Age 7, cartoon rules still apply to fights...
I remember a lad from my school called Kevin Martin, thought he was the dog's bollocks (although his hadn't descended by this point) and used to bully smaller kids for no real reason other than he was a first class vagabond.

Anyway, I'd just finished second of 3 in a rousing "Grand National" (run as fast as possible, jump the flowerbeds, pretend you fell off your horse if you were tired... I was a fat kid, go figure), only to get taunted by said boy. I was still quite tall though myself, and whilst backing towards the toilet block I thought I'd risk my chances and insult him back, safely in the knowledge that I could hide (and, if it was that scary, shit myself) in a cubicle in relative comfort.

Facing the wrong way, I backed directly into the side wall of it, the door around the corner. Just as I'd realised, Kevin was running at me, screaming and rotating his arms in some kind of double-vertical helicopter, obviously homing in for the kill. I flicked him the V's (I'm a Northerner, again go figure) and... wait for it... moved out of the way.

His eyes were closed, but didn't see his hands turn to mush on the brickwork. I did. He must've broken about three fingers of his right hand and one of his left, plus the various nasty scrapes. It got so bad that, 2 years ago, I found out through a friend that he had to start writing with his left hand as his right was pretty much minced from that point, and never really recovered. I think my friend's techincal assessment was that "his handwriting's wank". I can't remember caring at the time, I was too busy playing Grand National the next few days to realise that I didn't see him for about 2 months after the incident.

This story has a charming epilogue, though. In the big boy's playground of year 3 he called me a "Poo Bum Wee Wee" while I was playing football - I only remember this because my friends from Primary School all those years ago still call each other it in the present day - so I chased him up the yard. He turned round, dropped a banana skin from his lunchbox, and kept on running. Obviously he thought it was the pursuer's natural enemy, perhaps through his SNES or Looney Tunes. I picked it up and threw it at his stupid face. It hit him in the eye and I got in a load of trouble, but it was worth it.

It was only when I got home did I realise he thought I'd slip up, I thought he just threw like a girl.



It's not the length of the post, it's the how you post it that really drives the ladies wild
( TGP on the rock 'n' roll, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:48, Reply)

i am a cunt...
well at school to my now close friends i was a bit of a cunt. because i was bullied YAWN. so here gets to the interesting bit.

as my family have been a long believer of "if the bastard knocks you out, follow him home and dig up his garden and salt the earth so nothing will ever grow there again" sorta family. or tear down their guttering. or wait till the bastard is in the showers and drop kickhim with my rugger boots on. yeah you get he drift. im not a mean bloke but this fucker deserved it. the spineless munt who excercised his daemons on innocent kids.....

fight 2

me and a group of friends were walking to the usual "church" meeting post when i were a teen (where we got drunk quite often) and an aquantance decided he didnt like my mother, and proceeded to kick me. so i did what every kid does when he has had a bad day.

smash his fucking face in.

his mummy got the police involved yada and he missed school for 6 weeks because of the shame.

also i agree with teh ol' cadets not sleeping thing. when i were an senior nco for the atc i used to institute boot law. any little fucker keeping me awake would have my boot thrown at them and be turfed out of bed at 5 am.

not a small wake up, i mean i pick the bed up and turn it over. they dont mess with me after one dishing out :) really i am a nice chap :)
length/girth and its only gay if you push back
(konigsred, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:47, Reply)

Little vs large
Like a few of you I was as skinny as a rake while at school, never used to get beaten up much but there was the odd bit of verbal. Now if you know anything about me it's that I'm a shit fighter. I have no coordination and lose all limb control as soon as a tussle starts. Anyway, a friend of mine who went by the amusing nickname of Fatty Allen started some funny business one morning and after the odd bit of insults/pushing back and forth I sort of... well, snapped really. Like a wild but underfed jungle cat I leapt 'pon his ample frame and proceeded to maul the living fuck out of the poor kid. I'm talking scratching with my nails, biting, hair pulling the works. By the end of it he was crying so bad I felt enormous guilt, never lived it down even to this day. Of course being paraded around the schoolyard on the shoulders of the other children as the victor didn't help.
It all came back to bite me in the arse when we started the major comprehensive school a few years later. Unknown to me I'd gained this reputation as a bit of an expert fighter, a slightly effeminate green beret. And like Chinese whispers, Fatty Allen had been substituted instead for the hardest kid in the school, Darren Phelps... every day for about a year I'd have some idiot ask if I was the best fighter in the junior school, "well you must be if you took down Darren, c'mon, I'll 'ave ya" Got tiring pretty fast that.
(Suddenly, zebras Safe and sound for eternity, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:47, Reply)

My cousin has bright red hair...
... but don't let that confuse you, he's a nutter of his own accord.

