Way back in January 1982
My mate Larry and I were attending a meeting in London and had just arrived at Liverpool Street station. As we got off the train we were greeted by the sight and sound of hundreds of football fans, Tottenham Hotspurs supporters if you're interested, and they were running riot. There were only a handful of police about as I think it must have only just kicked off. We decided to turn around and cross the bridge to get away from them. About six supporters had spotted us and had decided to come after us and give us a good kicking and the names they were calling us. Well, how rude. What they didn't know was Larry and I had recently completed our Royal Marrines training and had been transfered to the Special Boat Service where we had undergone further extreme training and had both come through with over 90%. Larry was and still is a huge and powerful bloke and I was and still am relatively tiny at 6 foot and 15 stone. We were both dressed in suits and I think we we more worried about getting them torn than anything else. After all we had gone through, a handful of silly skinheads were not going to get in the way.

I told Larry to turn into the ally near the staircase as we had both sussed out the situation. Within just a few seconds the supporters turned into the ally and came face to face with Larry and a fire extinguisher which came to a sudden DONK! as it bounced off one of their heads. [INSERT FRACAS HERE] Anyway, the outcome was 6-0 to us with suits intact. One of these knobheads ended up on the track, another was crying like a baby, rolling around on the ground with a compound fracture of his arm and the others manAged to fuck off. Oh I nearly forgot, the retard that got hit with the fire extinguisher was laying spread-eagled on the floor unconcious and either the extinguisher had discharged a little, or he had pissed in his pants. We made our retreat across the bridge and left the shit for someone else to clear up. Well, we were running a little late now. We are both 53 now and I work in the music business. Larry, on the other hand works as a bouncer at some of Glasgow's hardest pubs and if you are the chav who thought it would be a good idea to stick one on him, then now you know why you ended up, upside down in a fish shop's biffa bin.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Thu 15 Jun 2006, 17:30, Reply)