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This is a question Bullies

My mum told me to stand up to bullies. So I did, and got wedgied every day for a month. I hated my boss.

Suggested by Mariam67

(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:27)
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This question is now closed.

I'm not overly proud of this one...
But at least I wasn't the bully, just one of the masses...

At my primary school, there was a kid who quite clearly wasn't all there, Wayne, he did stupid stuff when people asked him to, such as running round the playground with his pants down, and generally acted very dim.

Then, in about year 5 or 6, Mark arrived. Also not paricularly bright (which is an overstatement).

Rapidly, Wayne and Mark became arch-rivals for the crown of being the biggest (sorry for this) retard. They would fight constantly, egged on by the rest of us, who were, like most 9/10 year olds, baying for blood. It got so bad that I remember going on a school trip, and everyone telling Wayne to throw a rock at Mark, which, being an impressionable young lad, he did. He got Mark in the head, fortunately Mark wasn't seriously hurt, but to us, this was a great shame.

When we got back, even the dinner ladies were asking for the gossip as to who beat the shit out of who.

When we moved up to secondary school, it continued for a bit, until they both got moved to special schools, and people grew up a bit, and got bored of them, after all, now there were girls.

I feel so awful that the mob-mentality kicked in, and I was among those wanting to see these guys, from broken homes, and with serious mental problems fight to the death, but like most kids, I just tried to fit in with the pack.

I'm glad I got that off my chest, I look forward to reading about all the depressing stories people are about to post.

Toots for now!
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:47, 1 reply)
Story Number 2, Private School Again.
At my school, one of the most feared teachers was a P.E. teacher by the name of Iain McKie. He measured at about 6'5" (I think). Now bear in mind he always taught 1st years, so he looked like an absolute giant.

He had a son, who due to Daddy's status as a teacher, thought he was untouchable, and sadly was. No matter what he was accused of, as long as he wasn't caught in the act, he'd get away with it. Several people were given detention for 'trying to get him into trouble', because he'd lied his way out of it.

Simply put, he was a cunt.

I was a year younger than him (year 7/aged 11), and he decided he didn't like me, after I kicked his football away, after it had hit me in the face. He decides this isn't a good enough reason, and takes it upon himself to take a run up, and kick me in the nuts so hard I vomited.

Ben, my elder brother (aged 15, year 10) has seen this happen, and is not happy. As a result, the cunt ends up flat on his arse with a black eye on it's way.

Due to a teacher seeing this punch, they both get dragged in for a bollucking. Once again, it's my brothers word against his. For this reason, Ben gets given an after school detention, while the cunt gets off scott free.

For his detention, Ben was in a classroom in the language lab for his detention. This classroom is important, in that it faces out onto the parade ground from a second floor window. Ben looks out the window, and sees the cunt pissing round, waiting for a mate. He decides to open the window, and tell him to piss off, or he'll throw a chair at the cunt. The cunt says "Go on then".

5 seconds later he's running for his life, as a chair thuds into the floor behind him. Result? A saturday detention* for Ben, but he still says it was worth it.

The cunt decided to make my life a misery for a few months after that, knowing that Ben couldn't touch him.

Luckily, he was dealt with for us in the summer months. He thought himself as a good cricketer, and was bowling in the nets. He took a run up, and decided to do a fast bowl. He threw himself too hard into it, leaving his face far closer to the ground than it should have been. That's why the teacher turns after hearing a collective "Ooofff" from the gathered crowd, to see Cunt lying on his back, knocked spark out, with about 6 missing teeth.

Karma, how I love thee.

*Saturday detention meant that you had to go in at 9am on a saturday, and sit in the headmasters office with no work to do, and nothing to distract you. You just had to sit there for 3-4 hours.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:47, 1 reply)
I once made a grammatical error in one of my posts.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:46, 6 replies)
He was massive...
Unfortunately in the wrong ways.

We were in Year Nine. The argument had started with another kid over a playground football game. The big lad weighed in and took a swing at me, which I dodged.

'Come on then - punch me'

He swung again, I stepped back. He nearly fell over.

'Punch me you fat cunt'

He waddled forward, swung, I stepped back.

And repeat again.

By this time there's a crowd.

He realised the futility of it all and cried.

