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This is a question School fights

I don't remember much of the fight - it'd been building for weeks, petty things, knocking over my stuff, calling names - but it didn't last long... He hit me, I hit him, then *whack* he connected with my jaw and it all went black.

Coming round, surrounded by some friends, it was apparently "really cool". All I know is my head hurt. A lot.

Tell us about the legendary fights at school.

(, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 10:43)
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This question is now closed.

Bit Off Topic but...
Our school earned a reputation of being one of the less behaved ones in the region. Our class in particular was rather infamous for causing the early retirement of several teachers. In grade 5 one of our teachers had a nervous breakdown (never seen again).

Once a teacher became so angry that he threw a student against a cupboard and barley stopped himself from punching him

In grade 8, we caused a teacher to cry in the middle of the football field and meditate in class. This may have been due to us throwing scissors and various other sharp objects at the ceiling fan, causing them to ricochet at suprisingly high speeds.

I sorta feel a bit bad now, but on the other hand they were all cunts.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:45, Reply)
My very first day of school:
I was dropped off by me mum and promptly ran off into the playground to see what games were being played. I ran straight into this other lad's face. I had two black eyes. He had a broken nose. On my first day at school. Everybody thought we'd been fighting (a four-and-a-half year old?) and I was suspended for a week. On me first fucking day.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:40, Reply)
a friend of my brother's looked a bit like Jim Carey
he was a twat. and he was regularly beaten up. but the time I remember most clearly is when he came round our house after having gotten in a fight with a group of older lads - i told you he was a twat - and had a footprint on his face. I'll never forget that - priceless.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:23, Reply)
As a kid, I was pretty scrawny and very much a swot, but also lightning fast. I got out of plenty of fights by simply sprinting away - like shit off a stick as we used to put it. But, when in a confined space, such as a classroom, the bullies would close in. Now, I might have been little, but I was tough. I was subjected to some of the most severe physical torments of my life within those confines yet I never once let out a yelp of pain - I knew that's what they wanted, clever me. Over the years, their attempts became more and more cruel, to the extent of having my head repeatedly bashed on a desk in front of the whole class. But still I never cried out and always looked impassively at my torturer. Strangely, the bullying died down pretty soon after that. Apparently, I'd earned some sort of grudging respect from the bigger lads for being able to take a fuck of a lot of punishment and keep on grinning (like Rocky or something - yeah, right). Yay me?
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:20, Reply)
Not really a fight, but still plenty violent
When I was in the 6th form, we had a common room with a door at each end, and our favourite sport was to gather as much cash together as we could (usually about £50-100) and wave it at 1st-3rd years, promising that if they could get through the common room, they would be rich beyond their wildest dreams. Many tried, but stood no chance - they were usually picked up, lightheartedly battered, and dumped unceremoniously headfirst into the common-room bin, which was then kicked until it fell over and they rolled out dazed and covered in crisp wrappers.

Anyway, this was all par for the course until one lunchtime when a particularly enterprising 2nd year boy made a break for it, running around the outside of the common room, hurdling chairs and tables on the way. The head girl, who was sitting at one of these tables, very calmly reached out and grabbed his foot in mid-air, so the luckless kid landed face-first on the table in front of her. Despite the poor sod's subsequent hospital trip, head girl was never reprimanded, probably because all the staff fancied the arse off her just like everyone else in the school did.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:20, Reply)
Fights... Oh the humanity
Kid says nasty things about my hair.
I challenge him to fight in afternoon break.
He "forgets" about fight in afternoon break.
Someone goes and finds him and brings him out.
He starts with the fighting talk, but addresses it to the crowd as well as me.
Makes personal insult at the "school hardman", school hardman chases him around playground repeatedly kicking him in the arse.
He finally gets back to me bruised and tired, which is when I figure the best time for me to start the fight.
We Grapple.
Crowd cheer, then decide they really don't like him either and join in a mass pummelling.

I got the kudos for being hard in a fight despite technically doing nothing more that grappling him to the ground whilst the rest of the playground kick his prone body.

