Petow!
Year 12, some little year 9 prick thinks he's hard (he looks like george bush) and tries to insult us...repeatedly, we generally ignore him. Then one day, it starts snowing, and two of our incredibly immature friends run out to play...getting accosted on the playground (in full view of our sixth form block) by the year 9 prick and his friends. Que a subsequent rumble, and our posh tory friend getting clotheslined to the floor. As george bush kid is getting up, our mad pyscho stella drinking wife beater of a friend runs at him, full force...and clobbers him, right in the chest...the proceeds to chant and do a sort of babaric victory dance.

best...thing...ever!
(doris_day, Mon 13 Mar 2006, 0:10, Reply)

Neither big nor clever.
Got into a fight, won fair and square- but being only 14 I couldn't control the red mist. I not only won the fight but repeatedly smashed my antagonist's head into a pillar.

I got expelled, years of counselling and evaluation and so on. The other guy is still a mess after 18 years and I haven't thrown a punch in anger since.

Sorry it's not funny or anything.
(Rhye, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 22:31, Reply)

Oh Gosh
You do not know true terror until you have been bullied by cute little blonde girls.

Allow me to set the scene.

I am a year 11. For those unfamiliar with British comprehensives, this makes me top of the school. Those below me bend to my will, and anyone who crosses me feels me wraith. Unless they're in my year, or otherwise bigger than me, because I'm a weedy little fucker, but let's not go into that.

Enter Year 8 girls.

Imagine three cute little girls. Blonde, they are, and about waist height. The kind that would make a child molester drop to his knees and weep.

Now add the general demeanour of a nineteen year old chav who's been in and out of young offenders and jail since he was eight.

You are left with three cute little girls who are capable of driving up the fucking wall.

But what are you supposed to do? I mean, if they were male, you could smack them around a couple of times and teach them a lesson. That'd be fun. But you can't hit girls, especially not little girls. You can't ignore them, because then they nick your stuff and chuck things at you. And you can't report them to a teacher (always a last resort) because that makes you look, frankly, pathetic.

It all reached a head one Friday. It was deadline day for technology coursework, so lots of year 11s had taken the day off to avoid it, and those that had come in had mostly pulled all-nighters. Hence, an awful lot of tension in the air.

At break, my group hung around in the hall. This is a normal thing; it was cold out, and the year 11 common room was full of dickheads. However, today there were no members of staff on patrol in the hall. God knows where they were, but it could only result in one thing. Complete fucking chaos.

The inevitable happened. The little girls came over with a big group of cronies and commenced to harrass us. But today they took it too far. One of them threw a chair at us. Things were said that perhaps shouldn't have been. Mistakes were made. But the resultant insanity was wonderfully worth it.

My dear friend Robbie, in an act of brilliance that has never been paralelled since, snapped. One of the girls was yelling at my friend Shom, quite heatedly, totally involved in the moment. Robbie, sensing his opportunity, grabbed a bin from nearby and proceeded to upturn it over her head.

His intention was to trap her, and cause hilarity as she stumbled around. However, he did not expect the bin to be full. Full, specifically, of shitty cold soup and old yoghurt.

When it was upturned over her, I almost wretched. In slow motion, a bucketload of what looked like cold puke (with lumps) dropped all over her. The whole hall stood frozen for a few moments, waiting for her reaction.

She screamed.

The silence broken, we all fled out the back door and ran off to next lesson.

And that, my friends, was last Friday for you.

No apologies for length. I'd say the ladies love it, but they are proving remarkably resistant thus far.
(BathrobeHaver, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 22:13, Reply)

Fight in Agricultural Science
Back in my sophmore year in high school, this hilarious fight broke out in my Agri-Sci class. This NJROTC (National Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps) kid, who couldn't have been more than 120 lbs, was going around the classroom with a ruler spanking everyone's ass. Everyone was laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world, but then he did it to some kid at least three times his size. Immediately the larger kid stood up, looked the ROTC kid square in the eye, and said "What the fuck are you doing?" Apparently the ROTC kid was stupid or something, because he began trading insults with larger kid and ended up getting a punch thrown at him. He dodged it, but was promptly thrown into a glass pane on the other side of the room, breaking the glass. The teacher was in the middle of answering someone's question during this whole occurence, but as soon as he noticed he sat there and began yelling "Calm down boys! Settle down people!" in his retarded whiny voice. Not once did he get up or attempt to stop the fight. Eventually one of the hall monitors came in and broke the fight up, but that had to be the best fight of my entire sophmore year.
(peronthious, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 22:12, Reply)

