KID SHIRT

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

KID SHIRT: THE HAVE-A-GO HERO

My glasses are disintegrating, so had to go to the opticians for an eye-test (not an auspicious start to a post) - into that place that's full of enormous posters (so you can see 'em without yer specs) of impossibly attractive models all wearing glasses...now, cf that w/ the actual reality of an opticians, wh/ is a place full of crumbling, half-blind, decidedly un-glamorous old-people (myself included) with glaucomas and cataracts who are being talked-to REALLLY LOUDLLLY by pushy assistants ("Would! You! Like! These! Half-frames! Mrs! Johnson! They! REALLY! Suit! You!").

Oh, and while we're on the topic of optical stuff, can I just quickly mention The Zonule of Zinn - which is not an alien despot from a Jack Vance book or a Hawkwind B-Side, even tho it sounds like it should be.

So, anyway, after I had the test, I was sat out in the main part of the shop having my nose measured, etc with a pair of dummy, plain-glass spectacles on...I'm as blind as a bat without me specs, see...so I was squinting out into the street when I thought: "Holy fuck! Is that someone wheeling off my bike? No, surely not..." I put my proper specs on to check and, sure enough, I catch the tail-end of me bike disappearing off dn the road.

"Excuse me, gotta go!" I say to the optician's assistant - "Someone's just nicked my bike!" And I run off in hot pursuit as the guy freewheeled it dn Middle Street. I caught up with him and pulled him off the bike. I'm not a big guy, but I was pretty fired up by now: "Oi! Get off my fucking bike, you prick!"

He was in his early twenties and waaaay bigger than me, with - surprise! - a grey hoodie pulled over his head. He feined surprise: "Oh, uh...er, is it yours? It wasn't me, some, uh, kid just nicked it. I, uh..."

"Don't fucking insult me, you lying twat." He looked oddly cowed; I don't think he'd quite expected this. I was semi-hysterical with rage. I looked him in the eye and pointed down the road and yelled, top of my voice: "Now, fuck off, you thieving prick...go on - fuck off..." I'm rubbish in a fight, but I'm pretty good at Combat Swearing.

I was kinda shocked - he just hunched up inside his top and seemed to shrink as he turned away and walked. So I followed him a few feet dn the road, yelling: "That's it - fuck off, you thieving twat!!" A small crowd had gathered (it was market-day) and watched as he walked past. I carried on shouting at him "Thief! Thief! Thief! You're a fucking thief! That's it - keep on walking, thief!!!" as he sort of scuttled off, looking 2 foot shorter than a minute earlier.

Some people came up to me and started saying stuff like "Nice one, mate!" and "Good for you - I'm sick of these thieving bastards - they pinched my bike a couple weeks ago..." etc, etc.

Then I went back in and finished my eye-test. 20 minutes later the adrenaline suddenly hit me: shit, he could've had a knife.

I went to decompress in this cafe that I go to sometimes to write. The owner - a groovy Arab geezer - sat with me and told me about a member of the Jordanian royal family he knows - a big guy, not muscular - who took out 2 guys who tried to mug him for his Rolex in the Edgeware road. They thought he was an easy mark who was too unfit to chase them, but he floored one of the muggers and sat on him, then grabbed hold of the other guy's arm and didn't let go until the cops arrived.

No Police on duty in Yeovil any more; they're all sat around chatting to the hedge-monkeys (long-term readers will get this reference).

I got back feeling pretty pleased with myself until I found I'd trodden in a dog turd on the way home.

6 Comments:

At 11:50 pm, Blogger Gutter said...

maybe he just needed a hug, lol!

but seriously, good for you, titch. but don't be so bloody brave next time - as you say, some of these little bastards carry blades and aren't afraid to use them.

 
At 11:16 pm, Blogger kek-w said...

Jeez, I was yelling like Black Bolt with a Kree swear-on! I'm going out in Kevlar tomorrow...

 
At 8:27 am, Blogger farmer glitch said...

Good for you sir - bout time we styarted a Yeo-vile vig-group and started hunting the b'stards down - lets not wait for actual crimes though - just start roundin em up - fancy a night out this weekend - me you and some chains should do it ...

 
At 6:54 pm, Blogger kek-w said...

Yeah, an' I'm gonna be rocking a Central European monster-hunting lynch-mob look with burning wooden brand and pitchfolk, as seen in a whole bunch of 30's and 40's Frankenstein films.

 
At 10:40 am, Blogger Dominic Zero said...

Combat Swearing - Nice. Maybe you should carry a gun, that usually beats a knife. You could've just shot the fucker & saved your legs.
I've been thinking of getting hold of some of those Kung Fu throwing stars.

 
At 6:13 pm, Blogger kek-w said...

Combat Swearing's the next big thing. The UK's Special Forces are already taking an interest in adopting it and More4 are running an hour-long documentary on it later in the summer.

"You could've just shot the fucker & saved your legs." - I thought that was a bit of an Indiana Jones style cop-out. I like to rock it Old School Stylee.

Batarangs would be good. Or Moon-Knight's throwing-crescents.

I'm thinking of getting some made in the shape of Gene Simmons' face.

 

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