Scotland
My parents moved to Scotland with my little brother who is 14 years my junior, I didn't go as I had left home by this time.

Aged 8 years old he was being regularly picked on at school by a 10 or 11 year old whose family lived just a few doors away from my step-fathers huge mansion (which may have been a factor). The step-dad went to this boy's house to have words with his dad. The boy's dad told him to "fuck off back to England".

That explains that then.

Behind every bully is a cunt of a parent.

Probably.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Thu 14 May 2009, 16:42, 4 replies)

remember the bear hug??
all the rage at my school,duty bully grabbing you from behind and lifting you up from under the rib cage until you passed out and hit the floor quicker than ricky hatton.well my best friends dad was a captain in the marines and taught street fighting, his advice was to carry a sharpened pencil in your pocket and when said bully did his thing"stab the fucker in the hand as hard as you can"(great advice for a 13 year old)....
a months detention and pleading to the headmaster not to expel me,school bully got an infection and was off for months.
sure the teachers smiled at me more from that day on,they all knew what a little cunt he was...
a good day for the underdog and now i drive a ferrari and shag superubermodels and all thanks to that day...
(norfolkngood, Thu 14 May 2009, 16:12, 2 replies)

Thank you for your sound suggestions.
Although I was bullied continuously at school during my younger years, it wasn't the physical damage which destroyed my childhood desires, but the repurcussions such actions have on your family.

~~ Wavy lines ~~

You see, parents tend to react in two clear ways to any threat to their young. The instrumental mother's role is that of going over the persecutor's head to their parents to sort this out diplomatically, overlooking two important facts:

- Bullies aren't born. They're spawned. I've seen The Omen and know for a fact that putrid bags of hate such as those have been summoned from the very depths of Hell itself, intent on destroying their own families as part of the development process. Asking their Mum to stop their child from being a devious shit is like asking the lass on the checkouts at Tesco to stop making their own brand Chicken Balti quite so spicy.

- Shit rolls downhill. If you grass it up to their seniors, expect doubly violent repurcussions on your end for being a spineless little pansy.

So, this led to me seaking advice from my father, a wise man of sound being. Okay, so I lie. My father hit me more often than the bullies, and at least the bullies didn't use belts. This upbringing obviously prompted his wise suggestion:

'Hit 'em in the balls, Foxy! I didn't raise you to be a faggot!'

Father dearest, if I wasn't built like a dandelion and didn't have the physical grace of a Parkinsons patient, do you not think I would have tried this already? Bullies, in accordance with their spawning manual, are fed on a diet of brick dust and the tears of children. Having a child who can recite Monty Python and the Holy Grail word for word lunge at a 12 year old built like a concrete shithouse couldn't be any more ineffective if I breathed heavily on him in hope of wounding the fucker beforehand.

In the end, I accepted that life is an unfair experience which can't be resolved by having others fight your own battles. Although there is a lot of pain and suffering along the way, all persecutions breed strength, and without that I wouldn't be where I am today, in charge of my life and with a fantastic woman by my side. I may not have enjoyed the experience, but being bullied made me a stronger man than I would have ever been without.

Okay, you got me. I Photoshopped the guy's face onto some gay porn and hid copies of it in his belongings.

Every day.

For 2 years.

Occasionally I threw in death threats.

I'm a better person now.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 14 May 2009, 16:08, Reply)

If you weren't tough enough to fight back
Throw their P.E kit in the shower or put pierced ink cartridges in their shoes. Fuckers.
(Hoppkins, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:56, Reply)

I'll take the bullies over the caring teachers please.
I was bullied at school quite a bit because I was a short tubby kid up until I was 13 and went to a boarding school but was not as posh as the other kids there. One kid who bullied me loads was this kid called Barry. He was a bit of a cock because his dad was minted and he lived in a huge clifftop mansion in south devon, it also helped that he had two older brothers and two younger brothers in the same school.

As it happened hid dad had all his cash sunk into Mirror Group investments so when Maxwell went over the side of a boat he lost everything and the family (mommy, daddy and the 5 boys) all had to move to a 3 bedroom semi in Torquay. The boys were also taken out of boarding school and sent to the local Comp but by this time the older brothers had left school and so Barry probably got the shit kicked out of him continually for being a posh kid in a Comp.