I remember one time
back in like, year 8, there was a spat between me and another younger kid, bit of a chav, being all irritating and frustrating, the kinda kid who you'd love to pummel, but YOU would get in more trouble kinda thing. Anway, i nudged him once in a corridor, then some bigger chav friend of him chased me home after school, hit me in the ankle with his bike and jumped on my head.
Got a nice scar for the trouble to. Both of them got ASBOs and he got beaten up by 7 of my friends.
Good times
( Lord Aerixis, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 22:06, Reply)

Not me but my...
Boyfriend use to play with his mates when he was younger a game called 'darkies' which involved all of their mates gathering in a mates living room, turning the lights out and proceeding to beat the shit out of each other, he said it was 'fun'.
Im not violent at all, I suffer from crap coordination so fights are not a option for me. But I remember slapping my best mate in primary cos she turned the Lion King off, I was quiet bossy with her cos she was in the year below me and had a weak heart, Im a horrible person! Jessica Littler if you read this Im so sorry!
(purplefairy, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 21:43, Reply)

I was always a bit pathetic...
Much smaller than my classmates, lacking in co-ordination and able to loose an armwrestle to anyone I wasn't exactly going to win any fights. Most people didn't bother, it hardly had any kudos attatched to it.

Still one guy clearly decided that I was fair game. I'd have called him a chicken if the reality wasn't that he could still win easily, and thus I didn't want to provoke anything.

Now I wasn't stupid. I realised I had no hope of 'winning,' nor did I even care for the kudos. (I was a bit of a pacifist, still am in many ways) I just didn't want to get hurt. So when he aproached I led down on the floor, leading to his beausment and his wandering off when he realised that other than kicking me while I led on the floor (From where I could at least protect nose, face, testicles etc.) there was very little he could actually do.

Pathetic, and not a technique that would work in all circumstances (And one that could have gone wrong) but still, I was fairly relieved at the time.
(JamesG, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 21:16, Reply)

First round, first minute.
I was quietly minding my own business at the beginning of my lunch break, thinking about whether I could afford a Subway or if I should once again resort to the paper shop and its vile breed of sandwiches. As I pondered and ruttled through my locker a punch slapped my hard in the kidneys. I gave a groan and told the dickhead (a ginger weasel of a man) to never ever do it again. He decided to hit me again and I turned around once more. However this time I was moving fast on my toes like a tornado with my arm left arm stuck out half a mile and my fist clenched like it was holding my soul in place. I hit the bastard with the sweetest punch I have ever thrown, a beautiful hook of both power and grace, and for a split second in time I was standing there a pale, bespectacled, English version of Muhammad Ali connecting with a ginger, freckly, irritating Sonny Liston. He bounced head first off his own locker door and slipped to the floor blubbering. I stood, shocked, and then went for my sandwich.

The most stunning moment in any fight I've seen was one between my mate Jam and the dick of the school who was known as Taz for his violent descents into madness, full on foaming at the mouth things. He was great, he used to charge full blast at people, threaten to cut them and fight with anybody and he never ever won. Never. But that didn't stop him trying. After a bit of shoving and insults Taz decided to end it early and threw a heavy wooden chair at my mate. Jam a big, friendly, peaceful sort who almost never gets angry and certainly never showed promise of athletic ability then proceeded to kick the chair out of midair at head height! The chair then sailed neatly across the room and smacked full on into Taz's face dropping him like a bag of spuds. "Oh" said Jam, "that'll teach the cunt!"
Marvellous stuff.
(mrbastard, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 20:29, Reply)

Being part of the sixth form...
attached to a high school can be fun, like the other week, when a huge crowd of people were running round school, a hundred maybe (quite a big school) looking for this one person, who i'm sure deserved whatever was coming.

