» Bullies

Getting jumped...
...is not fun.

I'm from Bradford, it's a shithole, but it's my shithole.

I'm going to tell you a story now which very nearly turned me into a raving racist... nearly...

~~~~~~wavy lineage~~~~~~~

It's the summer of 2003, it's a fairly average overcast day and me and a friend were on a training course at a school, which I won't identify because undoubtably any Bradfordians will be trying to figure out what more I actually expected from such a hole... the following story is a recollection pieced together by myself, my fellow victim, hospital staff and the police (the actual police, not Sting and his cronies), because with severe cuts to my shoulders, neck and head, black eyes and a concussion, it's not easy to remember the sequence of events accurately. However, I would like to give you some background knowledge first..

The 2001 census states that Bradford has a 19% asian population and whilst I have never made any effort to berate, judge or indeed bully anyone, ever, for their ethnicity, being white in this city, apparently makes you an instant racist. You will be looked up and down by every old, traditional Pakistani man, as they shake their head and tut at you like you're burning the Qu'ran and deploying troops into their hometown, and stared at by young asians in expensive (rented) cars and oversized fake designer sunglasses whilst they pretend to be better/richer/harder than everyone else. If I had a pound for every time I had been told to 'stay the fuck away' from someone's 'turf' because 'whiteboys don't belong there' or systematically ignored by every single employee of an asian restaurant until every asian person had been served first, I would be considerably richer than i am now..

Anywhoooos, back to 2003. I was 16 or 17, on the aforementioned training course. It was lunch, me and my mate went to get some chips from the local chippy, and whilst I waited outside for my mate to be served, I started to feel the burn of dozens of pairs of eyes fixed in my direction.. I turned to find 25 or 30 asian lads aged between 16 and 19 staring directly at me. A bit unnerved, I willed my mate to hurry the fuck up. when he turned up we crossed the road and began the 3 or 4 minute walk back to the school. about a minute in, the burn started again, I glanced behind me to find about 4 lads following us back. 'must just be off back to school' thinks I... wrong. I then hear the pound of Rockports on tarmac, and turn to find that the rest of their cronies from before had run across the road to join them, still staring. The pounding of chavvy shoes starts again and gets increasingly louder, and closer.. me and my mate throw each other a look that says 'leg it'... but it was too late. As I lob my chips and start to run my collar is grabbed and blows from four or so pairs of fists rain down on the back of my head for what felt like an age. My face is slammed into a car window and the punches start again.

Now, I'm no weakling. 6 foot 1 ish and 17 stone in fact, and no stranger to a scrap.. but a fair scrap, not a kicking from a crowd of people with no motive. I decided that I was gona end up in a wheelchair if I didnt do anything about the relentless shower of blows, so I swung once, blindly, as hard as possible, and clocked the guy who had had hold of my collar. Lucky shot really, completely shattered his nose clean across his face. All this time, my mate had been battling away with a few of em aswell, he'd come off better than me but still had a few bruises and lumps on his head.. a group of onlookers broke it up, and managed to walk me back to the school reception, a total of 8 huge lumps on my head, a gash to the back of my neck, two to my shoulders and one to my head, two black eyes, concussion, a bloody nose and 3 broken knuckles from my lucky shot.. we went to the hospital to get sewn up and sorted out, when in comes my attacker with his shattered nose, crying like a bitch and being comforted by his (very traditional muslim) mummy and daddy.. I was dying to go over and leather seven shades of shite out of him but due to the fact I was seeing double and too dazed to walk, I was encouraged not to.

The next day I am visited by a policeman so they can take pics of my injuries and work on getting him prosecuted, when he gets a call over his radio to tell him that broken-nose-boy had filed for racial assault against me... the policeman goes about explaining for the next 40 mins or so how, even though I obviously have very serious injuries, he will have no choice but to take me to the station for questioning. Just before we're about to leave he gets another call on the radio to say that they have CCTV evidence that I was obviously not a suspect and they only shot i got in was in self defence, and a very good one!

The police did him for assault or GBH or ABH or something similar, and word is that once his old fashioned, traditional parents heard that their devout muslim, kind, peaceful son was actually a cowardly thug, they gave him a good hiding aswell, he had told them i had attacked him for no reason and tried to nick his phone, all along calling him racist names... Karma ftw!!

Apologies for length... I cut it down as much as poss...
(Mon 18th May 2009, 19:02, More)

» Nativity Plays

Picture the scene...
I'm rudely awakened from my rum-induced deep sleep by a call from my aunt. She informs me that she has planned to go and see her friends daaaahn saaaarf mid next week, and my uncle will be away on a business trip. "cheers for letting me know. have fun" I said, wondering why she felt the need to tell me at such an ungodly hour. She wanted me to do her a favour, she hadn't realised that the two trips clashed with her 9 year old son's Nativity play, we shall call him N, for that is his initial, and wanted me to take him along, with his little sister, whom we shall call S, for that is her initial also, so I could sit in the audience and pretend to be a parent for the evening, taking photos, clapping and pretending to be proud. The kids always liked me, I was the cool older family member who was always joking about with them and playing computer games when we were round at my parents place, so off I popped, drove round to my parents house to pick the kids up, (why my mum couldn't have taken them is beyond me) and we went over to the school. N ran off to get into his costume (i think he was the arse half of the donkey or something similarly crap like that.) and I took my seat with little S on my knee. (it's probably worth mentioning here that S had a habit of creating embarassing public situations for her mum, because she seems to have inherited the same loose connection between her brain and her mouth from her mother as my sister did from our mother.) The nativity commenced, and was going smoothly, until the angel gabriel ran down the aisle between the two blocks of seats. it was a little 9 year old girl, dressed like a pretty, sparkly little angel, covered in sequins and tinsel. and her girly prancing was accompanied by the little devil on my knee, singing at the top of her voice...

"nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh...

...Batmaaaaaaaaan!"

I laughed my arse off. Dont think the rest of the audience found it so funny. Boring old twats.
(Sat 28th Mar 2009, 18:42, More)