KID SHIRT

Friday, July 30, 2010

I AM A VICTIM OF CRIME

So, I'm walking home last night and this guy comes round the corner and punches me in the face. Actually, there were three of them - barechested at 12:30 at night, so you can guess the deal here - with a couple of droop-titty'd scraggettes in tow.

"Ahhhr, ur fuckin' cunt!" Thwaap! Random as you like.

I was pushing me bike at the time, thinking about maybe getting some chips, and then: Thwaap!

Both hands on the bike, so no chance to defend meself. I saw them for about 1.6 seconds - a half-formed thought of oh, they look a bit leery, tried to burrow its way into the linguistics part of my brain, but it didn't even turn into proper words. One of the girls squawked "Oh, fuckin' hell, Ken / Kev / Something-similar, not again..." as he hit me which kinda suggested a sort of micro Wilding Spree was in progress. Then she giggled like a tripped-out witch from an early 70's Spanish Black Lace n Candles type movie.

My only response (beyond Owwwww... ) was a half-muttered "Oh, fer fucksake...". I felt more, I dunno, inconvenienced than threatened. I certainly wasn't gonna go after them or give it some verbal, cos (a) I was slightly 'refreshed', so it didn't hurt that much and (b) that would be an invitation to a serious kicking...

Actually, and this sounds like bravado-after-the-event, but:

HEY, SHITDICK: YOU HIT LIKE A LITTLE FUCKING GIRL.

If a guy like you - a third my age and in the so-called peak of your fucking physical condition (it's all downhill from there, moron) CAN'T EVEN PUT DOWN A SCRAWNY LITTLE OLD MOTHERFUCKER LIKE ME WITH A FREE SHOT, then you are truly a piece of useless shite. I bet you couldn't even get it up for a ragged, chip-nailed handjob in The Park from one of your coldsore-riddled little 16yr old groupies.

But, hey...

So I kinda just kept walking for 30 seconds then the adrenaline kicked in and I thought: actually, fuck you, you assholes...I'm sick of people like you thinking there's no consequence to your actions...I knew where they were heading - into The Park - so there was only one or two roads they would be taking...so, I thought: fuck it, the police station's only a minute's ride away on the bike - let's get a cop car to intercept them before they punch someone even more puny than me...

But the Police Station was shut. And this is in a town with a 40k+ catchment area. So you have to pick up a half-busted phone on the wall, which puts you through to a call-centre in Bridgewater or Bath or some other place 30 - 40 miles away. They've no idea where any of the places are that I'm describing. So, I'm trying to describe where these guys are heading, so that if there actually is a patrol-car in the area then the cops can pull 'em over before they seriously hurt someone...."If there's a car in the blahblahblah area, then you can't miss 'em; you could pull them over and nab them..." but the woman on the other end, just wants to run through her script, which takes ages, by which time they will be long-gone, back into their rat-runs...

She kept asking me where I was and I kept telling her "Outside Yeovil Police Station, but there's no one there." There were, like, 2 lights on in a 4-storey building.

"There won't be," she said, flatly. "It's late."

So you kinda wonder what we're paying our taxes for. I thought it included, y'know, policing.

It worries me that someone could've turned up down there looking for help who had actually been seriously hurt. Or, God Forbid, someone who had been raped.

"So, do you want to press assault charges?" she asked.

"Against who?" I said. "You could've caught them 10 minutes ago. Not now."

"Just answer yes or no," she said, with no explanation of what she was asking me even meant, legally or otherwise.

I kinda lost interest about then.

"So you're not pressing assault charges then? Can someone come round later and take a statement?"

Later? "Not at 4 in the morning, no. My wife and kids are asleep; I don't want them disturbed. And I've already told you what happened. I just described them and I even told you where you could've found them. I only wanted to make sure that no one else got hurt by these idiots."

"Well, someone will have to come and see you at some point to give you your Crime Number.

So I now have a Crime Number. And a sore jaw.

10 Comments:

At 1:17 am, Blogger Fritz Bogott said...

Aw jeez.

 
At 4:57 am, Blogger db said...

Kek-W IS Paul Kersey IN Death Wish 6!

 
At 11:14 am, Blogger I am not Kek-w said...

Death Wish XIII.

I am a vigillante now. A sombre, hooded, purple-robed Rorschach-like psycho who stalks the mean streets of Martock.

My catchphrase is "I am Crime".

I leave a tuning-fork (tuned to D) - still humming - embedded in the chests of my victims.

Local people love me. The police hate me. Criminals fear me.

 
At 5:55 pm, Blogger Pete Um said...

I think we know who the fuckin' cunts are. Suspect their instant karma has happened already, but commiserations.

"Then she giggled like a tripped-out witch..." is a good phrase though.

 
At 12:02 am, Blogger Martin said...

Chip-nailed handjob was a good phrase. I'd have got it up too, especially if she was talking dirty couplets, Pam Ayres-style. Are you sure she didn't say "Oh fuckin' hell, KEK, not again?" Maybe bitch was bad elf.

The police are fucking useless. I saw two really fat ones on the tube yesterday, a total disgrace. Talking about mobile phones and showing off features to each other. It's like all these wimpy chemistry students forming rock bands, the police just attract mobile phone salesmen and ex-bankers who fancy a bit of drama nowadays (but want to go home at 9pm).

 
At 12:45 am, Blogger Pete Um said...

Quite willing to gatecrash Spiral gigs as a guest turntablist dropping unworkably liberal chunks of 'Some Of Me Poems And Stories'...

 
At 12:58 am, Blogger I am not Kek-w said...

Hahahaha - you've seen right thru my squalid Teenage Park-Ruck Fantasies, Martin, as usual...

"Oh fuckin' hell, KEK, not again?" - yeah, they routinely thump me most evenings just to, y'know, spice up their parkbench fumblings lol....

If their whole reason for twatting feeble old men like me is to demonstrate their suitablity as potential wife-beating bookie-haunting breeders, then matey kinda failed on that count....16 yr old witch-giggler shoulda gone, "Actually, Kev, you couldn't even deck that fucking old fart and - now that I think of it - he's looking kinda median.cool the way he's staggerin' off, muttering to himself as he rubs his face...that speaks of hectares of inner sexual dignity...he might be wrinkly, but I bet he's kinky...I'm off, Kev, byeeeee!!"

And she chases me off down the road, yelling, "Quick! drag me into the park while I'm still wet...!" while I'm protesting, "actually, you're 25 years too late, luv, plus you're ugly..."

While Kev scratches his head and laments: "What just happened there? And WHERE THE FUCK IS ME SHIRT!!!?"

Well, you live in London, Martin...so you still have police, even if they are former mobile phone salesmen...!!!

Dave Cam has promised us 50,000 eager young yeomen volunteers in yellow armbands, but in yeovil there are none.

I shall offer my services as Town Watchman...light the lamps at night, etc.

 
At 1:09 am, Blogger I am not Kek-w said...

"Quite willing to gatecrash Spiral gigs as a guest turntablist dropping unworkably liberal chunks of 'Some Of Me Poems And Stories'..."

hahahaha: the idea of Pete doing a Benefit Gig for the (obviously) cash-strapped Yeovil PD in a Pam Ayer's wig caused me to go outside, chuckle and vigorously smoke a cig....

 
At 10:45 am, Blogger Pete Um said...

He he. This is making me think of Harry Merry, for some reason...

 
At 10:07 pm, Blogger Martin said...

Uh well, rest assured he'll try it on a hard nut some day, and come a cropper. But I'd sleep happier with you doing the night watchman rounds, especially if you wore one of those plague doctor bird heads. As for Kev, he'll be town CRIER, geddit??

 

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