Anyway, I digress, I was bullied a fair bit and one teacher, Mr Jones, took pity on me and sort of took me under his wing a bit. He was my science teacher and a while after I left the place I found out he was banged up for 8 years for buggering schoolboys so I figure I had a lucky escape. Between the bully and the teacher I think karma worked it all out nicely.

Give me a solid beating from another kid any time over a buggering from a nonce teacher though.
(Outraged_of_Reading tfs-sfw.com, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:56, Reply)

My teacher
was a real cunt, a really nasty little bully. If he didn't have me running round doing pointless tasks he'd be hitting me with his cane and generally whinging on like the little pussy he was. I suppose he was just pushing me hard because he wanted me to succeed, but fuck me, he used to get on my nerves. And as he was only a little fella I knew I could fuck him up if I really wanted to. One swift punch in the face and it would've been all over. Somehow, I managed to control myself.

Then I got a message to say my sister was up shit creek without a paddle. I had to go and help her out but the old cunt wouldn't let me go. We had a bit of a set-to and eventually he let me leave my classes early. But even then all I wanted to do was ram my fist down his croaky old throat and rip out his lungs.

Mind you, he did help get my x-wing out the swamp. So he wasn't all bad, I suppose...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:34, 4 replies)

This had better be cathartic.
We'll I was bullied from infant school to the day I entered 6 form. Many events stand out but the worst times were at my first junior school. I must admit I was hardly the most conforming of kids well I was downright wierd and had a temper to boot at that age but I certainly did not deserve the abuse I got, especialy with the teachers and headmaster being as much use as a soggy cabbage at ending it. You would think that a kid of 8 or so having his head smashed through a sink by a 12 year old might draw their attention though, nope given a "this child banged his head watch out for a concussion" card and sent to my next lesson, then I was yelled at before I went home for damaging school property, as though I chose to smash my head through a sink myself. I got my teeth kicked in every day at that school for two and a half years but it took me really snapping and beating one of the gangs into a bloody mass with a chair in year 5 before the school decided to let on the extent to which I was being bullied to my parents and I got moved to a rather nice school a couple of streets away. I took me years to get over the bullying and it was only really the friends I made in 6 form and year 11 that turned me into the decent upstanding nerd/ nice guy you see today. I have many stories of how I've been bullied, and to be perfectly fair some of them are quite funny in retrospect so I might tell them some other time.
Sorry for seriousness, I just wanted to post this cause I don't really tell people at all, so annon over the internet, it's nice to get this crap off my shoulders once in a while.
(ollclay, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:31, 1 reply)

And another thing
I reckon obesity has been on the increase since bullying was outlawed in schools.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:19, 5 replies)

I was bullied by a teacher
he was a cunt.

Later I manned the fuck up.

End
( Peej, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:15, Reply)

I thought was I bullied at school
Though now I look back on it, it was more likely just a massive sense of humour failure on my part. I imagine that goes for quite a lot of people - history tends to distort what it really was. Give as good as you get, and do it with a smile. Job done.
( the_other_jeff_lebowski Croutons on my tits, Thu 14 May 2009, 15:04, Reply)

I think the moderators of b3ta
are bullies making us to go through this catharsis of telling the painful stories of our younger days! I am going to ignore it and they will give up and leave me alone. (This tactic never worked for me as a kid but maybe it will work now, either that or I am going to tell on them).

On the plus side, it’s cheaper than therapy .
(MichaelS wasn't picked again, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:48, Reply)

Time's a changin'
Years ago, you'd always have the one fat kid in the class who'd be the butt of most jokes.

Nowadays, there's classes of fat kids up and down the country picking on the one skinny guy.
(oneinthepink is at your cervix m'lady, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:36, 1 reply)

Day 1
I was bullied by everyone at school, including the girls and the teachers. It didn't help that my elder brothers had bounced around one or two teachers a bit in their time, and being reasonable human beings, they wanted revenge. I was a swat and so meek, it was going to be easy.

