On a more serious note.
I do have a tale of two crimes. A very bad one I missed, and an even worse one that I saw in all its horror.

Step back to the halcyon days of 2003. A just-turned-18 Mr.6 03 is celebrating in the pub (The Town Hall in Eccles, so you can all avoid it) with a group of friends, as his close companion Mr. H has decided to bite the bullet, drop out of college and pursue a career of dodging bullets in the sand - or so he thought.

Enter three of the pikey-est scum known to man, the sort of hairy knuckle-draggers that prove Darwinism works in reverse too, the kind of person who couldn't tell his head from his arse until he started shitting. In short, the sort of person that populate all the answers in this QOTW.

We think nothing of it, until the youngest one starts hanging around the pool table. He challenges one of us to a game, our best player duly dispatches him. Spitting mad he challenges me.

"Wot rules we playin' mate?"
"Swinton rules chief. That alright?(ie the rules I played every week in the Swinton pool hall)"
"Ooo da fuck's Swinton? Cunt, yoor in fuckin' Eccles now, innit?"

Fair enough, thinks I. Game played, he wins - mainly because the mad animal glint from under his neanderthal forehead put me off slightly. I drink up, and have a quick word with Mr. H about how if we stayed, it'd kick off. He assures me he'll be out after the girls have all drunk up, and satisfied I leave the pub with the most sensible of the girls.

Fast forward 3 hours. I have a phone call from a sobbing girl and hotfoot it to the local A&E.

During those three hours, the first of the crimes had been committed. True to his word, Mr. H had rounded up the other revellers and moved to safer ground. All bar one girl, who thought knew better. Persuaded to return 20 minutes later, our group agree to another game of pool. Neanderthal the younger attempts to grope one of the girls, she slaps him, and all hell breaks loose.

The girl in question is punched to the floor. Her boyfriend receives a broken arm when he stops a stool being smashed into her prone head and is duly hurled through the jukebox. Another one of our friends is beaten about the head and neck with a pool cue, leaving him with a six inch gash to the scalp and lots of bruising. Then the three pikeys make their getaway. But they stop at the door, spot Mr. H calling the police on his mobile and grind a bottle into his eyes before stealing his phone.

Back in the A&E, I've just walked in to see three of my friends bloodied and battered, and the air filled with the screams of Mr. H, who is currently having broken glass removed from his face and the insides of his eyelids - a procedure that cannot be done under sedation. That sound, and the sight of him in a wheelchair, head bandaged, will stick with me until the day I die.

Fast forward 12 months. Mr. 603 is now a student, returning home for the first time - to accompany a now fully recovered (to the point that he can see just well enough to fail the army medical) Mr. H to the trial of two of the three thugs that nearly blinded him. The trial should have taken place four months earlier, but the defendants' brief had managed to delay the hearing. Into the court we go, seats are taken, and I view the most horrific crime ever committed against one of my friends as a helpless bystander.

Those four months are important. The brief points out to the judge, that the glass-grinding thug now has a job for the first time ever, and has been working for the past three months. Sending him to prison would deprive his three-month pregnant wife the income to support his unborn daughter. The criminal in question, a fucking judge who wouldn't know justice if it picked up a WKD bottle and blinded him with it, passed his verdict.

"In light of the fact that the guilty party is now in gainful employment, and about to become a father, it would be unfair to hand down a custodial sentence. Therefore he will serve a 2 year sentence, suspended for 18 months as long as he stays out of trouble. Case closed."

Now that is, without a doubt, the worst crime I've ever seen. Aiding and abetting a thug in robbing my friend of his dream.
(Psycorp603, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 15:28, 13 replies)

That's
Fucking awful...

Have a sympathy *click*
(Nuclear Ninja like a radioactive Chuck Norris..., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 15:32, closed)

Cheers.
It was awful at the time, although I've just written Mr. H a character reference to become a Special Police Officer, so maybe he'll get a chance at payback one day soon?
(Psycorp603, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 15:37, closed)

I've seen someone having a glass
stuck in their face. One of the worst things I've ever seen.
Sympathies.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 15:51, closed)

Fucking animals
I used to drink in the town hall meself, mouth breathers like that have ruined Eccles (and numerous other small towns around the country).

Try the Ship on Barton lane for a civilised pint, or fuck off to Canada like I'm planning on doing :-)
(Udidin is chuffed to have made the newsletter, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 15:57, closed)

Now that
is disgusting.

Is it any wonder that the people in this country are frustrated with the law? just ridiculous.

I reckon we need some proper Batman style vigilantism in this country...

^{I would volunteer but I have a dicky knee...}
(stubbledchin, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 16:00, closed)

To be honest...
... we've not been in there since. Go to the Eccles Cross every now and then, but tend to stick to bars in Manchester nowadays.
(Psycorp603, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 16:03, closed)

wise choice
i'm preferring the off licence since the smoking ban anyway, what a fucking miserable place this can be (well, Salford can be anyroad).
(Udidin is chuffed to have made the newsletter, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 16:13, closed)

The Crescent
in Salford is a good boozer, but a few pond life are moving in there too.
Bugger.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 16:34, closed)

Bad Luck
Seems to be the way of the towns on the western side of Manc. You have my sympathies.

There's an excellent green baize in the Salisbury off Oxford Road and you will never have any trouble in there. As long as you wear black :-)
( groovegenerator The man who mistook his wife for his wife, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 17:09, closed)

.....
that is seriously fucked up.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Fri 15 Feb 2008, 4:57, closed)

bloody hell,
are you lot following me? These are some of my favourite boozers - The Crescent is probably the best pub in Salford, and the salisbury is great too, (if a bit studenty).

There's a Beatles covers night on at the Crescent on 13/03/08, in aid of Bury Hospice - free in but make a donation.
(Udidin is chuffed to have made the newsletter, Fri 15 Feb 2008, 11:34, closed)

I work
next door to the Town Hall. A few weeks ago I had to drag a "refreshed" patron out of the snowing street and prop him up in the doorway of Max Spielmann's as I left.

Eccles is a... singular place.
(pk1982, Tue 19 Feb 2008, 13:48, closed)

Singular?
It is a singular place. For that we should all be thankful.
(Psycorp603, Wed 20 Feb 2008, 14:27, closed)