One day in the changing rooms a bunch of kids start calling him 'ginger pubes.'

He pulls a knife. He's been waiting for this moment for years.

The rivers flow with the blood of those who oppose him.

He gets expelled (of course.)

Postscript to story: now he is in jail for burgling, wait for it, his own mum's house. Apparently he thought it would be the perfect crime.
(CerberaSpeedTwelve, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:42, Reply)

Russel.
We were both eleven.
He was eleven foot 4.
I was 4 foot eleven.

He did something petty to annoy me so I thumped him in the guts (which was about eye level to me at the time). He doubled up and this gave me enough of a height advantage to jump up and bash both fists into the back of his neck.

He went down like a felled tree.

Louise the school snitch was the only witness and inevitably enough she went to tell a teacher. Nobody believed her, Russel was too embarrassed to admit it. I just flatly denied it.

He hung himself 15 Years later. I hope it wasn't related.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:17, Reply)

young ones
Always the little kids who are the worst. Ok this wasn't exactly a fight but it works anyway. I was the quiet slightly geeky type, not had a fight but not crossed anyone, generally got on ok with most people. Anywho one day in the year of 11 we let some of the year 8s join our football game through the goodness of our hearts.
I'm not exactly the best at sporting activities but anyway, that lunched time i won a very nice clean tackle, relinquishing the ball from the icy grip of one of the little ones. As i proceed i feel some tapping on my shins. Turn round to see said tackled kid trying his best to kick me in as he didn't appreciate my actions.
Now I don't advocate beating smaller people but what happened did raise some laughs. Good friend Shannon goes and gives the lad a mighty kick in the shin, flooring him. It was all fair game, as was my stamping rather hard on his already felled body.
Little shit cried but to this day no punishment

Personally I'm proud of the length
(sweetmonkeytuesday, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:07, Reply)

how many ? all true. here's the first three.
1970's north east england.

I've always been different, when I was really young I was very different to all the other kids
and a bit of a runt, bullied all the time. spat on, punched, told to take my trousers down
(denied - fucking 'omo') hit, punched some more, kicked and generally abused for the runt I was.

I used to get chased to and in my front door by savages. my mum used to compare me to sylvester
the cat snipurl.com/nffy when he was chased into a building by a bulldog and stood breathlessly
panting on the other side of a door or fence only to be got at, trashed and humiliated. mum used to
say turn the other cheek, son. dad used to say hit em back ya wimp. for a while I turned the other cheek
then I sprouted balls, height, pace and a lot of anger.

first up: steven mack. tormentor since 1st year infant school, walking behind me on my way home from
junior school, punching the back of my head and taunting me about something. for the first time in my life
I decided to punch the fucker in the face ! BANG ! square on the nose. it happened in slow motion
allowing me for the first time to feel the pleasure/ pain principle of squished nose under hard fist.

by the time he had hit the floor I had him by the hair and was dragging him round by it outside the
shops until he was screaming like a girl and I was screaming like a wild beast. a shopkeeper dragged
me off him and me and steven mack ran off, both terrified, in different directions.

an hour later steven mack and his dad were banging on our front door with conflict in mind.

my dad opened the door and recognised mr mack, greeted him and asked what was the problem.
mr mack described what had happened and demanded to see me to explain why his son was in
such a state. bloody nose, tufty hair, red of face. my dad called me down the stairs from whence I
had been hiding and when mr mack saw me he looked at my dad, apologised for wasting my dads
time and whacked his son quite hard round the head.

