School Fight Club
We held a clandestine competition to find the toughest kid in our year. There was seeding, a proper draw, judges, the works. Thieving Shaun ran a book and turned a tidy profit.

Luckily for me, I ran away and was eliminated in the opening rounds, as the latter stages were pretty bloody horrific to say the least, with blood-spattered fourth-formers peeled off the concrete patch by the bike shed, and posted home to their mothers.

It all came to a head when Psycho Phil took on American Paul in the first semi-final. Paul dived in, missed with a huge haymaker, and Psycho Phil knocked him to the floor and kicked him in the head.

Then Psycho Phil kicked him in the head. And kicked him in the head. And kicked him in the head. And kicked him in the head. And kicked him in the head. For quite some time.

Eventually, the police arrived; but American Paul, once they'd found his teeth, refused to press charges.

There was no winner.

[The whole, sordid tale HERE if you can stand the girth.]
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 9:28, Reply)

I've never been much of a fighter *coughs a bit*, but....
at least once a week between the ages of 11 and 16, myself and this lad Craig, would indulge in fisty cuffs. We hated eachother. That's an understatement. We see eachother in the pubs from time to time now, and get on famously, life eh?
Oh, and I never lost, ha ha, although he would muller me now.
Another lad, when we were about 12, lifted me by the throat as if he was Vader in A New Hope, I lost all motivation in that fight.
( the wild elk Freeing excellence affects reality, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 7:59, Reply)

I'm far from proud of this
I remember back in primary school, I was playing neer the staff car park with a few of my friends. The car park was beside a one story hallway building, on which, the other side was the main playground.

Anyhoos, there I was playing away, and suddenly this girl (who I never knew) comes round from the playground, and starts telling me to give her bouncy ball back (turns out they were throwing their bouncy balls over the roof). Now I had not even seen a bouncy ball, let alone nick one. I told her so (as best you could being 10!). Well this went on for about 5-10 minutes, her saying give me the ball back, me saying I don't have a bloody ball!
Well, she got on my tits massively so, and in the end, I took the only course of action I could, and I kinda hit her. Being a boy, this was far from the right thing to do, and she promptly ran off to the teachers crying, and within 10 minutes, I found myself in the headmasters office.

Dozy bint tho, I never had her bloody ball. Not that its an excuse to hit a girl!
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 5:20, Reply)

Silly! Boots don't go in shower!
First year of senior school, and my so-called friend, a kid called Robert (who was a lanky hyperactive idiot on reflection) decided it would be funny to throw my only pair of school shoes into the gym showers thoroughly soaking them through.

Note I pride myself on my long fuse. However, being the typical short guy (5'6" - 7" now at age 24, munchkin sized then), my temper when it blows tends to err on the side of "nuclear".

I sat back down next to him plesantly smiling congratulating him on said funny prank whilst the rest of the class laughed. Now, I never did fight cleanly. Probably something to do with being the "repressed" short guy. Anyway, as he was doing his shoelaces on the bench, I promptly punched him in the small of his back making his head rebound off his knee. After reeling from that, he then decided to injure himself as well by headbutting the clothes pegs above on his return bounce. He cried like a little kid and despite being pacifist in nature, this was so funny it made my sides hurt. I think the teacher even found it quite humourous... (he still gave me a bollocking though)
(AdamJ Just another pom, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 3:42, Reply)

Don't hit a kid with glasses
Back in the days of "my childhood, of blessed memory" I was a skinny, big-eared, flat-chested slip of a girl, and was picked on by everyone. At the age of eight I started wearing glasses, so the scuffles turned to the humiliating comments of, "I'd hit you, but I'd break your glasses" or, even better, "Leave her, she's as blind as bat anyway".

The last time I heard that comment was at the age of twelve, when my best friend and I sat down to admire our hard-earned 200-bag collection of purchased stickers (don't ask). The local bully proceeded to confiscate the lot. I threw down the gauntlet and offered to have a fistfight over it, to which he replied that he wouldn't hit a girl, especially not one with glasses. He did not offer to return the stolen property; rather, he passed it on to his surrounding cronies.

What's to be done? I took off my glasses, asked a crony to hold them, called the other cronies to witness that I had no glasses and he could freely hit me, and, while he was busy laughing at my blinded state, proceeded to plant the heel of my shoe into his bollocks.