His father however owned the farm where BSE started, so despite the slight guilt, it makes me by default the Champion of Cows beyond the Grave.

Funny? Not really. Fights rarely are.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:09, Reply)
not really school, but close enough...
this happened to a friend of mine's little cousin, who was about 11 at the time, and is also asian (as in laos)... after school he'd have to take the inner city train (this is in paris) to go home, and was waiting on the platform when a couple of older kids (14 years old or so i think) tried bullying him into giving them his trainers... unfortunately for them, since he was little he had been trained in some sort of martial art, and he kicked their arses all over the place. Nice.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:09, Reply)
6th form..
Just remembered the last fight I had. Guy called Adrian joined the 6th form from another school cos they had no A-Level facilities. This created Tension sometimes.
One break time, I was sat down enjoying some petty gambling when suddenly a bin was crashed down on my head, I removed the bin and detritus, to be informed that Adrian and gang believed I had lobbed an apple core at him.... "Stupid cunt" sez I, but I had an half peeled orange covered in bin dust in my hand so revenge was obvious. I lept over the chairs and smashed the fucker on his head..he left with gang to clean himself up...
Break ended and I had a Business Studies ..with Adrian, and word had reached me that he was not too impressed as the juice had got onto his fine brown leather jacket...I thought nowt of it...as I was arranging my folder, I felt an almighty "WHACK" on the side of my head which knocked me sideways and made all kinds of flashing lights appear...I turn and see Adrian in classic fighting pose.."MY MUM BOUGHT ME THIS JACKET, SO YOU EITHER PAY OR I'LL BEAT IT OUT OF YOU".."Fuck off you cunt" was my well thought out reply " COME ON PRICK , PUT SOMETHING UP" , my flicking the V's got a giggle from the throng but Adrian was not amused...Combat was inevitable and as we closed he threw a punch, which I ducked under, and proceeded to pummel his ribs and soft underbelly while he flailed away on my back...we then split off and he left, making sure he knocked my bag off the table on the way out...

Still I had no bruise, and he had a dry cleaning bill, and an appendix removal and a weeks stay in hospital..*ahem*
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 12:07, Reply)
The fight that never was
I went to a big and fairly rough comprehensive but nothing too scary. As long as you kept your head down and knew who to stay away from you'd be fine.

As anyone else who went to a school with about one and a half thousand kids knows, there's a kind of collective knowledge about the ritual of the fight. It's as if "the herd" just knows.

So though fights were likely to break out at any time and any place within the school there was certainly one type that was more common than all the others.

Starting out as possibly a minor disagreement between two kids, one will big himself up to their friends saying how the other kid is "Goanee get a batterin'" (I'm Scottish btw). The friends will convince him he should and that "Aye, ye can take him". This kid will usually be the harder of the two and confident of being able beat the crap out someone wussier or smaller than him, he will then start telling everyone around that he *is* going to fight him.

This is generally done at lunchtime about 20 minutes before lessons are due to start again after most kids are back from the town centre. Word spreads and there starts a small group led by the main protaganist and his mate in search of the other kid. This results in an initially small bunch doing laps of the school all the while adding numbers. Chinese whisper style, details filter through to all the new arrivals as the what's going on, who's after whom etc.

It's quite hypnotic and impressive how quickly a few hundred children can suddenly and instinctively assemble and wander around and through buildings and playgrounds.

Then the crescendo. They've spotted the intended victim or at least been told where he is - the chase is on. Suddenly the lead few of the group burst into a sprint and though it takes a few seconds to filter through to everyone else, a terrifying rabble of teenagers starts to charge. Once the running has begun the teachers are helpless to stop it.

So anyway...

Most of these fights were an anti-climax. The few good ones were mostly over by the time I got to them and one particular day me and my mate Paul were really bored and just talked about how we hadn't seen a fight for a while. I can't remember why I did this but we were just walking away from our usual lunchtime hang out and I shouted to the group of guys playing football, "Paul's gonna fight Johnny MadeUpName*". "Hahaha, very funny djtrialprice" says Paul and we walk around the corner.

And then we noticed some people behind us.