steven mack was about the size of a st bernard to me, a mere poodle-runt. his dad said get home you fucking bully,
apologised once again to my dad "sorry, Bob" and departed. (some years later my dad had cause to hold mr mack
against a wall by his throat because my older brother shagged mr maks wife and broke their matrimonial
bed. mr mack needed to understand that my brother had gone back to london or something :D )

next up: raymond burkin, steven macks best friend, second hardest in junior school after steven mack.
arch co torturer of yours truly since infants school. dinner queue, raymond burkin pushes in front of me
in the queue. I tell him to go to the back of the queue, he refuses and pushes me in the chest ! BANG !
I've hit him square on the nose and he's gone off like a fire alarm - wheeeeeee ! falls to the floor, blood
everywhere, dinner lady has me by the jumper and I'm hauled off to head mistress's office, no dinner :-(

after that: eric oram, third hardest in the school (you can see where this is going, right ? wrong) and
he's offered this runty upstart (me) out to a staged scrap in the middle of the playground, ringed by
bloodthirsty 8, 9 and 10 year olds with me in the middle to sort out who's top dog.

now, the orams were a funny family. eric wore wellies, thin trousers and the same jumper all year round,
summer, winter, didn't matter. smelled of wee all year round, hard as nails. his middle brother clifford
was hard as nails. summer, winter, all year round, wore wellies, thin trousers and the same jumper ,
also smelled of wee. the elder brother was called stanley and he was in borstal. mum (fur coat, no knickers)
and dad were always pissed up or in the pub.

I don't remember much before being pulled away from eric after eventually subduing him by straddling
him, holding his hair and repeatedly banging the back of his head against the asphalt of the playground.

the next day I had to be escorted off the school premises by the head teacher whilst an ex forces (mr powell)
warded off clifford oram who had arrived at the school with a pair of nunchuckas to exact revenge for
beating his dwarf of a brother in a fair fight which was started by said dwarf. my sisters boyfriend at
the time - steven bernal god bless him - eventually brought the oram brothers under control and I was left alone for
about 6 weeks before my 'reputation' spread. I'll leave it there of you don't mind. took me years to lose my 'rep'

turn the other cheek or hit the fuckers back ?

hit the fuckers back. and if you recognise any of the people in this, good, you fucking bullies you didn't win
and I'll challenge you all to a rematch anyday ;-)
(sham-il-eer-tak-tak noes better but still can't give a fuck at, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:07, Reply)

Never had a 'fight' as such...
...got slapped about a bit (and ran away like a wuss), but I did cause another chap some grief.

It was in middle school (Year 6 IIRC), and during a heated game of football at lunchtime words were exchanged. I turned round, and heard a thud. Turned back round again to see him laid out on the floor. He got up and hobbled off crying.

Turned out he'd tried to do a flying kick into my back. He'd underestimated though, and fell quite short. He broke his leg in 3 places and was in plaster for 3 months.

Couldn't help but feel guilty after that, even thought it was his own stupid fault.
( Biscuitzs -.. . -- ----- ...- -.- --. -.-, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 23:02, Reply)

post-traumatic stress disorder
I spent years at school getting stick from a kid called Richard Hughes, a sarcastic little shit of the highest order. He was mates with the rather low-level bullying crowd in our year, and if it were allowable to give him any credit for his actions, I should mention a dream I had about him some time after I left school.

I was in the classroom waiting for the teacher to arrive, and he's just pointing and laughing. i ignore him as usual, but he keeps on taking the piss, as usual. A thought comes into my mind, and i reach under my blazer to find a handgun in my inside pocket. just the job. I draw, aim (it's a browning GP35, i realise. Good choice) and fire two shots into his chest from around six feet away.

he just laughs, and says "oh, come on, what did you do that for?" as if I'd completely overreacted and couldn't see the joke.

I woke up at that point, very annoyed. I must concede that actually double-tapping a school nuisance may be an overreaction, but the sarcastic reply after I'd done it, combined with the complete and inexplicable lack of death, were so completely, unmistakeably in character for the wee cunt. Great way to make an impression on someone, eh.
(Jack Rarebit ...We like chillies, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:47, Reply)

Still angry after 24 years
PS, John Brennan who bullied me for 4 years - I'm gonna hunt you down and hurt you. A lot.
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:30, Reply)

Another story
I was at a forces boarding school (there's another post in here somewhere about the same) for a full 9 years (No emotional scars there then....)

I was bullied. A lot. I was a black kid in a white environment - not fun. The bullying stopped in the 5th form (No idea what that is in today's money but I was 15), but my dad died and I sortof flipped out, got me a proper short-red-mist-temper and rebelled properly, getting people into fights, starting them and getting away with bloody murder....