He never had a go at me again.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:41, Reply)
I've been waiting to tell this story
When I as at School, long ago.

There was a boy who I shouldn't name called Paul Bentley

He was bullied lots.

One day before the teacher had arrived in classroom, a naughty child had drawn this on the whiteboard

All very entertaining I'm sure you'll agree.
The naughty child then shouted out

'Bentley, Bentley! Draw the pubes! Draw the pubes!'

Bentley was reluctant, he thought the teacher would walk in just as he started to draw.

Eventually he was cajoled into stepping up to the whiteboard, marker in hand.

'Draw the pubes! Draw the pubes!' chanted the class.

What Bentley drew relegated him to the world of the bullied forever. When he stepped away from the board this is what we saw.

(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:24, 34 replies)
The best way to deal with bullies
is to close your eyes tightly shut, put your fingers in your ears, and sing:

"La,la,la! I can't hear you! La,la,la! I can't hear you!"

And ignore the fuckers resolutely until they go away. Works a charm, that one does...

(Unfortunately I didn't last too long in my last job as an airline pilot).
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:24, 4 replies)
I have a bad feeling about this...

I fear for the QotW this week...I can't see it going well.

Now, I love the 'serious' posts as much as the next B3tard, but I like them in the syle of 'triumph over adversity', or 'life experience earned by making a mistake'. A heart warming or thought-provoking piece of writing.

I don't think I'm going to enjoy reading about just how cruel people can be to each other without provocation.

I hope I'm proven wrong.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:22, 4 replies)
I was bullied at school.
It really does build character. I approve of it with hindsight.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:22, 4 replies)
Don't really have funnies for this one. Had a really bad time as a kid.

I went to a bad school. Not the roughest going, by any stretch, but just lawless (one guy got whipped over a table with a bike chain in the lunch hall - no one ever prosecuted) and full of very bored kids. It was the local comp in a little, very dull, town and wasn't very good academically, or for hobbies, sport etc., so struggled to keep anyone's interest. As a result we had little to do except fight and make trouble.

Several of my friends got expelled for ridiculously stupid stuff. One actually lit up a spliff on the schoolbus and refused to put it out. Another punched through a classroom window, necessitating a few weeks off while his hand healed. He came back, and punched out the same window on the first day back - expelled. Sixth Form was a lot better but High School generally was crap.

The bar was set so low that I used to get stick for being spoddy, even though I really wasn't and actually used to get terrible school reports and barely try. I think it was just because I read books and liked indie rather than dance and stuff. This also made me gay, obviously (because mid-nineties dance was so, so macho...)

Anyway, come puberty and suddenly we're all big lads and fights aren't so scrappy and negligible any more. People actually get hurt. I tried to keep out of any physical violence partly just for my own self-preservation as a result, but there was this one group of lads who just wouldn't get off my back. The fact I was ignoring it just made it worst. The only thing that actually made it better was reacting - if I fought I generally came off pretty well, and it made them think twice about provoking me again (for at least a week or two, anyway).

So a cycle develops of the odd thing kicking off here and there interspersed with periods where I just got on with stuff and tried to ignore the provocations. Sometimes I got suspended, sometimes them, sometimes all of us, and a few people ended up in hospital along the way. It was just grim - I hated school, hated them, hated the whole thing.

What happened in the end? Nothing much... It just carried on till most of them left at 16 and I actually settled down at that point and did some work in Sixth Form, got decent results, went to Uni, etc.

And them? One died in a car crash at nineteen, one's a junkie last I heard, one got involved with some very dodgy people in Birmingham through drugs and is probably dead, a junkie, or in prison, and one did pretty well for himself, and I even ended up having a chat and a pint with him when I bumped into him a few year's back (he said sorry, I said no problem).

Did I win then? Not really. For ages I struggled with thinking that it kind of shaped me without me wanting it to - being bullied pretty much defined my teenage years. It shaped my personality. The good bits are being quite independent and not really giving a shit about taking stick if I know it's just stick, but on the other hand it probably made me a bit fiery and aggressive at times too, because I'm quick to fight fire with fire if someone gets aggressive with me.

I spent a long time wondering what I'd have turned out like if those years had been different. Would I be a different person? A better person? Worse?

