Could have been nasty!
Back in my youth some mates went to a house party – smoking drinking etc. They needed more weed so called the local dealership to get sorted. Mr Dealer asked if I was there and was told I wasn’t so he went round and sorted everyone. It turns out that some bloke called spikeypickle had grassed him and a few mates up for dealing. The guy knew who I was and obviously pretty pissed off. Threats were and messages left for me along the lines of broken legs, severe damage etc etc. Needless to say everyone at the party was a bit shocked and protested my innocence. It did no good. Dealer and his mates wanted retribution and compensation by way of blood. As you can imagine I was pretty shit scared. Where I lived was only a small place so I figured it wasn’t going to be long before they caught up with me and gave me a sound beating. Over the next few weeks things were still unresolved and I was still thought of by as a grass by this little dealership. I spent quite a while looking over my shoulder. The thing was I’d actually drank and smoked with this guy on more than one occasion and he definitely knew who I was so the end result (a beating at least) seemed pretty inevitable.

Fast forward a few weeks…..

I was drinking in the next town when Mr Dealer and his somewhat psychotic mates walked in. This pub in question has a bit of funny layout and hence I went unnoticed. It was only a matter of time until they clocked me and had words. I bit the bullet and headed over – if I was getting a kicking they may as well do it now.

Me: “Alright Mr Dealer, I here you’ve been looking for me”

Mr Dealer: RAGE RAGE RAGE “I think we should go outside and discuss this”

I declined his generous offer and instead protested my innocence and the fact that some little fucker who just happened to share my name had in fact done the deed while his mates looked increasingly agitated and prone to violence regardless of the location. After much discussion and me coming damn close to death he eventually seemed to believe me. He asked me outside again ‘for a smoke’. I reckon I was going to get a kicking regardless of whether I went outside now or left at the normal time in which case they would be waiting. Off I went, round the back of the pub with him and a couple of his mates, big fuckers they were. Mr Dealer rolled a spliff and we smoked. All was good. In fact he even gave me £15.00 to go and score him an 8th (back in the day when an 8th cost £15.00) as his stash was at home and he wasn’t heading back til late. I duly obliged. The bottom line is that all went after much arguing and stern words and I never got a kicking.

Here’s the mistaken identity bit. The chap that grassed him up was actually called spikeypickle and I’d already been told this about a week or 2 beforehand. This little fact was used during my protestations of innocence which took some doing as my full name is pretty uncommon. I was pretty annoyed with this spikeypickle and made a promise to Mr Dealer that once I had a bit more info on him I would the details on. I found him. The town isn’t big and knew enough people to find out eventually where this spikeypickle was. I found out were he lived etc and let Mr Dealer know. I’ve no idea what happened after that but I hope he was given a few good whacks on my behalf.

I swear this was all true and the story is still told over 10years later.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Wed 6 Jun 2007, 16:13, Reply)