I’m a pussy, yes. But I didn’t go to private school and I don’t like Belle and Sebastian - so I have no excuse. I’m just a pussy. And so are my friends. I have quite a lot of stories which revolve around other people exposing the pussy-ness I try and hide behind my bad-ass music taste and this is one of them.
Early in 2009 me and two friends were walking home through Hackney drunk. Somewhere along the wobbling line, we came across some traffic cones. Pissed and bored, my mate James started picking them up and dragging them onto the main road. I started shouting at him, something like: “What the fuck are you doing you prick? Are you a student? Who are you rebelling against? Buses? Ambulances? Grow up and get a fucking clue you lame cunt.” He freaked out and ran over as if to punch me in the face. I wasn’t scared because he, like me, wouldn’t punch a fly; even if it was right up in his grill. I pushed him before Dan jumped in and split us up. James stalked off in a fug of pissed-up arrogance, while I, emboldened with a sense of pissed-up self-righteousness, stood shouting at his back. He was being a prick.
As I was shouting though, another, shriller voice appeared behind me. “Hey! Pussy!” it shouted, recognising me for what I was. Behind me was a little boy, probably about twelve, with a thick Irish accent. Now, as a pussy, I don’t normally deal well with conflict, I normally tuck my head between my shoulders and run away; keeping my legs straight so I don’t look like I’m running; (in my weird pussy mind, running might be seen as an act of pussy’s rebellion that deserves punishment). However, I was in the middle of a fury. “Enough,” I thought, “screw this little kid and his assumption that he can scare me”. I shouted, (amateurishly): ”Fuck off or come here and say that again.” He started coming here, clearly intent on saying it again. Dan looked at me pissed off. It may have been a short-arse child advancing on us, but it was also the kind of short-arse child who wandered through streets at three in the morning and shouted at strange, angry, drunk men. Clearly courage wasn’t a problem for him. But I wasn’t that worried, maybe Dan could kneel behind him while I pushed the kid over his back?
As he got closer though, another figure strolled round the corner. Fuck. Even from 200 meters I could tell it was his big brother. His big, hulking baby-eating psycho of a brother; a guy who’d taught his little brother that strangers were a thing to scare, not to be scared of, and took him hunting on the streets. Behind him was another brother, though this one was barely over ten. What a fucking family. All three started shouting at me, picking up pace as I stood paralysed, hoping their vision was based on movement. Dan took side steps away from me until he was far enough away to seem unconnected, (but not so far that he wouldn’t be able to collect my teeth when they snapped out of my mouth - that’s friendship).
The twelve-year-old loudmouth marched up and sparked me in the jaw. It hurt like hell and I pushed him away. “Oi! Don’t touch my little brother” shouted the largest of my bullies. The kid punched me again, and even though I’m a total pussy, I pushed him off once more. Now the big brother had caught up with us; he grabbed my throat and, like a pussy, I apologised. The twelve-year-old punched me again and I rocked back into the street, but didn’t do anything. Behind me was a long empty stretch; my flat was not far away, but running didn’t really seem an option. So instead i stood there, inhaling my balls as he punched me again. And again. My mouth started to bleed quite a lot. By this time Dan had realised that he probably had to do something, so he had ambled up to the biggest brother and appeared to be laughing. Meanwhile I was being pummled in my mouth and on my nose, and after every punch I was just helpfully repositioning my head in the firing line. Still, I reasoned, better to be beaten slowly to death by a child then eaten by Goliath.
Through the fists and the quickly swelling bruise on my eye I could see Dan was having some success at striking a deal and eventually, as my legs were starting to go, the big brother wandered over and pulled the little shit off me. Unfortunately, by this point the even littler dude had started to feel left out, he sprang up and nailed me in my open mouth. I thought I was going to pass out, but the fact that I was there being beaten-up by a kid unable to grow a single hair beneath his mono-brow left me feeling a bit lame, so, in a crazy attempt at self-deception, I mumbled something like: “Ha. He’s got a good punch that one.” As though we were all friendly parents watching a child play sports. This, while I’m spitting blood on the floor and shaking with unused adrenalin.
Dan strolled up, perhaps enjoying the fact that he seemed to have the ear of these monsters while I was simply their wet whipping-boy. He pleaded with the eldest and the ten-year-old hit me once more. This time I did fall over. A puddle of blood grew quickly beneath my face on the pavement and ran onto my T-Shirt. I was lying approximately 200 meters from my flat.