On my first day, Vincent Secondary Modern in Northolt, the new kids were all coraled in the cloak room. 150 shit scared 11+ failures waiting to be allocated classes. Calling out the names was a neanderthal, a typical Loughborgh reject named West. Coming to my name quite near the top, he stops, frowns, and looks up. In a moment he had swung through the bars of the coat racks and landed in front of me. "Stand Up" he yells, I oblige. "Not another one?" "Yes" He turns purple and swings back to his place. All eyes on me, I trembled like a leaf and hoped to disapear. Even the kids, whose mums had made them wear school caps, marked my card on that day.

I mentioned this to my big brother when I got home. "Oh yeah, I stuck one on him the day I left, the cunt" Cheers Bro, my life is now going to be destroyed.

I try to avoid West for as long as possible, he was the games master, and I was crap at all sport, so it was very difficult. One rainy thursday, three classes of boys are sitting silently in the dungeons that served for changing rooms under the Gym. In a few minutes we will be marching down to the local swimming baths. All silent except for Les Clarke and me. West is in his office, learning to read or something. he hears the noise.

Out bounds West from is nest of sweaty track suits, unclaimed sports kit, and pants. Its slipper time for Les and me. Him first. Standard procedure, bend over, and grab your knees. One wack, and Les is sent back to his seat. Me next.

Assume the position, I notice he is moving to the end of the room. One two three, he launches himself at me, and my fat arse takes his size 9 like a thunderclap. The sound reverberates around the changing room. I spring to my feet and turn to face him. "I didn't tell you to stand up," he shrieks. I re-assume the position, and boy are my eyes welling up, cos it fucking hurt.

Another run up, and he dummies it. Then he dismisses me. I give him a look that I thought was menacing, but probably looked like private Godfrey offering a pice of fairy cake.

At the swimming baths, "Oi Bartleby, I can read Slazenger on your arse, and size 9." The shame, the shame.

The bad thing was that once he had slippered you, you were one of his mates. Definatley suspect.

In closing, Mr West, Philip I think, you are a grade A cunt. I hope your kids had very small dicks. And that includes the girls.

Oh, am I bitter. Oh yes.
( Bartleby A dead man on vacation, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:29, 2 replies)

Man The Fuck Up!
Shit flows downhill.

I come home from work in a bad mood. So I give the wife a slap.

That puts her in a bad mood so she kicks the dog.

That pisses off the dog so he slyly bites the cat.

The cat, offended, runs outside and slaughters a few birds. Then brings me the heads.

Yeah - Man The Fuck Up.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:22, 3 replies)

FLY BOMB
There was a bully in the street where I grew up named Lawrence. Nasty piece of work. Seventeen year old smoker with a tattoo of a nudie lady on his arm; ok, it wasn't such a great ink job - she looked a bit down syndrome and appeared to have three tits, but he had a tattoo all the same. This made Lawrence hard. Also, the fact that he'd quite happily mash the shit out of any kid who strayed onto his driveway helped this image along nicely.

Lawrence also had a car - a mustard yellow Ford Capri. It was his pride and joy. When he wasn't beating the shit out of the local kids for 'looking at him funny', or trying his damndest to sexually harrass any teenage girl in a two mile radius, he'd be out front of his house waxing his motor, the windows down, blaring out hardman music like The Clash, or on occasion, Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

Lawrence even gave the car a name - he called it The Thunderdome (in homage to favorite film; or possibly because he loved Tina Turner and wanted to marry her; fuck knows). But The Thunderdome became famous in our street. It had the same affect as looking directly at The Arc of the Covenant in that Indiana Jones film - if you dared look at The Thunderdome for any length of time, you could expect a swift thump from Lawrence and a barrage of death threats. Apparently looking at this motor wore out the paint, according to Lawrence.

Then, one fateful August day twatting about in the street with my mate Greg on our choppers, I inadvertently swerved, clipped the pavement, and went into the side of the poorly parked Thunderdome. Greg, being a true mate, legged it, leaving me sprawled on the street, badly brusied, grazed and bleeding, with the:

Whooooop!!! - Whooooop!!! - Whooooop!!!

of the Thunderdome's car alarm rattling in my ears. I got on my bike and fucked off sharpish. And within minutes Lawrence was stalking up and down the street asking the kids which fucker had just scratched his motor. He never really bothered with me as such before and not really that much after. I had no interest in cars, he had no interest in me - the arrangement worked just fine.