When they reached the corner of the english block, they suddenly stopped, and the chaos of turning round and running away was hilarious, made even funnier by the shouts of "Mr Coleman's round the corner" and "back, back"


there was a similar, teacher free incident where a huge horde of small people ran round school about 3 times while their target sat in a geography detention oblivious
( Iananan Formerly known as el-rodente, not that you care, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 20:15, Reply)

I'm not proud (honest)
I had two fights that really stood out in those long distant school days.

Number one:

Fist day at nursery I was playing with one of those ratchett type spinning tops when another kid who was obviously a bit of an old hand (at the grand age of three or four!) came up and snatched it off me. So I snatched it back and hit him as hard as I could with said spinning top on the head and called him something a little boy shouldnt (I was very foul mouthed - apparently my favourite game was called fucking bastards where me and a mate would just run around shouting said phrase at the tops of our voices until told to stop by a shocked adult). My Mum was mortally embarassed because I was asked not to come back! Expelled from nursery, Yay!

Number two:

In year 9 at a boys school and I had just had my arm out of plaster when this Twat called Roger came up and took it into his head that he wanted to kindly break it again for me. No I could never work out why either. I flipped and shouted 'on the field at lunch tomorrow you bastard!) Next day comes and I'm bricking it to be honest. I walk out onto the playground and see that virtually the entire school has turned out to see the bloodshed. There is Roger standing on the field surrounded by hundreds of baying boys looking like he is very much up for it. Shitting it inside I do the walk of death and stride up to him. There is a pause, and the crownd is hushed in expectation. All I wanted to do was avoid a shirt tearing, roll around on the ground affair, so I figured I would have to get in first. Faster than I ever could have expected, my right fist shot out and smacked him a right cracker in the face, I can still hear the sound. He looks suitably surprised and the blood just starts to pour out of his nose on to his shirt, he staggers back and sits on his arse. I walk away barely keeping control of my sphincter as the crowd audibly gasp and groan in sympathy. Funny thing was, I saw the head wathing from the corner of the school building and he didn't say a word and never got any comeback - I was thought of as a good lad most of the time.

There, my first post. Sorry its a bit long, but it was cathartic. Roger Hapgood, you deserved it mate, be honest, you were acting like a twat.
(underacheiver, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 19:44, Reply)

That'll teach him
So in year 8 my interests in Martial arts began to peak. I wasn't a tall or particularly built 13 year old, but I learnt to handle myself. In one lesson this dude felt it would be funny to victimise me. He did the whole namecalling thing and whatever, and kept it up until we left the classroom. Completely unprovoked he started pushing me and kept saying "Where's your self-defense now? Where's your self defense now?" and (probably by mistake) whacked my glasses off my face. Now, if you wear glasses and have ever been in this situation before, you'd know that this is the point where you turn green and burst out of your clothes. I smacked him in the jaw and kept hitting him until he was on the floor. Everyone was watching, and they were more than happy to goad on the underdog!! Anyways, I walked off and for some reason, he was really chummy with me the next day! Whatever dude.
(WildType is remixing your mum, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 19:13, Reply)

Gentle Giant
Now, I'm quite a big bloke. Always have, always will be. And as such, I tend to attract attention from little angry men with serious masculinity issues. Especially at school. Being not only tall, but quite a little boffin and not fitting in at all. Naturally I was an ideal target for bullies, who made my school life hell, constantly starting fights with me, burning me with cigarettes, etc. You get the idea.

Sufficed to say, I would always defend myself, but I wasn't particularly interested in fighting. In fact, I hated it, it scared the shit out of me. To say I was meek and shy with an intense desire to blend into the background was a severe understatement. Well, until one day, anyway, when it all changed.

