NationStates Jolt Archive

i just had literally the worst night of my life - not only was my ex girlfriend, who i am "lucky" enough to share a house with out trying to score with some random internet bloke - that's bad enough (and whats worse is she lied to me about it, if you don't have anything to feel ashamed of don't lie is my mottto - obviously she felt guilty because we share a house,we've only been split up a grand total of three weeks,i've taken it bad and she's out chasing cock already), not only that, but the wonderful place i went with my cousin featured a between marginally attractive and very attractive lady...i talked to her for about 15 minutes then forgot her except to ask for a light later...but by this point, a very very very fat and burly man, who claimed (i don't know and don't care) to be her brother had turned up. He accused me of trying it on, of being a pervert (well i am,hold my hand up to this, but at the same time my behaviour tonight doesn't exactly prove his point - talking to someone, followed by lots of smoking cigarettes and staring off into space....)...after this point i walked away from the pub with a random guy i'd met, we were discussing how pretentious and full of themselves welsh language activists were when i suddenly hear an "oi"...

so naturally i turn round. It's fat bloke again...now he accuses me - and the other guy who conveniently legs it - of being a pervert AGAIN (and again i say "i am, but what evidence from my behaviour tonight do you have...), of being a closet rapist because i "follow" two girls home (they were in front of me, i was walking home), he threatens me with a knife, with his fists, tells me he's going to stamp on my head, tells me he's going to rip my lungs out. Forces me to sit down on the kerb while he shouts these things in my face, i'm like "look, leave me be, i just want to get home, your sister was quite pretty but i didn't try it on with her and i just want to get the fuck home", he threatens me a few more times and then leaves me go, and fifteen yards later, a police car that he's hailed down stops me in the middle of the street and enquires whether i am indeed a rapist and planning to follow, rape, murder and eat these girls (by then i'm at least half a mile from the street they went down and heading home).

I mean, what the fuck? On so many levels, what the fuck? I won't pretend to be a blushing innocent, but nothing i did tonight warranted anywhere near this level of aggression.

and i missed "24 hour party people" which were on the telly, innit.

Bad night.

You got shouted at by a drunk. Meh.

Shame about getting dumped though.

See in America, you could have chugged a coke, put the can as a poor-man's silencer on your handy 9mm handgun, blown his head off, and walked off. But hey, not many people enjoy the rights we Americans do.

Gee, shit, bad luck mate. Well, there are many, many crazy lunatics out there, you just had the misfortune of attracting one that night. As for the girlfriend, it's probably best you've broken up, it'd be worse if she was chasing someone elses tail while you were still together...

You got shouted at by a drunk. Meh.

Shame about getting dumped though.

Nah, i've been shouted at by a drunk before, this is more "i was in fear for my life for a good ten minutes...whilst drunk, which doesn't exactly help you focus on how irrelevant the threats are...."

AND THE TAXI CHARGED DOUBLE RATE TO GET ME HOME.

not a shame about getting dumped...essentially, she's a relationship whore (and i apologise to anyone who thinks i am being sexist, because in my experience you can be male or female and be a relationship whore). These differ from normal whore's by the way they leap out of one relationship to the next, acting as if the one they are in now is the first ever, completely disregarding the last and treating the person who they were in it with like shite. Not a shame i got dumped, just...something i should have learned by now.

At least normal whores admit they just like cock. or clit. Depending on sex, gender or sexuality.

Gee, shit, bad luck mate. Well, there are many, many crazy lunatics out there, you just had the misfortune of attracting one that night. As for the girlfriend, it's probably best you've broken up, it'd be worse if she was chasing someone elses tail while you were still together...

Been there, done that, got the bleeding heart to show it...and what irritates me is the way they think a blatant lie that a 5 year old can see through is enough to keep you happy. I mean, godsake, do i look like an idiot?

(anyone who has ever seen me should not answer that question, to preserve my self-worth)

Well, just bear in mind, that drunk lunatic was probably picked up and tossed in the slammer for beating the shit out of some poor innocent guy walking down the street as he tottered his way home. Be thankful that you weren't that innocent guy, and smile at the thought of him being buggered sober by Big Bubba all night in the local holding cell!!! :p

See in America, you could have chugged a coke, put the can as a poor-man's silencer on your handy 9mm handgun, blown his head off, and walked off. But hey, not many people enjoy the rights we Americans do.

I dunno, call me twisted, but i'd prefer the lunatic to see reason than see his own lungs through a 9mm exit wound...

you sound like you have a funny accent. It's not often that one can tell from writing, but congradulatons on an authentic, interesting style! (and sorry about your trouble)

Well, just bear in mind, that drunk lunatic was probably picked up and tossed in the slammer for beating the shit out of some poor innocent guy walking down the street as he tottered his way home. Be thankful that you weren't that innocent guy, and smile at the thought of him being buggered sober by Big Bubba all night in the local holding cell!!! :p

Let me tell you, Bubba would have to be BIIIIIIIG. This guy was so fat, burly and intimidating, you'd have tours round his ass, with disclaimers from the management about how if he scared, maimed or damaged you, it wasn't the managements fault...

Be thankful that you weren't that innocent guy, and smile at the thought of him being buggered sober by Big Bubba all night in the local holding cell!!! :p


Call me a bed-wetting pinko liberal, but I still find something just a tiny touch distasteful about rape being used as a form of justice. I guess I'm just crazy that way.

you sound like you have a funny accent. It's not often that one can tell from writing, but congradulatons on an authentic, interesting style! (and sorry about your trouble)

I have a welsh accent. A small minority of women on earth find it arousing (usually not welsh women, strangely enough), the rest just find it laughable.

thanks for your good wishes though :)

Been there, done that, got the bleeding heart to show it...and what irritates me is the way they think a blatant lie that a 5 year old can see through is enough to keep you happy. I mean, godsake, do i look like an idiot?

(anyone who has ever seen me should not answer that question, to preserve my self-worth)


Seriously, you don't see it when you're in the relationship, only when you're out, have taken a step back from it all do you see the type of shit you went through to keep her happy. Just be glad that you don't have to fork out a small fortune on Valentines gifts for her this year, instead, go spend the dosh on a night out with the lads, you know you deserve it....bet she made you feel guilty about leaving her on her own every time you had a night out planned without her...?

Call me a bed-wetting pinko liberal, but I still find something just a tiny touch distasteful about rape being used as a form of justice. I guess I'm just crazy that way.

Me too. Even when he stood above me threatening me with bodily torture i tried to reason with him...

call me a pinko liberal pervert, but the optimum solution to the situation was him saying "yes, sorry, you are great, i apologise, now please go home with my mildly attractive sister, you know, the one you weren't in any way trying it on with"

:)

Seriously, you don't see it when you're in the relationship, only when you're out, have taken a step back from it all do you see the type of shit you went through to keep her happy. Just be glad that you don't have to fork out a small fortune on Valentines gifts for her this year, instead, go spend the dosh on a night out with the lads, you know you deserve it....bet she made you feel guilty about leaving her on her own every time you had a night out planned without her...?

Oh, all women (and i'm sure all men, but i've never gone out with a man so i can't comment) are experts at emotional blackmail...she somehow made me feel that dumping me so she can go look for fresh meat (after i had taken her in from the street, built up her confidence from when she was suicidal so she was now able to function as a human being, lent her about £1000 and not ever made a comment on the fact she owed me this money...) was my fault.

That takes a special kind of person.

Call me a bed-wetting pinko liberal, but I still find something just a tiny touch distasteful about rape being used as a form of justice. I guess I'm just crazy that way.

