Street violence and the world's worst have-a-go hero
(I'll get this one in early, as it's a shameless double-pea-roast so you've probably all read it before.)

One night I was strolling home with a friend after a night out. Up ahead there was a couple having a blazing row in the street; we were going to have to pass them, so I was watching them carefully.

Just as we reached them, the argument appeared to reach a crescendo, and the bloke suddenly reached behind to his back pocket, whipped out what I assumed was a knife, and was bringing it around towards the woman's face.

Then, to my utter amazement, I find that I've tackled the knife-wielding maniac, and I'm pinning him against the wall by the wrists. He looks totally shocked; I suppose I look fiercer than I really am, especially from about 10cm away. In reality I'm a soft southern bastard who couldn't fight a cold, of course.

We stare at each other for a moment, then both our eyes flick up to the knife. Which, I'm sure you've worked out already, wasn't a knife at all. In fact, what he was holding was a piece of paper, which he was intending to wave accusingly in his partner's face.

So, now I'm stuck. There's really no well-defined protocol for having aggressively attacked a total stranger for what could have been no more than literary criticism. I release his arms, and we gradually back off, with muttered apologies and careful, watchful reassurances. Eventually both groups could go on their way. The last thing I heard as they wandered off was the woman, saying to the man, "See! Now look how you've embarrassed me in front of those people!"
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(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Thu 14 Mar 2013, 12:02, Reply)