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This Is How It Feels To Get Your Head Kicked In

by Owen Blackhurst
23 February 2012 18 Comments

This week has been a week of fighting: in parliament, at a boxing press conference and, as ever, in regional town centres around the country at kicking out time. Here's how it feels to be on the losing end of a spanking.

It was my first night out after a cruciate ligament reconstruction. I’d spent most of the previous few months smoking bongs, doing repetitive exercises, ignoring visitors, coming to terms with the fact that I’d never play competitive football again and developing an eye twitch from playing Championship Manager. It was a lonely time, and I remember being quite overawed when I walked down town that night. It was probably the weed and lack of communication, and for some reason I wore my reading glasses and a hat. Anyway, I got drunk. It was a Sunday, late in 2001. Nearly a decade ago. The scar on my head still throbs like it was yesterday.

We’d been kicked out of The Harp after the Karaoke had finished and decided to go to Linner’s house for a smoke. I popped into my Mum’s on the way home to get my weed, and told my mates I’d see them in ten minutes. Walking towards the parade of shops that included a hairdressers, an offy and a corner shop, I heard a voice. It was my ex-missus. I hadn’t seen her for six months so I stopped to have a fag and chat to her by the offy. I sparked a fag and we were basically going through the no hard feelings nonsense when a group of 8 lads came around the corner. I knew instantly that I was fucked. They weren’t from Bridgnorth. They looked distinctly Telford on first glance, and two of them were carrying what appeared to be a bat and a wrought iron fire poker.

My first thought was to keep my ex away from it. My second was, if I had to leg it, I was fucked. My left knee was still a car crash of scar tissue inside. I told her to run to Linner’s house, so she ran. So did I. They swarmed me straight away. I punched one in the face as I ran past, smacked another and legged it. I could feel them behind me. I had no power in my left thigh. Then I felt it. A fire poker smashed into the back of my head. I staggered on further and heard my ex scream. I must have fallen unconscious pretty soon afterwards.

After they had used me as a warm up, these cunts went to a block of flats and gouged someone’s eye out with the fire poker. The half-brother of one my assailants. A family feud.

I came to in a house I recognised. Saw a load of people I knew but hadn’t been out with. I was covered in blood. My hair was full of it. I started to swear. “Owen, watch your fucking mouth, the kids are in bed.” It was the Dad of one of my brother’s ex-school mates. I was halfway up Queensway Drive, maybe 150 yards from where it had started. Apparently my mates had been at the top of Queensway, which is on a hill, heard the screaming, ran back down and chased them off. They’d hit my ex with a length of pipe. She reckons they hit me 10 times on the head with this bar as well as the kicks to the body. I don’t know to this day how I wasn’t brain damaged.

After going to hospital and being treated like another drunk from a fight and crudely stitched up – it looks like cracked glass – I was discharged and a mate was waiting for me outside. I went back to the spot to see if I could find my glasses when I got home. I couldn’t. But I did see a paving slab that had been dragged to near where I lay. I knew it was the place because of the blood stain. They were going to drop it on my head.

After they had used me as a warm up, these cunts went to a block of flats and gouged someone’s eye out with the fire poker. The half-brother of one my assailants. A family feud.

I got £1500 compo for my injuries. They all got off with Community Service.

As I said. Cunts.

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image descriptionCOMMENTS

Dave Lee 6:03 pm, 12-Feb-2011

'I don’t know to this day how I wasn’t brain damaged' - Owen, mate, there's something you should have been told long ago.....

Barry R Tench 6:15 pm, 12-Feb-2011

I had heard the news O had got the shit kicked out of him, head cracked open with, a golf club, metal bar, tyre wrench - depending on whose version it was but it was a few days before he appeared back at the youthy. Owen always managed to shake half a bag of sugar over the counter in getting three big teaspoons of sugar into his coffee but today I wasn't going to point this out. He looked haunted, still shaken and badly bruised. Owen told a tale as good as Bukowski but this time the bare details were as much as he wanted to share. The mono 'roar' from the tiny speakers connected to the pc where Gaz Jones was thrashing Halifax on Championship Manager 2 went without comment. This was a young man in the process of coming to terms with what was literally a near death experience, it was surreal, it seems surreal now. The strangest feeling I have is that Owen and I watched 9/11 unfold on the TV a few weeks before, it was a time of disbelief and disconnection. There is a youth centre full of ghosts in south Shropshire, ghosts of time past.

