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)