But having to spend a nice sunny afternoon trapped in the house playing Mouse Trap with Greg (took ages to set that fucker up just for ten seconds of excitement; a bit like my sex life now, come to think of it), anyway, I decided enough was enough. It was time to bring this cunt down a peg or two. For the sake of all the kids in the street. And anyway - I was bored.

I went and found my mums purse and 'borrowed' a quid. Then I sneaked out the back door, Greg trailing behind, and we went to the fishing tackle shop a few streets down.

"What are we doing here?" Greg asked.

And I explained how my Uncle George had told me about something that happened to him once when he went on holiday and forgot he had a jar of maggots he'd bought as bait in his shed. I remember sitting, mouth agape, as my Uncle George relayed the tale. I imagine he was trying to warn me off, but all I could think was: Shit, I've gotta try that one day.

"Half a pound of maggots, please," I asked. Mr Maggot-Seller weighed out the booty and passed it over.

We went home, put the fuckers in a big glass jar with some old bacon, screwed on the lid, knocked in a few airholes, and hid the fucker in the shed.

Fastforward a week or so...

Lawrence is still stalking round, enjoying the fact its school holidays and he has a shitload of local kids to terrorise. He's busy shouting at someone or other with some shit 80's hair rock ballad blaring on his motors radio. Greg and I, holding the now buzzing, angrily vibrating jar of angry-as-fuck flies, old bits of rotting bacon, and loads of broken open pupae cases, sneak over to The Thunderdome, SWAT-team style, loosen the lid on the jar, and slide it down onto the passanger seat through the open window.

Then we leg it and find a nice place to watch proceedings.

Lawrence finishes hitting the kid. Stalks back towards the Capri, he sees something on the passanger seat-

- opens the door -

and disappears in a violent cloud of pissed off blue bottles, falling backwards and screaming like the evil little nonce he was.

"Arggggghhhh!!!! Gettum off!!!! Gettum off!!!!" he squealed. But no one helped the fucker.

And in moments the flies had dispersed. Lawrence gathered himself, went into his house, picking dead flies out of his gelled hair and from between his teeth as he went.

Although Lawrence continued his chosen calling as a bullying, now at least he had to put up with everyone - even some of the adults - making a strange, droning, barely audible 'buzzing' noise as he stalked past.

Fly bombs - cool as fuck.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:17, 2 replies)

Thieving sixth formers
When I was in the Fourth Form, I made the mistake of letting somebody spot where I kept my drug stash, and some of the house prefects thought it would be hilarious to "confiscate" all my cow speed.

I had the last laugh though - they were actually bull Es...
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:06, Reply)

Milk Bomb
Did anyone else have this?

Basically you get a milk carton (found in the canteen with the drinks at lunchtime) and peel of the cardboard so that the container is waifer thin.

Then launch it at the geeks. It then explodes on impact coating the person in milk. on a hot day... leading to a very sour smelling person.

Lukily I was neither bully or geek, i was that group that usually watched on.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Thu 14 May 2009, 14:03, Reply)

Would this be a good time to say...
Man.

The.

Fuck.

Up.

?
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 14 May 2009, 13:55, 5 replies)

Dowson
Highly unlikely the evil twat is still alive. If he is, he'll be in his 80's.

He was my physics teacher at school and the 2nd most feared teacher in the school. (Oddly, the most feared teacher was the music teacher. One day I'll tell his story...)

Dowson was a beater. "Spare the rod and spoil the child" was his personal mantra. He must have caned me at least a dozen times - but not this time.

This particular lesson I was at the back with my usual mates. Dowson was droning on at the blackboard when some farted. Loudly. Everyone started sniggering and Dowson's head whipped round.

"LEGLESS!!! - get your books and sit here in front of my desk “he boomed.

"Sir! Why me? I haven't done anything?" I squeaked.

Dowson strode to the back of the class and grabbed the hair just in front of my ears and twisted it. (Try it. It fucking hurts.) Then he dragged me to the front of the class and threw me against his desk.

"Because I say so" he hissed "Every time there's a problem with this class, you're at the bottom of it. Now sit there, you pathetic moron, and don't say a word unless I ask you a question. UNDERSTAND?"

Well the devil came and took me. I looked him straight in the eye and asked..

Ïs that a question?"

He went puce.