Well......in this case, I think it's justified....
(Just to set the record straight, I agree, just a joke, I've lived with my perverted husband WAY to long...:D )

Well......in this case, I think it's justified....
(Just to set the record straight, I agree, just a joke, I've lived with my perverted husband WAY to long...:D )

He sounds fun.

Shit, i'm blotting my copybook saying that, you'll be believing fat scary guy next....

Let me tell you, Bubba would have to be BIIIIIIIG. This guy was so fat, burly and intimidating, you'd have tours round his ass, with disclaimers from the management about how if he scared, maimed or damaged you, it wasn't the managements fault...

Well, that's why they call him Big Bubba. Imagine the guy who played John Coffey in the Green Mile. Now imagine his bigger, taller, burlier big brother.

Well, that's why they call him Big Bubba. Imagine the guy who played John Coffey in the Green Mile. Now imagine his bigger, taller, burlier big brother.

I'm tempted...very tempted...to agree with the idea of penitentiary man-rape to solve my "complete tosser" problems...

but to be honest, even way back when, when a - at the time - close friend bottled me causing 30 stitches with no provocation, i still didn't want hideous things to happen to him, despite the feeling of betrayal...and the feeling of absolute pain. I just wanted him to pay a requisite punishment for what he had did.

I'm probably the wettest liberal on here, but i believe that pretty much anything can be reasoned out with someone*

*unless they are very fat, very drunk and have sister issues...

Oh, all women (and i'm sure all men, but i've never gone out with a man so i can't comment) are experts at emotional blackmail...she somehow made me feel that dumping me so she can go look for fresh meat (after i had taken her in from the street, built up her confidence from when she was suicidal so she was now able to function as a human being, lent her about £1000 and not ever made a comment on the fact she owed me this money...) was my fault.

That takes a special kind of person.


Forget the money. Get rid of her NOW. Move house. Do something now or you will surely regret it. This is not the end of your difficulties with her. (My opinion only).

.

Oh, all women (and i'm sure all men, but i've never gone out with a man so i can't comment) are experts at emotional blackmail...she somehow made me feel that dumping me so she can go look for fresh meat (after i had taken her in from the street, built up her confidence from when she was suicidal so she was now able to function as a human being, lent her about £1000 and not ever made a comment on the fact she owed me this money...) was my fault.

That takes a special kind of person.


Nope, women are better. I told my last boyfriend that I was pregnant two weeks after we broke up. He cried for an hour, sitting out under a tree in a storm trying to figure out what he was going to do....I wasn't. Be thankful you didn't break up with me....

Bring a girl back to your place some night, not necessarily to do the dirty deed, even a friend of yours that she doesn't know, or at least know well, just talk, flirt, share a coffe/tea/nightcap on the sofa, completely ignoring her if/when she comes into the room. If she throws a hissy fit, remind her that she has no say in your life any more, so go f*@! off!

i just had literally the worst night of my life - not only was my ex girlfriend, who i am "lucky" enough to share a house with out trying to score with some random internet bloke - that's bad enough (and whats worse is she lied to me about it, if you don't have anything to feel ashamed of don't lie is my mottto - obviously she felt guilty because we share a house,we've only been split up a grand total of three weeks,i've taken it bad and she's out chasing cock already), not only that, but the wonderful place i went with my cousin featured a between marginally attractive and very attractive lady...i talked to her for about 15 minutes then forgot her except to ask for a light later...but by this point, a very very very fat and burly man, who claimed (i don't know and don't care) to be her brother had turned up. He accused me of trying it on, of being a pervert (well i am,hold my hand up to this, but at the same time my behaviour tonight doesn't exactly prove his point - talking to someone, followed by lots of smoking cigarettes and staring off into space....)...after this point i walked away from the pub with a random guy i'd met, we were discussing how pretentious and full of themselves welsh language activists were when i suddenly hear an "oi"...

so naturally i turn round. It's fat bloke again...now he accuses me - and the other guy who conveniently legs it - of being a pervert AGAIN (and again i say "i am, but what evidence from my behaviour tonight do you have...), of being a closet rapist because i "follow" two girls home (they were in front of me, i was walking home), he threatens me with a knife, with his fists, tells me he's going to stamp on my head, tells me he's going to rip my lungs out. Forces me to sit down on the kerb while he shouts these things in my face, i'm like "look, leave me be, i just want to get home, your sister was quite pretty but i didn't try it on with her and i just want to get the fuck home", he threatens me a few more times and then leaves me go, and fifteen yards later, a police car that he's hailed down stops me in the middle of the street and enquires whether i am indeed a rapist and planning to follow, rape, murder and eat these girls (by then i'm at least half a mile from the street they went down and heading home).

I mean, what the fuck? On so many levels, what the fuck? I won't pretend to be a blushing innocent, but nothing i did tonight warranted anywhere near this level of aggression.

So, i say to you, given that the vast - if not complete - majority of you live nowhere near it....don't go out in Treforest. Bad place, with some very aggressive tossers....

and i missed "24 hour party people" which were on the telly, innit.

Bad night.
drunk people suck. solution: don't bother getting drunk, hanging around drunk people, or going out to pubs.
i learned this at cardiff uni (nice to see another welshie!)

edit: and your break up? :fluffle: (sympathy fluffles)

Forget the money. Get rid of her NOW. Move house. Do something now or you will surely regret it. This is not the end of your difficulties with her. (My opinion only).

.

Oh, i pretty much agree with you except...

(a) i love this fucking house (it's up the top of Pantygraigwen in Pontypridd, South Wales, top of a fucking big hill, 20 minutes walk from earth, so coming home i get to be both very healthy and fit and also eco-friendly and i save on transport fares) and
(b) she's on the contract till May...

.....it's up the top of Pantygraigwen in Pontypridd, South Wales, ......those are some of the strangest place-names ever. quaint welshmen.

Here we get chased by drunk Indians. Scary. I always carry a razor-sharp knife (I'm a girl).. and I would own a Glock (again) if I had the money.

I'm tempted...very tempted...to agree with the idea of penitentiary man-rape to solve my "complete tosser" problems...

but to be honest, even way back when, when a - at the time - close friend bottled me causing 30 stitches with no provocation, i still didn't want hideous things to happen to him, despite the feeling of betrayal...and the feeling of absolute pain. I just wanted him to pay a requisite punishment for what he had did.

I'm probably the wettest liberal on here, but i believe that pretty much anything can be reasoned out with someone*

*unless they are very fat, very drunk and have sister issues...


Even though I don't condone anal rape, or indeed any rape of any kind, or in fact, any violence of any kind, I like to imagine horrible things happening to them, not, of course wanting to do them, but it makes me feel better thinking of them suffering more than I am...

I'm all for the talking it through deal, just sometimes it doesn't work....like with big, fat hairy blokes with sister issues for one...

Nope, women are better. I told my last boyfriend that I was pregnant two weeks after we broke up. He cried for an hour, sitting out under a tree in a storm trying to figure out what he was going to do....I wasn't. Be thankful you didn't break up with me....

Bring a girl back to your place some night, not necessarily to do the dirty deed, even a friend of yours that she doesn't know, or at least know well, just talk, flirt, share a coffe/tea/nightcap on the sofa, completely ignoring her if/when she comes into the room. If she throws a hissy fit, remind her that she has no say in your life any more, so go f*@! off!

I'm tempted to do that, but the only problem is, she's slightly (read, VERY) depressive and...being the soft shite i am, i feel responsible for her happiness, her sadness and her general all round...state of well being)

I mean , i want to bring back a screamer (and - all modesty aside - given enough time and a certain mood, i've been able to make most women a screamer) but the thought of someone you care about (even if she doesn't care about you) sitting on the other side of 20 inches of wall listening to her ex provoking multiple orgasms in someone....

nah, too soft to do it.