“Okay, okay” said the eldest, as Dan opened a packet of fags. “Leave off.” He turned to Dan, “Give us a fag though.” This seemed a great deal to me, but Dan, like the thick prick that he is said no. I shouted something at him, but to be fair I was probably incomprehensible. “Give me a fag. I could just take the whole lot”. He was being more reasonable with Dan then anyone had been with me, but Dan didn’t seem to understand. “No,” he said taking a quick, gross, series of puffs at his Marlboro Light, “you can finish this”. He dropped the cigarette on the floor and took a step forwards towards me. An enormous fist cannoned into his cheek from behind and honestly, I’ve never seen anyone fly into the air so high. He pirouetted before coming crack-down on his face into the curb. The mid-sized lunatic ran over, reached into his pocket, took his fags, kicked him in the stomach, stamped on my hand, and they all ran off.
The next day my bruises didn’t look so bad. Dan had to get his jaw realigned. What a pair of fucking pussies we are.
ADAM WHITE
March 3rd, 2009 @ 08:57
Reader Comments
March 3rd, 2009
Get some balls and MAN UP! LOL
March 3rd, 2009
hahaha
jokes
March 3rd, 2009
Very clear memories considering you were supposedly drunk, pussy.
March 3rd, 2009
i’d have preferred a story about a vole in a jam doughnut.
i just wasted 5 minutes of my life reading that drivvle.
i agree with #3 above - great memories of details when being drunk. or maybe just a journalist needing to make up sh*t of shick-value to get onto the pages of vice.
if your story had tits or pussy in it then you mightve got a bigger feature for yourself.
doh!
March 3rd, 2009
What is it with students and traffic cones? My friend started messing about with some in New Cross and about 5 minutes later a VAN of policemen drove round the corner, jumped out and tried to arrest him
March 3rd, 2009
I thought that was a piece of bread and his guts, i was just about to say…that’s a but unnecessary
March 3rd, 2009
Sounds like you still would have got beaten up, and probably worse, had you not been a pussy.
You might have got beaten up in such a way as to retain some macho pride, but a true pussy shouldn’t care about such things.
March 3rd, 2009
I got followed home by a 10 year old pikey from the settlement in Wood Green once. He kept calling me boy and saying if I lied to him he would break my nose. He told me the last person that lied to him had their house set on fire by his brothers. So I just kept on walking round the block so he didn’t know where I lived, discussing my love of Irish music (?) with him in order to think I was ‘o.k’. I then came up with the Genius Idea to go and sit in the local pub cus he wouldn’t be allowed in. It worked. Yeah I’m a pussy, what of it. The moral of the story is that pikeys scare me more than Nazis and being buried alive.
March 3rd, 2009
It takes a bigger man to walk away. But to offer your face as a slapping bag is straight up coward CLASS. At least you got a fun little article out of it…hell, you practcally won that ‘fight.’ (I’d like to hear the thug brothers version too tho, track them down for a follow up story?)
Unlucky fella. keep in mind the ultimate pussy gamble; the kick in the bollocks. Get it wrong and you’ve just cost yourself several more teeth.
Peace
March 3rd, 2009
….and do you plonkers (the above comments) black out as soon as you start drinking?! I’ve been unable-to-stand-drunk and still remembered what I’ve seen. Ease up on the ‘White Ace’ cider eh kiddies.
March 3rd, 2009
Ahahaha, pussy.
This article would be so much better if it was actually written from the point of view of a much-used vagina.
March 3rd, 2009
“This article would be so much better if it was actually written from the point of view of a much-used vagina.”
It was.
March 3rd, 2009
I enjoyed this cut.
March 3rd, 2009
preemptively calling yourself a pussy doesn’t exempt you from criticism. holy fuck, yeah granted we don’t really have to fight for our survival any longer like we did in dinosaur times, but really? you got beat up by a 12 year-old? imagine if we got bombed back into the stone age by jihadists. you and your pussified ilk would die of starvation and forced sodomy in a matter of hours.
book learning and office jobs (although, come on, you probably fold shirts at american apparel) don’t preclude you from being an adult male. there’s a darwinist lesson in here somewhere.
March 3rd, 2009
so, like, are you proud of this or what?
