The firey wrath of the Polish Girl.
As a nipper, I used to live in a pretty skanky estate, but in the middle of the bastion of the middle classes - the London Commuter belt. It just so happened that most of the kids, even though they were young weren't too worried by the fact that I was a pleb, so my then-best-friend gave me an invite to his sixth birthday party.
This chap was handing them out at break times and slowly making his way round the group he hung out with. Another friend comes up to me and say 'Yay! I've got an invite, too!" (it was a 'yay' event - we got to go to Burger King). The one Polish girl in the school (as this was the early 1980s, they must have come under the Iron Curtain) comes over and says 'You haf invitation?'
'Yes', said a pleased me.
Wihout a second passing, she rakes her nails down the left-hand side of my face, drawing quite a bit of blood.
To make matters worse, this was still in the age where the school nurse could liberally dab you with the stinging hell that was Witch Hazel...
I still have some scars from that.
*sniff*
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Wed 15 Oct 2008, 12:41, Reply)