Now, the biggest bully of my younger teen years was Damien Harris. Pretty bullet, one of the hardest kids at our school. We used to be great mates, spending loads of time together and hanging out at his enormous house. But like so many young friendships, it went very sour very quickly and he and a group of his mates took a real dislike to me. No doubt because I was different and they had normality anxiety. Anyway, he became the biggest tormentor of my school days, beating me up at school, constantly flobbing huge greenies at me and covering me in flour and eggs. I wasn't the only one he gave grief to, but that didn't make the torment any easier to deal with. Basically most of my so-called mates were shit-scared of him, so sided with him to save their own skin. Tossers. So I was getting bullied and I was more or less friendless. Brilliant. Best days of my life, my fucking bellend.

Thankfully, it all turned in my favour one fateful Friday. I was walking home from school through the town centre. Two of my more reliable mates were with me, and we were just chatting and chilling. As we walk past HMV, who should appear but Damien and his posse of wankers. They clock us and Damien goes through the motions of abuse and outright begging me for a fight. Of course, my two mates make themselves scarse after a feeble attempt at diffusing the situation. I don't really blame them, I was bricking myself as well.

So there we are, walking through a packed town. Damien is still thumping and punching me, still gagging for a proper fight. His mates are laughing themselves stupid, and my mates have all but disappeared from view. We are outside Army & Navy, and all this abuse just gets too much. He asks me one last time for a fight. I ignore him and push him off me. So he grabs my jumper and makes me face him.

You want a fight mate? I'll give you a fucking fight.

I drop my bag at my feet, and I headbutt the bastard square on the bridge of his nose. His nose explodes, blood goes spurting everywhere, and I lay into him good and proper. Just a flurry of punches, kicks and yes, I send him flying to the ground with a tremendous roundhouse kick to the side of the head. Fuck knows where it all came from, probably too much Mortal Kombat-playing. Anyway, once he's grounded, I grab my bag and peg it. I was totally shit scared, I ran all the way home. My mum comments on the vast spatters of blood on my face and clothes. I tell her and my old man what's happened, and was still freaking out in fear of a reprisal. His family were a little bit on the rough and ready side, and his reputation of being bullet was known throughout the town. But my dad, still in the Forces at this point, assures me that I'll be fine. He was a big, double-hard bastard too. When he says you'll be fine, you know he means business.

Following an uneventful weekend, I return to school, and get summarily pulled up before the Head. Again, another pretty bullet ex-Forces chap I was pretty scared of. He gives me the lowdown of what I've done for the school reputation, fighting in the middle of town like that, parents outraged, detention, blah blah. The usual Headmaster dressing down speech, turn the other cheek, and so on. After I've been dismissed, he stops me at the door. What he said was something I'll never forget.

"Good job, son. It's about time you stood up for yourself, and showed that little cunt what for in the process. Well done."

Coming from him, it was a real confidence booster. Especially because he used the word "cunt".

When I caught up with the two mates who'd been with me that day, they were absolutely starstruck. They'd hung around with Damien after I'd done a runner, and told me everything that had followed. Apparently, the fuzz and paramedics had turned up, and Damien had been carted off to hospital for stitches. When he eventually came back to school later that week, he was a right mess. Not only had I broken his nose, I'd also broken six of his teeth after putting them through his top and bottom lips, broken one of his ribs, fractured his right arm, given him a concussion and ruptured one of his testicles which he'd had to have removed. Not sure how I managed that, I don't remember kicking him in the bollocks. Twenty two stitches and minor surgery. Pretty good result overall.

He never bothered me again after that, and neither did anyone else in town or at school for that matter. I had the quiet life I'd wanted and was left alone. And got a reputation for being pretty bullet myself despite never getting into another fight since that day. Bargain!
(TheInfamousMrD, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 19:05, Reply)

Oh the shame
About 120 years a go when I was a but a wee lad, I used to fancy a girl at school, Steph. She was gorgeous, a bit of a bitch but okay in her own way.
I grabbed a lad who was generally being a twat and lobbed him up a wall, quite rightly warning him to stop being a twat.
His three mates didn't appriciate this so as I left school, they all jumped me and I was soon knocked on my ass, until the aformentioned Steph dived in, yelled, and beat the shit out of them. I limped off quietly, realising at that point that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to ask her out.
( nnnndave, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 18:48, Reply)

Gay bashing
Year 9: Not so much a fight as a beating.