Shit story, but my temper's still just under the surface - there's some people at work who're gonna get it when I go postal.........
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:25, Reply)

I'm not proud
I'm not proud of this and it's not bullying, but it was mean.

I would have been all of about 4 or 5, tops, and we were living at RAF Odiham at the time. I had a (sortof) girlfriend (a pretty redhead -when you're that age it's always sortof) and we were playing on a roundabout - this was about 25 years ago so you youngsters out there won't have a clue what I'm talking about. What you did was hang out as far as you can without falling off - falling off always meant skinned knees, faces, arms, etc as this was the time of concrete playgrounds - what I did was hang out and put my arm out (for arm, read fist) and connect with her head - I cannot state enough that this was an accident - and knocked her out. I did what every 5 year old would do and ran - ran like the wind - home and hid. I thought I'd killed her!

Anyway, I heard nothing about it and saw her a few weeks later and she totally blanked me..... If you're reading this out there, it's you and you now have this fear of roundabouts I'm so very sorry!

(Too many (brackets))

Length, width, girth, you know you like it :-)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:21, Reply)

Hulk Like Raaaaage
A loooong time ago when i was but 13 i went to high school in the western suburbs of sydney. Anyways, we all used to catch the train home - cue me sitting on platform at 3.15pm with a bunch of other school persons. The "older" girls used to hang out in the loo's smoking fags and talking about boys. One of the older ones decides to pick on poor old me (lanky freckled red head....why not i hear you say) and tells me they're going to flush my bag down the loo....they made it look like they were really doing this.

Not sure what happened next, but i remember getting REALLY angry at them because they were flushing my nice school bag down the loo. So, naturally i get the bin standing next to the loo and throw it at the girls in the loo....i kind of forgot in all my hulk like rage that the bin was actually made of metal....oops...

Well after visualising this in slow motion as it arced through the air i may have realised i might have made a bit of a boo-boo, it did sort of hit one of the girlies in the head and gave her a few stitches and after she got up from being semi unconcious she was quite fine...i think.

Got my bag back though and they never messed with me again....nice!.
(Dogzilla, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:18, Reply)

Had a few of these in my time....
But heres a funny one. I went to an expensive private school lets call it Battle Abbey because thats its Name. The school was a mixture of foreign students army brats (Which i was) and kids who had been excluded from all other schools (Which my attacker was). He had been teasing me for a while to which i responded with my well practiced nonchalance attitude till one day we were on the playing field for a game of football I was hanging round the oppositions goal mouth since i really couldn't be bothered playing and he was the oppositions goalie. When everyone else is at the other end of the field (Including the games teacher) He runs up with no warning and punches me in the bollocks i double over eyes watering, then the games teacher spots us 'Whats going on over there' to which my attacker responds 'Sir he called my mother a whore Sir' to which my games teacher responds 'Carry on then boy'. lol Still makes me laugh to this day.....

I have no apologies for length or girth coz you luv it.
(Brother_Will, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 22:02, Reply)

In my 5th year
I was given the duty of corridor monitor, basically stopping the little twats who thought it would be good to run about in the corridors. Anyway, one day I found that a door was broken and I think it was either an 8th year or 9th year approached the door behind me. I shut the door trying to lock it and tell him that it was broken etc. and the bastard picked me up and must have thrown through the door. All I remember is his face filled with rage and disgust. Next thing I know I'm awake in hospital with a gash in my head, several breakages and the need for many stitches. I still can't walk right because of it. He was a fiesty bugger.

*Preceeding story may not be true
( Flowers the little boy that santa claus forgot, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:53, Reply)

Don't touch me there...
I was not a violent young man, but I did manage to get into my fair share of fights whilst in school. My greatest fight was also my retirement fight at the age of 12...

Went to a birthday party for a school friend of mine, and after the festivities the sporting events began, but quickly devolved into a game of "smear the queer." For those of you who aren't familiar, smear the queer is a game where one person has the ball and everyone tries to tackle that person until (1) they go down, or (2) they give up the ball.