"Who are ye goanee fight Paul!?", "How (this is Scottish for 'Why'), whit did he dae?", "Can ye take him?" etc. Paul was a cheeky bastard so he played along, "He said ma maw cooked a shit breakfast."

So it was funny to start off with but after a couple of minutes we had kids we'd never seen before following us. Hard bastards in our year joined the front of the group and started cheering Paul on. This was becoming a bit too serious and the point where we could say, "Not really, it's just a big joke" had passed. So we walked on getting nervous thinking what the hell are we going to do?

Walking round the back of the school we decided to take the narrow path round back to the front. We'd just about got the mob down to three people side by side so we took our chance and legged it. All the while we were shouting out "There's the bastard, get 'im!". In a flash of inspiration we ducked into the sided of the building and let the big heavy fire doors really slow down the pursuit and thankfully by the time we were inside and up a flight of stairs we could safely claim to have lost him and nevermind, we'll get him later.

Looking down from a first floor window at the very enclosed area we'd led everyone to like the Pied Piper, there were teachers surrounding all routes of escape for the mob. They were actually getting a bollocking for encouraging fighting and I could see the Deputy Rector handing out detention to an unfortunate handful.

At the time we were too shit scared to appreciate the humour of the situation but needless to say, Paul enjoyed his new reputation around school for the next week or so.

"Oh aye, I got him as he came aff the schoolbus the day efter. Smashed his pus in. He's no' been back to school since."

And strangely enough Johnny MadeUpName* never did make it back :)

* possibly a made up name
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 11:54, Reply)
I was always the one getting bullied and pulped until I was about 15 then puberty sprung in and I could kick ass...not in a bullying way you understand..more in a "Leave me the fuck alone shitbag "
However I did Drama for a GCSE, not as a cop-out but because I enjoyed it, but seeing as how I was not posh, non of the arty farty's wanted to have me in their group...so I had to work with the mongs and lazycunts. One of which we shall call Stricky. Now Stricky was one of natures losers, his motto being "Can you lend us 10p" but he was one of those sneaky little fuckers who would kick you in the ass then run off and get a teacher as you piled after him to deliver some retribution. One Drama class I turned my back on Stricky and he clocked me across the head with a chair (the reason why escapes me) I spun around, as Stricky was escaping and got in one good solid thwack right between his shoulderblades...The mental image I have now is of Stricky flying across the studio with his arms and legs trailing behind him like a spotty kite...he then crashed into the floor and did not move for about 5 minutes...then he said I was "Alright" and "can you lend me 10 pence"....

Last I heard he was the only one arrested after a a gang tried to break into the local supermarket....the irony was ..he was the Fucking Lookout!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 11:48, Reply)
My school was pretty average at fighting although I was never really involved in many rucks due to being an all-round good bloke. I was a late developer and have been in several scraps since leaving school and discovering the pain-killing properties of the booze. We did have a couple of 'those families' though who were all chavvy bastards and some were even quite dangerous and did time after leaving. One bloke got locked up for shooting a train driver in the face with an air gun.

AAANYway, my school in Glasgow was a reasonably good school unfortunately situated geographically between 2 state schools, Knightswood and St Thomas Aquinas. These kids used to pick on the kids from my school as we had to wear a uniform and it got to the stage where a fight between all the hard kids in my school (not that many) and the hard kids in Knightswood (several hundred) was arranged to take place one lunchtime. Someone obiously got a little bit hyped up about it and proceeded to yap on about it within earshot of a teacher. So the word was out with the teachers and we were all warned not to set foot outside the school grounds. HOWEVER when lunchtime rolled around all these kids from Knightswood lined up across the brow of the hill just up from the school. It was like a scene from Zulu, i'm telling you. All of a sudden, about 4 or five of the teachers from the science department came striding up the middle of the road outside the school!! There was Mr Biologist, Dr Biologist, Dr Chemist, and Mr Physicist and possibly one other but it was brilliant!! These ratty little chavs ran like the fuck and didn't bother any of us for ages.

