Blood
Like a scene from The Exorcist, I once spewed a stomach-full of blood all over a charming nurse as I came round after a major dental operation. Tell us your tales of red, red horror.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 14:39)
Like a scene from The Exorcist, I once spewed a stomach-full of blood all over a charming nurse as I came round after a major dental operation. Tell us your tales of red, red horror.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 14:39)
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I love Rock 'n' Roll
You might have read from my many stories that as a youth I was a bit of a hot headed type. However as I grew up I found that my temper mellowed, and I was often the one splitting fights, rather than getting involved.
However, there was one exception.
Me and a group of friends, including my brother, were in some local dive watching an up-and-coming band. We'd got a good spot, right at the front of the stage.
The atmosphere had been tense from the moment the first band came on, the venue had the kind of nervous feeling that you get when you know that a thunderstorm is about to strike.
The first glass flew straight past me right up front, and smashed at the feet of the lead guitarist. I turned round to see what the hell was going on, only to witness some skinny runt thug landing a punch on Our Kid.
Not many things get me angry in this day and age, but my brother is a Grade 'A' Pacifist and to see that going on, well, "Hello, red mist!".
I grabbed hold of the chav - I'm a big fella - and pinned him against the wall. Whilst I was giving him a bit of a talking to (!) I realised that I was quite literally seeing red.
When our kid had been dropped to the floor, he'd landed on some of the smashed glass, slicing open his arm. For some reason the blood pissed out of his arm like the scenes in Kill Bill, spraying the audience with 'claret' and giving a whole new meaning to the word bloodbath. All this was going on whilst the band were still trying to knock out their indie rock numbers, despite the fact that they were witnessing something akin to a West Ham V Chelsea hooligan riot in the 1970's.
After giving the thug, still in my grasp, a final warning* - me, my mates J, T and C, carried our kid out of the place. We were all covered.
Now, if any of you know Sheffield, the place where we were was just off The Wicker. Not a nice place by any stretch.
If you can come up with a better story how four blokes covered in blood carrying a dazed and bruised lad weren't up to anything dodgy to the worried looking taxi driver, then give me a reply!
* - I never actually hit the kid, for the record. I just made it pretty clear that I wasn't a happy bunny.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 23:57, 1 reply)
You might have read from my many stories that as a youth I was a bit of a hot headed type. However as I grew up I found that my temper mellowed, and I was often the one splitting fights, rather than getting involved.
However, there was one exception.
Me and a group of friends, including my brother, were in some local dive watching an up-and-coming band. We'd got a good spot, right at the front of the stage.
The atmosphere had been tense from the moment the first band came on, the venue had the kind of nervous feeling that you get when you know that a thunderstorm is about to strike.
The first glass flew straight past me right up front, and smashed at the feet of the lead guitarist. I turned round to see what the hell was going on, only to witness some skinny runt thug landing a punch on Our Kid.
Not many things get me angry in this day and age, but my brother is a Grade 'A' Pacifist and to see that going on, well, "Hello, red mist!".
I grabbed hold of the chav - I'm a big fella - and pinned him against the wall. Whilst I was giving him a bit of a talking to (!) I realised that I was quite literally seeing red.
When our kid had been dropped to the floor, he'd landed on some of the smashed glass, slicing open his arm. For some reason the blood pissed out of his arm like the scenes in Kill Bill, spraying the audience with 'claret' and giving a whole new meaning to the word bloodbath. All this was going on whilst the band were still trying to knock out their indie rock numbers, despite the fact that they were witnessing something akin to a West Ham V Chelsea hooligan riot in the 1970's.
After giving the thug, still in my grasp, a final warning* - me, my mates J, T and C, carried our kid out of the place. We were all covered.
Now, if any of you know Sheffield, the place where we were was just off The Wicker. Not a nice place by any stretch.
If you can come up with a better story how four blokes covered in blood carrying a dazed and bruised lad weren't up to anything dodgy to the worried looking taxi driver, then give me a reply!
* - I never actually hit the kid, for the record. I just made it pretty clear that I wasn't a happy bunny.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 23:57, 1 reply)
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