My best mate Jon was (and I suppose still is) gay. A new kid, "Corney" had just been moved to our form.

Corney goes up to Jon and says something along the lines of "You're a poof and I'm going to kick the shit out of you, gay boy." He only did this to try and impress the class chavs.

He then proceeded to push Jon quite hard. I felt sorry for Jon and expected he may be quite upset so was about to intervene when Corney puches Jon in the jaw. I stood up with rage ready to defend my effeminate friend when suddenly out of nowhere, Jon grabs Corney's arm, twists it behind his back until he lets out a scream of pain, and slams the pikey's face into the desk 3 times. The chavvy little cunt was in tears and went to tell the form tutor....who subsequently rollocked him for starting fights again.

Nobody ever bullied Jon for being gay after that.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 18:23, Reply)

How did this happen?
One day after school in seventh grade, I walked with my friend on his paper route. There were two kids on their bikes, Mike and Greg, who followed us and kept taunting and mocking us. Me, especially.

We ignored them the best we could, but they wouldn't go away. Mike was the really annoying one; Greg just stayed at his side. It finally came out that Mike wanted to fight. I'm not sure why, but he did. He kept on and on, and for some reason, I finally agreed to fight him.

I didn't question it when Greg, not Mike, stepped forward. I might have been able to beat Mike, but not Greg. But I've never been a quick thinker, so I got one shot in before Greg levelled me with the old one-two, sat on my chest and sucker punched me several times in the face.

I was able to grab his arm and ask "Why am I fighting you?" He didn't have an answer for that, and let me up to go home.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 17:14, Reply)

I went to a boxing match and a hockey game broke out.
Okay, not a school fight, but it's a good story anyway. My kids' church group got free passes to go see a Memphis Grizzlies hockey game last year. The game was okay, I'm not a sports fan, but why not?

Of course there were fights. Ho-hum, fully grown spoiled brat adults acting like stupid kids. But the guy about five rows behind me was really pissing me off. He was cheering the fights; "Sock 'em! Lets's see some blood on the ice! Yeah, baby!"

He looked like some young arrogant lawyer with his trophy girlfriend. The whole scene disgusted me. His was not the example I wanted to teach my kids. How can I teach them the value of sportsmanship and level-headed conflict resolution if such behavior is encouraged in athletes?

So I stared at the guy. HARD. Burned holes in his skull, picturing someone (and it would feel good to be me) bashing his head in. Holding his head against a brick wall and punching it repeatedly. Throwing him on the ground and jumping on his head and neck. Boy, he'll be sorry some day, when his own behavior will backfire on him and he'll wish he never was a blood thirsty pinhead.

He finally looked at me and just as I turned away he yelled a harsh "What?" at me and mumbled something I didn't catch. I hope I ruined his day, but I probably didn't.

Oh, what a great example of non-violence I would have taught if I could only have reduced him to a bloody pulp.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 16:59, Reply)

Sunday School Brawls
There was a kid in my school who I hated, even though he thought we were best friends. At the time I thought he was mildly retarded, but looking back I think his home life was so messed up he didn't know any better. We also went to the same church, which meant we were in the same Sunday school too.

Repeatedly throughout the year, me and a couple others would get sick of him, and beat him with our Bibles in the middle of class, which his mom was the teacher!

My Bible still has the rips and tears from pounding him.

About 10 years later, he got sentenced to 25 years in prison for molesting little boys at his mother's day care business.

I guess we should have beat him harder.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 16:32, Reply)

I think my first school was far too pussy for any sort of fights
But I do remember everyone running away from me in terror when I came to school after an operation on my eye which left it incredibly bloodshot red for a while.
(therocker, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 14:12, Reply)

I was in the Old Firestation (in Bournemouth) a while back, quite drunk, and...
...didn't get in a fight there. Oh well.

A friend of mine did need a bit of physical restraining one night when we were both dressed as nurses, mind. It seems you're fair game to have the piss taken out of you when you're a hairy bloke in a pvc nurse's uniform. Silly sods.

I had a fight at school once. It lasted three punches. It wasn't that good.