Cut forward several years when I was in 5th year and one of the guys in my year was on a bus home. Quietly smoking his tab (as you were allowed to on the top deck of buses back then) and minding his own business, he starts getting abuse from some of the unwashed from St Tams. Choosing to ignore it, as he walks off the bus he stubs the ciggie out on the protagonists face. I am told various versions of this (bus driver intervenes and starts throwing punches, knives were used, bus exploded etc etc) but one goes that basically all hell broke loose, loads of kids on the bus involved and as the kid from my school was a big guy he beat the other kid up. But he was reported and suspended. Bit crap considering he didn't start it but hey ho. After that, getting home was a bit of a nightmare as I used to go home over a bridge which had bus stops on it where all the St Tams kids used to get their busses home. That's when my fighting baptism really took place with several small punch-ups which weren't very interesting really... Exciting times though. Happy days.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 11:25, Reply)
Geordie Epic
Despite a heavy Scottish accent I’ve lived in England since the age of 11, so all of my comprehensive experience involved being picked on for fights because ‘the Scots think they’re rock hard’. Actually I like literature and flower arranging, so never quite lived up to my billing. Anyway, a day came along in year 10 (about 15 years old I think) when the PE lesson was on softball. Cue Astroturf, baseball bats and an assortment of different balls (is there a regulation softball? There must be. But not in North East schools.) Sure enough, when our plucky hero’s turn came to bat he was assailed from all sides by the equivalent of an asteroid field – several of these connecting very very hard. Now, despite being a big girl’s blouse on most occasions, the type of pain that comes from this can only produce a berserker rage, which was duly carried out with said bat. I ran screaming at the guy I had identified as my main tormenter, swinging the bat as hard as I could. Problem was, I connected with a sickening ‘pock’, and as he crumpled in a defeated heap (yay!) the circle of little toerags stepped back from me.

The PE teacher (who had presumably been shooting up behind the sheds or something when this was happening) ran over, scooped up my prone nemesis and ran to the first aid bit of the school, shouting at us to get back in the changing rooms, lesson was cancelled etc etc. I strolled back like I was fucking Clint Eastwood. Got into the changers – one of those barbaric Zyklon-B shower blocks with hooks hanging out of the wall at eye level, benches harder than diamond that always gave you splinters and stuff – to find this guy’s mates all waiting for me. Strangely enough, they didn’t all pile on top and pound me into the ground (which would have made sense) but rather, in some sort of Geordie pride ritual, blocked all the exits while this guy’s best mate started shouting at me to ‘come on’ before running at me. Seeing no other option, we had a fight in which I succeeded in battering him quite hard (while his mates amazingly looked on without interfering), busting his nose and seeing those joyful crimson rivers flow. Our sometime PE teacher returned just as I straddled him to deliver some sort of Mortal Kombat-style fatility, hauled me off by the scruff and shouted WHAT’S GOING ON?!? I began to speak, and it was in this downrush that I began to feel the sweat on my brow, the salt in my mouth, and the fact I’d broken three of my fucking fingers punching the little rat. I promptly gulped for air in shock at the pain, and broke down in the middle of this bloody circle with the kind of convulsive sobs that mark you out as an utter wimp for the rest of your school life.

So, my physical ordeal was over. I was frogmarched to the Head of Year’s office, a sourfaced fatarsed hole of a person she was, who shouted at me about bats, fights and criminal tendencies, and promptly suspended me from school. None of the little rats who began it even got a detention. Being a fairly bright student, my dear parents were none too happy about me ‘throwing my life away for a stupid fight’ and spent three nights shouting at me about how important GCSEs are before spending four nights talking about Ghandi and other non-violent role models. I sat my mock GCSEs with an extra half hour because I couldn’t write properly with my cracked hand, became mocked around the school for beating up two people and then crying, and was banned from getting Time Crisis for my Playstation for Christmas, because it came with a lightgun that might ‘encourage my violent tendencies’. Fucking hell!

Anyway, got the fuckers, even if I did cry like a girl and spack my hand.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 11:21, Reply)
Ooh,i have another!
Wow,i just keep on remembering stuff!

