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)