Sure she'll do it to me sometime soon though.

I'm tempted to do that, but the only problem is, she's slightly (read, VERY) depressive and...being the soft shite i am, i feel responsible for her happiness, her sadness and her general all round...state of well being)

I mean , i want to bring back a screamer (and - all modesty aside - given enough time and a certain mood, i've been able to make most women a screamer) but the thought of someone you care about (even if she doesn't care about you) sitting on the other side of 20 inches of wall listening to her ex provoking multiple orgasms in someone....

nah, too soft to do it.

Sure she'll do it to me sometime soon though.

Don't know, you can't let her rule your life, if you're worried about making things worse for her, arrange for someone to take your room and find another place to live. That way you've made a clean break, and she's not stuck trying to find someone to help cover the rent/bills, etc, and you never have to go through the torture of knowing when exactly she's with someone else. You know it's going to happen, but no one really needs to know all the gory details....

you know that offer to trade I take it back. :D

drunk people suck. solution: don't bother getting drunk, hanging around drunk people, or going out to pubs.
i learned this at cardiff uni (nice to see another welshie!)

edit: and your break up? :fluffle: (sympathy fluffles)

You may have learned it at Cardiff Uni, but you must also have learned that being drunk = the basic culture of South Wales. I try to keep myself intellectual, interesting, with diverse interests and tastes and just basically...you know, i try to keep myself...alive culturally...but still...it's an inescapable fact...you live in Wales, you have to get drunk quite regularly, or you are a social misfit (which i no doubt am but...)

Where in Wales are you from?

I'm tempted to do that, but the only problem is, she's slightly (read, VERY) depressive and...being the soft shite i am, i feel responsible for her happiness, her sadness and her general all round...state of well being)

I mean , i want to bring back a screamer (and - all modesty aside - given enough time and a certain mood, i've been able to make most women a screamer) but the thought of someone you care about (even if she doesn't care about you) sitting on the other side of 20 inches of wall listening to her ex provoking multiple orgasms in someone....

nah, too soft to do it.

Sure she'll do it to me sometime soon though.
been there mate, she is not your responsibility when June comes around kick her out. Gotta look after number one first

those are some of the strangest place-names ever. quaint welshmen.

it's very basic, to be honest. The hill next to us is called "pen-y-graig-wen"...Which basically means "on top of the hill (the hill)"

Oh, i pretty much agree with you except...

(a) i love this fucking house (it's up the top of Pantygraigwen in Pontypridd, South Wales, top of a fucking big hill, 20 minutes walk from earth, so coming home i get to be both very healthy and fit and also eco-friendly and i save on transport fares) and
(b) she's on the contract till May...


...Yay, I found it on Google Earth..!
Seriuously though, wait until your troubles (veiled or direct agression, innuendos) start with the new boyfriend(s).
Good luck.

As i said, way too soft...

my last but one girlfriend ended up owing me £4000, getting a job that paid 3 times my salary (because of my efforts on her behalf), treated me like utter shit and i had nude pictures of her that i could have used (in fact, she told me repeatedly she feared i would) to embarrass her...

My response to constant vilification from her?

Mildly berating her for being impolite to me.

Oh, man, you have GOT to stop giving money to girls. One thing if you've been in a relationship for, like, forever, but 4000 (goddamn American keyboard has no pound sign!!! I hate America) is a lot of money to blow on someone who doesn't even care about you. I would have sued her ass. Next time you loan money, get an IOU from whoever you loan it to. Don't let people wipe the floor with your ass, you need to stand up a bit more for yourself...

been there mate, she is not your responsibility when June comes around kick her out. Gotta look after number one first

I won't kick her out so much as basically say "mmm, i don't think we can live together"...in a polite, non offensive way.

And she'll still take offence, they do tend to (this is a clarification, by this i mean all people you are ever in a relationship with ever...not women, not men...my mate Leanne is gay as arseholes - to use her delightful phrase - and once said to me "relationships are fine, friendships are fine, you understand another human being completely....and then penetration, or clitoral stimulation enters the picture and you are left completely baffled by their motivation")

...Yay, I found it on Google Earth..!
Seriuously though, wait until your troubles (veiled or direct agression, innuendos) start with the new boyfriend(s).
Good luck.

The new boyfriends going to have fun because...i have no intention of leaving the house so they can do the dirty...so he'll have to be able to raise wood whilst an ex is in the next room stroking the relationships cat.

If he can do that, he's way more of a callous human being than i....

Oh, man, you have GOT to stop giving money to girls. One thing if you've been in a relationship for, like, forever, but 4000 (goddamn American keyboard has no pound sign!!! I hate America) is a lot of money to blow on someone who doesn't even care about you. I would have sued her ass. Next time you loan money, get an IOU from whoever you loan it to. Don't let people wipe the floor with your ass, you need to stand up a bit more for yourself...

Well, i would have but there was a slight problem given she was a good muslim girl and i was a non-good welsh man and our entire relationship was conducted surreptitiously, at least partially to stop her brothers removing my testicles...

plus the whole £4000 thing was built up over 6 years rather than me handing her a cheque.

I won't kick her out so much as basically say "mmm, i don't think we can live together"...in a polite, non offensive way.

And she'll still take offence, they do tend to (this is a clarification, by this i mean all people you are ever in a relationship with ever...not women, not men...my mate Leanne is gay as arseholes - to use her delightful phrase - and once said to me "relationships are fine, friendships are fine, you understand another human being completely....and then penetration, or clitoral stimulation enters the picture and you are left completely baffled by their motivation")
I dont care how you do it but stick up for yourself, you can only be used if you let yourself be used

You may have learned it at Cardiff Uni, but you must also have learned that being drunk = the basic culture of South Wales. I try to keep myself intellectual, interesting, with diverse interests and tastes and just basically...you know, i try to keep myself...alive culturally...but still...it's an inescapable fact...you live in Wales, you have to get drunk quite regularly, or you are a social misfit (which i no doubt am but...)

Where in Wales are you from?
haha thats very true :p
probably why i ended up such a social misfit/loner :P

and my family is from glamorgan but we've lived in england all my life - only lived in cardiff for 2 years for the uni


oh and welsh language activists/purists really are pretentious and full of themselves ;)

I dont care how you do it but stick up for yourself, you can only be used if you let yourself be used

Wise words and something i'll pay attention to next time...

this time, it's probably too late to start thinking about that kind of thing, i've already made my thistle-down bed.

haha thats very true :p
probably why i ended up such a social misfit/loner :P

and my family is from glamorgan but we've lived in england all my life - only lived in cardiff for 2 years for the uni


oh and welsh language activists/purists really are pretentious and full of themselves ;)

Aw, there was me hoping there was someone on here within shouting distance ;)

Cardiff Uni? I did my dissertation in the library there, way back when...back when "dry roasted" was a type of peanut and not a perversion practiced by Premiership footballers.

And, fuck, yes, i hate the welsh language purists. I can speak maybe a dozen words, and i will fight any North Walian Idwal who claims that he's more Welsh than me.

With leeks.

haha thats very true :p
probably why i ended up such a social misfit/loner :P

and my family is from glamorgan but we've lived in england all my life - only lived in cardiff for 2 years for the uni


oh and welsh language activists/purists really are pretentious and full of themselves ;)
you dont have to get drunk to go enjoy a drink with a few mates. I drink socially but am very rarely drunk

Well, i would have but there was a slight problem given she was a good muslim girl and i was a non-good welsh man and our entire relationship was conducted surreptitiously, at least partially to stop her brothers removing my testicles...

plus the whole £4000 thing was built up over 6 years rather than me handing her a cheque.

