Meh
I used to live in a small, and probably rather inbred, village in the Midlands. No one ever moved out of there (to put it in perspective when I was an undergrad I did some research in the local library for my thesis using a set of legal and financial documents from 1570 to 1620 - there were four prominent families named in the village in that period - and in my class in primary school there were four kids with those surnames whose families were proud that they had inhabited the same festering gene slime for generations).

Edwin (as I shall call him), was a prime example of one of these families. Ridiculously parochial pride in being from the village, viewed anyone who wasn't from the village, wasn't white, and wasn't in the 'hard village crowd'(TM) was a target to be taken. Edwin also thought of himself as a hardman, mainly as his father had been in prison, and because he was now going to a local secondary school with a bad reputation in the nearest town. A lot of people just thought he was a cock, but couldn't say it to his face, mainly because he'd push your face through the back of your head for doing so.

*wavy lines*

A few years later I'm 16, Edwin must've been about 19 or 20 at this point. I was with a few friends in one of the local pubs - a real dive with a gravel car park. Edwin was also there. By this time he had graduated to petty crime, vandalism, intimidation, low-grade racial abuse of the only none white family in the whole place, and generalised bullying of anyone whom he considered to be an appropriate target - basically anyone. He wanted to be the village alpha bully and no one was going to stop him. Given that the village had had a policeman until he'd unfortunately died and after that you saw the police about once every two years Edwin got away with it.

Anyway, we're in the pub. Under-age rural drinking. Also in the pub is a quiet, withdraw fellow of about 40. He'd been in the village about a year, worked in a factory in a nearby town and, beyond that, all anyone really knew about him was that his wife had recently had an affair with Edwin's dad and that consequently his marriage had gone belly up.

Edwin, being the sensitive soul that he was, decided that it was time, in a crowded pub, to draw attention to the fact that his dad had screwed this guys wife. Repeatedly. We sat there watching in silence. You could see the poor man grinding his teeth, getting more and more angry, as this young thug mocks and abuses him. Eventually the wastrel throws a pint of beer over the guys face.

Silence falls in the pub... the local farmers wives hold their six fingered hands to their mouths in shock. The guy stands up, and Edwin squares up to him, malevolent excitement pouring of him like cheap aftershave. The guy then walks to the door of the pub and goes outside. Edwin follows, abusing him more, kicking at the back of his legs. We all crowded to the windows to see what happened.

It was probably when Edwin spat on the back of the guys head that he lost it. The guy turned round and punched Edwin, *hard*. Edwin fell over, a look of shock on his face that someone, finally, had hit back. He tried to stagger upright, threatening to beat the living shit out of the guy for standing up to him, don't you know who I am, I'm the village hard man I'll kill you. That sort of thing.

What happened over the next 5 minutes I still remember clearly. Edwin got the shit kicked out of him, at one point scrambling under a car to try to hide from the now incandescent guy who dragged him out by his feet to beat him more. It took three locals to drag the guy off, and the local doctor (who was also in the pub) took Edwin over to the surgery to check him over. As he walked past us he was crying.

It turned out the guy had been in the Army and, supposedly, had fought during the Falklands war. He was arrested but I never found out what happened to him. Edwin was black and blue for quite some time, but his reputation had gone and he seemed to be sliding into alcoholism and depression.

*wavy lines*

Few years later, I'm back from abroad an am drunk in a nightclub in a nearby town. Who should I run into but Edwin. He remembers me and, being drunk, I talk to him. It turns out that after being beaten like that he'd had a bad period and had reassessed his life. He'd done his A-Levels at college, and was now working, and engaged to his girlfriend. He freely admitted that he'd been a total cock when younger and said that his father had pushed him to be a hardman like he himself was.

I haven't seen Edwin for a few years, and I probably won't see him again, but as I understand it from my ex, who's parents still live in the village, he recently surprised everyone by deciding he wants to be a priest.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Fri 15 May 2009, 13:51, 4 replies)

a priest, eh?
so back to his old tricks?
( Sextant goes to him is emotionally erect, on this day, Fri 15 May 2009, 14:43, closed)

Hadn't
thought of that...

I don't trust priests. Or clowns and mimes.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Fri 15 May 2009, 16:53, closed)

as soon as i saw
edwin was becoming a priest and a reply, i knew the typical sort of anti-religious bollocks would follow.
I'm not religious but the way some of you ppl go at it like it is the fount of all ills is absolutely rediculous. Why not blame politics/race/sporting allegiance/skin colour or something else just for once?
(Discreditor wants the dream to come true, Sat 16 May 2009, 19:21, closed)

I don't think
he was being entirely serious.

But seriously, priests are all so generically bad!
(I jest)
( ejlflop errrrrgs. Regularly., Mon 18 May 2009, 20:35, closed)