In the end though, I just came to terms a few years after with the fact that I am who I am through whatever happened and you can't get bitter about it. There's always going to be people inclined to get their jollies from belittling and tormenting others, and the best way to win is to get on with your own thing. Having that pint with the guy and just accepting the apology without any fuss was probably the best thing for my own self-worth I've ever done.

And after that I just laid it to rest and I pretty much never think about it anymore, until something like this question comes up. Much better that way than spending the rest of my life with the mindset of a victim because of some arseholes I had the misfortune to go school with, I reckon.

I told you there were no funnies... will have to think of some for another post.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:22, 2 replies)
A few from me this week...
I went to a private school with my brothers. We all had problems with bullies, although only two of us were actually bullied, the other two just got in trouble for standing up for us.

When we were at the school, lunches and buses were paid for on a term basis, so we never needed to carry money with us. As a result, if we did have money, it would invariably go into the chocolate machine. My brother Ian did this one day, and had a pack of fruit pastilles, or something similar.

At breaktime, a lad 2 years above him (year 10/15 years old) decided that he wanted one, and demanded as such. Ian quite fairly told him where to stick it. This incensed the bully, who decided the intelligent thing to do would be punch Ian very hard in the face, kick him in the stomach while he was on the floor, and steal his sweets.

While Ian was getting seen to by the nurse, word reaches my eldest brother Andrew (Upper 6th/18 years old), who decides that the teachers reaction won't be satisfying enough, decides to teach the bully a lesson.

Which is why, when people were queueing up for lunch, they heard a girly scream, to look up, and see the lad being held over the bannister of the stairs by his ankles, by Andrew and one of his friends, wanting to embarrass him.

The head of 6th form comes along, and sees this. "Lads, why the hell are you dangling him over the edge of the stairs?" Quoth he.

"He smacked Ian and stole his sweets, Sir" replied Andrew.

"OK, just make sure you don't drop him" says the teacher, and walked away!

Unfortunately, when the lad told his parents that night, they weren't as forgiving, leading to Andrew getting a Saturday detention.

Strangely, the bully never bothered Ian again.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:13, Reply)
I was a bully
My first pearoast. A bit soon if I am to be honest.

Many moons ago when Porky was a callow 14, I was small, thin, wore glasses, had crap hair: basically a bit of an unattractive package. However I was well in with the cool kids. Yeah right. I was tolerated in their company because I was funny and always up for a laugh (have you ever noticed the coolest kids aren’t really very inventive? The ones I knew weren’t). But I digress. One of the kids at school, Huw, was rather strange. He was Welsh (although the accent wasn’t too bad as we lived in the North East), short, very hairy and had a haircut that resembled a suede brush. To top it off he wasn’t too bright in a special sort of way and had a pronounced speech impediment that gave the impression he was speaking in tongues. In other words uglier and less acceptable than me. Yay!

On the day in question we had suffered the stultifying boredom of double maths leading up to morning break. I had survived the class by burning the back of my hand with a magnifying glass to keep myself awake. There was only one solution, FIND HUW! Now although Huw was not one of the cool kids he had a rather severe tobacco addiction and was usually to be found in the boys bogs having a quick cancerstick between lessons. And sure enough there he was, enjoying in solitary peace and quiet what was probably one of the few things that kept the poor cunt going.

Only he wasn’t alone any more, he was surrounded by a bunch of predators intent on making a few moments of his day an absolute misery. There was a bit of ribbing which was designed to make him lose his temper (mocking his accent, hairiness and speech impediment usually did it) and hence in need of punishment.

Sorry, I had to take a break there. I’m not remembering this, I’m reliving it. It isn’t pleasant as you will see.

His first punishment was an arm twisting. Up until this point I had never joined in with the more physical bullying but today was my turn and at the behest of the genial and laughter filled cool kids I twisted his arm. Hard. I could hear the ligaments and tendons cracking and popping. I felt sick. Huw was squealing like a raped suckling pig and one of the more inventive chaps suggested we put his head down the toilet and pull the chain to quiet him. So I did. I crammed Huw’s head into the shit speckled porcelain and someone pulled the chain. Huw stopped squealing and started making gagging, choking noises. Quite understandably. At this point my erstwhile pals took to their heels as the bell sounded for end of break. I would like to say I was torn by remorse and helped Huw get cleaned up for his next lesson but I didn’t. I did however look at his face and I wish I never had. The haunted look of pain on his face was unbearable. A dumb-animal look that communicated his failure to understand why anyone would want to do this to him hit me hard. His shoulders slumped and he picked his bag up with his good arm. Silently he shouldered his way past me and went home.