OK, never lend more money to anyone until the first amount has been repaid. Otherwise it's an invitation to walk all over you. Women can be catty, money grabbing, two faced bitches. Trust me, I'm a woman. And just this once, I'm telling you the raw, naked truth.

I dont care how you do it but stick up for yourself, you can only be used if you let yourself be used

A truer word has never been spoken!

you dont have to get drunk to go enjoy a drink with a few mates. I drink socially but am very rarely drunk

To be honest, neither am i. I'll go further and say the only time i ever had an alcohol problem...however mild...was when i lived in England, rather than when i was in Wales. But the fact remains, the culture is a schizophrenic one, half teetotal chapel goer, with all the attendant Protestant guilt and work ethic, and half Celtic alcholism, see Dylan Thomas as a perfect example (you know his last words? "I've just drunk 19 straight whiskeys, is that a record?", then he collapsed in the middle of a New York street).

OK, never lend more money to anyone until the first amount has been repaid. Otherwise it's an invitation to walk all over you. Women can be catty, money grabbing, two faced bitches. Trust me, I'm a woman. And just this once, I'm telling you the raw, naked truth.

Too true. On so many levels...

Men can be superficial, emotionally reticent, deliberately stupid genitalia obsessed wankers.

(thats my contribution to the naked honesty)

Men can be superficial, emotionally reticent, deliberately stupid genitalia obsessed wankers.

(thats my contribution to the naked honesty)

ROLF. Too true, too true :D :D :D

Aw, there was me hoping there was someone on here within shouting distance ;)

hehe out of luck there... now live back in hampshire :P

and i will fight any North Walian Idwal who claims that he's more Welsh than me.

With leeks.
throw your daffodils at him!! :p

you dont have to get drunk to go enjoy a drink with a few mates. I drink socially but am very rarely drunk
eh, true. but when you get actually frightened of going out to the pub (depression/social anxiety) then its not really an issue of getting drunk or not any more :headbang:

hehe out of luck there... now live back in hampshire :P



My brother went to college in Hampshire...Farnborough College of Technology, got into the Environmental Sciences racket about two weeks before it became a good thing for your CV...you from near there? I once spent a night in Guildford Poly (i know, just over the border) eating the Shamen's complimentary meal before they went on stage...

ah happy days, how i miss the very early 90s!

throw your daffodils at him!! :p

Oh i would, but they'd probably respond by lobbing sheep at me :p (you notice the cliché about Wales is sheep molesting, no one says it about New Zealand, which has about 5 sheep per head, must be the whole "The All Blacks are rather intimidating" thing)


eh, true. but when you get actually frightened of going out to the pub (depression/social anxiety) then its not really an issue of getting drunk or not any more :headbang:

I'm feeling myself veering close to there, but luckily...i have my cousin, whose entire raison d'etre is spouting absolutely random crap whilst we are in the pub together and making me feel good about myself just because i know an unintentional surrealist.

eh, true. but when you get actually frightened of going out to the pub (depression/social anxiety) then its not really an issue of getting drunk or not any more :headbang:
Thats why you start at a party with a small circle of close friends, when you get more comfortable you increase the size of the circle.

When I go out im always making threat assesments but it helps when you have that small group watching out for each other as well

Thats why you start at a party with a small circle of close friends, when you get more comfortable you increase the size of the circle.

When I go out im always making threat assesments but it helps when you have that small group watching out for each other as well

Odd thing is, my mother always had a real paranoia about me visiting certain parts of the UK (allegedly bad parts, like Moss Side, Brixton, Nottingham, certain areas of Leeds) and the only time i actually got assaulted (as opposed to very menacingly threatened like tonight) was when i was in a nice middle class University.

Threat assessments are great if the world agrees with your definition of what is a threat...but if the person or persons who want to assault you come out of left-field, you have no chance.

I have the scars to prove it :)

Odd thing is, my mother always had a real paranoia about me visiting certain parts of the UK (allegedly bad parts, like Moss Side, Brixton, Nottingham, certain areas of Leeds) and the only time i actually got assaulted (as opposed to very menacingly threatened like tonight) was when i was in a nice middle class University.

Threat assessments are great if the world agrees with your definition of what is a threat...but if the person or persons who want to assault you come out of left-field, you have no chance.

I have the scars to prove it :)

I suggest taking a self defence class. It doesn't mean you have to fight, it just means you'll know how to get yourself out of a very sticky situation if something like this ever happens again. I took two classes, and six years of martial arts. I'd never start a fight, never join in a fight, but I'd sure as hell know how to defend myself if some lunatic jumped me on the way home from the pub...

I suggest taking a self defence class. It doesn't mean you have to fight, it just means you'll know how to get yourself out of a very sticky situation if something like this ever happens again. I took two classes, and six years of martial arts. I'd never start a fight, never join in a fight, but I'd sure as hell know how to defend myself if some lunatic jumped me on the way home from the pub...

Mmm, part of me thinks that would be a good idea, but i've had enough training with my job (i work with the council, and occasionally cover the switchboard so i've had violence avoidance training...everything from how to talk them down - use "we" constantly so they feel included in the situation and feel you are on their side - to how to break a really painful stranglehold on your neck - it's surprising how much strength is in your upper arms).

To be honest, what i need training for is more "how to react when people are being irrational whilst drunk when i am always - or almost always, and when i'm not i'm in my own company and no one elses - rational whilst drunk"

Never noticed my local leisure centre doing training on that ;)

Mmm, part of me thinks that would be a good idea, but i've had enough training with my job (i work with the council, and occasionally cover the switchboard so i've had violence avoidance training...everything from how to talk them down - use "we" constantly so they feel included in the situation and feel you are on their side - to how to break a really painful stranglehold on your neck - it's surprising how much strength is in your upper arms).

To be honest, what i need training for is more "how to react when people are being irrational whilst drunk when i am always - or almost always, and when i'm not i'm in my own company and no one elses - rational whilst drunk"

Never noticed my local leisure centre doing training on that ;)

I think you did the right thing tonight, not resisting and stuff. If you'd tried to get up and walk away, it might have been met with a swift smack to the back of the head and a beating that might have landed you in the hospital.

OK, to avoid things like this, never walk home alone, even if you're a man, always walk home in well lit, well populated streets - there are more likely to be cops around if things get out of hand. If someone jumps at you, politely step out of the way. Always remember, if someone pulls a knife, that your extremities are more easily repaired than the truck of your body, so deflect a knife attack with your arms which can be stitched up and they can have you on your way in less than 30, less ER waiting time, of course. If you're lying on the ground, and someone's kicking you sensely, roll TOWARDS him, it's more difficult for him to continue kicking you because he has to keep stepping backwards. If someone holds you up and demands your wallet, throw it as far away behind him as possible, he'll turn around and look for it, and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. Never shout 'Help' shout 'FIRE', people don't want to get involved in a fight, but people are always up to watching a fire (morbid but unfortunately true).

If there's anything else I can think of, I'll let you know...

I think you did the right thing tonight, not resisting and stuff. If you'd tried to get up and walk away, it might have been met with a swift smack to the back of the head and a beating that might have landed you in the hospital.

OK, to avoid things like this, never walk home alone, even if you're a man, always walk home in well lit, well populated streets - there are more likely to be cops around if things get out of hand. If someone jumps at you, politely step out of the way. Always remember, if someone pulls a knife, that your extremities are more easily repaired than the truck of your body, so deflect a knife attack with your arms which can be stitched up and they can have you on your way in less than 30, less ER waiting time, of course. If you're lying on the ground, and someone's kicking you sensely, roll TOWARDS him, it's more difficult for him to continue kicking you because he has to keep stepping backwards. If someone holds you up and demands your wallet, throw it as far away behind him as possible, he'll turn around and look for it, and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction. Never shout 'Help' shout 'FIRE', people don't want to get involved in a fight, but people are always up to watching a fire (morbid but unfortunately true).