Mr_taxi_man 7:00 am, 13-Feb-2011

As someone who has been stabbed, beaten by a mob at a wake, kicked under a cab, had cigarettes put out on my head and arm, spat at, bricked, drop kicked, held hostage for a couple of hours and beaten, Sat through a trail of two men who did a section 18 on me in a crown court and watch them walk with a suspended. Watch my fellow cabby have his forearm bent in half, I empathise... I'm not taking the piss, I really do. Cunts.

Tom 1:56 pm, 13-Feb-2011

My sympathies for your pain, Owen; been there too. I was stabbed in the chest at a youth disco in Watford when aged 16 by a meathead from South Oxhey, out for trouble and keen to bring down the biggest bloke he saw that night (me). How I didn't die I have no idea. Doctor at hospital told me if the knife had gone in 1cm either way I'd have been toast. Meathead was three weeks under his 18th birthday when he did it, so it went to youth court instead of the full beak. I was too scared to pick him out in the parade and so barely looked at the line-up. Cunt got off with three months youth custody. I got off with my life.

bleurgh 2:03 pm, 13-Feb-2011

Me too, I've got target for a kicking written on me. The last time it happened was a long time ago now, so I must be due one, but I've got a stab wound in my arm, and a metal plate in my cheek and spent 2 days in hospital. Luckily the cunts who did me over kicked me unconscious so fast it didn't hurt much until the next day. I got £3,000 one of them got four and half years (ie about 18 months) when my case as "taken into consideration" with ten or so other assaults, beatings and kicking they'd administered. Fuck 'em both and their growling fucking terrier (which I'd liked to Spatchcock), I hope they die of something slow and agonising.

Jack 11:30 am, 14-Feb-2011

It doesn't take a lot to get a good kicking nowadays. I once held the door open for three lads at a Burger King in Cardiff... next thing you know, they've beaten me to a pulp and my glasses were shattered in my eyes. Last time I ever do that.

Bluer 1:38 pm, 15-Feb-2011

Absolute Cunts.

Dan 8:27 pm, 24-Apr-2011

Both my Mum and Dad have been bottled which we as a family are very proud of

Danny_Boy 12:33 am, 25-Jul-2011

I'm seething with rage from reading this article and the comments.I love this country, I really do, but hearing these stories just makes me lose faith in our legal system and makes me ashamed. And hitting a girl with a metal pipe? These guys are the scum of the earth.

Alan Ismail 11:38 pm, 13-Aug-2011

Fucking cunts. I wish those cock suckers nothing but the worst.

Petebonics 6:02 pm, 27-Sep-2011

Utter cunts. Jesus.

mal 3:45 pm, 30-Sep-2011

if you know who they are, pick 'em off, one at a time.

rory curtis 7:59 pm, 23-Feb-2012

wow, you are well hard and working class and authentic.

cutpricethen 8:02 am, 24-Feb-2012

That's why I live in Auckland and not Peterborough.

Chris B 2:49 pm, 24-Feb-2012

Easy ways to avoid getting your head kicked in: 1. Don't live in a shit-hole. 2. If you have a dodgy part of town in an otherwise lovely town then avoid it.

Bob 3:57 pm, 24-Feb-2012

@rory curtis - yeah you'd of had them wouldn't cha, eh, eh? Fucking dead hard you, dead hard - Dick.

Lesley Grantham 7:09 pm, 5-Apr-2013

It seems like a grisly right of passage for people in many a provincial town - you've not lived until you've nearly died. I'll spare the details of my own experiences to avoid building up the litany of horror stories, but it was a good piece. Brief, brutal and uncompromising - a bit like the attack described. There's something very angry and dark about weekends out in small town England...

RB 9:17 pm, 3-Oct-2013

If it's affecting you ten years on, perhaps you should consider treatment? I've heard that judiciously applying petrol to the perpetrators will do wonders.

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