I once 'started on' a chav in Glasgow, late at night. Not my brightest hour.
In my defence, he'd decided to be the hard man by dropping the shoulder into me as I walked past. Full of drink, I stopped and enquired what the fuck he thought he was doing. He swaggered back up to me, and did the whole 'get-in-my-face' situation, where all you can smell is the 59 fags he's smoked since he left his house, 2 minutes down the road.

In doing so, he caught me decently on the nose too. I pushed him back, told him to get fucked, and we both went our seperate ways. I woke up in the morning with a sore nose, and my head asking me 'And at what point was that a good idea?'

Ah well, could have gone a lot worse.
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Thu 10 Mar 2011, 11:27, 1 reply, 15 years ago)

If it was in Glasgow, it was a Ned
that was your first mistake ;)

Lucky you didn't get stabbed, to be fair.
( the mighty badger Aphrodite, on a bar stool, by your side, Thu 10 Mar 2011, 11:29, Reply)

Aye, that's a good point!
I was thinking the exact same thing the next morning...

Note to self: Starting fights in Hill Head, mistake!
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Thu 10 Mar 2011, 11:31, Reply)