If there's anything else I can think of, I'll let you know...

I'm with you on a hell of a lot of that. The last time i was involved in violence (actually, last but one time, but i'll share the last time another time, when i can be prepared to be witty) i was faced with someone swinging a broken bottle at the side of my head, eye level. If i'd just sat there, then i'd have been blinded. Instead i got my thumb in the way, which meant 9 stitches in the thumb, but when it comes down to it, thats far less scary than actual blinding.

Thing i've always found is, in rhetorical arguments, puff yourself up and make yourself big because it intimidates people. In physical arguments, on the other hand, try to make yourself as small and unhittable as possible. If you can - in the process of doing this - make the people who attack you feel guilty for doing so, all the better.

Ah well, you're in wales, so the fat drunk in the pub was to be expected.

I have had some experience with the hoi-poloi however, and your big mistake was not glassing him when he first called you a pervert. Just sitting there taking his shit in the pub was a clear invitation for him to follow you home and start acting like a gobshite.

Ah well, you're in wales, so the fat drunk in the pub was to be expected.

I have had some experience with the hoi-poloi however, and your big mistake was not glassing him when he first called you a pervert. Just sitting there taking his shit in the pub was a clear invitation for him to follow you home and start acting like a gobshite.

Heh. You do know Wales well.

To be fair, i've only been in this situation once before in Wales (and this is in a culture where - when i grew up - i used to go down the Indie-disco every friday night and there'd be at least two bottle fights a night and people would - it shocks me to even think it, but it's the welsh, the working class, mentality - stand in the middle of people trying to maim each other and say "come on now lads, calm down")...all the times i've been in violent situations, i've been in England, in ostensibly calm, middle class, educated, intelligent backgrounds. In fact, i was in a similar situation at Uni, and i didn't get away without a kicking. Which leads me to think the vast majority of the welsh working class blokeish aggression is posturing.

Just tonight, given the situation i was in, i wouldn't have laid money on it being only posturing. I value my breath too much.

I'm with you on a hell of a lot of that. The last time i was involved in violence (actually, last but one time, but i'll share the last time another time, when i can be prepared to be witty) i was faced with someone swinging a broken bottle at the side of my head, eye level. If i'd just sat there, then i'd have been blinded. Instead i got my thumb in the way, which meant 9 stitches in the thumb, but when it comes down to it, thats far less scary than actual blinding.

Thing i've always found is, in rhetorical arguments, puff yourself up and make yourself big because it intimidates people. In physical arguments, on the other hand, try to make yourself as small and unhittable as possible. If you can - in the process of doing this - make the people who attack you feel guilty for doing so, all the better.

Hmm, unfortunately, some people get their kicks out of kicking the shite out of some poor unfortunate little guy walking down the street, innocently. So best advice is stay where it's busy, less likey to get some gobshite taking a swing at you, and like I said, a street full of drunks is bound to attract the odd cop here and there, so if trouble comes looking for you, there'll be someone there to break it up...

Hmm, unfortunately, some people get their kicks out of kicking the shite out of some poor unfortunate little guy walking down the street, innocently. So best advice is stay where it's busy, less likey to get some gobshite taking a swing at you, and like I said, a street full of drunks is bound to attract the odd cop here and there, so if trouble comes looking for you, there'll be someone there to break it up...

Well, a cop did turn up, when i was about two hundred yards down the road and literally shitting myself...unfortunately she turned up to question me about the allegations spouted at her as she drove past by the fat guy that i was a "pervert" (and, as i have said earlier, maybe i am and maybe i am not...quite possibly i am...but not in a threatening way and anyway, how the f*ck could he tell from a period of threatening me in the pub?).

Sadly, i'm from a culture (1984, miners strike, lasted a year, watched the police used as a political weapon against me daddy and his workmates for trying to protect their livelihood) where i trust the cops only slightly more than i trust the fat sweaty psycho.

The only problem is such emotional anarchism falls down somewhat when you have someone threatening you...at that point, you are yelling internally and externally "please fascist oppressors of the working class, come and rescue me...from the working class"

;)

Trust me though, i've been in hairy situations, i've been in allegedly dangerous areas, i've watched someone come back into a pub they were chucked out of five minutes before and when asked by his mate "what if the barman chucks us out again?" show off the hatchet in his jacket pocket....I grew up amongst rough and when - in the mid 90s - british newspapers started talking about "rising violent crime" i sat there grinning and thinking "what they mean is the working class and underclass areas have exported violent crime to the middle class areas and now they are taking notice"

i've been in a lot of shit, and - being mainly if not completely inoffensive - very rarely could you say it was more than tangentially my fault. But tonight was the first time i did for an instant - or more than an instant, for a good ten minutes - feel in fear of my life.

Heh. You do know Wales well.

To be fair, i've only been in this situation once before in Wales (and this is in a culture where - when i grew up - i used to go down the Indie-disco every friday night and there'd be at least two bottle fights a night and people would - it shocks me to even think it, but it's the welsh, the working class, mentality - stand in the middle of people trying to maim each other and say "come on now lads, calm down")...all the times i've been in violent situations, i've been in England, in ostensibly calm, middle class, educated, intelligent backgrounds. In fact, i was in a similar situation at Uni, and i didn't get away without a kicking. Which leads me to think the vast majority of the welsh working class blokeish aggression is posturing.

Just tonight, given the situation i was in, i wouldn't have laid money on it being only posturing. I value my breath too much.

Heh. I am a veteran of Whitley Bay in the 80s. That's why I recomended a good glassing for the fellow. Harsh experience has taught me you just can't reason with these types.

Oh i would, but they'd probably respond by lobbing sheep at me :p (you notice the cliché about Wales is sheep molesting, no one says it about New Zealand, which has about 5 sheep per head, must be the whole "The All Blacks are rather intimidating" thing)



We make fun of the Kiwi's for their sheep loving all the time :p

Heh. I am a veteran of Whitley Bay in the 80s. That's why I recomended a good glassing for the fellow. Harsh experience has taught me you just can't reason with these types.

I see what you are saying, and agree with it (Whitley Bay? I feel your pain) but sadly i didn't have a glass to hand and happen to be a combination of stoic physical coward (i'll take pain if i have to and make no complaint but i'll run a mile to avoid it) and very mellow fellow who wouldn't say boo to the proverbial goose.

Even if the goose was from Whitley Bay.

We make fun of the Kiwi's for their sheep loving all the time :p

Aussie?

To be honest, the one nation on earth i wouldn't mess with was the Kiwis. I mean, the population is basically made up of Scots and Irish - the toughest soldiers of the British Empire - and Maoris - the one race who fought the British Empire - the toughest soldiers of the British Empire - to a complete standstill. Scots with guns against Maoris with spears and the British still basically sued for peace.

C'mon, they must have balls like melons.

Well, a cop did turn up, when i was about two hundred yards down the road and literally shitting myself...unfortunately she turned up to question me about the allegations spouted at her as she drove past by the fat guy that i was a "pervert" (and, as i have said earlier, maybe i am and maybe i am not...quite possibly i am...but not in a threatening way and anyway, how the f*ck could he tell from a period of threatening me in the pub?).

Sadly, i'm from a culture (1984, miners strike, lasted a year, watched the police used as a political weapon against me daddy and his workmates for trying to protect their livelihood) where i trust the cops only slightly more than i trust the fat sweaty psycho.