At my school we only ever get South African supply teachers. And they are always wusses who cant teach,or control us. My friend Ryan has made a sport of tormenting these barely trained,squeaky women (yes,they are always squeaky),but only once has it got physical. Kind of...

We had a supply teacher for maths,so me and Ryan were sitting together,listening to his ipod,reading magazines. She comes up,and askes him to put the ipod away. He refuses. Then,she tries to confiscate it. He refuses to give her it. She tries to take it by force,by wrapping the cord of the headphones round her hand. now,Ryan is pissed off. "Oi,youre gonna break them and theyre expensive!" he half giggles,half shouts. She wont let go,so he stands up and starts whacking her on the hand with a ruler. I think she let go. Im surprised he didnt get expelled for that.

Also,we made a supply teacher cry,cos the whole class had a water fight in science. Ah,happy days!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 11:09, Reply)
Mark Walker I shall call him, as that was his name. Usually known as bunner for a penchant for buns.

His trick was to throw your school bag off the bus then sit on you until town (4 miles away) so you couldn't get it.

He went for my bag, which I had hold of by the strap, and also had the same hand round the rail on the back of the seat in front. He couldnt get the bag, so he started banging the back of my hand with his knuckles. I didn't let go, all the way till his stop (a good couple of miles). He didn't do it again.

When I got off the bus i cried a little (read lot) as my hand hurt a little (read lot) and my fingers didn't work for a while. ok now though.

Yeah I know it is not a fight, but combined with the Paggy incident (see below) i got a reputation as a bit of a nutter/wierdo and got left alone. Victory for the weed over the bullies methinks!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 10:44, Reply)
Im just biding my time...
Now,ive spent the past,well,10 years getting bullied at school,and yet ive only physically retalliated once or twice. The only thing ive ever done that the teachers have seen is when some cunt stole a poem id written,and i smashed a window in frustration.

At this moment,i only have until May,then i leave school,so Im planning to either get some friends to beat the living crap out of people in my year who i hate,or kick the living shit out of one of the younger kinds who give me shit. If a teacher says anything,ill just start crying and say "But ive put up with this for 5 years,of course id retalliate once!" and then get away with it!

Also,you all must admit,some kids do deserve bullying. You know,the nasty,vicious,short,gobby types. Bullys are good for something!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 10:42, Reply)
Paggy was, and always will be, a twat. One of his fave tricks was to run up behind you , elbow outstretched and dig it in between your shoulder blades. Hurts like being bum raped by a gazelle.

One day, red mist kicked in. He did this on the way in to year 9 english. As i recovered, he had sat down. I walked up to him, grabbed him by the throad and bent him back over the chair.

Teacher (Mr. Wright if I remember correctly) pulled me off when he went blue.)

And for bonus points, head of year said "don't do it again" and i got a slapped wrist (literally) as everyone knew he was a nutter. He got 2 weeks suspension.

That was my first victory. I now knew to fight dirty.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 10:41, Reply)
First year of Comp
Andy Saz aparently wanted a fight, so I was told. He was told that I wanted to batter him.

I am an inherant woos. Don't do fights

School bus bay. he starts slapping me about, i thought i dont like this. So punched him. Hard. On the chin. (hand hurt a bit) whole crowd went OOOOOOH. He then proceded to beat seven shades of shit out of me.

I didn't fight much more after that.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 10:37, Reply)
When I was about eight:
there was a boy at school who seemed to find it very amusing head-butting me at every break for about a week. Right up the nose, every time, and as far as I remember, I have always hated anybody touching my nose - even gently. I never managed to even slap the twat back.
So one day I decided to ask some help from a few mates, being the tiny girl I have always been. I am not sure how this happened but I think some boys grabbed him and I remember battering his back with my clenched fists like a lunatic. Thinking of it now I am glad I didn't kill him or broke his spine; I was so fucking pissed off with him.
He never raised an eyebrow on me ever after, the bastard.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 10:03, Reply)
albino pete
All this talk of school fights reminded me of a boy I used to bully at school - Albino Pete - about 20 years ago.

Wondering what he's up to, I googled his name. He's probably a self-made millionaire by now, I thought to myself. That'd learn me.

