A couple of nights ago I went down the pub to watch the football. The place was packed. Armed with a pint I went in search of a seat. Two guys were sitting at a table right by the plasma screen. One of them was wearing shades. You'll know the type, very FBI, Jack Bauer wears them, so does every American cop in the movies, and so does David Beckham.
Don't get me started on those David Beckham shades. Times were bad enough with climate change threatening polar bears, Gorden Brown ruining our economy and two pints of milk costing over a quid. Now we have every yuppie in the country prancing about in David Beckham shades. It's the worst epidemic to hit Britain since The Plague.
The only free seat was at their table. I asked if I could join them.
"Help yourself," said Shades (a cheap and witless sobriquet, but I can live with that), "please excuse the shades." He removed them and I forgave him instantly. His eyes were bloodshot, the sockets were puffy and bruised black. The poor chap single-handedly redefined the term 'black eye'. Scratches covered his nose and forehead.
I didn't want to ask, but Shades told me. Late Saturday night he was filling up at the petrol station down the road. A white limousine pulled up. An attractive blond jumped out and went into the shop to buy some cigarettes. On his way in to pay she exited the shop. She flashed him a pretty smile and got back in the limousine.
"I smiled back but that was all,", said Shades, "I may have winked at her but it was nothing more than that."
When he exited the shop a huge black guy got out of the limousine. He was clad in a white tracksuit and was wearing a jewelry shop on each hand.
"He had SO much bling on," Shades said, wistfully, shaking his head, "he was apoplectic".
Jewelry Shop accused Shades of "eyein' up" his girl. Shades denied any wrongdoing. Jewelry Shop wanted to settle it there and then with a fight. Shades protested and pointed out the CCTV cameras. Jewelry Shop wanted to take the fight round the back. Shades refused. Jewelry Shop lunged at him. Shades knocked him down and ran towards his car.
"It was one helluva punch," he told me proudly.
Five thugs leaped out of the car, five heavily jeweled gorillas. They laid into him, beat the crap out of him, stamping, spitting, cussing, snorting, like a pack of fat bulldogs. Fat ugly bulldogs jeweled up to the hilt. They left him sprawled on the ground and headed back to the limousine.
Shades struggled to his feet and swayed giddily for a few seconds. "Is that the best you've got?" he yelled after them.
"It was the best moment of my entire life," he told me proudly, shaking his head dreamily, "it made it all worth it." On that note he got up, put his shades back on and left me to watch the football.