The only problem is such emotional anarchism falls down somewhat when you have someone threatening you...at that point, you are yelling internally and externally "please fascist oppressors of the working class, come and rescue me...from the working class"

;)

Trust me though, i've been in hairy situations, i've been in allegedly dangerous areas, i've watched someone come back into a pub they were chucked out of five minutes before and when asked by his mate "what if the barman chucks us out again?" show off the hatchet in his jacket pocket....I grew up amongst rough and when - in the mid 90s - british newspapers started talking about "rising violent crime" i sat there grinning and thinking "what they mean is the working class and underclass areas have exported violent crime to the middle class areas and now they are taking notice"

i've been in a lot of shit, and - being mainly if not completely inoffensive - very rarely could you say it was more than tangentially my fault. But tonight was the first time i did for an instant - or more than an instant, for a good ten minutes - feel in fear of my life.

I grew up in Ireland in the early '80's where we were lucky, my Dad made a few pounds more than what we'd get on social welfare every week to support four of us, five after '87. I grew in a council estate too, really rough, where one guy was attacked by some lunatic with a machete, lost his tongue, one leg, the other foot, three fingers from one hand, the other hand, died a week later from an infection where his throat was slashed. We lived in fear of our house being burned down when some gang made a game of pushing lit paper throuh peoples letter boxes. We were lucky, my Dad's company van was burned out at 4am one morning. Our car was stolen so many times that my parents cemented over the back yard and drive the car into the back garden every night, because the cops don't care about yet another car stolen from 'that' neightbourhood. Calling the cops wasn't a threat, everyone knew they'd never show up. So regarding fearing for ones life, yes, I know what that means.

But on a street at 3am, and a drunken brawl breaks out,it looks bad if a cop doesn't break it up before the locals get pissed off about the noise outside their window. It looks even worse if someone is carted off in an ambulance after having the arse kicked off him in front of a bunch of night club bouncers who stood there and egged them on. Cops don't care about the individual, they care about how much paperwork they'll have to fill in if someone gets seriously hurt. So having a cop around does have its advantages. Just make sure that fat, sweatly, hairy guy doesn't follow you all the way home. And a little white lie won't go astray - 'But officer, that guy's been hassling and threatening me all night because I talked to his sister. Really, I'm afraid that he's going to beat on me if I start walking home now, I don't want any trouble, really', while looking really small and vulnerable...

I grew up in Ireland in the early '80's where we were lucky, my Dad made a few pounds more than what we'd get on social welfare every week to support four of us, five after '87. I grew in a council estate too, really rough, where one guy was attacked by some lunatic with a machete, lost his tongue, one leg, the other foot, three fingers from one hand, the other hand, died a week later from an infection where his throat was slashed. We lived in fear of our house being burned down when some gang made a game of pushing lit paper throuh peoples letter boxes. We were lucky, my Dad's company van was burned out at 4am one morning. Our car was stolen so many times that my parents cemented over the back yard and drive the car into the back garden every night, because the cops don't care about yet another car stolen from 'that' neightbourhood. Calling the cops wasn't a threat, everyone knew they'd never show up. So regarding fearing for ones life, yes, I know what that means.

But on a street at 3am, and a drunken brawl breaks out,it looks bad if a cop doesn't break it up before the locals get pissed off about the noise outside their window. It looks even worse if someone is carted off in an ambulance after having the arse kicked off him in front of a bunch of night club bouncers who stood there and egged them on. Cops don't care about the individual, they care about how much paperwork they'll have to fill in if someone gets seriously hurt. So having a cop around does have its advantages. Just make sure that fat, sweatly, hairy guy doesn't follow you all the way home. And a little white lie won't go astray - 'But officer, that guy's been hassling and threatening me all night because I talked to his sister. Really, I'm afraid that he's going to beat on me if I start walking home now, I don't want any trouble, really', while looking really small and vulnerable...

Oh, i pretty much agree with you on that. Funny thing is, since the strike, where i developed my bitterness and mistrust about the police, i've met quite a few policemen who have basically told me that a large number of those who were violently dealing with pickets weren't policemen at all, but army blokes in mufti that the government had drafted in.

Not that the Thatcher government would have in any way compromise basic elements of civil liberty to win a political argument or anything...

So i shouldn't really be like that about police, i know, it's just the residual memory of seeing his best mates head stoved in with a truncheon and visiting the poor sod in hospital.

Oh, i pretty much agree with you on that. Funny thing is, since the strike, where i developed my bitterness and mistrust about the police, i've met quite a few policemen who have basically told me that a large number of those who were violently dealing with pickets weren't policemen at all, but army blokes in mufti that the government had drafted in.

Not that the Thatcher government would have in any way compromise basic elements of civil liberty to win a political argument or anything...

So i shouldn't really be like that about police, i know, it's just the residual memory of seeing his best mates head stoved in with a truncheon and visiting the poor sod in hospital.

Well, when it comes to dealing with cops, learning a little diplomacy doesn't go astray.. Make yourself look small, intimidated, picked on and oh so innocent. Be polite, try to sober yourself up just enough so that you're not slurring your words when you talk to them, try to sound genuinely worried about your personal safety. They are people, they will start to feel sorry for you if you get it all right, and then that big fat sweaty hairy guy will look like a thug out for trouble. If you stand there looking sheepish/guilty, then they're going to think you're at least partially at fault, or hiding something, or up to something, etc, etc...

Well, when it comes to dealing with cops, learning a little diplomacy doesn't go astray.. Make yourself look small, intimidated, picked on and oh so innocent. Be polite, try to sober yourself up just enough so that you're not slurring your words when you talk to them, try to sound genuinely worried about your personal safety. They are people, they will start to feel sorry for you if you get it all right, and then that big fat sweaty hairy guy will look like a thug out for trouble. If you stand there looking sheepish/guilty, then they're going to think you're at least partially at fault, or hiding something, or up to something, etc, etc...

Yeah, thats true. I'm a long way from my student days when i would murmur, slightly too loud to ignore "bacon passing" when a police car drove past slowly, leading to them stopping the car and questioning me for ten minutes about what i'd just said.

On the subject of dealing with police though, i'll leave the last word to a guy i was in uni with. His name was Mick, he had a son called Nick, they both were students at my uni, and they were both - inasmuch anyone can be - card carrying anarchists. To the extent that Mick, almost all his life, had his mail fiddled with by Special Branch etc.

Anyway, he lived near Hastings, and our uni was in the north of England, and so he'd have to drive up a hell of a lot. Every time he went through the West Midlands area (And as an irishman, i'm sure the phrase "West Midlands Serious Crimes Squad" rings more than a faint Birmingham Six sized bell with you) his car would get stopped. The police would climb out, inspect it, find something wrong with it, give him a ticket or - on one or two occasions - haul him off to the police station.

Now Mick got - rightly - annoyed by this, because he was pretty damn sure he was on some mildly circulated Police blacklist...not major enough for him to be shot leaving his house mistaken for a terrorist, but at the same time, enough to make his day to day existence close to unbearable.

So the very last time they did it to him, he's driving up through the Brum area, and the police stop him. They get out and start checking his car for any anomalies they can find (and be honest, he was a student with a banger, i'm sure if they looked hard enough they could find SOMETHING)...whilst they did this, he climbed out of his car, and went and started inspecting THEIR car. Found bald tires and a defective rear brake light. So, to cut a long story short, he got Legal Aid to prosecute the police for driving round "in such a way as to endanger public safety".

