Fights.

In my OP I mentioned bluff. We were just outside Abergavenny on some sort of mountain walking thing when we got an evening off. About ten of entered the first pub and proceeded to make merry with Welsh wenches. Half an hour later, we're about to leave when the sweet little thing I was regaling with tales of my life as a doorgunner/porpoise wrangler/nuclear detonator disarmer said to me "ooh, give us a kiss before you go". Several seconds in, with brilliant ******* timing, her boyfriend walks through the door..

As we seriously outnumbered him and his two mates, nothing happened. Two hours later however our group had broken up and I was with just two mates, Chris and Pat. Boyfriend bloke was now in a group of about ten locals when we sauntered out of a pub and walked slap into them. Whoops.

Pat, slipped away and hid in a shop doorway. Chris was genuinely the salt of the earth, but so quiet you could work with him for a week and not notice him.

By now the two of us were surrounded, with the boyfriend getting increasingly gobby (with good reason to be fair). I knew it was going to end badly for us, it was absolutely unavoidable, so I thought I might try and bluff it, I had nothing to lose. I stepped forward, poked him in the chest and said in my best pretend menacing voice "what's your ******* problem mate?" There was a moment's silence, and then one of his mates said "yeah, let's leave it John" and they all wandered off.

Chris and I just stood there incredulously.
An African mate, who was a decorated Kenyan NCO (military angle covered) , tried buying a car from a chap in London and gets scammed . Seller obviously thought that no one would travel from Nairobi to London over a secondhand car.
Two things, one my mate is a a great giggler , and the other is that I haven't been involved in a ruck since I was at school.
It so happens that pal comes to London on holiday sometime later and the seller lives two miles from my house.
We drive over, I am wearing an old black leather bike jacket and to the uninformed observer could pass as a Hells Angel (in pitch darkness). It takes 20 minutes for mate to stop giggling and me to pluck up the courage.
We ring the bell, an elderly Indian lady appears and we demand the money back. Son appears at an upstairs window, sees us and goes pale "The money will be in the bank tomorrow" he croaks.
I remind him that "We know where you live" in my best TV hard man, and we leave.
Round the corner, and we both collapse to the ground laughing.
To our amazement the money was repaid!
 
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Just curious as to why 20 US Marines would have been in a pub in a London suburb.
It was in St Johns wood.
At the time the Kings troop had a big f*ck off barracks there. I have no idea but my money is they were staying with the Kings troop as guests.
 
another ridiculous decking i received was in a nightclub one night when an obviously aggressive and pissed up bloke bumped into me as i was trying to find my wallet on the dancefloor (turned out it was in my pocket, i was a bit pissed, as will become apparent).

"sorry mate, looking for my wallet, you seen it?"
*bloke stares menacingly, sways a little*
"my wallet. i've lost it somewhere"
*continues to stare without speaking*
"what the fuck are you looking at?"

I'd have thought my reactions wouldve been quicker than his but apparently not. luckily his punch was weak and poorly aimed so it just bounced off my skull. before i can swing my own weak poorly aimed shot 3 guys grab him and shove him back a bit and this nice bloke appears next to me and tells me just to leave it and that he's just drunk.

I thank this good Samaritan and assure him that not to worry, i'll be fine.

not sure why but i then go over to the guy and start laughing at him and saying he cant fight for shit and that he punches like my gran. to demonstrate this i begin punching myself as hard as i can in the side of the head at which point he swings for me and i deck him and the good Samaritan headbutts me in the side of the skull.

somewhere down on the dancefloor, as we began what turned out to be a fairly non-committal kicking, i realised these were not random bystanders but were obviously the guys mates.
 
As I am extremely handsome I try to avoid having my delicate facial features rearranged by drunken chavs and pissed up morons.

Sadly the same cannot be said for the halfwits I consider friends.

I was at a Slade concert in Christchurch in 1972. They were in the process of changing from a not very well-known long haired rock band into the chart-topping skinheads they were successful as. My mates are taking the piss out of a bunch of 5-6 skinheads and it’s looking dicey. One of the older skins, all sheepskin coat and decent bird in tow, says to me “Your mates are getting gobby. In case they think this lot are easy there are two coachloads of their mates over there”. There was indeed. “OK guys. Let’s move slowly to the back of the hall”.

Sat outside a bar in Athens. Full of US sailors from Sixth Fleet moored in bay. On break from KSA getting hammered with my Canadian mate Terry. He is well advanced and starts taking the piss out of the sailors. Starting to antagonise the sailors with me telling him to STFU. USN Officer in whites walks over and suggests Terry might like to drink elsewhere. Good plan thinks me as he helps me drag Terry away. Realised it was also a warning to the sailors to stow it.

Discretion is the better part of valour.
 
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I have rolled around the floor outside one or two pubs, but happily sober and safe in the knowledge that my visit to the cells would not prevent me waking in my own bed.

I once helped take down a huge rugby player type who kicked off outside the local row of evening entertainments. Four of us on him trying to get him cuffed and I was diligently holding onto a leg while we rolled around under a car. At some point during the scuffle it occurred to me that the leg I had hold of was clad in black pants, finished off by a magnum boot and seemingly matey went for a night out with a Maglite on his belt?

I let go of the other Bobbies leg and helped get the now cuffed prisoner to his feet.

