Man of action.
My most fun encounter with a shackless bum was on the Queen's Jubilee weekend, and climaxed with me in the back of a free black cab being anxiously reassured by the driver that it would all be ok, and that we'd be at the hospital soon.

Ten minutes previously, I'd been taking a pleasant and very drunk walk back to my house with my girlfriend and another female acquaintance. As we neared the building, a particularly disturbed and dishevelled gentleman emerged from an adjacent alley, letting forth all manner of x-rated insults to the two women I was with.

In their wisdom, the ladies politely ignored him and continued on. I however, full of piss and righteousness, turned round and told the unwashed fuck to fuck the fuck off.

He stormed at me with madness in his eyes, so I gave him a hefty push and he fell to the floor. Then he stood up, pulled a knife out of his pocket, and shoved it between my ribs, just missing my very lucky heart.

Lol.

The downside of being that drunk is that I didn't appreciate the seriousness of the event, thinking he'd merely swung a punch, and I immediately fluctuated into "love" mode, accepting his frantic and (to me) inexplicable apologies and gently chiding him for being so confrontational. He disappeared sharpish, leaving me bewildered by his sudden change from angry psychotic to sheepish apologist.

Then I looked down at the alarmingly painful spot where he'd 'punched' me, and it all became very clear.

I don't initiate physical violence anymore. And if I were to, I certainly wouldn't initiate it with a fucking push. Idiot.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Sun 5 Jul 2009, 18:41, 1 reply)

Lesson learned eh?
Glad you didn't wind up dead and all that too.
(Galahad is out of his gourd on yellow bentines, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 9:05, closed)