3 girls - all who looked to be around 18/ 19 years old. They weren’t hanging around and then started to get their mobile phones out - taking pictures of us as they began to throw their McDonald’s chips at us. I wasn’t worried about this - but I could tell my mate was feeling a bit of trepidation about this brewing situation. I was cool, calm and collected as I said: “Alright guys, you’ve had your fun now, let’s just go our separate ways now.” (Or words to that effect.) This only seemed to rile up the guy who considered himself to be the head honcho. He was considerably shorter than me, but he was stupid enough to try and get as close to me as he could, saying “f**k you. Now you and your mate are going to give us your phones and all your money, or we will f**k you up.” He took dramatic pauses between the last three words in an attempt to intimidate us. I looked at my mate again, he was still looking worried. I knew it was up to me to deal with this situation, my first instinct was to try and defuse it. “Just leave us be, mate. We’ve got no money and our phones are shit. It’s not worth getting in trouble for.” I implored to the lad, who was starting to get worked up now. It didn’t work, though. And he tried to ram his head in my chest, his next best move to a straight headbutt considering that he was a lot shorter than me. I stumbled back a bit, as I wasn’t on my toes nor expecting the young hoodlum to attack. His little posse started laughing, and I then said “big mistake, kid.” It was at this point the lad took his top off and started bouncing round like a boxer - I could tell that he had clearly had some form of training. I said to myself that keeping cool was the key to prevailing in this situation - the lad was far too emotional to keep his head on straight. His friends were cheering him on: “Go on, Joey lad!” and “Do him in, Joe” I heard them yelling. This clearly spurred him on as he went on the offense immediately. Thankfully for me, his punches were telegraphed from a mile away, and with some simple footwork and blocks I was easily blocking the kid’s assaults. This went on for a few minutes and the young chav was getting nowhere close to me, and I could tell he was starting to get tired. My relaxed, easy jabs were finding the target and he had yet to lay a glove on me. I put my hands down and said “we can just end this now, kid, no harm done.” However, he was having none of this, clearly wanting to impress the female members of his primitive tribe. With my hands still down, he threw an uppercut targeted at my jaw. I ducked to my left, and when he was stumbling forward after the force of his final punch, my right hand connects with his body and he starts to crumple towards the floor. Even worse for him, my instincts have taken over and my left hand is already moving to clock him square in the face as he continues his fast descent to the cold, hard pavement. He lands in an awkward heap - and commotion erupts amongst their group whilst my mate shouts: “Shot, fella!” A few of the other lads start posturing towards me, but I know that even they are not that stupid after witnessing the brutal knockout. I tell them that they better call an ambulance if they want to save the few brain cells the kid had, and then me and my mate continued to walk towards the pub we were heading to initially. We were disrupted again about ten seconds later, though. A Mercedes Benz with blacked out windows pulled up beside us. The window came down to unveil some bald guy wearing a leather jacket and mirrored sunglasses. He said “Good hands, kidda. If you ever consider going pro, keep me in consideration will ya?” as he handed me a business card declaring that he was a pro boxing agent. I said I would, then me and my mate went into the pub and had our final drink of the evening. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Sergeant Wilson Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 2 hours ago, Tutankhamen said: Glad to say my old man shot a few in Normandy back in 1944 ^^^In an SS firing squad. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Zen Archer (Raconteur) Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 2 hours ago, Tutankhamen said: Glad to say my old man shot a few in Normandy back in 1944 Is that the hotel up from Inchinnan airport? 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Rob1885 Posted November 18, 2020 Share Posted November 18, 2020 Fight near enough every weekend 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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