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)
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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Hero by default
As a child in the '70s I was a perfect target for school bullies. Being fiercely proud of being born in Belfast, but living in England, not forgetting that I was at least six inches shorter than everyone else, made me the perfect target. Who wouldn't pick on what the ignorant perceived to be a potential terrorist (oh, must say thanks to the moslems for taking over that mantle, saves me a bundle of hassle). So, I was always picked on, always had names thrown at me; I.S.H. was my particular favourite, Irish Shit Head. Thanks Johnny Ashley, hope you're enjoying being a failure. Oh did I mention I'm drunk, and still quite bitter about some of this. Meh.
Anyway, back to the subject in hand. On the way home from school one day, one of the bullies, Mark Dullingham, was being particularly obnoxious, so I decided to fight back. We scuffled in the street, he kept pushing me down, I kept getting up. He grabbed me round the neck in a head lock, expecting submission, I refused to give in, to the point that he was lifting me by my neck, off the ground. I refused to give in and, eventually, he left me be.
Next day I was called to head of year's office and given a right royal telling off. Amazingly, I was a bit of a hero amongst the few friends I had. Dullingham was off school, as a result of the fight. Admittedly he had a bad back from lifting my sorry arse of the deck, but that didn't seem to matter to my friends.
They do say revenge is a dish served cold. So, should Mark Dullingham of Bedford, be reading this, I hope you enjoy your sad life. Your wife is ugly and you have a shit job and you earn about a quarter of what I do. HAH!!!
A wine and the internet, who needs therapy?
Oh, and Matthew Shinn, when you trod in the dog turd on the way to school and we all started calling you S.T.I.F.F (Shinn Trod In Festering Faeces), I apologies for joining in. I was just so glad they weren't picking on me. BTW, you may have guessed, it was the Ashley cunt that thought that up.
I fucking hate thinking about all of this, so I'm going for a bit of a cry now. Thanks a fucking bunch B3ta.
( , Thu 14 May 2009, 23:25, Reply)
As a child in the '70s I was a perfect target for school bullies. Being fiercely proud of being born in Belfast, but living in England, not forgetting that I was at least six inches shorter than everyone else, made me the perfect target. Who wouldn't pick on what the ignorant perceived to be a potential terrorist (oh, must say thanks to the moslems for taking over that mantle, saves me a bundle of hassle). So, I was always picked on, always had names thrown at me; I.S.H. was my particular favourite, Irish Shit Head. Thanks Johnny Ashley, hope you're enjoying being a failure. Oh did I mention I'm drunk, and still quite bitter about some of this. Meh.
Anyway, back to the subject in hand. On the way home from school one day, one of the bullies, Mark Dullingham, was being particularly obnoxious, so I decided to fight back. We scuffled in the street, he kept pushing me down, I kept getting up. He grabbed me round the neck in a head lock, expecting submission, I refused to give in, to the point that he was lifting me by my neck, off the ground. I refused to give in and, eventually, he left me be.
Next day I was called to head of year's office and given a right royal telling off. Amazingly, I was a bit of a hero amongst the few friends I had. Dullingham was off school, as a result of the fight. Admittedly he had a bad back from lifting my sorry arse of the deck, but that didn't seem to matter to my friends.
They do say revenge is a dish served cold. So, should Mark Dullingham of Bedford, be reading this, I hope you enjoy your sad life. Your wife is ugly and you have a shit job and you earn about a quarter of what I do. HAH!!!
A wine and the internet, who needs therapy?
Oh, and Matthew Shinn, when you trod in the dog turd on the way to school and we all started calling you S.T.I.F.F (Shinn Trod In Festering Faeces), I apologies for joining in. I was just so glad they weren't picking on me. BTW, you may have guessed, it was the Ashley cunt that thought that up.
I fucking hate thinking about all of this, so I'm going for a bit of a cry now. Thanks a fucking bunch B3ta.
( , Thu 14 May 2009, 23:25, Reply)
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