Well, I had just finished a beautiful tackle where I really made the victim eat dirt and was standing up and dusting myself off when someone (not even the one I tackled, which would have been understandable) punched me in the back of my head. Note to everyone: never, ever do this; it makes me very angry, and you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

Time slows down and I watch him ineffectually try to punch me again and again, while at the same time landing some good shots to his head. Eventually (who knows how long, time was slow), I took him down and was sitting on top of him pounding on him while he cried like a baby when the adults came out to see what was going on. It took three of them to drag me off of him.

The final result: Me: breathing heavy; Him: 5 broken fingers (both hands), broken wrist, broken arm, mashed nose, broken face bones, concussion, two black eyes.

the people who were there that day never looked at me the same after than. We moved within the year...
( kingoffools, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:52, Reply)

Not really.......
a fight nor was it in school, but it was on CCF. I was trying to get all the cadets to shut up and go to sleep. I step up to the loudest and give him a right bollocking. I turn around and he starts laughing again. I proceed to get my D Cell Mag Light in one swift movement the butt of the mag light connected with his stomach. He shut up quite quickly nor spoke much afterwards. Not a fight really but funny in a psychotic power trip kinda way.
(I don't lie I change the truth o.O, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:45, Reply)

Oh dear
There are too many stories about me, I've forgotten most of them. I used to be a rather troubled, aggressive young man. Here are some of the more juicy tidbits...

In one "fight" - thought these things are never proper fights, they're just scraps - I had the guy in a headlock. However, due to our positions, I had to hold him with both hands. So, I've got him in a pretty useless position as I can't punch him. Instead, I bit his head. I was spitting hair out of my mouth for hours.

In the same fight, he uttered the immortal line "Now for the final punch!"... and missed.

Once I was having a scrap with someone in the changing rooms, and people forced me to the floor to restrain me. To further restrain me, he sat on my chest. At least, he thought he did. In actual fact, he sat on my face. I couldn't breathe, and because I was being restrained, I couldn't push him off. I thought it was his leg in my face, but it wasn't, it was his arse. I bit him very, very hard. He still has the scar on his cheek, apparantly.

In the middle of a maths lesson one year, someone was twisting my arm very painfully. I took his glasses off, stamped on them on the floor until one of the lenses fell out, and punched him in the nose. The teacher either didn't notice, or didn't care.

I was leaning against a wooden post, and one of my "mates" thought it would be funny to take my legs out from underneath me. He thought I'd just slip a bit, but instead I whacked my head against the post, and then the concrete floor. I went for him, and we ended up rolling around on the floor, getting covered in dust. Somehow my fingers got in his mouth and apparantly I tore out a chunk of the inside of his mouth. We were broken up by a teacher, and as the back of my head hurt I put my hand to it. "Don't touch it James, it's bleeding" said the teacher. I looked at my hand, and the whole sodding thing was red and sticky. Excellent.

Once, walking back from a "tuck shop" type affair, a twat two years older than me thought it would be amusing to slap me in the face as I walked past. I thought "fuck it, I'm not going to take that", and lashed out with the first thing that came to hand - that being the boiling hot cup of tomato soup I had in my hand at the time. He wasn't happy. When I came round, my nose was split, and I needed a couple of stitches.

The weird thing is, apart from the tomato-soup guy, I turned out to be pretty good friends with those people in the end.
( Detrius521, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:26, Reply)

bloody hell
I didnt realise this thread would warrant so many 'im a right nutter' posts. Being dangerously under-weight through out most of my child hood, I often attracted many chav attacks. I once fought off swine in my primary school with one of those long whip like reeds. I was like a gay little Indiana Jones.
( HelloIamAdam and Adam is my name, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:21, Reply)

Defending Lil' Sis
I'm larger than most folks now, but when I was a kid I was always HUGE compared to the other kids. I'm maybe 10% taller than average now, but at age 10 - 12, I was the size of a 15 year old.

I was about 11, and my sister was about 9. We were riding home from school on the bus, and she was several seats away yapping with her friends. Suddenly, two boys my age speak up angrily, she snaps off a rather disrespectful reply, and the boys rise from their seats and advance angrily in her direction.

Little did they know hulk-brother was right behind them. Lil' sis, bless her icy heart, never batted an eye. I snatched up one boy in each hand by their coat collars, lifted them clear of the ground, bashed their heads into the ceiling, then held their faces about half an inch in front of my steely, unforgiving glare.

