"I've got a knife"
The thing about the weather in Manchester is that it is just so changable. From howling wind and rain to bright sunshine in a matter of minutes; it's never predictable.
The rain had just stopped and I'd furled my umbrella as I walked along the side of Platt fields. When I'd left the house it'd been tipping it down. Suddenly it had stopped, and the sun was warm and bright. It lifted my mood considerably and I walked on looking around at the world and generally beaming at how life wasn't all that bad.

He rode up alongside me and slowed down, the wheels of his bike going tictictictic tic as he coasted.
"What'd you look at me like that for?" He asked.
I was confused, because I'd been in a bit of a reverie and I hadn't even really noticed him, and I said so. "Like what? Sorry, mate, I didn't even see you."
This appeared to be the wrong answer. "you looked at me like I were a cunt", he said. "You fuck."
"I did? I was miles away. I didn't even know I'd looked at you." I gave my best harmless smile.
"You what? You think you're some kind of hard man? You cunt." He spat.
"Nope", I said, as cheerfully as I could muster. I really wished he'd just go away.
"I'll fuck you up", he said. "I've got a knife."

Time slowed down. There are certain things that people can say which makes time do that. "I'm pregnant and you're the father" is one. So is "Perhaps you could accompany me to the station, sir", is another. He reached a hand into his tracksuit pocket and pulled a knife out, flicking it open. The blade was about six inches long and it glittered as it caught the sun. He waved it with one hand at me as he held onto the handlebars with the other.
Shit. I thought. He's going to stab me, and I've no idea why. I couldn't even run away, because there's no way I could outpace someone on a bike. Instead, I did the only thing I could think of.
I stuck my umbrella in the spokes of the front wheel of his bike and ran like hell. I didn't look back, but I like to think he executed a neat trajectory over the handlebars and landed on his face. The shouting certainly made it sound like he had, anyway.
(davywavy, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 13:57, 7 replies)

Nice.
I've always wondered how effective an umbrella would be as an improvised self-defence weapon. That's inspired.
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 14:33, closed)

Glad
Glad you got away mate, sounds like a lunatic.

What would be nice is a story or stories that are like yours but end in something like.....

"been 5 foot 4 the guy never suspected I had been in the Paras for 12 years as I (pick one)stuck his head through the shop window/ dropped him off the bridge onto the passing traffic / pushed his hands into the very complex gearing mechanism of a passing combine harvester"

People with knives = ****ts

When I was a lad a punch up would be good enough !
(amsterdam_neild, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 14:51, closed)

Alas, I wasn't in the paras.
And I'm a bit of a coward, really :)
(davywavy, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 15:19, closed)

Yeah but
I hope the guy does meet a ex-para one day, that was the jist. Never happens though. fuksocks
(amsterdam_neild, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 15:21, closed)

You're thinking of something like this?
www.machinehead-software.co.uk/nigel_jones/arrest/citizens_arrest.html
(davywavy, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 16:08, closed)

The sad truth...
...is that if that guy took those photo's now he'd be breaking the Counter Terrorism Act 2008 due to photographing a police officer
( notmyrealname, Mon 16 Feb 2009, 18:44, closed)

Weather in Manchester
The only thing I'm certain about Mancunian weather is that it's completely predictable: it's always raining. Except for a couple of hours in "summer"

The story is nice, though, well done.
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Thu 19 Feb 2009, 12:04, closed)