I'll never forget the moment about three months later that he called me over in the union bar. He was waving in his hand a letter, a letter from the Chief Inspector of the West Midlands area. When i read it, it basically said, in diplomatic language "Mick...you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone"

You are right, completely. I agree completely. But always a little part of me will be back in that bar with Mick ;)

Yeah, thats true. I'm a long way from my student days when i would murmur, slightly too loud to ignore "bacon passing" when a police car drove past slowly, leading to them stopping the car and questioning me for ten minutes about what i'd just said.

On the subject of dealing with police though, i'll leave the last word to a guy i was in uni with. His name was Mick, he had a son called Nick, they both were students at my uni, and they were both - inasmuch anyone can be - card carrying anarchists. To the extent that Mick, almost all his life, had his mail fiddled with by Special Branch etc.

Anyway, he lived near Hastings, and our uni was in the north of England, and so he'd have to drive up a hell of a lot. Every time he went through the West Midlands area (And as an irishman, i'm sure the phrase "West Midlands Serious Crimes Squad" rings more than a faint Birmingham Six sized bell with you) his car would get stopped. The police would climb out, inspect it, find something wrong with it, give him a ticket or - on one or two occasions - haul him off to the police station.

Now Mick got - rightly - annoyed by this, because he was pretty damn sure he was on some mildly circulated Police blacklist...not major enough for him to be shot leaving his house mistaken for a terrorist, but at the same time, enough to make his day to day existence close to unbearable.

So the very last time they did it to him, he's driving up through the Brum area, and the police stop him. They get out and start checking his car for any anomalies they can find (and be honest, he was a student with a banger, i'm sure if they looked hard enough they could find SOMETHING)...whilst they did this, he climbed out of his car, and went and started inspecting THEIR car. Found bald tires and a defective rear brake light. So, to cut a long story short, he got Legal Aid to prosecute the police for driving round "in such a way as to endanger public safety".

I'll never forget the moment about three months later that he called me over in the union bar. He was waving in his hand a letter, a letter from the Chief Inspector of the West Midlands area. When i read it, it basically said, in diplomatic language "Mick...you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone"

You are right, completely. I agree completely. But always a little part of me will be back in that bar with Mick ;)

ROFLMAO :D :D :D

OMG, that was hilarious, oh fair deuce to the guy. 'Bout time someone stuck it to them!
Ah, that story's going to be passed onto the guys at work on Monday!!!!

Tell your friend, if you see him again, that he's a brave man, and I admire him for it! :D :D :D
Oh, and tell him his reputation's reached the east coast of the US, I'm sure he'll be proud!

.......... (Whitley Bay? I feel your pain)............

Nah, I used to like going out in Whitley. Happy hour at Rio's. The compass, the ox. Going to the Avenue and starting fights with the stupid hippy/goth wankers. Sucking face with some fat sharon at the olive grove. All good stuff.

*sniff*

Of course, once I finished puberty, I started to drink in normal pubs in the town. But I still have fond memories.

ROFLMAO :D :D :D

OMG, that was hilarious, oh fair deuce to the guy. 'Bout time someone stuck it to them!
Ah, that story's going to be passed onto the guys at work on Monday!!!!

Tell your friend, if you see him again, that he's a brave man, and I admire him for it! :D :D :D
Oh, and tell him his reputation's reached the east coast of the US, I'm sure he'll be proud!

Last time i saw Mick, he was cocking up my attempted election for SU president by shouting at people walking past "vote for Pantygraigwen (ok, not my real name), HE'S GOT UNION EXPERIENCE" and when the assembled multitudes asked what experience, he said "well, his dad was a miner...."

kinda led to many student politicians complaining about my joke campaigns "election tactics"

Good lad though. There was him and his son, and my mate Mick Powell, whose dad was secretary general of the communist party of great britain for the south-west...and who was also a 75 skinhead, a 76 punk. He used to go on rock against racism marches in the seventies with his dad, and on the opposite side of the barriers, wielding NF banners, would be all the guys he knew from the skinhead clubs
"awright Mick? Coming to see Natty Dread this weekend?"
"Can't mate, i'm picketing your offices"
"oh yeah. Bugger, i have to be there for the anti-picket protest"

He told me a hell of a lot of interesting stuff, like which London pubs never to go in with certain colour laces in your Doc Martens (apparently black Doc Martens and white laces in certain east end pubs = you are a supporter of the knights of St george, who were the semi paramilitary arm of the NF...and if you went into about five or six different pubs dressed like that, you'd get the holy crap kicked out of you, because those pubs were the territory of the British Movements skinhead thugs, and the only thing they hated more than jews, blacks, pakis, gays and liberals were other fascists encroaching on their territory)

Last time i saw Mick, he was cocking up my attempted election for SU president by shouting at people walking past "vote for Pantygraigwen (ok, not my real name), HE'S GOT UNION EXPERIENCE" and when the assembled multitudes asked what experience, he said "well, his dad was a miner...."

kinda led to many student politicians complaining about my joke campaigns "election tactics"

Good lad though. There was him and his son, and my mate Mick Powell, whose dad was secretary general of the communist party of great britain for the south-west...and who was also a 75 skinhead, a 76 punk. He used to go on rock against racism marches in the seventies with his dad, and on the opposite side of the barriers, wielding NF banners, would be all the guys he knew from the skinhead clubs
"awright Mick? Coming to see Natty Dread this weekend?"
"Can't mate, i'm picketing your offices"
"oh yeah. Bugger, i have to be there for the anti-picket protest"

He told me a hell of a lot of interesting stuff, like which London pubs never to go in with certain colour laces in your Doc Martens (apparently black Doc Martens and white laces in certain east end pubs = you are a supporter of the knights of St george, who were the semi paramilitary arm of the NF...and if you went into about five or six different pubs dressed like that, you'd get the holy crap kicked out of you, because those pubs were the territory of the British Movements skinhead thugs, and the only thing they hated more than jews, blacks, pakis, gays and liberals were other fascists encroaching on their territory)


Sounds like a character!

Right, it's late, I'm off. Hey, talk to you again some time, or PM me any time, promise I'll answer!

Slan!

Nah, I used to like going out in Whitley. Happy hour at Rio's. The compass, the ox. Going to the Avenue and starting fights with the stupid hippy/goth wankers. Sucking face with some fat sharon at the olive grove. All good stuff.

*sniff*

Of course, once I finished puberty, I started to drink in normal pubs in the town. But I still have fond memories.

Nowt wrong with a fat sharon, to be honest, if i'd stuck to them most of my problems in life (aside from tonights contratemps) would be pretty much solved.

picking fights with goths?
"With goth on our side" - half man half biscuit (to the tune of "with god on our side" by Bob Dylan)

"oh my name is dai young
i'm the king of welsh goth
the village i come from
is near abersoch
i was brought up on bauhaus
and black bedroom walls
and i had my first snakebite
when i was in halls
Now the graveyard is calling
the sky's getting greyer
i'll drink the warm blood of
the borough surveyor
i'll murder the verger
i've seen how he gawks
and i'll write on his headstone
'here lies jones the corpse'
now my overweight girlfriend
she sits and she crimps
her mothers convinced
she's communing with imps
his brothers alright though
he's a good lad is wilf
because he's into placebo
and cradle of filth
at my gig up in butlins
the redcoats complained
they tried to remove me
with bottles they rained
but for the first time in history
i didn't run and hide
and the scousers in shell suits
had goths on their sides
now this land of my fathers
it don't suit my needs
i'd rather be someplace like bradford or leeds
where the gifted teenagers
could meet in my shed
for advice on mascara
and all things undead
now my left index finger
is nine inches long
its hovering over
a world thats gone wrong
ask me to prestatyn
and thats what i'll do
and we'll all die together
and dylan can't sue"

picking fights with goths?


