Some years ago, when I was but a young 'un,
Was walking home from school, listening to Walkman, a couple of chav types ride up to me on their bikes (except there was no such thing as chavs then, this is back in the days when we used to call them 'casuals').

The lead 'casual' starts spinning some story about how the headphones on his steroe are broken and can he try mine to make sure it's working. Obviously, I didn't have much option as I was wedged in between a wall and two muggers, both larger than me and on bikes, so I handed over the headphones. At this point, the muggers start to ride off and I foolishly decide that I'm going to try to get the headphones back.

Cue beating.

Bear in mind that this was on a busy road with plenty of traffic going past but not one of the bastards even stops. After what felt like a long time but was probably only a minute or two, another guy on a bike stops and chases the little fuckers off.

Anyway, the thing that really gets me was the fact that they stole a pair of broken headphones - the things were held together with a sticky label because when they got broken, I had no tape to hand!

Fast forward an hour or so, and the police turn up to take a statement so I go through describing what happened to them, at which point, one asks whether they gave me the rather nasty looking cut on my face. I then have to explain that this actually had happened the day before, when my seventeen year old had sister stabbed me in the face with a sharpened piece of broken-off protractor, in one of her semi-regular attempts at foreshortening my life. You couldn't script stuff like that...
( TunaBoy should be old enough to know better by now, Mon 19 Jun 2006, 20:03, Reply)