Took me a while to get the glasses back, as the witness holding them ran to warn the bully's mother that "P.B.B. is jumping on your son's head and he's bleeding".

Got all the stickers back too.
(pitt bull badger ...., Sun 12 Mar 2006, 3:23, Reply)

kung fu error
In year 11 at boarding school I was made dorm prefect of the year 9's dorm. Basically this meant I had to live in a small room inside the much bigger dorm and ensure that the kids were ok, but also behaved at night. Saturday mornings were dedicated to 'activities,' sport for those that way inclined, computer or model making club for others, but this was compulsory. The only positive to Saturdays was the 2 hour lay in allowed, unless you played for the football team, which, being a regular at computer club, I didn't.

Anyway, a number of the kids in my dorm did, and one morning seemed to forget that if they made a lot of noise, I would wake up and be really pissed off, and deal with them in a manner I saw fit. After the first warning most of them shut up, but one of them didn't, and after the third time I sent him to get dressed in the corridor because if he woke me up again I'd be less than impressed. Watched him leave, went back to bed and then heard the sound of the door closing as he re entered the room. This angered me. I waited untilhe was a good distance across the room before leaving my room, so he would not have an easy escape, and charged at him. He ran for the door, and, it looking like he was going to escape, I launched myself into a beautiful (I think) flying kick. There was a crack, and lots of blood, but unfortunately this was my blood, and the crack was my head denting the door frame. Was taken to hospital, missing my bastard lay in, my head was glued shut (whats wrong with stiches?) and to top it off, when I got back to school I was told off for leaving bloody hand prints on the wall and told to wash them off.

I like to think I taught that kid a lesson
(gingerchris I'm trying..., Sun 12 Mar 2006, 1:55, Reply)

in iran they have the morality police, at my school we had my best mate's little brother
he was always getting in trouble, but always in a "good" cause. on his very first day at school another kid was about to stamp on a caterpillar in the playground so chris pushed him over and stamped on him... he got sent home with a note.
all through his childhood chris was to be found standing outside the headmaster's office all because he had stood up for the little guy. as a result he always seemed to have an inner fire of one who has been the victim of an injustice.
I understand now he's fighting fires in the australian outback, in retrospect he was always desitined to be a hero.
(Stonkwood Pipes made me do it, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 1:13, Reply)

Piñata
I was eight-years old, at a playmate's birthday party, the first time I ever saw a piñata (a hollow papier-mache donkey filled with candy). They hung the piñata from a rope and a blindfolded kid swung at it with a bat. I stood expectantly underneath the swinging donkey, surrounded by playmates.

Whack! The donkey shattered directly over me, and candy showered below. Suddenly, sheer brutality, as every kid attacked. Bloody nose, knocked to the floor, kicked, bitten - I began madly swinging, but was overrun.

Quaint, light-hearted birthday customs teach Mexican kids early about the world....
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 23:56, Reply)

My mom's advice
regarding fights was this - "Never start a fight, but if you must defend yourself, kick them in the knee, at a 45 degree angle. The kneecap dislocates, they fall to the ground, then you run away."

So, there is this girl who's been bullying me for quite some time, and one day, I've had enough. I kick her in the knee. Her kneecap went *pop*. She fell to the ground crying. I ran off home and promptly told my mother what happened. She congratulated me for standing up for myself and gave me milk and cookies.

Two hours later, bully's mom calls my mom, and proceeds to complain to her. My mom listened to her ranting very calmly, then shouted into the phone "If your daughter wasnt a BITCH my daughter wouldn't have to kick her ass." Slams the phone down. End of story.

I love my mother.
(grrlatthrockshow, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 23:39, Reply)

Heroics
Some lovely chap from the local comprehensive decided it would make for an afternoons entertainment to come round our posh-arsed private boys school for a fight. After downing his bottle of vodka, he proceeded to club some unsuspecting and rather innocent chap round the head, shower of glass ensuing. He then, proverbially speaking, pegged it. Class act if you ask me.

Queue the resident head of PE, a tank of a man (and a scumbag who divorced his wife for a primary-school teaching skank, whole different story) chasing down the filthy bas. If anyone knows Edinburgh, he ran down the bugger half the length of Queensferry road. Tackled him and gave the blighter a seeing to. Certified quality. Thank God for physical education *winkage*
(PD Jameses, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 23:32, Reply)

No fight at all.
Fights at our school usually are rather boring - person one shouts "Mon then", pushes person two, person two says "Yer maw", pushes person one, repeat ad nauseum, this then maybe digresses into what looks from afar like "hugging a fat person" - not really punching the other, but flailing their arms around them.