It's a regional thing.

It's a regional thing.

As George Cole so rightly said "I was laughing all the way to (the) Leeds"

We make fun of the Kiwi's for their sheep loving all the time :p
I can never work this out, except maybe it's just out of jealousy. Jealousy of the sheep that is.
Consider a couple of points here:
Australia has more sheep than NZ, 120 million to 44 million.
Australia's unofficial national anthem ('Waltzing Matilda') is about a man who steals a sheep and says it'll come waltzing matilda with him.
Now, what does this phrase means? Well, a Matilda was originally the germanic term for the females that hung round the camps during the crusades. A Matilda was any woman who would follow the crusaders, either as a cook, cleaner, nurse, or indeed whore.
So where does that leave this rustled sheep?
Let's see:
Can't expect a sheep to be a cook
Can't expect a sheep to be a cleaner
Can't expect a sheep to be a nurse
so that just leaves the last option...

We can only guess what 'Waltzing' means in this context.

And Aussies happily belt the song out with gusto at any and every sporting event. I suppose we have to admire their upfront honesty in proudly informing the world about their perverted little pasttimes. Such a shame they feel the need to drag good honest kiwis who know the difference between woman and sheep into their sordid capers and tar them with the same brush.




Reminds me of an old joke: Did you know that 'Tie me kangaroo down, sport' is considered a love song in some parts of Australia?

My brother went to college in Hampshire...Farnborough College of Technology, got into the Environmental Sciences racket about two weeks before it became a good thing for your CV...you from near there? I once spent a night in Guildford Poly (i know, just over the border) eating the Shamen's complimentary meal before they went on stage...

ah happy days, how i miss the very early 90s!

guilford? thats about...ooh... an hours drive east from here (right where my girlfreind lives woot! :fluffle: (staying on topic again :P) ). i'm in southampton :)


Oh i would, but they'd probably respond by lobbing sheep at me :p (you notice the cliché about Wales is sheep molesting, no one says it about New Zealand, which has about 5 sheep per head, must be the whole "The All Blacks are rather intimidating" thing)

lol! they'll be throwing cowl and bara brith next :p
(and the all-blacks just bugger you if you call them on their sheep-romping ;) :eek: )


I'm feeling myself veering close to there, but luckily...i have my cousin, whose entire raison d'etre is spouting absolutely random crap whilst we are in the pub together and making me feel good about myself just because i know an unintentional surrealist.
*actually does miss the days when going to the pub was fun :(*

Thats why you start at a party with a small circle of close friends, when you get more comfortable you increase the size of the circle.

When I go out im always making threat assesments but it helps when you have that small group watching out for each other as well
what if you're so paranoid you think all your friends hate you and just became your friends to learn things about you and mock you? what if you've alienated yourself from a lot of friends and lost them, not spoken to them in a year or more, and don't really have any friends any more because of that?
the latter is still true today :(

though i did go out for a good night (staying on topic-ish) meal the other night with some people... and that wasn't so bad :)

i just had literally the worst night of my life
snip

Bad night.
Well, that must have been where the bad karma went. 'Cause yesterday I had a fucking awesome night. I totally lucked in with getting a huge dose of good karma.
I guess we must have yin-yanged somehow; you had a shit night and I had an absolute shit-hot one.

Yesterday (which incidently was also the 46th anniversary of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper's tragic fatal flight) was my last day back in NZ. I bought a bunch of books from 'the hard to find bookshop' (including 'Goodbye to all that', Robert Graves WWI autobiography which I've been trying to find for ages), dropped the rental car off, went to Real Groovy and bought a few choice cds (and one Megadeth single as a present for a metal mate) and then went to have lunch with a particularly gorgeous and sexy Russian woman I've known for nearly 4 years now. We've never had sex (with each other) even though it's been painfully obvious that we both would love to.
Lunch turned into several cosmopolitan cocktails (vodka, cointreau, cranberry juice and lime), as well as a couple of rum n cokes. Then we went back to her place and finished a bottle of vodka that I'd given her. Then some margarettas with g n t chasers.
Then into town. After that, I'm not sure exactly how much we drunk, but I do remember paying the bill at the first bar and noticing we had drunk 8 cosmopolitans and 16 vodka shooters.
Then we got asked to leave because her erotic antics with me got a bit too erotic for the bar. I think we went to 3 (or maybe 4) other bars after that, continuing in the same vein.
Anyway, we were out to 3am. As I had to get up to catch the 8am flight back to HK, this unfortunately left only 2 1/2 hours to consumate the night.;) So my only regret was that said consumation was a little rushed cause I had to leave so early.

Now I'm back in HK, and I still haven't slept. Wednesday night I couldn't sleep properly cause it was my last night at my parents home and I probably won't see them for maybe 2 years. Thursday I went to the gym twice, didn't eat anything all day, drove 400+ kms and only got 3 hours sleep. So I've now gone 4 days on something like 6 hours sleep. And flown 11 000 km and driven 500.
I've gone into that area where I'm so lacking in sleep I've stopped feeling tired.

Also I'm still feeling good about last night, which is keeping me going. :p

I can never work this out, except maybe it's just out of jealousy. Jealousy of the sheep that is.
Consider a couple of points here:
Australia has more sheep than NZ, 120 million to 44 million.
Australia's unofficial national anthem ('Waltzing Matilda') is about a man who steals a sheep and says it'll come waltzing matilda with him.
Now, what does this phrase means? Well, a Matilda was originally the germanic term for the females that hung round the camps during the crusades. A Matilda was any woman who would follow the crusaders, either as a cook, cleaner, nurse, or indeed whore.
So where does that leave this rustled sheep?
Let's see:
Can't expect a sheep to be a cook
Can't expect a sheep to be a cleaner
Can't expect a sheep to be a nurse
so that just leaves the last option...

We can only guess what 'Waltzing' means in this context.

And Aussies happily belt the song out with gusto at any and every sporting event. I suppose we have to admire their upfront honesty in proudly informing the world about their perverted little pasttimes. Such a shame they feel the need to drag good honest kiwis who know the difference between woman and sheep into their sordid capers and tar them with the same brush.




Reminds me of an old joke: Did you know that 'Tie me kangaroo down, sport' is considered a love song in some parts of Australia?

Oh, we're just joking really... one of my best mates is a Kiwi, and Im almost CERTAIN he hasn't buggered a sheep. Almost...

As far as Waltzing Matilda goes, I think you're reading too much into it. You gotta remember that Banjo Patterson is almost guaranteed to have been drunk when he wrote it. That, and we don't speak none o this germanian crap here [/sarcasm]

And then, for the tie me kangaroo down, you obviously haven't heard the OTHER verses...

Get in the sack with a Yak, mate,
Get in the sack with a Yak, Fuck a Wallaby!
Get in the sack with a Yak, mate,
Get in the sack with a Yak

Shove your log in a Frog, mate,
Shove your log in a Frog
(etc.)

Blow your load in a toad, mate,
(etc.)

You get the idea?


Oh and by the way, congrats on your nice few days.

If a random guy started getting angry at me when I was alone, I'd run like hell! Specially if he said he had a knife.

what if you're so paranoid you think all your friends hate you and just became your friends to learn things about you and mock you? what if you've alienated yourself from a lot of friends and lost them, not spoken to them in a year or more, and don't really have any friends any more because of that?
the latter is still true today :(

though i did go out for a good night (staying on topic-ish) meal the other night with some people... and that wasn't so bad :)
the first step is to quit smoking weed, it fuels paranoia, sometimes you have to take a chance on people, you have a girlfriend now that shows you have the courage to take a chance on poeple. Take a chance on a few more.