Madness
I knew it was over when I uttered the immortal words:

"Come on you bastards, I'll have you all!"

It was the last serious kicking I got.

But to start the tale from the beginning. I was working for an R&D company in a sleepy market town in Northumberland doing research into Autonomous Mobile Robots. Interesting work. As I was a new face in town I was rapidly shagging my way through the local rocker and hippy-chicks (they’d all shagged each others boyfriends or had relationships with each other -it was a very incestuous social scene) and this one night I was out with a nice lass called Liz. Mad as a box of frogs but a good lass just the same. Anyway, we were in one of local pubs when a group of lads came in and sat at the bar and started drinking. Well these weren't the nicest blokes in the world and they started to take the piss out of the locals and I started to quietly boil. The final straw was when they started making evil comments about a disabled girl who worked in the kitchens. Liz, seeing that I was furious and wanting to avoid a scene, told me

"Come on, let’s go."

So I necked my drink and left with Liz. As I got to the door I heard this group yell something at me so I just put two fingers up at them without turning round and carried on walking. I'd gotten probably 15 metres across the cobbles when I heard them yelling at me. They'd all come boiling to the door of the pub and were yelling and shouting obscenities. Well that’s when I made the fatal mistake of turning and facing them and shouting:

"Come on you bastards I'll have you all."

They played football with me. I didn't even get one decent punch in before I was down and they were kicking 7 bells out of me. This went on for a while and I was getting a bit bored when they stopped kicking me and started to walk away. I struggled to my feet and through smashed lips yelled:

"Is that the best you can do? I've been hit harder by girls!"

Oh dear. I really ought to learn when to keep my big mouth shut. Still, I bet they were in pain for ages what with the bruised knuckles and sore feet. And I could have sworn one of them put his back out when he was stamping on my head.

Luckily I was
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Wed 27 Jul 2005, 2:10, Reply)