The bus was dead quiet. Every eye was riveted on the scene. The bus driver was watching in her mirror.

I said simply, "Leave. Her. Alone."

The would-be assailants nodded vigorously. I let go. They crashed to the floor, bouncing off the seats on the way. Everyone sat down, and we had a pleasant, if quiet, ride home.

The bus driver gave me a smile and a nod as we got off. She had been having trouble with those two all year, but they were model citizens after that.

Abject, crushing fear has its uses.
(towelsoaker, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:09, Reply)

Yes it is Violence...
...but I get the feeling that everyone else remembers school fights with the same whistfull nostalgia.
When you are a kid Fighting is awesome and when you get even older the fights provide entertainment.

We used to have a load of what you might call (if you were being nice) Utter slags at my secondary school (they probably still have them, just different ones). They would regularly provide serious entertainment when one would accuse the other of being pregnant (which was often true) or something on a similar vain and the accused would then get family and friends involved and sooner or later the sister of the pregnant one and the best fattest mate have a huge fight and everyone would actually STAND IN A CIRCLE AND WATCH.

It got to the point where a few friends and I placed bets on one fight, it was dirty and nails and hair pulling were involved and one girl nearly lost an eye to a roque scratch.
Everyone started to feel bad, not me though, I made 50p.

The fights continued until i moved on to college and probably still do to this day. The staff were always careful to only get involved as little as possible as the fights were destined to happen anyway.

We even had a fecking amphitheater!
(i was never in a fight at school, only an innocent bystander)
(Monkeyofspong, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 21:01, Reply)

Lots of minor incidents to make up for the lack of legendary fights. (This is a long one!)
We were always having fights* at my old school** as we were easily bored and it was part of the culture. Sometimes, they were incorporated into our games; good old British Bulldog usually degenerated into a massive punch-up in the playground, made even more exciting and eventful if there was a lot of ice on the ground. We also had a highly original game where everyone stood around in a circle, some poor sod got pushed into the middle and then we'd kick the shit out of him. Great fun. During moments of extreme boredom during the interminable lunch hours, trying to stay on the right side of that loud lispy twat Mr. Ruscoe-Price (who'd periodically kick us out to face the mercy of the endless wind and rain that howled through straight from Siberia) we'd play a fun game where someone would should 'GET (say) ALEC!!', whereupon everyone with a free hand would descend upon Alec and enthusiastically beat him up in a friendly sort of way. (I can distinctly remember someone being got with one of screechy girls' leather jackets**** wrapped over his head like some sort of perfumed gimp-mask... gave me the right fackin' horn, did that!)

But the most memorable (and best) moments of violence at my old school occurred during Year 11 (the last compulsory year), when we were just old enough for the little shits further down the school to start causing us serious aggravation.

Early on, there was this fat ginger cocksucker called TJ (one of his parents was American) in the form-room opposite ours; he was an arrogant little cunt, and often got his little mates to put the wind up us by e.g. shoving open our form-room door, squealing "Geeks! Geeks!" at the top of their as-yet-unbroken voices, and running away as fast as their little legs could carry them. He'd often try to start fights with us and get seriously laughed at. Even his form teacher (who taught us P.E.) thought he was a little shit. One morning, as I was walking towards the form room, TJ was starting on my classmate Norf (who turned into a total dickhead later on, but anyway...) I walked up to TJ and gave him the most forceful backhander I'd delivered for many a year, much to Norf's amusement. TJ - now sulky and disgruntled - mooched towards his own form-room, saying "Huh... you're just a- a- a SLAPPER!!" "Fuck off," I wearily replied, half-heartedly shoving him towards his own room; he chucked an almighty strop and started trying to attack me. "No-one pushes TJ!!!" he squealed (wanting to snarl), but I was already through the door....