(One great use of military precision tactics I must add here - one particular fight between a rather large "hard man" in my year, and three others - the larger two of the three fighting the "hard man" pick up the littlest on their shoulders, who proceeds to headbutt him. Stylish for a bunch with less than 12 brain cells between them.)

However as being quite a small school, half of the school population tend to crowd around the fight, no matter how boring it actually is, and it proves midly amusing to see 300 odd pupils run en masse around the school following the "fight".

So, for a bit of entertainment, my friend decided to yell "FIIIGHT!", and run in a certain direction - knowing that half the school would follow. Cue him taking them on a round trip of the grounds, around the school at least twice before they realised there was no fight at all. Baa.
(Eilidh likes comfortable shoes., Sat 11 Mar 2006, 22:32, Reply)

Another "not me, but..."
Was sat in a french lesson back when I was 12, minding my own business, trying to remember the word for keys. At first I heard someone disturb the silence. Then do it again, louder. The teacher shouted, but, as always, she was innefectual. Moments later, they shoving each other, and the teacher, by random chance, sends *me* to learning support for extra staff to help deal with the fight.

Yeah, it was that kind of school - had a room dedicated to staff on hand to break up fights. Brislington Comprehensive in bristol - not recommended.

Back to the story - I disappear, go get two scrawny language assistant ladies (who, once I was older, realised were actually jolly pretty) and return to find the room silent, without teacher and without the two combatants. I sit down, and the two pretty ladies saunter off. I find out from the guy sat next to me that the inneffectual french teacher had tried to break up the fight... just as it was coming to actual blows. Yeah. She took one in the eye. She ran out of the room crying and went straight to the nearest office. The office of Mr Matthews. 6'8'' ex-army maths teacher (takes all sorts, doesn't it?). He walks in, says not a word. picks one figher up with one arm and throws him, out the door. Then repeats the process. I leave the classroom to see the french teacher getting intimate with a bag of peas, and a ginger combatant pinned against the wall by his elbows getting a military-style telling off at 3 inches distant.

Made me chuckle.

Apologies for length. And tangents. And other geometry.
(Fishbowler, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 22:31, Reply)

The mild-mannered geek
Right. Where to begin. (I appologise now for any lack of coherancy. I'm tired.)

Firstly, I must explain this - I am a (visual) lard ass. End of. But this has its advantages. Mass, mostly. Probably because of my geeky disposition.

This is about 2 years ago.

And I have a HORRIFIC temper. But it takes a fucking shitload to make it "go", so to speak.

Now, this little shite, who we will call Ben, for that was his name, and doesn't deserve anonymity. He had been pissing me about for the last 4 hours on a Friday. He broke my -only- working pen. Great. He broke my calculator. Fine. I can deal with that. Only NOW does he start -literally- drawing on me. With marker.

So. Still calm, and the end of the "lesson" (if thats what you call the shambles on friday period last period), I leave the room (and by now have told him to piss off more times than there are words in the Bible, encarta and a "10 print "cocks" 20 goto 10" program put together.

So as I leave, he starts to follow. I'm not going a normal route, so its just me and him there. And he starts giving me a bunch of lip. I STILL have kept my cool. THEN he trys to punch me and call me a lard-arse. Kaboom. What do I do? I punch him in the face, as hard as I can (visable brusing come monday ^_^), grab him around the waste, hoist him about a foot from the floor (I'm 6 by 5 now. I must have been about half a foot shorter then, and he must have been quite short. Maybe 5, 0.) and literally hurl him at the floor.
Hehehe. And made a hasty exit to avoid consequence. Score? I win. He loses. And I haven't put up with any shit from any stupid chav since. =D Which is great, because I get enough shit as it is.

Edit: Oh yeah, apparently, I gave him "concussion", which I think was an excuse to avoid any more beating. I wouldn't have done any more damage. Felt guilty as it was.

Meh. Every now and then someone mentions it, and this has reminded me for the first time in a long time.

