Last Friday I did something that I never have successfully before, I punched someone in the face. I'm not using this as a platform to brag but merely as a way of documenting the event. My memory of the incident is slightly hampered as, like most Friday night punchers, I'd had a few. In my defense the receiver of said punch totally, 100 per cent, definitely deserved it. I was waiting at the bus stop with my friends while my girlfriend went to Tesco to get fags or chewing gum, maybe crisps. I can’t remember. Indecently the draw on the cash machine outside Tesco had been ripped off; a subtle precursor to the shocking violence that would ensue? I think so.
As my girlfriend came walking over I could see a stumbling character looming behind her. I also noticed she had her “argument face” on. As much as I love her my lady does have the tendency to get into a word war. You know when people get the rage in supermarket queues? The ones who scream “It’s 10 items or less here!” to replies of “Yeah fuck off!” She can get a bit like that. I suspected something like this had gone down but thought it may fizzle out. But this guy just wouldn’t leave. In my hazy state I’d hesitated to react, my eyes followed a passing car then I focused on this guy screaming in my girlfriends face. Then it came. BAM, right in the face. I delivered a perfectly executed right hook, as I mentioned before I’d never done this before. I once tried to punch David Jones in school, a possible reaction to a mum fuck joke, but my poorly aimed jab only slightly brushed his ear. I swear to god I had dreams about that slight miss for years, every time I went to punch things went in slow motion and I could never land it. But tonight I got it spot on.
First reaction? Well I was glad several of my friends were there. Surprisingly my killer blow failed to knock the guy out and I suddenly thought about what I may have created. Sure my surprise attack would be enough to honor my maiden and maintain the respect of my peers. But a full blown fist fight? That could end in actual facial pain, something I’d managed to happily avoid for most of my life. So my friends became the blockade between myself and the punched. Phew. Things seemed to be calming down. The guy, I’ll call him Bob, had been escorted to a safe distance. I was smoking a calming fag and I was nodding or possibly bouncing my shoulders, the general post fight adrenaline buzz reaction.
The situation had calmed and I could see a police van was on the horizon. What if was going to be arrested for fightery and hate crimes? Then something clicked in Bob. I would have thought the sight of the Police would have calmed him. Oh no. At this moment he broke free from my friends guiding arm and threw two bags of shopping to the floor. He then let out a scream that reminded me of the battle scene in Braveheart. Oh balls. He ran at me but got pulled back; his right hand gripped the neck of my t-shirt and tore the neck so it reached my left shoulder. It was my Death Row t-shirt as well, rinsed. Luckily the passing Police car got sight of Bobs stampede and pulled over. They took him in their van and diffused the bomb that was about to explode all over my face. I couldn’t help but internally laugh at the irony; I’d just punched Bob in the face and there he was in the back of the van.
Looking back I’m not sorry for what I did, (adopts cockney voice) you just don’t talk to girls like that do ya. Bob should have chilled out and carried on with his evening. If I haven’t been drunk there’s no way I would’ve had the balls to do something so reckless….I blame being raised in Binge Britain. Or my childhood love of Rocky films.
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