"GET UPSTAIRS AND ASK MR SCRIVENS FOR THE PUNISHMENT BOOK AND THE CANE" he bellowed.

And the devil was still in me.

"No."

"WHAT?" He shrieked. "What do you mean "NO"?'"

Ï mean no. I'm not getting the cane" I said calmly.

Inside I was thinking I’m dead, I'm dead, I'm dead....."

"Why not?" Dowson demanded.

"Because you're going to hit me with it and I've done nothing wrong"

I was deep in trouble now but I wasn't going to back down. I wasn't scared of being caned - I'd been caned dozens of times by lots of teachers and, usually I deserved it - but not this time. I hadn't done anything wrong and I'd be buggered if I was going to be thrashed for something I hadn't done.

"Tony" (my best mate) Dowson bellowed "Go upstairs and get the punishment book and the cane!!"

"No Sir" said Tony

My rebellion seemed to have taken root.

"WHY NOT?" shrieked Dowson who was rapidly losing the plot

"Because you're going to hit Legless with it and he hasn't done anything wrong"

"Dent?" asked Dowson looking bewildered

Denty just shook his head.

"Welsby"he roared looking at the cowardly little shit.

"Yes sir. Straight away sir “ and off he scuttled for the punishment book and the cane. For the five minutes he was away you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. I was at the front, shitting myself but determined not to back down. Tony and Denty were likewise dreading where all this was leading and the rest of the class was fascinated at this clash of wills.

Wellsby scuttled back into the classroom with the BOOK and the cane.

"Put your hand out" ordered Dowson sternly.

"No."

"Why not?""

"'Cos you'll hit me with it and I haven't done anything wrong"

I was beyond fear by now. I was, at the least, going to be expelled and would probably end up being beaten to a pulp by Dowson as soon as there wasn't any witnesses.

So we had a stand-off.

"Sit there and I'll deal with you at the end of the lesson"

So I sat there, in misery, waiting for the axe to fall. Whatever he did, whatever he threatened, I wasn't going to back down.

The lesson eventually ended I expected the worst. The bastard disarmed me...

"Legless, Legless, Legless - what are we going to do with you?"

He looked tired.

"You have to understand that discipline has to be maintained. By defying me you're threatening the very fabric of the school. Now will you accept your punishment?"

"If I'd done anything wrong - yes. But I haven't, so, no"

"OK. You can go. But this isn't over. You *will* be punished and discipline *will* be maintained."

And I went.

Later that year I sat my mock physics 'O' level and achieved 83%. A few months later I found that I wasn't allowed to sit the real Ó' level as my teacher had stated that I wasn't a suitable candidate. I sat the mong level, the CSE.


That vindictive decision stopped me gaining an engineering scholarship. I aced the competitive exams, coming third out of 2000 candidates, but was refused a place because, even though I CSE grade 1 was supposed to be equivalent to an O'level, the rules stated that you had to have an Ó'level in Maths, Physics and English.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 14 May 2009, 13:55, 2 replies)

Bullies have their uses
I hate bullies. They're evil, spineless scum who come for you in packs when you're vulnerable.

But they can have their uses.

My friend D was the wee brother of the pscyhotic top bully in our school. Genghis (not his real name) was terrifying. Built like a brick easance and with a look behind the eyes that would make Vlad the Impaler incontinent. He regarded violence as a amusing hobby. When he was 16 the entire fifth and sixth year tried to beat him up. They lost - and it was a big school. He used to fashion weapons at home and oil the doors so D couldn't hear him coming to get him.

One day D was getting grief off some sixth year toley for running. This choob had a large nose so D drew his attention to it, with frequent references to beaks, avians and birdseed. Eventually the sixth year went bright red with fury, grabbed D by the throat and lifted him up the wall. His fist drew back and then D said very calmly: "I'm Genghis's brother."

The sixth year silenty lowered D to the ground, turned on his heel and walked away. Quickly.

You see, only Genghis was allowed to beat the shit out of D.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 14 May 2009, 13:36, 2 replies)

Closed Question Bullying
Reasonably clever piece of bullying invented by a mid-level git in my school:

"Have you ever sucked on your Mum's tits?"

Answer no and you are bullied for not being breastfed; you're Mum is an alcoholic, your Mum's got no tits, etc.

