Nothing Gets The Blood Pumping Like Having The Shit Kicked Out Of You

I have run before. At school I was selected for the 400m, 800m and the mile on the account of having long legs. When I played football, losing possession of the ball meant tracking back as fast as you could. But I never ran faster than when I was attacked in Birmingham city centre in the late 90s.

I’d been at a gig with my friends. Aphex Twin at the Q Club. It was a great night too. Really intense. We came in two cars. Me and Ralph in Ralph’s car and the others in Shaun’s. After the gig we walked together back towards The Pot where Shaun was parked. Shaun’s lot went to his car and me and Ralph carried on towards Smallbrook Queensway where his car was parked in my work’s carpark (Dwayne the security guard was on all night so at least the car was safe).

As we crossed the canal bridge there were a couple of guys coming towards us.

“You looking at my bird?” one of them asked. There was no bird.

Then WHACK! I caught a fist in the ear which knocked me over.

Shit! I tried to steady myself on all fours. WHACK! A boot to my face! It hit right in the mouth and I felt my bottom lip buzzing and bleeding.

Ralph had run for it and I was getting the shit kicked out of me by both of them.

WHACK! In came a fist onto the cheekbone. That one sobered me right up. I needed to get onto my feet.

WHACK! Another boot. This one hit my nose and broke it. I can still hear the noise it made: Internal, muffled by the biological effects between my nose and my ears, and sharp. It was a clean break. I really had to get up now.

And I did. Fuck knows how.

I landed a punch square on the nose of the one of them who was closest to me and started running. And, Jesus, did I run! I ran as fast as I could. I could hear the involuntary whimpers from my lungs and my trainers slapping against the pavement. ZING! I was totally tuned into my own survival.

Looking left, looking right. I was sizing up the dual carriageway ahead of me and the traffic on it. It wasn’t a case of Should I stop? It was a case of They better stop!

SMASH! A bottle hit the pavement beside me and the shards overtook me momentarily as I pumped my fists and knees trying to get away from these maniacs.

SMASH! And then another. They both missed.

I got across the dual carriageway, luckily, and rounded the corner onto the dark industrial estate where the car was parked. Ralph was already behind the gate.

Dwayne saw me coming and let me in, then shut the gate behind me.

A few seconds later the attackers were at the gate slinging all sorts of accusations against me. I said this, I did that. It was rubbish though. I was just walking back to the car.

Bloodied and bruised, I found it in myself to stand behind the safety of the gate and grab my crotch at them. It was the best I could do and gave me a sense of justice. They didn’t like it though and made a lot of noise. Eventually, they left.

Dwayne let me into his security hut, along with Ralph, and made coffee for each of us. He let me sit in his chair, the only one there, and gave me some tissues and water to mop up my face, which by this time was really starting to sting.