But it didn’t end there. His mother brought him back to school, cleaned up, after lunch. I was called to the head’s office. He had named only me. Fine. I took the physical punishment (a sound caning) and was then given the devastating real punishment. I was known to all the teachers as a bright but lazy scholar, my punishment? To help Huw after school with his homework. Every night for six months. I still don’t think it was enough.

I came to know Huw rather well and he was one of the funniest most irreverent little gits I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He forgave me quickly and with ease, he was like that. I also forgave myself eventually but I never forgot and I never bullied again.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:12, 13 replies)
Got bullied for no reason I could work out by two scrotes. Said bullying included one time one of them held my arm down onto a plank they'd threatened me with while the other slowly drove a Stanley knife blade into my wrist.

When my wrist was better I skipped school and waited down the brambly path one of said scrotes used to get home. When he walked past I stepped out and hit him over the back of the head with a short length of scaffolding pole I took from a building site. When he went down I stood on the back of his neck and got to work with the pole on his right arm. He never fully regained the use of it, and probably still sets off airport metal detectors.

He didn't know for sure it was me because he never saw me, but funnily enough neither of the twunts ever hit me again.

All this happened when I was eight.

One of said scrotes got stabbed in borstal, I later heard. Good.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:09, 4 replies)
If you don't
Put back up the gambling QOTW, I'll kick you in the nuts and steal your lunch money.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 13:01, 2 replies)
Being a quiet, bookish sort...
...I was surprised to find that I was never bullied in a manner other than verbal. Having a larger vocabulary and a tendency to call people's bluff, this didn't present me with much of a problem. Conveniently, I've also been a lot stronger and faster than I might be considered on appearance; this last having helped a great deal in standing up to people with confidence.

I could never quite understand the phrase 'I've had your mum' when used as an insult, for 'tis sure to be untrue. It was used against me once, whereupon my face became a mask of bewilderment. I simply replied that I doubted it, for she had better taste. The idiot went away.

The upshot of this is that I lack a funny or interesting story (or, perhaps, simply lack the wherewithal to relate one in an amusing manner). Non change there, then.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:59, 1 reply)
Past and Present - and apologies for the lack of funneh

I was the stereotypical wimpy kid, apart from not wearing glasses. I also had the misfortune to be an intransigent little git and if I was able to reach back in time and give him some advice now I'd tell him to use his two ears and one mouth in proportion.

Naturally, my "standing up for myself" to the school bullies resulted in my being on the receiving end of an utter, utter shoeing at the hands of Simon F and another kid whose name escapes me. I do remember returning home with a severely blackened eye, cuts, bruises and wanting to go to another school.

Parents decided that this just "wasn't on" and that I'd go back to school the next day and face them down. My mother was a big John Wayne/Western films fan and I think that it was a fantasy she was having from having recently seen The Good The Bad and The Ugly.

Take a wild guess what happened? Utterly well-deserved shoeing, take two.

Arriving home that night (a Wednesday) Dad was back from work early and wanted to take me to school personally the next morning so that he could have a chat to the bullies in question and, knowing his sporting prowess (rugby / boxing), beat seven shades out of them. I pleaded with him not to do so and he eventually listened when I pointed out that his arrival on the premises might lead to (a) shoeing, take 3 and (b) the local police being called and him going away for a while (not to mention the end of his RAF career (that he hated anyway, but that's a different story)).

Went to school on the Thursday morning and was seething with anger, shame and embarrassment. I felt that I was fizzing with anger and that I wanted to go to my redoubt to compose myself and went through the school gates, into the building, upstairs and into the library (I was the full-on geek, including being a school librarian).

Simon F came into the library and started giving me a hard time and I ignored him as with the benefit of information asymmetry I knew something he didn't. At the apogee of his abusive commentary and his muttering about how much of a shoeing he'd led the two days previously and how much I was going to get that very evening the headmaster walked out of the cupboard and, without saying a word, grabbed him and took him down to his office, where he was suspended for two weeks.