Some years before (when I was about 10), I had lived just up the road from another fat little twunt called Toby (who was not ginger.) I was two years older than him, and even at that age he could be really bloody annoying. I would often play with him outside; he'd be allright for most of the time, then for some reason he'd start annoying me (I forget how exactly) and run away, taunting all the while. Due to my superior speed, age etc. I was always able to catch up with him (sooner or later) and boot him in the shins. He'd then run off home crying, and I'd retreat back into the house, practically shitting bricks for the next half-hour. And so it continued until he moved away. For some reason, I was never once told off for it (probably because he was too much of a wimp to tell his mum who'd really booted him in the shins.) Anyway, the point is: a few years later, he started going to the same secondary school as I did (he'd gone to a different primary school) Due to the way the school was structured, he and his little mates didn't become a real pain till Year 11, when they started annoying us in that same general way. Of course, we got a royal bollocking if we retaliated in any way; the usual stuff about "privileges", "power dynamics" etc. The only effect this had was to make any successful retaliations seem even more hard-earned. One day a whole load of us managed to catch him running away, and dragged him back to the hut (one of our form-rooms was in a mobile hut), kicking and screaming. My mate Seamus***** (who called him the Human Testicle) started shouting "Dance bitch, dance!!!" at him, and we all took the opportunity to put the boot in a bit before (reluctantly) letting him go. Of course, he squealed straightaway, but by that time we were developing thick skins to all the tellings-off. He still continued annoying me for the next two years (he'd somehow convinced himself and anyone who would listen that he used to boot me in the shins all those years ago), and tried intimidating me (despite being a foot shorter than me and twice as chubby) - he usually wound up haring it away and yelling "I'm not scared of you!!". There's no way of concisely getting across his total and utter cuntishness, so I can only say I hope he's now in prison, acting as a surrogate girlfriend to someone called Tyrone.

Oh well, that lot didn't go anywhere, did it? Yeah, yeah, yeah - apologies for crapness, etc. Length? James Joyce never apologised....

* Scraps really, there were rarely full-on fights.
** The best*** comprehensive in Ipswich, which really is not saying much.
*** ie. it had a lot of detached houses in its cachment area.
**** Screechy because they spent most of the time outside classes doing seagull impressions (at least one day out of five) and erupting into high-pitched screaming laughter. Really.
***** 6'7", black, skinny as owt and not in the least bit Irish.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:51, Reply)

My school fight
made a legend out of me for almost a year. My first day of secondary school, pale skinny kid with no obvious confidence, who just happened to know karate. A lad in the year above appeared from nowhere, said he knew that I did karate and wanted to fight me. (Turned out he went to Army Cadets and, along with most of the school, thought he was hard). Cue me leading him out of the room and just standing there, staring at him. He started some kind of spacky boxing malarkey, so I grappled him to the floor, broke his nose and booted him in the stomach for good measure. He changed schools soon after and nobody dared start on me ever again.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:51, Reply)

Child abuse
it was in Year 2, I was fantastic, in just one year I'd be in The Juniors, with all the big boys and girls. I was running around one fateful winter's day, playing a game with my girlfriend (yes, I was ahead of the crop). Due to the icy conditions, I slipped.
And fell.
Into a massive flower pot.
Fortunately, I managed to break my fall with my eyes. I looked like a panda. So every time anyone asked me what happened, I had to retell my story.
Yes, I was beaten up by a flowerpot.

And one comes to mind. In Year 9, there was a huge neanderthal of a guy, Assad we'll call him to name and SHAME him. Most utterly. The tale goes he pinched the bottom (saucy) of an absolutely tiny chinese girl. Hoc Ling to give her credit.
He commits this dirty deed, she descends into an animalistic rage and gives him an absolute pasting. Bearing in mind she was probably half his weight and not even up to his niplets.
What no one can understand was why he did it. She didn't even have chesticles.
(Gat Bandish I've got wood in my soul, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:48, Reply)

Happy schoolyard memories
I moved schools near the end of primary from a small london school to a tiny out in the sticks CofE job promptly upsetting the balance of power among the big kids in the upper junior class. I'd been there a whole month before my first fight which began and ended with me permenantly damaging the jaw of the former school bully (his back teeth were loosened up a treat). A few years later when his mouthy best mate wound me up in secondary school while we were waiting for a class to start I offered him a free shot to prove himself, 20 seconds later he was trying to run away with the start of serious concussion and half our year egging me on to catch him and beat him unconsious. For some reason I lost my underdog status after that. I haven't hit anybody with malice since (11 years ago), which is a shame as I'm still lugging around a reputation for being a violent psycho.
(lankymike, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:48, Reply)

woo food fight
in my old high school in new jersey there was an all out food fight during our lunch period...people planned this whole thing for days so it wasnt just some random fight...the lunch that day was pasta (bad plannnig) and was very hard to throw so everyone just packed in the center of the caf. and pretty much dumped their food on eachother....it went on for the whole period until the bell rang...then everyone realized they couldnt go to their next class covered in sauce and pasta bits...so everyone that was covered had to go home and thats where they recieved their punishment from their parents...the planners where soon caught and expelled but as for me and my friend who taped the whole thing from a distance sold the footage to the local news station for 200 dollars!! in the end it definitly was worth it...for us atleast
(bonobo, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:38, Reply)