Sorry for wasting 5 minuites of your life. I hope the question is a bit more interesting next week.
(G.Eusebio ...Fentruk from the long past..., Sat 11 Mar 2006, 22:08, Reply)

Never really had a fight
as people knew better due to my average behavior. In the first years of high school I was occasionally teased (taking my stuff, and so on) but I recommended them to give it back. Otherwise, the chair in my hands would meet their skull very soon. Never was a fair fighter due to my lack of physical strength, but it paid off. Nothing keeps bullies at bay like large blunt objects.
(Psychosomatic Tumor Laugh your life cause there ain't much to cry for, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 21:54, Reply)

Me and my mate Hermann had had a bit of a fight just before a science lesson.
I was very upset at him and insulted his mum all lesson. Solidly. For an hour. It was getting over the top and everybody knew it, but the teacher was too hopeless to do anything about it. So for an hour, I'm claiming his mum has smoked more poles than Heinrich Himmler and all sorts of other stuff. A shotgun only blows twice, but your mum does it all night. That sort of thing.

And he just sits there. More and more cross-looking, for an hour. Doing the work. Ignoring me. So I carry on. Your mum's so fat, smaller fat people orbit her. I carry on and on and on and the lesson ends and we all go out and I'm well pumped up to smack him one as soon as we get outside.

Instead, I walk out and he slams me against a wall and pulls a pen out of his back pocket with the back end bitten off. He then stabs me in the face with this and ink and blood runs down my shocked mug. He draws it across, leaving a scar on the bridge of my nose, and then he walks off perfectly calmly, well aware I can't see shit through all that.

For the rest of the day I looked liked Braveheart crossed with a smurf.

The moral is, just because he's being quiet doesn't mean he's not going to seriously fuck up your day.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 21:42, Reply)

I only had two, and one didn't even count..
The first happened when I was in year 10/11 (I think). Or in other words, I was about 15/16? Anyways, my younger second cousin also attended the same school as me, and one lunch time, we had a fight of sorts.

Well I say fight, when I mean said bigger (in all ways) cousin smacked me into the floor three times. Basically me running up to her, her grabbing me and slamming me into the floor.

Had an awesome bruise on my face. Parents didn't believe that it could possibly be my precious younger cousin though :/

Another time was in P.E, when this chavvy little slag was mouthing off about all my friends. So I confronted her after school, and then her and her chav friends ended up circling us, aka me and my equally small friend, who'd stuck at my side.

Luckily things ended without violence, but I later found out that some of our other friends (who'd heard about it) had backtracked to see that we were okay. Aww..

Oh, oh! And I got into a bitch fight with my (then) best friend. I scratched her cheeks with my nails, leaving really nasty scratches. Heh heh.
(Wheeler back off Amazon, she's mine!, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 21:12, Reply)

veiny pneumatic hammers
Attending a rather rough school peopled with louts from surrounding housing estates I was also witness to a few mad, mad fights. The best of which was a kid called Mark proving he was one boy you didn't want to get on the wrong side of. A single punch to the stomach doubled this other, much larger kid up right away, if you've ever had the wind knocked out of you you'll know how he probably felt.

Unknown to the rest of us Mark had been boxing for around 6 years and being the modest sort, never told anyone.

To cut a short story even shorter the series of blows that Mark threw next caused everyone watching to stop chanting and just stare open mouthed. His arms resembled veiny pneumatic hammers pummelling soft, wobbling childflesh. Over and over into the stomach and ribs until the unfortunate recipient dribbled ready brek over his shoes.

Proving there's no such thing as going too far. Mark finished him off in true van Damme fashion with an fantastic knee to the chin and knocked him out cold.

I don't know what the repercussions of the fight were but considering most school fights consisted of pushing followed by rolling on the floor he should have won a certificate or something.
(Suddenly, zebras Safe and sound for eternity, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 18:42, Reply)

Geek Battle
Our story begins when I was about 12 and something of a meek geek who rarely if ever got in trouble. I had an even geekier friend who was getting teased too openly and frequently by a group of guys. The best way to stop this would be to pick the biggest and strongest and make an example of him. But, as a mild mannered geek, I wasn't foolish so I picked the weakest and smallest of them- nicknamed Bucky for his pre-orthidenture teeth- and started regularly mocking him to draw the heat off my friend. In art class I made a quick collection of clay figures, said they were his family and then stomped on them. To the shock of both of us, he hauled off and landed a pretty good (for us) punch to the jaw. We then proceeded to fight. I don't think either of us landed another punch before we were sent to the office.
Once there, he decided since he was always in trouble and I never was I should explain that it was a mistake. I was to say that I meant to hit someone else but hit him instead. I figured I was in trouble already, so I might as well save one of us. He, a more experienced felon, realized immediately that it was too stupid a story to believe, so we scrapped it.

