fes wrote:At the time I felt like (b), but I would have probably ended up on a charge.
Now Im not suggesting you do this, but the police up here (blackpool) are taking a different view of things. I know of a few occasions where mouthy scrote mouths off, gets a crack for his trouble and the police refuse to press charges. SOmething about when confronted by what you deem as intimidating behaviour, you are allowed by law to protect yourself, even if this means punching him. At least thats what I was told by my mate who is a police officer.
Wigan RLFC - The Biggest Laughing stock in the history of Rugby League.
Eurob0y wrote:Now Im not suggesting you do this, but the police up here (blackpool) are taking a different view of things. I know of a few occasions where mouthy scrote mouths off, gets a crack for his trouble and the police refuse to press charges. SOmething about when confronted by what you deem as intimidating behaviour, you are allowed by law to protect yourself, even if this means punching him. At least thats what I was told by my mate who is a police officer.
HJ Bird wrote:Would you have chanced it with 10 or so other of his chav mates ready to jump in? I say chavs as a sweeping generalisation, but I highly doubt they were on their way home from a cheese and wine evening. As another poster has pointed out, it could potentially have 'Gary Newlove' written all over it.
The sad fact is had it happened to me, the option I probably would have taken would have been to ignore it or ring the police and report a disturbance but only if you were damn sure you weren't going to see these scrotes again. I've unfortunately been witness to an extremely violent attack by a gang of mickeyed up chavs in the past, it's made me very wary of approaching situations like that again.
I'm not saying I definitely would or wouldn't, it would be highly dependent on my mood at the time. Having limited experience of this, when you face the mouthy one down, they all cower. Now this is going to reek of bravado, but it is not my intention, it all comes down to whether you think you can handle yourself. I guess it comes down to my intolerance of why the decent people in this country should have to tred on eggshells, whilst going about minding their own business.
Conversely, it is sometimes best to walk away.
Didn't William Webb Ellis pick up the ball and run, someone should really tell Rugby Union.
Joined: Apr 26 2005 Posts: 4190 Location: Under the thumb!
In reverse order:-
Option D - Around here would be a waste of time - I suspect after I hung up there would be a good giggle down the station.
Option C - Around here would be a waste of time - 'Dad' would be round my place before I got home. If I was really unlucky they wouldn't know who their Dad was, and Mum would be a lot worse.
Option B - If I was lucky I would get done by the police, unlucky I would get done by the scrotes.
Unfortunately this leaves Option A.
Having said that...
I am a really really mild mannered guy. Very quiet and unassuming and always try to avoid any confrontation. BUT, there is a gang of 13-16 year old scrotes round us who love to play football in the middle of the crossroads at the top of our road right outside the post office. Whenever I come past in the car I have to wait until they decide that they are willing to move out of the way.
The other day I was in the post office, and these scrotes were playing football right outside. The door was open and just as I finished and picked up my change the ball smacked into the glass in front of me then smacked me in the face. I saw my backside and without thinking I marched out of the post office all guns blazing. F'ing this and F'ing that, "You're all stupid F'ing ***** and ****holes". They visibley shrank in front of me and by the time I demanded an apology they all looked about 7 and very meekly said "Sorry".
I wouldn't say I have been living in fear since, but I expect to see the car has been keyed (or worse) each time I step out of the door, and then expect to turn and see graffiti all over the front of the house. Good as it felt to let fly I can honestly say I wish I had chosen option A and kept my mouth shut!
The future of the human race round our way are trying to revive the Grasmere reputation.
On Paddy's Night, for a 'close to home' example, there was a pack of about five or six of them on a small patch of grass, throwing 'mudbombs' (from pipes they'd tore from the outside of people's kitchens), which caused an absoloutely disgusting mess of the local houses and paths, and making a general nuisance, banging and shouting at quite an incosiderate time. Anyhow, our neighbour rang me to tell me they had taken our bin outside (Why? I thought), and I actually fancied walking upto the Co-op for a few tins of Guinness, so I went out, only to be greeted with "Alright, Ash?" One of the little chavs knew me! AND had the audacity to say hello, despite plastering the path outside our gate and our neighbours houses with mud (for some reason, they didn't aim/hit our house).
I growled "Who took me bin out?" to which the lad who 'knew' me gave me a girly "him" and pointed at his mate.
"Well... Don't" I said and walked off, fully expecting at least a window to have been put through when I came back. None were, and those particular lads haven't been around since. Though, I wouldn't advice such a tactic unless you know one of the kids. Suppose I was lucky that time.
Today, our kid - five, she is - went to the local park with her bigger and older friend, only to come back ten minutes later, telling me that there was a gang of older girls who'd pushed them off the swings, swore at them and were giving it the 'big I am'. I sent them back to the park, following about 10 yards behind. The girls in question saw me with our kid and promptly did one - as clear a sign as a guilty conscience as I know. Now, I can't let her go to her favourite little park with her friend. How pathetic can it get?
We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky And we're always the last when the cream is shared out For the worker is working when the fat cat's about
A couple of years ago my son was beat up walking home by a group of boys (chavs for want of a better word), because he dressed differently..A neighbour who was walking her dog rang me, fortunatley he only suffered a bloody nose, however I saw the blood, marched over to the chavs, used colourfull language which I knew they would understand, told them if they thought they were hard to have a go, on reflection I must have looked a right psycho.They never said a word just hung their heads
I am 5 4 (size 10) female Just take a mad female on your run
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Just take a mad female on your run 