Back to the Firestation; I was with a hideously drunk friend who climbed up on those shipping containers out the back, you know the ones?

Meanwhile, a bouncer came charging out of the fire exit with some drunk young rapscallion in tow, and faceplanted him into the concrete. His nose shattered. The bouncer calmly looked up at my friend, whilst still holding the other poor bastard face down on the ground, and suggested that he climb down before he was thrown down.

My mate climbed down.
( gone, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 14:06, Reply)

my one and only fight...
i had to have a pre-arranged fight with one of my best mates at school or we would both get a good kicking from the older boys. so the lunchtime comes and we all meet at the top of the field. the older boys surrounded us and began the usual chanting and me and my mate just stare at each other, knowing the threat of a kicking was close i opted to make the first move with the hope that my friend would forgive me later so with an almighty right hook i swing at his face and then theres blood everywhere, not his though i had slashed my hand across the braces on his teeth and i still have the scar to prove it.
(come2whereimfrom .co.uk, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 14:06, Reply)

selective memory
well, i'll skip over all the beatings, threats and intimidation that i suffered in the 80's, been a make up wearing, mohawked goth in a smallish mining village didnt go down well and no doubt i deserved it :), but two occasions stick out a bit. first one was when this new lad was trying to make his mark, he was huge and very full of himself, and one time him and a few of his mates got my back against the wall in the corridor and circled me, whilst he insulted me and punctuated his insults by jabbing me in the chest with the first two fingers of his right hand..the humiliation made me have a david bannister moment, i grabbed his fingers with both hands and sharply pulled them downwards - loud crack and a sudden end to insults..came back tomorrow with hand all strapped up and two broken fingers - yay. next one was when a mate of mine spent an entire maths lesson reaching across the desk and lightly slapping me in the face..about every 10 seconds for the whole lesson. this had made me lose all sense of reality by about 15 minutes in, and had instead become a tiny ball of rage. at end of lesson he stood infornt of me grinning and slapped me again, so i grabbed his windpipe and ran, lifting him off the ground and smacking him into the brick wall, then when he had fallen to the floor i sat on top of him, still squeezing, until i was lifted of his unconcious self and restrained. he was fine though, apart from the bruises. two shining moments in 7 years of me getting battered. massive apologies for length.
(bambambambambam, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 14:03, Reply)

hammer
one of my best friends got a bit annoyed with his x birds new bloke and went a bit nuts. he kept coming to blows with this asian lad and in the end resorted to bringing a hammer to school to murder him. the asian lad was in a small music room when my mate comes along and locks the door he goes to retrive sed hammer from his rucksack and returns to the music room to murder him to death. the asain lad managed to get out of the window. so my buddy starts running round the school furiously looking for the asain boy with hammer in hand. our head of year overheard me saying about the hammer and sprints off after him. luckilly for the asian lad he caught up with him unluckilly for my friend hammer murder is frowned apon he ended up being temporally excluded, and had to do months of anger management. hes still a bit nuts now but i think the anger management worked. o and not a fight but once some pikey that went to the school brought in a shot gun and fired a few shots into the air. my brothers mate kept the shell casing
(fwack bang on it, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 13:15, Reply)

Been in exactly one fight...
First off, I've never, ever hit anyone in my entire life. These fists have never been used outside the bedroom.

So I was in The Firestation (Student bar here in Bournemouth), minding my own buisness, getting rat-arsed.

Standing at the bar, beside a rather attractive young first-year. Guy standing other side of her giving her grief, pawing at her, trying to kiss her. She's obviously very pissed off with him. I decide to be a hero, and tell him to piss off. He takes offence to this, and takes a swing at me, which brushes my jaw, failing to properly connect.

Without thinking, I swing a mighty left, and knock out the girl.

Oops.

And then I ran away.