While waiting for our punishment (mine was the principal shaking his head and expressing disappointmen at my uncharacteristic behavior) I was seen and word spread. When I returned to my Spanish class midway through, the class got up and gave me a loud standing ovation for my epic battle.
Later on, of course, Bucky and I became friends.
(thatguyjoe, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 17:19, Reply)

she totally deserved it...
had a bit of a messed up time when i was 12, mum offed herself, i took a week off school, as you would. 2 days after returning to school the biggest ned in the place comes over to me and says to all her pals *hideous glaswegian accent* "check the nick o her, no wonder her maw kilt hersel'". red mist descends, i lose about 3 minutes. the next thing i know is im being pulled off of her by my pals and she's got some lovely bleeding scratches down her face. it later transpired id tried to rip her face off, whoops...
though she was my friend from that day forth, and i never got any bother off of any of the other neds either, awesome!
(sarcasticgirl, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 17:17, Reply)

Pacifist now, but...
Age 10, all necessary pre-existing conditions met. New school - check. Early puberty, making me look curvy and 16 - check. Cheerful optimism - check. Due to poor eyesight, taking a seat at the front of the class on my first day at l'Ecole de Fucktard - check and mate. Cut to the end of the day, in an alley. A nice turnout. So many of them wanted to thrash me that they couldn't decide who should start, so they contracted it out to the prize class lummox. I could have told them that I had 10 years of fighting practice at home thanks to a psychotic sibling, and my training was nicely augmented by weekly study of pre-WWF/E wrestling matches on a grainy b/w tv... but they weren't in a listening mood. So, amid the swarm of smelly 10-year-olds making rude noises about my sex life and such, a largish oaf lumbers toward me, grinning and going "Heh, hehh..." A flurry of activity ensues. Full nelson! The Boston Crab! Body slam! Oooh, the pile driver! I think at the point where I was grinding his drooling face into the gravel, he decided to call it a draw. I think I actually made him say, "Uncle," because I saw it on TV once and thought it was protocol.

That was that sorted out, till the girls started in on me. Fixed that though, too, eventually. Years and years later, a few of them still look a little frightened if they spot me (had them think I was a witch and could cast spells on them.) Sheep.

First post - but if you lot want to pound me for being new, come on then! Hugs and pints after, of course.
(socialised_medicine quietly returns to Saskatchewan for Lurkfest 2007, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 16:49, Reply)

Waheed
There was only one child of Pakistani origin at our school, he had a lot of respect mainly because he was the hardest lad there. Even more solid then the 5th year lads. I'll never forget the day he caught my mate Kiz carving a crude swastika on a desk with a compass. *pummell* .
Kiz is now in Iraq.
(xwoody01, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 16:35, Reply)

fire!
i was never a fighter in school, i got beat up alot though :( so this isnt really a fight... one girl set my hair on fire cos apparently i was a witch.
Does anyone remember the big rulers you got in graphics with the T bar at the end? well some guy was making obsene gestures behind my head so i swung round and implanted it in his groin.
i was picked on alot but once or twice i gave as good as i got... i took a chunk out of one guys arm with my teeth. and beat another guy up for saying he slept with me....

I look back now and think it was a real shit time....now i look at them and see them with no qualifications, had teen pregnancies, no jobs and generally made a mess of there lives. while im succsessful....

revenge is worth waiting for.
(Serbitar Has a furry shit canon called Whitey., Sat 11 Mar 2006, 16:26, Reply)

Comedy(ish) one this time
Not me, but my dad. So I doubt the truthfulness of this story. Dad went to a school (noway!) in North London. Someone sitting behind him said, and I quote: Oi you cunt, gimme a pencil.
Dad turns around and embeds his pencil in this guy's hand. Classic.
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 16:07, Reply)