Found his website and it looks like he's a failed web designer, and not a very good one at that. Woohoo!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 9:16, Reply)
1st one folks so take it easy....
As a regular ‘target’ of the local farmer boy thugs, constant victimisation was merely part and parcel of everyday school life for me it’s sad to say.

I foolishly thought moving from a rough little school in the heart of Birmingham to a quiet little village primary school, I would have been in good standing to hold my own. I didn’t bank on the fact that these guys had been shifting hay bales and chasing farm animals all their life, so they were used to a good hiding. They weren’t however used to having some cheeky little stranger beating them with quick wits and a very dry sense of humour, so needless to say I spent the majority of school life receiving regular beatings.

One particular time involved undercutting the black market sweet guy (chewing gum and other niceties were banned, resulting in a prime opportunity to triple pocket money). When the fat git found out about this he promised me a hiding, so I carefully raised my voice as a teacher walked past, voicing my opinion that he shouldn’t be selling sweets to diabetics or something. Needless to say he got a detention, lost a weeks stock, and I got pinned up against a tree so that each of his customers could crack me in the face. That lasted an entire lunch time.

The best one however was a long time coming, this little guy Doug, who was a little bit of a psycho (he’d stand about 4’6’’ and purposely seek out the biggest guy to have a scrap with regardless of the fact he’d never win, but he got left alone) I had apparently said something to stress him and again another hiding was promised to me. I actually spent a number of lunch times hiding from this guy. That just made things worse and sure enough word got around the school that he was looking for me, which, when he finally did catch up with me, meant that a great crowd had formed to see this fight of the week.

Cue us beating the crap out of each other for nearly 40 minutes, working through different fighting styles, me using my height, him running in and attacking my knees. We actually put on such a good show, we didn’t realise the bell had gone, and the playing field was empty save for a couple of teachers – who eventually broke things up.

To sum up, I told the teacher that we had been pushed into it, neither of us wanted to do it, but the crowd wouldn’t leave us alone, got away with it, and ALL the onlookers received a lunchtime detention! – Sure enough it just meant I got more kicking’s……

Sorry for the ramble, but that’s just me.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 8:56, Reply)
When I was in 6th form
There was another school right across the road. Good enough excuse for a vandetta, even the teachers joined in making us go across the road to smoke so it "looked like we were at the oter school".

The animosity kept building and building until I was waiting for a train home one day. Being a 6th former I'd escaped early to get a non-packed train, but it never turned up. I was having a peaceful cigarette and talking to some friends when suddenly about 50 kids from our school and 50 kids from t'other came tearing down the steps and onto the platform, and made their way across the bridge in a bizzare stampede-come-moshpit-come-massive fight. Small kids went flying from the sides. It was AMAZING.

Still to this day not sure what actually caused it, but it was soon broken up by several teachers from both schools turning up, and a handful of central trains staff, all trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Good times.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 8:15, Reply)
(not quite so) Passive victory no.3
Walking home from school, the class nutter decided to start spitting on people. He clearly considered spitting on my shoes as the ultimate insult and bent low down to make sure his aim was spot on. Unfortunately for him I chose that time to, erm, take a vigorous forward step (which I suppose *may* have resembled a kick) and booted him full in the face. He ended up flat on his arse with a bright red, spit covered face.

His passion for spitting on people lessened somewhat after that :)
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 6:53, Reply)
Passive victory no.2
Not long after the "wall scraping punch" event, another guy in my year went a bit loopy one lunch time and decided he wanted to fight me (for reasons that nobody could fathom). I wasn't particularly interested and just kept walking away with him walking after me telling me to "stand still and fight!" and throwing the odd feeble punch. After a while he gave up and I assumed he'd got fed up and gone to pick on someone else or calmed down.

The next day he wasn't at school and when I asked one of his friends what had happened he told me that he'd broken his hand when he punched me!