I tried pascifism and it sucked
Ok being 6'7" and a bit I get on the wrong end of 'short bloke trying to compensate syndrome' so I've had a few interesting barneys. One day people will learn basic physics, when I swing one my rather large fists through a full back handed arc its going to hurt when it connects. The fact that I can partially dislocate my jaw also causes some confusion. This has happened a couple of times with different people:
I get chinned by some little git, and my jaw pops out of joint leaving me gurning like the village idiot. I pop it back in (it hurts a lot and makes me rather angry) and I ask if the person would kindly remove himself from my presence. Normally watching someone hit themself in the face to relocate their jaw does the trick but in the rare cases it doesn't the person ends up with a concussion.
(lankymike, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:38, Reply)

mmmm
When reading this question, I thought to myself "I was never in any fights, I was a good girl at school". Then my brain said "Bollocks, how about the time......"

Ok, so they may have been one or two.

The first one I remember was this twatty little shit call Peter Burnell, he used to be my brothers best friend, then he fell out with him (I have no idea why). I was about 15 at the time and he would've been 14. When he got to school, he started spreading around nasty rumours about my Mum, Dad, brother and baby brother.... it was like a red mist had desended over me, I went looking for him. It didn't take long for me to find him, he was in the main corridor through the school. I walked right up to him, grabbed him by the throat, picked him up and banged up up against the wall. I pushed my face right up to his and spat out "if I fucking hear you slagging my family off again, I'm gonna rip out your throat and spit in the hole left behind!"
He was dumb struck, he had no words, even his mates just looked on in horror. The best bit is, that when he went to grass on me, the teachers didn't believe him, because they considered me to be a well balanced young women. :oP

The second one involved a pervy twat called Mark Wheelan (Rimmer - cos he looked like Rimmer out of Red Dwarf). He used to think it was funny to try and get his hand up my skirt and down my blouse in Chemistry lesson. I on the other hand didn't like this and it freaked me out abit. After a few weeks of just trying to grab his wrists to stop him (you have to realise I couldn't say to the teacher "Sir, Rimmer keeps putting his hand up my skirt". If you're in High School or remember it clearly, you'll know, that you can't just shout these things out), I pushed him off his stool. He went flying and everyone stared. He tried a few more time again after that, but when I had pushed him off his stool a few times, the teacher noticed. Cut a long story short, he was moved away from me and I didn't get groped in Chemistry lesson any more.

I now do martial arts as a hobby, I go beating people who don't mind getting hit :oP
( jenpots, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:26, Reply)

Bigger isn't always better.
So there I was, a small eight year old, being beaten up by four bigger eight year olds. I look around for some help, and see my five year old sister. She runs off. I think that she's abandoned me, until she comes back with five or six of her friends, who are all five year old girls. They set about the guys giving me an ass-kicking, who are swiftly driven into retreat. They never lived it down.
(area, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:10, Reply)

haven't been in a fight since i moved from the old neighborhood
but way back in 1st grade there was a girl who would constantly pick on me. either it be because i was the only asian, or the only computer nerd, i have no idea why. but one afternoon, as i was riding home from school on my bike she tried to jump me. she and her lackies pushed me of of my bike (which i was still trying to get the hang of riding at the time) and into traffic. i screamed and ran at her in a headbutting action with my helmet. when she was down i hopped back on my bike and rode harder than i ever have. every block i would look behind to see if they were still chasing. they were.

when i reached my house i jumped off the bike, let it roll into the bushed and removed the chain and lock. when they rounded the corner i started charging at them swinging the chain. they didn't try to come near. when they ran away i started crying in the gutter and never had a problem with them again.
(Baron von Aaron CHARGE!, Fri 10 Mar 2006, 20:08, Reply)