Answer yes and the obvious "HAH, YOU SUCKED ON YOUR MUM'S TITS!!" is all you can expect.

The dickhead who came up with this little gem found it to be his downfall however. Buoyed up by the success of this question on the weaker kids he decided to try it out on one of the harder kids. The response was: "No, but I sucked on YOUR Mum's tits." They then put him in a headlock and locked him in a cupboard.

Karma, dude. Karma...
(Chexworth will one day make Yoko Matsugane his bride..., Thu 14 May 2009, 13:20, Reply)

I was bullied but I'm ignorant.
At school, if you didn't give a fuck what they said they couldn't bully you, they couldn't tire me down because I was tired of them to begin with..

I got a death threat at work, it was the faxed letter that broke the camel's back, I gave up Civil Engineering, and now work as a Graphic Designer.
( GrandmaOfShoes, Thu 14 May 2009, 13:17, 6 replies)

I have the enviable status of having been picked on in every place of education I've been to.
And one place of work. I was picked on in infant school - quite unnecessarily. A couple of people tried to steal my best friend from me in junior school - thankfully she's a good egg and it didn't work. I moved to a different junior school for my last half a term, and lo, managed to catch the attention of someone who decided she didn't like me. At secondary school I managed to shuffle between two groups - one lot who were so nasty that I'd come home from school in tears (I have no memory of the tears, but I remember the bullying) and the other group in which a supposed friend of mine was not very nice to me. Incidentally she's one of my best mates now. Oh well.

At uni I had to move into different accommodation to get away from the people who managed to make my life a misery - ooh, just as I found out that my Mum was dying. Double whammy, but I don't think they ever knew.

And in my last permanent job I had to complain to my manager that one of my colleagues was being very intimidatory to me. That improved but due to the job and me being a total mismatch, I left after five months. For the last year and a half I have been temping as I officially don't like being stuck in one place for too long.

Bitter? You bet. Found writing this cathartic? Well, it is an impressive list. On bad days I like to think that because I got the short end of so many sticks, others will have got away without being subjected to bullying. Do I get the full set of steak knives? Well, I certainly think I deserve them. And perhaps have a good use for them...
( Bozo the Clone will work for chocolate., Thu 14 May 2009, 13:07, Reply)

......And now he's washing cars for a living
I’m not really the type of person to be bullied as I have a decent social life, have a girlfriend and also play the guitar in my spare time (This isn’t a dig at anyone on the board who has posted so far about themselves being bullied- I’m just trying to explain that despite the fact that I hang around with a few people that are a little odd I never do anything to leave myself look vunerable and a target for bullies). I used to see bullying regularly in my life thanks to my Dad.

Before I start this I’m not saying my dad used to beat me up or anything it’s more to do with the fact that he was bullied at work and I got to see it- A LOT.

This bullying was done by a work colleague who was a total ass and believed the world owed him. He would turn up at our house and act like he owned the place, including making a couple of remarks about my mum which really riles me. During this time my Dad would just stand by and let this happen, I could tell my old man would be pissed off too he just did sod all about it.

To cut a long story short I found out that my dad has been bullied by the same bloke for most of his life, even back when he was a kid, and thanks to my help my Dad overcame the bullying twat by standing up to him and punching the bully square in the face.

This was after an incident involving a time travelling DeLorean and me changing my past.

(Apologies for lack of hoverboard)
(mon bison powered by magnets, Thu 14 May 2009, 12:54, 3 replies)

Fun & Profit...
I bully middle aged high flying business men for fun and profit, does that count?
( Evilsprinkles Shitting glitter, Thu 14 May 2009, 12:47, 3 replies)

Mad Max

All you have to do to stop bullies is stand up to them. All bullies are cowards.

How many times have you heard that? Total load of bollocks. The *reason* that some people are bullies is because they like hurting people. They like to inflict pain and they're bloody good at it. A bully is generally stronger, faster and much better fighter than their victims. Standing up to them is just attracts their attention.

Meet Max.

Max was a lad I knew in school and someone who I became friends with after we left school. He was a small lad. Small but stocky. He was Asian/Indonesian in appearance with a strong Geordie accent and a cracking seems of humour. A good lad.

