My true story...
Bit of a long one but hopefully worth the effort (I have previously posted this on my LJ in a slightly different form):

Ever since I can remember I always wanted a real sword. I think a few parenting mistakes when I was at an early age gave me an obsession with all things sharp and pointy that continues to this day.

My interest in swords either combined with, or contributed to, my interest in history, so starting to learn to swordfight seemed a likely option, despite this though, I only took it up a few years back.

I bought my first real sword in Prague in 1995 (I don't count the crappy katana knock-off that I bought at Camden Market in the early nineties as real), hadn't planned on it, just noticed a stall in the Old Town Square when I had just finished the Beer Tour and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

It just sat in the corner of the various flats and bedsits I lived in for a few years (and storage places when I had nowhere to live). I wasn't all that well off for ages and couldn't afford another holiday until 2000 but when I did, I went back to Prague and bought more stuff. I kept doing this for a few years until I ended up with my current tally of chain mail, some plate armour, a few helmets, five swords, long dagger, axe, shield, gauntlets, wooden wasters (practice swords) and a few throwing needles (as used in Knifey-Swordey, a version of cricket using swords as bats and throwing needles as 'balls').

My mate Andy started coming on the Prague trips with me and buying up kit and we started to learn the basics of swordfighting, really just to justify the purchase of all this kit (that neither of us could really afford).

We already knew a few basic attacks and blocks from a friend called Phil (known as Bilbo in Viking re-enactment circles and very skilled). Since then we've used Fecht Buchs to learn more. These are basically late medieval/early renaissance sword manuals and help you understand how some of the stuff was used.

We're still a bit rubbish but it's a good excuse to meet up at the weekend, have a few beers and work off a bit of aggression. It also incidentally may have saved my life a while ago.

Successfully performing a martial art of any kind involves repetitious training and sword fighting is no different to this. Continued practice of the same moves helps build up 'muscle-memory' where you react correctly to attacks and attack in turn, without having to think through all the details. This helped me when two guys tried to mug me at knifepoint on a London Common a while back.

I was walking across an open space (which shall remain nameless) really late at night to buy some fags from a garage on the other side. Really dumb I know, but I don't believe in living in fear and periodically challenge myself to do stuff like this, things that should be perfectly safe, if not for idiots and crazy people. I also took an extendable baton with me inside my jacket, just in case (again a bit dumb as that's an arrestable offence but turned out to be the only smart thing I did that night).
I used to work for the Underground and during the years I worked there suffered four serious assaults, two of these were from trying to stop blokes beating the shit out of their girlfriends, one of whom was carrying his knife for him. Nice. Anyway, that general experience didn’t do much for my relaxation and for a while I found I only had the confidence to go out late if I had something to ‘defend myself’ with. I’m not sure I agree with that sort of thing 100% anymore but then, I’m a bit better off and live somewhere an awful lot nicer.

It also made me somewhat paranoid hence the seemingly over cautious methods described below.

I walked over to the garage, no problem - didn't walk on the path, walked parallel to it by about 20 metres, crouching down every now and then to try and skyline people who might be on the common. Bought the fags, smoked one, then waited for my night vision to restore before walking back across. yes, I'm paranoid but this one time it all helped. I was also aware that my landlord had been mugged on the common the previous year so it wasn't unrealistic to expect there to be muggers out there.

I did the same parallel-walk, skylining thing, didn't see anyone, until, three quarters of the way across, caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my left eye - turned my head and saw big guy (they're *always* big in the dark) coming right for me at speed, knife in hand, with another guy behind him.

The guy was a few metres off and although I can put on a terrific burst of speed (“I’m very dangerous over short distances, we dwarves are natural sprinters!”), I instinctively knew I wasn't going to have time to start running (and anyway, that puts an armed man behind me, who can do what he likes with impunity). Without having to think about it, I reached into my inside jacket pocket where I had the baton, then with one swift, fluid motion drew it out and extended it instantly - the guy stopped dead and then ran away, with his friend following rapidly - although there was a tremendous impulse to follow them and attack - I did the sensible thing and legged it home while I had the opportunity.

Thinking back you kind of think you could have thought of something cool or ‘witty’ to say instead I think I squeaked “Fuck off, fuck off!” in a weirdly gruff high pitched way

Here's the thing, I think what scared the guy off wasn't simply the baton, it was the fact that I was ready instantly and appeared to know what I was doing. I was also holding it in my left hand - as he was right-handed and I had reach advantage (longer weapon) that puts him at an instinctive disadvantage - I can attack and block his right arm, while any attack on his part would have left him exposed - I didn't think about any of this at the time, I reasoned it out later.

At the time these were all instinctive moves for me because Andy and I were doing a lot of practice back then; even the motions I had to do to take out the baton were identical to drawing a sword, and the attacks I would have needed if the guy kept coming are attacks we were practicing all the time (upper arm, shoulder, head). Fortunately I didn't have to do anything more than brandish the thing and squeak. That’s when I really understood why soldiers, firemen sportspeople etc train so much, it really does make action instinctive when you don’t have time to think through your reactions – I always knew that but analysing those events after the fact I really *understood* it for the first time.

Just in case anyone reading this thinks I'm some sort of combat monster, let me tell you what happened next. I got home and emptied out my pockets, I had 19 cigarettes and £1.47 on me. That was it. Some guys were going to rob, maybe stab and potentially kill me for £1.47. When the shock of it all hit me I cried like I haven't done since I was six.

I gave up smoking a few weeks later.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 15 Jun 2006, 16:48, Reply)