When we got him to the holding area he'd clearly taken a real dislike to my Oppo and was giving him a very hard stare that would make Paddington blanche. Up to the Custody desk and the stare continues and I move round behind him and choose which knee I'm putting my foot through when he kicks off again.
Cuffs come off and it was like a switch.
Couldn't apologise enough. Terribly sorry, awful behaviour, absolute shower.
 

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
My old man was a publican and echoed those words to the letter.
Always the way, as an ex-publican, I soon learned to stay out of any catfights that started in the pub after being twatted by some skinny little thing who must have put all of her 7 stone behind the punch and floored me, one of my asst Mgrs came flying from behind the bar swinging the sawn off pool cue we kept for proper fights, luckily I managed to pick myself up before he hit anyone with it. later in the week, I gave him a short lesson on how to use it on the softer spots such as knees and elbows, never the head.
 
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It was in St Johns wood.
At the time the Kings troop had a big f*ck off barracks there. I have no idea but my money is they were staying with the Kings troop as guests.
The Cavalry barracks at Hounslow also housed visiting troops, we had some chaps from the Americas over for the royal tournament, who proceeded to tear up the local watering holes, all african Americans, all rifle and mortar men. All 6ft plus, and all had done time in Nam. (1974-5)
 
I was generally a peace loving ladies man but after a few I would get gobby and punchy and frequently filled in, until I got stabbed to death in Paderborn in 1987.
I hope you are better
 

Sixty

ADC
Moderator
Book Reviewer
I'm a stranger to public house violence but I did get one-punch knocked out in a taxi rank after a session in Stirlingshire. Turns out that there was a particular local etiquette whereby the main taxi rank (c/w with wardens and designated pick-up points) was organised only until the local nightclub chucked out.

Tapped on the shoulder as I reached for the cab door.
Turned round.
Sparked out.
Left eye was wandering a bit for a week.
 

Wordsmith

LE
Book Reviewer
Best fight I saw was in Brighton in what must have been the mid 80's. A big night club (the Top Rank Suite) used to run a roller skate disco on Sunday nights.

Anyhow two groups of local laddos, both pissed, took a dislike to each other and it kicked off.

So you have about a dozen blokes, all the worse for wear, trying to have a punch up on roller skates.

The bouncers were unsure whether to p!ss themselves laughing or steam in and break it up.

Wordsmith
 

Issi

War Hero
It was in St Johns wood.
At the time the Kings troop had a big f*ck off barracks there. I have no idea but my money is they were staying with the Kings troop as guests.
Thanks for that. I had no idea they may be have been staying in the barracks there.
Cleared it up for me.
Cheers
 

Issi

War Hero
Very close shave in a nightclub queue when I was about 19.
Bunch of clowns behind me started shoving to get to the front, I turned around and told them to knock it off.
They did but apparently talked about they were going to fill me in once we were all in the club.
A mate who was standing close to the lads mentioned to another mate-
"Lucky they don't realise he's an Army boxing champion "

I had one fight in Basic and won on points , and never wore gloves again, so he was technically correct , but it saved me a shoeing.
 
Thanks for that. I had no idea they may be have been staying in the barracks there.
Cleared it up for me.
Cheers
Thought there was a designated USMC place used for the US Embassy guard up there somewhere other than the RHA. Probably gone now the Embassy's relocated.
 
Taking this back to the epicentre of the non fight club Islington. There used to be a very select club around the back of Holloway prison every other Friday they used to hold a disco known locally as the "ugly bugs ball". Upon production of suitable I.d one could gain admittance to the prison officers social club to partake in cheep alcohol and watch a truly bizarre floor show. One Friday night a group of us had beeen on the sauce all day and finished up at the bugs. My mate who was Scottish and extremely pissed was commenting extremely loudly and unsubtlallu about the charms or lack of of some of the young ladies on the dance floor. Two extremely large short haired aggressive bull dykes took exception to his comments and asked us to leave. I remember being physically picked up and thrown down a flight of stairs, the club was on the first floor. The pair of us found ourselves in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Bizarrely we found the episode amusing and spent the next few minutes lying on the floor laughing and giggling before wandering off to find sustenance. No injuries but took a while for the piss taking to stop
 
Always the way, as an ex-publican, I soon learned to stay out of any catfights that started in the pub after being twatted by some skinny little thing who must have put all of her 7 stone behind the punch and floored me, one of my asst Mgrs came flying from behind the bar swinging the sawn off pool cue we kept for proper fights, luckily I managed to pick myself up before he hit anyone with it. later in the week, I gave him a short lesson on how to use it on the softer spots such as knees and elbows, never the head.
I have to ask you this, since you worked in the trade way more than me. What's policy like in the UK? I got smacked blind sided in a bar (with a resulting nose bleed) in the U.S while trying to protect a friend who had a row with some twat..and despite that, got thrown out and got 86d and was not asked to come back. The staff even apologized to me but said that was their policy even if I officially didn't do anything wrong.
 
On the lash in Cyprus, most of the Sqns Juniors are supping in George's Bar just round from Radio Sonde. I say to someone "keep an eye on my pint, I'm just off for a lash" Off I go to the toilet, when I open the door to get back in to the bar, a chair spins past through the air, and the whole bar is fighting spaghetti western style. I look at at George and his Wife who just shrug their shoulders, so I sit next to them while I sup my pint and watch a truly spectacular bar fight. Turns out it was started by two birds arguing about their hair!
 

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