Not my story, but friends'
Many years ago we had a little tradition in our club. After the Saturday class we'd all troop off to the pub and either get mashed there or wander further off for a meal.

This was going to be a meal and after a few beers and couple of the guys decided to dump their stuff before joining us for the meal. So off they troop across the park (a shortcut).

This must have been about 1800 in the Autumn. Not day time, but certainly not dark. Unfortunately they were accosted by 12 blokes who probably assumed they pair were shirt-lifters (this was a few years ago and the park was rife for cottaging and gay-bashing).

Unfortunately for the 12 blokes concerned (and one in particular) the pair weren't out cottaging; they were on their way to dump their kit in a flat.

Said kit being a variety of heavy wooden training weapons and the pair being dans grades in a few arts.

The 12 encircled the pair and the more experienced of the two realised that things weren't going to be pleasant, so decided to fight rather than try to flee. The first one of the 12 to get close had his face stoved in for his troubles with some stout oak and, facing two rather angry (armed) men, with one of their compatriots face down in the dirt screaming in pain; the rest legged it.

Morals of the story:
- Crime does not pay.
- People carrying fishing bags are not alway fishermen.
(SpangleDangle >->)))'>, Thu 15 Jun 2006, 17:33, Reply)