There is a gang of bored chavs who hang around in the car park of the local Aldi. Their favourite activity is to yell abuse at passers by. I consider them an irritant and wonder why they don’t spend their time doing something a bit more constructive.
Anyway, I went out to a birthday drink yesterday after work and was on my way from saud drink to the train station at about 9:30 when the rowdy gang started yelling at this bloke in front of me from across the road and then me as I passed. Not to be outdone I decided that I would join in the fun game and return their abuse with a few choice hand signals. There is something about these people that annoys me. Only in a gang of a half dozen or more are they able to get away with what is essentially anti-social behaviour.
I passed the group and was 100 yards down the road when I was suddenly jumped on from behind and punched and kicked. I remember sinking my teeth into the leg of one of my attackers and hearing him yell in pain. The whole thing was probably over in a few seconds because the police arrived and the gang ran off. The police called an ambulance and they insisted I go to hospital to get checked out. Probably because my memories of the actual attack are so sparse and the injuries are mainly about my head. I couldn’t identify my attackers because I didn’t really pay much attention to them. If I’d known they were going to jump me I’d have commited their faces to memory, but I didn’t. Instead of getting home safely at 10pm I finally got home at 2am. Poor Hildy was very worried.
I am left with minor injuries: a few cuts and bruises, two black eyes, some aching ribs, a foot print on my side, and a very swollen nose. I’m also very angry. It has taken me back to my school days in Reading where I would be jumped and attacked on a regular basis for no reason at all. I always fought back but I never really won. It isn’t a fight when you have six to one odds, it’s a kicking. And that’s what I got on Friday.
Bastards.
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