-demonic
( Demonic Omelette, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 12:49, Reply)

this was more like something you would see in prison
i remember a good few fights at school but there is one that was particularly brutal. i was in year 7 at the time and a mate of mine that was in year 11 got in a bit of a ruck with this ginger wanker. anyways punches are flying everywhere. then a mate of my mate jumps in grabs a framed picture ofa the wall and goes to smash the firey Haired wanker over the head. then a teacher jumps in picture falls on the floor smashes to a million pieces. that would have been the best bit of school carnage ever if the picture had connected with his head i can just imagine the blood.
(fwack bang on it, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 12:44, Reply)

Oooh, another.
Our kid has always been the more patient, level-headed brother out of the two of us, and when it comes to retaliation, he's usually the one who does the thing that no-one expects, yet is the most effective.

Like the time a particularly racist lad started giving me and our kid some grief playing football - verbal taunts, leaving the foot in after a tackle, that kind of thing.

Now, at the time, I was only 10, which made my bro 8, and this lad was probably 12-13, so the difference in size between this lad and my bro would have been quite noticeable.

Even more noticeable when, after the big lad slide tackles me and leaves me flat-out on the floor in agony, my bro legs it across the pitch and slams the big fella right in the face, knocking him to the floor.

I was out for the count, leg firmly at right angles to the rest of my body, but apparently it was poetry in motion.

I'll always be proud of my bro for that.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 12:28, Reply)

Crossfire?
I remember that at the tender age of 12 I was a weedy little nothing who had decided the best way to avoid bullying was to show no emotion whatsoever. For those of you who have ever tried this strategy for life, you'll know it's not the smartest. I had one real friend, but even he was ashamed of me so only talked to me after school.

Doing as most children who are outcasts do, I was climbing on my own around the recently put up wooden thing. I still to this day have no clue what it was. They called it a maze, but there were only dead ends and one entrance. Well, anyway, I was climbing pretty spectacully, bridging myself across the wooden walls, much like a spider, (So I was upside down.) when I slipped. I fell, and a branch went through my earlobe, a kind of natural piercing. For those of you who have ever cut thier ear, you will know the extra-ordinary amount of blood in the things. It hurt, but my messed up psyche led me to walk towards the school, filled with abject rage.

The small, fuzzy headed child who was marching towards the school, ear held firmly in hand and trailing an emmense amount of blood attracted attention, including my friend Toby (Sorry if your reading this mate, I apologise!) who ran up and asked "Lofn! Are you ok?!".

I smashed my elbow into his face with a strength, procession and speed I have yet to re-capture. I broke his nose. For asking if I was ok.

My slip caused two injuries but as far as I am concerned, he started it.

No apologies for length as I'm very self-conscious and feel I hardly measure up.
(Lofn and Idun, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 12:25, Reply)

i love my hair
i used to get picked on mercilessly at scholl, but it would wash over my head, until this one day in the dining hall.
popluar lad chucks curry at me and it lands on my newly coloured hair (we were 16 then and in 6th form), so i launch my little (4ft10 6st)self at him, eventually get dragged off by three much larger people and take with me huge strips of his face under my nails
( nbby notkins, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 11:29, Reply)

It was grade six
I was having a go at the track glide thingy on the playground and some idiot tried to pull me down as I was on it.

I kicked him in the face.

Upon me getting off, he was quite upset and made some violent gestures so I slapped him in the face.

Then I walked away briskly.

He followed, approached me with the intent on getting revenge so I punched him in the face.

Then he told on me.
(riedacher_bertram, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 10:36, Reply)

Pavement Smasher
I was always a lightweight at school, in everything. Anyway, I was being bullied by a kid in the year below me (see I told you). He thought he was so tough. I got really fed up with this, so I plotted one night that to stop this I would have to do some thing really bad.

My plan worked perfectly. The next time this kid started I put my foot behind his leg and pushed him to the ground. I then preceded to slam his head against the curb 4 or 5 times (can't remember the exact number). Sure enough the kid stopped bullying me.

However, a beat-up Cortina Mark 3 pulled up at the side of me on the way home the next day. A huge brute shouted out of the window, "if you do that to ##### again, I'll f***ing kill you." Scared the shit out of me.

I never did it again, didn't have to, the kid left me alone.

Oh yes, I was about 9 at the time.

Soz bart lenf.
(hal9001, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 10:23, Reply)