So, I got into a punch up on Saturday night.
Well, nearly. I tried really hard to get into a fight…
There’s a bloke in Dallas, who is simply the most rude, obnoxious, bullying lout you’d ever meet. To mask his obvious social retardation, he chooses to inflict a deluge of verbal assaults, as regularly as possible, on anybody who has the audacity to disagree with him. And once he starts, he doesn’t stop. Ever. And that’s when he’s sober.
On Saturday night, he was pissed off his head.
Amy and I and lots of mutual friends were all out at a bar to celebrate a mate’s birthday, when I hear the yelling start - “You’re a cnut! And Liverpool are cnuts! And we’re the greatest team ever! See what we did to Spurs today?â€, etc... And this was early in the night. So, unwilling to get into it with this neanderthal, I spent my evening avoiding him, moving to different parts of the bar as he would join the group I had been talking to. It worked nicely until 2:00 (and everyone had a really fun night, catching up with some old faces), when, as we were all waiting for a cab after closing time, he comes charging through the crowd to abuse me and another lad I was talking with, one last time… “You’re both cnuts! And Liverpool… blah, blah, blahâ€.
Now, I’m quite pissed myself at this point, so I didn’t show the same restraint as before. Mind, all I did was speak… “18 plus 5 is still more than 18 plus 3, right?†I turned to my mate and said to him “Ask Harold here how many times he’s been to Old Trafford, being the superfan that he is (Harold grew up in Northern Ireland, near Larne)â€â€¦ Before he could, I hear a big “F#$! YOU!†and he launches at me, shoving me 10 feet or so across the room (The correct answer is none, as you’ve probably guessed…).
So now, the red mist descends. I’ve never started a ruck, but if you put your hands on me, I will react… Like most guys, I think. So, I spring back for this wanker, but (luckily) two or three of my r mates had heard the raised voices and made their way over to where we all were just as he went for me, so as I started to go after him, arm cocked, ready to swing with all I’ve got, they all grabbed me, and stopped me from getting to him. Like I said earlier, the mist was well and truly down now though, and boy did I struggle for a little while, because I REALLY wanted to fight this bloke, but they were never going to let me go, and I calmed down quite quickly, under the circumstances…
Of course, he was yelling and cursing this whole time (from a safe distance, of course) and there were the usual “Leave it†and “He’s not worth it†flying, as cooler heads prevailed. My mates knew that he’d been trying to set a few of us (not just me) off all night long (that’s what he does), and they even told me that they WANTED to let me go, and they would have, if this had been a private party in somebody’s home, but as it was at a boozer, the cops would have inevitably been called, so I am very glad that they didn’t release their collective grip.
Would have been nice though… Just one shot. I would have made it count, too! 😉
Last thing I saw of him, was actually of his wife, falling over herself to apologise to Amy for her husband’s “disgusting†behavior. She was also “shockedâ€, apparently…. Don’t know why, though – The prick’s been doing this most weekends for 20 years now. Oh well.
Any recent fights (or near misses) out there. Anybody actually get to throw a punch in their stories..? ;D
Well, nearly. I tried really hard to get into a fight…
There’s a bloke in Dallas, who is simply the most rude, obnoxious, bullying lout you’d ever meet. To mask his obvious social retardation, he chooses to inflict a deluge of verbal assaults, as regularly as possible, on anybody who has the audacity to disagree with him. And once he starts, he doesn’t stop. Ever. And that’s when he’s sober.
On Saturday night, he was pissed off his head.
Amy and I and lots of mutual friends were all out at a bar to celebrate a mate’s birthday, when I hear the yelling start - “You’re a cnut! And Liverpool are cnuts! And we’re the greatest team ever! See what we did to Spurs today?â€, etc... And this was early in the night. So, unwilling to get into it with this neanderthal, I spent my evening avoiding him, moving to different parts of the bar as he would join the group I had been talking to. It worked nicely until 2:00 (and everyone had a really fun night, catching up with some old faces), when, as we were all waiting for a cab after closing time, he comes charging through the crowd to abuse me and another lad I was talking with, one last time… “You’re both cnuts! And Liverpool… blah, blah, blahâ€.
Now, I’m quite pissed myself at this point, so I didn’t show the same restraint as before. Mind, all I did was speak… “18 plus 5 is still more than 18 plus 3, right?†I turned to my mate and said to him “Ask Harold here how many times he’s been to Old Trafford, being the superfan that he is (Harold grew up in Northern Ireland, near Larne)â€â€¦ Before he could, I hear a big “F#$! YOU!†and he launches at me, shoving me 10 feet or so across the room (The correct answer is none, as you’ve probably guessed…).
So now, the red mist descends. I’ve never started a ruck, but if you put your hands on me, I will react… Like most guys, I think. So, I spring back for this wanker, but (luckily) two or three of my r mates had heard the raised voices and made their way over to where we all were just as he went for me, so as I started to go after him, arm cocked, ready to swing with all I’ve got, they all grabbed me, and stopped me from getting to him. Like I said earlier, the mist was well and truly down now though, and boy did I struggle for a little while, because I REALLY wanted to fight this bloke, but they were never going to let me go, and I calmed down quite quickly, under the circumstances…
Of course, he was yelling and cursing this whole time (from a safe distance, of course) and there were the usual “Leave it†and “He’s not worth it†flying, as cooler heads prevailed. My mates knew that he’d been trying to set a few of us (not just me) off all night long (that’s what he does), and they even told me that they WANTED to let me go, and they would have, if this had been a private party in somebody’s home, but as it was at a boozer, the cops would have inevitably been called, so I am very glad that they didn’t release their collective grip.
Would have been nice though… Just one shot. I would have made it count, too! 😉
Last thing I saw of him, was actually of his wife, falling over herself to apologise to Amy for her husband’s “disgusting†behavior. She was also “shockedâ€, apparently…. Don’t know why, though – The prick’s been doing this most weekends for 20 years now. Oh well.
Any recent fights (or near misses) out there. Anybody actually get to throw a punch in their stories..? ;D