Looking back, this was about the time that this guy started showing some rather unusual tendencies, e.g. sleeping in a coffin, and has since gone on to slightly change his name and become an authority on witchcraft and black magic, so I suppose I shouldn't piss him off!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 6:48, Reply)
Passive victory no.1
Some time during secondary school (probably aged 14 or 15) some rather charmless little pillock took exception to something I'd said and decided to hit me. He then started the most comically theatric wind up to a punch I've ever seen (thinking it looked tough) and then lunged at me. Having been given plenty of warning all I did was move my head about 6 inches to the side. So rather than punching me, he punched and scraped his hand down the rough plastered wall behind me, leaving his hand dripping with blood and everybody else crying tears of laughter!
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 6:35, Reply)
Dull story
I have a few tales of school fights but I'm afraid they all just involve me getting beaten up, crying, then being introverted and scared of people for the remainder of my life. There's no pathos, character development, redemption or revenge, so no good story. Sorry.
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 6:23, Reply)
I've not been in a fight as such, but...
one Friday evening after school my friends and I were out drinking. A well known chavette, who was pregnant, was running down the sports hill, panting as if in pain. My gentlemanly instincts took over and I yelled "Are you alright?"

To which she came over and punched me in the mouth.

Chavs 1 Chivalry 0
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 5:00, Reply)
My experience of bullies.....
I went to a very troublesome catholic school. Lots of drugs, lots of violence and even a lot of mad nuns (but can't say too much about it, what with me being a priest and all that).

However, not being the tallest person in school I was prime for bullying. It happened.
But on the plus-side, I was friends with Joe; an enormous Scottish guy who NO-ONE tried to bully. One day a friend of mine was being picked on and I told the teacher. The bully was sent to do the washing-up in the school canteen for an hour, which was nice, but afterwards he searched me out and said I was next!

In the toilets a couple of days later he cornered me and got me in a head-lock. Well, Joe was an Aikedo black-belt and had taught me a few moves so bully was very quickly lying on his back in a puddle of piss. I left, telling him that he shouldn't mess with things he doesn't understand (think I'd heard it in a film.....)

He never bothered me again but I did ask Joe why. The answer was, "He's telling everyone that you're a fuckin' nutter".


(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 1:49, Reply)
Colateral Damage
At the high school I attended (Not Soggy But Hard) the class of 88's favourite form of playground warfare was the fruit fight.

These affairs were conducted at lunchtime and attracted quite a crowd of onlookers, though frequently onlookers became targets & later participants.

During one major skirmish across a quadrangle, a poor lost-looking yr7 kid (the youngest year) walked straight through the middle of the melee without noticing the fresh produce whizzing past him. It brought to mind the scene in Star Wars where C3PO and R2D2 walk across a corridor oblivious to the firefight raging around them.

Until the biggest, hardest apple ever thrown hit him right on the temple. It made a loud 'POCK!' noise, shattered into hundreds of fragments and the kid dropped like a stone. Concerned yr12s rushed to him, as he tried to sit up, dazed. His hair on one side of his head was standing straight up, and he was visiting the dark side of the planet Coosbane. He was a bit shaky, and hadn't realised what had hit him; and was totally unaware that every yr12 would refer to him hereafter as 'The Apple Kid'.

Geez I hope he was OK, though he probably has an irrational fear of apples now...
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 1:44, Reply)
mr stabby
Back in yr 5 primary school me n this guy got in a joke fight in the playground, when this other cunt of a guy called kieth (who was one of those pikies with the short and loud scary mums) thought he'd join in by kicking me in the shins.
Now that just wasnt on, so in the heat of the moment (forgetting that he was a bit of a mean irish bastard) I turned towards him and hooked him in the ear.
He falls on his ass and people start laughing.
So for about 7 seconds I'm the toughest guy in the whole world, I could see it now, one punch jimlad they'd call me... that is until he gets up and produces a pair of scissors from his pocket and walks towards me.
As I back away he speeds up until I brick it and run my ass round the playground, the mentalist meters behind me.
Had to do 10 laps before the fucking bell went.
But yeah, I didn't get stabbed, he got suspended and the scissors got back to the classroom safely.

whoop whoop
(, Tue 14 Mar 2006, 1:27, Reply)

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