March 3rd, 2009
That mouse looks sooo cuuuute eeeee!
March 3rd, 2009
this level of pussiness is called BWP (Big Wet Pussy) i beat irish hooligans every day, dont be such a fucking puss
March 3rd, 2009
he needs to build some confidence. begin by fighting the elderly, then move your way up to defeating richard smmons n hand to hand contact, and graduate to 12 year old leprechaun shitheads.
March 3rd, 2009
unless you know Brazilian jujitsu, or have watched enough kung fu films to emulate it, trying to be a badass is kind of futile. thats why dude got his jaw realigned.
March 3rd, 2009
Everything I read about England in this magazine makes it seem like a horrifying third world country.
March 3rd, 2009
this reminds me of a time in middle school when I got my ass kicked by a midget. the kid was about a foot shorter than I was, so i figured he wouldn’t be much of a fight. with all the confidence I had, I dared him to punch me first. and so he did, right in my eye. after that all i could remmember was a blind fury of fists coming toward and away my face like pistons. moral of the story: get the first punch in.
March 3rd, 2009
that fag with the fags didnt actually offer the bully a stomped out stog- in the unrevised version he was curled up in the fetal position in a puddle of his fresh urine
March 3rd, 2009
Every time you Europeans try to distance yourself from those Hostel movies, a group of savage kids comes along and beats you up.
March 6th, 2009
England IS a horrifying third world country, believe! It’s OUR horrifying third world country though…
March 6th, 2009
I sympathise - a 12 year old uncouth yoot stole my bike - but shouldn’t that read “Two friends and I…”?
March 6th, 2009
Hahahahahaha, I love this! Made me laugh…
March 6th, 2009
I thought it was a good piece. Very funny. I think all the twats on here need to lighten up a bit and get a fucking sense of humour.
March 6th, 2009
leave the man alone, it must be quite stressful getting pummelled by little boys. physically and mentally.
March 6th, 2009
My mate Jon got knocked down by a 15-year-old pikey recently. And he’s 6′2″, from Barnsley and regularly competes in Iron Man contests. Hell, we decked a bunch of Parisian racailles for hassling some girls once.
Thing is, if a little kid gives you shit, you can’t do anything about it. Because whatever they say or do to you, if you knock them out then YOU get nicked and forced to pick up litter for a week, or worse, because you are the adult. And the little fuckers know this, which is why they do it.
Moral of the story? Do what I did the other day when a 12-year-old pikey started abusing and throwing punches at me - go straight for big brother like you fucking mean it, and hope they aren’t armed. Or, if you can’t risk that because you like Belle and Sebastian, walk the fuck on.
Funny piece though.
March 6th, 2009
i bet this never happened.
March 6th, 2009
in the past two weeks i have been started on an un-countable amount of times by gangs of little kids for no reason, being a girl, i can’t fight, not saying all girls can’t fight, but i’m weak. i’m sick of london and i’m sick of little kids with too many hormones whizzing about in their little un-developed pikey bodies thinking they’re all that and ganging up on people by themselves just wanting something from the local shop, they should legalise tazers here. i hope all those little shits get shot.
March 6th, 2009
To above, If your too much of a pusy to stand up to a knacker whose balls havnae dropped yet, ye dont deserve to live yerself, talking of guns, least these boys fight with the fists, away tae fuck ye ganster talking twat!
March 7th, 2009
Jesus, the commenters on here are like fucking jackals, ripping apart anyone who even tries to do anything (and yet lauding often quite boring or puerile articles). If I were a writer I wouldn’t touch this mag with a barge-pole, no-one here seems to appreciate effort.
March 10th, 2009
I wanna see the pictures of straight after.
It sounds quite funny when you break it down. Hackney/playing with traffic cones like idiot students/local youths sortin the situation… ha ha
Upload the pics and then I might actually believe the kicking was as good as it sounds and not some exaggerated ‘i caught an Emo THISSSS BIG’
March 23rd, 2009
so why cant i leave a plug on every comments page for a band on myspace called godot is waiting?
December 5th, 2009
Great tale mate. lol i had meself a roar. i takes a man to tell sumthing like that so good on ya. And for u dick nuckles who think his memory is to good for a drunkin’ night…u’ve clearly never had ur teeth shook outside of the pub. Adrenalin is a hell of a thing…..lol givin the right motavation! cheers