In that time I kept a low profile; within a year of that incident I'd been instrumental in setting up the school rugby team and been appointed captain, leading the team (including Simon F) to victory in the county championships and eventually taking myself to sub-national team not-quite-glory.


As some of you are aware, my second marriage lasted sixteen days. Since that time my ex- has decided that she wants to destroy me through a campaign that has, thus far, comprised:

1. Having me arrested for bigamy and assault, amongst other things (released without charge in both incidents), leading to a complaint by me to the IPCC

2. Making sure that contracts have canned me on the basis of her behaviours, not mine (including her being mentally ill), leading to me being tempted (but not brave enough) to sue her

3. Publishing both on the internet and via a couple of tabloids stories of how much of a twat I am - both of which newspapers will be sued when I've got enough money together to be able to support the action; sued for (a) gross violation of privacy (b) factual inaccuracy

In all of this, I've not reacted *once* direct to her. I've wanted to and, as some of you know, I'm still madly in love with her, but having fought SO hard to take the moral high ground thus meaning that I can watch as she slowly implodes on herself and then - when this has happened - I can then deploy heavy artillery to those sycophants around her who have failed utterly to consider that there may be two sides to every story and that hers is not the truth.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:54, 4 replies)
I was 5' 10" and built like a brick shithouse when I was at school.
No fucker messed with me.

Just as well really as the sight of a 5'10" hulk of a girl crying her eyes out would have been soooooo embarrasing.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:47, 2 replies)
Blue Goldfish
"Ere mate"

"Who me?"

"Yeah. You. Wanna see the Blue Goldfish?"

How could I refuse? I was short, pipe-cleaner thin and the school git. He was a brick shit-house, stunk of cigarette smoke and wore his school tie with the smallest knot possible.

"Uh... OK, then."

"It's in here," he said, ushering me into the toilets.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh. You won't believe your eyes kid. There it is, down the bog."

"Where? I can't see..."

> F L U S H <

Oh, how we laughed.

And now, we roll the clock on some thirty years, and my second-born comes home from school in a state of sodden disarray.

"Dad - what's the Blue Goldfish?"

Glad to see bullies maintaining their high standards in these troubled times.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:46, 2 replies)
I was bullied the whole way through school, mostly because ignoring bullies doesn't always stop them.

They all work in HR now.

I win.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:44, 6 replies)
Oh dear
The floodgates are open; there may be quite a few tales from me this week :0(
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:39, Reply)
some lad used to chase me home from school with a stick
not sure why.

but it was a really big stick so i didnt ask...
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:38, 1 reply)

I've just come back from the bookies, having staked my life savings on the dead cert of the QotW ending on Thursday.


Some people are just born unlucky.

Edit: Erm...to stay on (new) topic. Click this you fuckers or I'll give you a slap.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:37, 2 replies)
I have a lot for this one. I'll probably post a huge long one later.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:37, 13 replies)
I bet
no one saw that coming.

Edit: Now I'm trying to figure out if there's a way I can spin the gambling story I came here to post into a bullying one.

but no one really forced me to jump the wall and wake up in hospital later,
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:33, 1 reply)
I was a wimp when I was younger...
and used to get bullied a lot (I'll spare the details) cos I was such a weedy, wimpy little scrote. I'd like to see 'em try it now that I'm over 6 foot, weigh almost 16 stone and do TaeKwonDo. Ha! :o)

(I'll probably still cry and run away like a little girl)

Hmm, this QOTW changed early, what's going on?!

*EDIT* Gah! Thought I had a shot of being 2nd as well. Curse my slow fingers.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:32, 2 replies)
your DEAD
If anyone of you pricks post here I'm going to fucking kill you at 3:20 outside the b3ta gates.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:32, 2 replies)
Am I getting my days confused again.

*is old*
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:31, 1 reply)
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:30, Reply)
This week, no?
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:30, 2 replies)
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:29, 1 reply)
What the hell happened...
...to the last QOTW?

I had a doozie of post to put up!!

Oh. And first. Yay me.
(, Wed 13 May 2009, 12:29, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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