May as well post this again.
Unfortunately, through a combination of bad luck and stupidity, I've been hardmanned to fuck quite a few times as an adult.

I am not hard. Like any good QOTWer I am over six foot and, ahem, heavily built. But I am resolutely soft as fuck. It took several confrontations, culminating in the one I'm about to describe, to realise that getting all up in people's business is not a wise move if you're soft as fuck.

Like (I suspect) a lot of young men, for a long time I longed to be hard. I watched all the Rocky films, lifted weights, and in crowded pubs I would cast steely glares at those I felt had slighted me or my companions. Lots of 'no, YOU fuck off or I'll batter you ya cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunt' etc etc etc. In retrospect, it wasn't a pleasant look, and was made all the more ridiculous by the fact that in all likelihood I would never batter anyone. I was the worst kind of tough guy – a well brought-up fraud, posing and mouthing off. My own small contribution to Broken Britain.

Cut to the land of the free … Middlesbrough! Oh, glorious Middlesbrough. My heart beats for thee. I grew up not far from this delightful town, and when I was about 20 I went for my final night out there (although I didn't know it at the time).
Things were going well. I was in a club with my two best friends, we were dancing like joyous elves in bad shirts, and a lady in a tight brown dress was letting me finger her on the dancefloor. YES! I got so carried away with excitement that halfway through Bon Jovi's 'Living on a Prayer' I clambered up onto a nearby stage, and with much grace and enthusiasm hurled myself bodily into the air with an almighty 360º strum of my air guitar. Splat! Right back onto the dancefloor sending revellers scattering.

Picked myself up and dusted myself off, only to see that I was surrounded by a tight-knit semicircle of five young men. I couldn't hear their remonstrations over the music, but could tell by their faces that they didn't like me. No matter. I'm hard as fuck, remember.

"FUCK OFF YOU CUNNNNNNTTTTTTSSS! I"LL FUCKING DO ALL OF YAAAAAAAAA!"

For those of you lucky enough to have never been totally and mercilessly sucker punched right in the fucking ear, let me explain how it feels. Imagine it's an icy cold day. Your face is freezing, your ears are red, and someone kicks a heavy basketball from about five feet away right into the side of your stupid fucking head.

For the second time in ten seconds, I found myself lying down on the dancefloor.

After a few confusing moments I managed to gather myself together and stagger out of there, into the foyer where the bouncers congregated. Holding my head, I demanded satisfaction. "Some CUNT just sucker punched me! Get him out here! I'm going to fucking have him!"
Dutifully, and with a wry smile, one of the bouncers who'd seen the lot went and explained the situation to my assailant. A minute later, he was bounding out into the foyer to meet me. The bouncers stood round like betters at a cock fight. "Go on then lads, have it out."

Moments like that can be very edifying. I had peers who never would have dreamed of even going into this club, let alone getting themselves into the situation I was currently in. But I was a prick. Full of shit. And thoroughly deflated by the realisation that here I had a chance to actually prove I was hard, and in actual fact I was just scared as fuck.

My 'opponent' let out a mighty roar, and in true hulk style ripped his shirt off to reveal a body that had clearly been honed through years of strenuous physical activity and hardship. I looked and felt like an accountant. I had thoroughly embarrassed myself. I muttered something along the lines of "forget it, fucking hell, I just wanted an apology," and sloped off to catch a bus. My opponent casually put his shirt back on and went inside the club. Probably to fuck the girl I'd pulled.

Bastard.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 15 Mar 2013, 11:00, 3 replies)

Well told.

*click*
( Happy Phantom has been to Hastings, Brighton, and Eastbourne too, Fri 15 Mar 2013, 19:22, closed)

I like the raw honesty here. Well told.
(anvil, Sat 16 Mar 2013, 2:52, closed)

At least
you could sit on the bus sniffing your fingers on the way home. If you'd been punched on the schnozzle, you'd have been denied that too.
(Rsoles, Sun 17 Mar 2013, 0:21, closed)