Not in school as such...
...but he did attend my fabulous secondary. On the way home one day, him and his "gang" decided to set about me for no reason other than I was a rocker/grunger in the middle of a council estate inhabited solely by gangstaas. 6 of them and one of me. Come on, I had no chance. I punched one in the throat, worked another's ribs, floored one with the fabled Palm Heel Strike (I know karate :D) and somehow managed to kick one in the face with the mighty Jumping Front Kick. I, however, got my head stamped on, my finger fractured* (can't work out whether it was from me hitting him or t'other way around) and my kidneys had a sound kicking. On top of the everyday punch in the face etc. etc. etc.
It was a draw, technically, though I won on points for refusing to run away.
For months afterwards, I'd been taunted non-stop and my mum had stick along the lines of "your son got aired" or some bullshit like that. Funnily enough, my dad got none of that. Might be something to do with him being a 6 foot tall, 3 foot wide slab of pure anger with concrete fists. But I digress.
2 of the gang see me on the rather deserted street one day and mouth off. I'm having non of this and one steel-capped boot to the dangleberries later he's a quivering ball of screaming ex-manliness and his mate's legged it.
It was fun walking past him in school the next day. He could only hobble.

I'd love to say they never went for me again. But one did, ended with the munter running away. The local beat bobby came around the corner, he legged it and I got congratulated on my supoib volley of punches to the jaw area. Although my face got a bit of a pasting.

*And I had a piano exam the day after I got the fractured finger for my Music GCSE. Didn't stop me getting an A
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 16:02, Reply)

I was the school wimp, in the various versions of school I attended.
However, on a couple of occasions I lost my cool, with astonishing results.

The first time was in a hippy primary school (prior weston in London) where we called the teachers by their first names, and as I remember, even they were scared of the school bully....

said bully, however picked on me one time too many. I leapt at him with probably no style or grace but quite a lot of the element of surprise. I think I was pretty much foaming at the mouth by the time the teachers hauled me bodily from his dead carcass. Well, not quite, but it felt like it. I had vague recollections of a vast crowd of kids all, for once, chanting my name. And best of all he was crying and had a bloody nose. He never went near me again. Result!!

The other time I remember wll was at Kingsbridge Comprehensive school in Devon. An ex grammar school with a few remaining pretensions. I got picked on a lot there. Finally one cocky kid tried to push me over one time too many in the cloakroom outside the school library.

Finding strength I didn't know I had, I picked him up by his ears, and smacking his head against a wall for emphasis on every word I bellowed:
"JUST" smack "BLOODY" smack "LEAVE" smack "ME" smack "ALONE!"

Of course, the teacher heard the noise and came out to investigate. My heart sank as I looked around to see the strictest and scariest teacher in school in the doorway. He called us both in to explain what on earth was going on.

My red mist receded, and I explained that I had just lost it after being picked on too many times that day.

The other kid said that he had tripped and accidentally fell onto me. He wasn't a very good liar....

I got off scot free, and he got detention for a week. Result!!

So kids - punching bullies is fun and works!
(teasus likes tea, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 15:58, Reply)

my only fight at 11 yrs old
this stupid jerk that everyone hated insulted my family so during an outside break everyone was playing on this huge pile of snow (iceland yay) and i went up to the guy and slapped him hard across the face repeatedly for about five minutes before a someone yelled that a teacher was coming and i jumped off the snowpile and vanished.

later his mother called our house but i just hung up on her and disconnected the phone. she was probably just angry that her son had been beaten up by a scrawny girl.
(froffee, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 15:58, Reply)

cruel revenge
Didn't into many fights myself, but witnessed a mate getting a pasting once by this absolute cnut of a kid, i won't name, while all his mates held us back, one of many kickings said kid used to dish out, he was a bloody loon and deserved a pasting himself but you couldn't get near.

was gonna be a career thug i tell ya.

still see him about town occasionally... in a wheel chair. only went an got disabled waist down during exam time in a crash.

Fucking horrible thing to happen to anyone, but openly people were split at the time coz its not a nice thing to happen, but he was a monumental cnut, not many people left that remember this tho, tends to get the sympathy vote.

still has his minions too, and this happened 15 years ago (early 90's).

i gotta a pasting once by one of the 20 year druggie/thug/dealer moron olds that used to plague the town when i was 13 for trying to stand up for my bruv when being bullied

Finally at about 15 pissed in a park, gotta mate off his feet with a peach of an upper cut coz he was drunk and mouthing off trying to get a smack, so i obliged
(1_not_so_careful_owner, Sat 11 Mar 2006, 15:39, Reply)