I never did find out what Max did to attract the attention of the school bully but somehow he did and he was called out to fight the bully after school. The bully was a guy called Mather. The only person in my life I've been frightened of.

Meet Mather.

Mather came from a wealthy but incredibly abusive background. I found out, years later, that Mather was regularly beaten to shit by his father and older brothers. He was the second best fighter in the school (the best was a guy who was a freak of nature. He was a boy in a man’s body. He was shaving by the age of 12 and had an impressive hairy chest by the time he was 14.) and was a real bastard. The problem with Mather is that he just didn't know when to stop. Unlike the rest of us, who'd stop fighting when your opponent gave in, Mather just kept on hammering his victim. How he didn't kill someone was a fucking mystery..... And Max had to fight him.

I was there.

The usual big ring formed and Max and Mather met in the middle then Max swung a beautiful punch and caught Mather smack in the face. A real purler of a punch. If conventional wisdom held true then Mather, the bully, should have crumbled. Sadly, reality held true instead and Mather went mental. He beat the living shit out of Max.

As a display of raw courage, I've never seen anything like that fight. Max was a good foot shorter than Mather. Slower, not as strong, but my God he was game. Mather was pounding the shit out of Max's face, his body. He was knocking Max to the ground and kicking him in the face and head but Max always got up and kept on coming. I don’t think he got a single blow in (apart from his first sucker punch) but he kept trying.

Eventually he went down for the last time and Mather kept kicking him for good minute after he lay still. To my eternal shame I did nothing. I knew what happened to people who got between Mather and his prey.

Fight over. Mather triumphant as usual but, strange as it may sound, the real winner was Max. Everyone who saw that fight just couldn't help but admire his sheer guts. He was going into a fight he *knew* he couldn't win but still he went. After that fight everyone kind of looked up to Max - physically I looked down on the short-arse but in my minds-eye I was looking up at him.

So, seeing that I'm having a few glasses of wine....


Cheers Max. Thirty years on and I still remember your courage.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 14 May 2009, 12:42, 1 reply)

PN
This is going to sound like i'm really bitter, but I am, so Fuck it!

I went to a boarding school in Sedbergh, Cumbria, mentioning no names! I was never the most academic pupil and rather disruptive but i'm fairly sure I didn't deserve the bullying that was dished out to me by the hands of Pierce Nichols, (real name, as I said before, Fuck it!)

This guy was huge compared to me and I can vividly remember me cowering under the bed whilst he rained down the kicks and punches.

That cunt even stole the towel that my Mum had made for me out of 24 beer towels, I got it back eventually but it took a visit to the school by my mother to get it back.

I'd love to meet him now, he'd still probably beat me in a fight but at least it would be a more level playing field than an 17yr old v's a 13yr old.
(Kip, Thu 14 May 2009, 12:21, 6 replies)

from cool to "gay" in 5 seconds
i'm 18 years old and recently was on my way home from work and was walking up the back street
near this club were they have metal bands on for 12-18 year olds. i used to go there but stopped going because well i could legally drink
so the few of us who'd been going since we were 12 had kinda moved on to other places.

i noticed there weren't many kids outside, only about 10 of them, which if it was bad weather was expected as they'd be let in early but it was a nice night.
so as i was walking past one of the lads shouted me over, he was my friends little brother and only about 13 years old.i went over and
was having a chat with him when i noticed about 7 or 8 chav looking boys who were my age and older walked up the road.
usually you'd get a few idiot trying to pick on anyone round there for being a "GOFF" but they never did anything just shout.

then one of them walked over and punched my friends brother in the side of the head and started laughing and showing off to his mates.
he was stood on the edge of the curb side on to me.it really really pissed me off that he was 18 years old picking on a kid just
because he knew the kid wouldn't fight back. i grabbed the back of his hood, punched him in the face and pushed him off the curb.

he obviously wasn't expecting this (neither was i to be honest just acted on impulse) and fell flat on his arse in the middle of the road.
his friends were hysterical laughing shouting "YOU BIG GAY YOU JUST GOT FLOORED BY A GIRL... LOOK AT HER SHE'S TINY!"

i gave him one last kick in the balls, much to the amusment of his friends, and then walked my friends brother home.
(stitched, Thu 14 May 2009, 12:20, 3 replies)