I write this simply because I was telling someone about it. I thought it would be good to get it out into words. Not because of any kind of therapy, but because it’s something I wouldn’t mind reading in a few years time.

I’ve had several incidents in town on nights out. There was the time someone tried to mug me walking home (I pegged it) and the time I was started on and yet got barred from what at the time was called The Old Market (or maybe it was Blue Boar at the time?). I pegged it then too.

But this post is about the time I got started on for no valid reason (you could argue the chap who started on me in The Old Market might have had a point).

I was out for a college disco, so it wasn’t your typical Bridgwater night out where there are plenty of Carnival folk about. Instead it was full of students. This is worth baring in mind for later.

I went out with my friend Paul Rawnsley. Whilst out we met up with a couple of his friends. I didn’t know them, but once he left I stayed out and hung around with them (back then – unlike now – I was desperate to stay out for as long as possible).

As was the case at the time (pre 24/hr licensing), all the clubs kicked out roughly at the same time, so the streets were busy. We made our way to get a takeaway before heading home.

Whilst walking along, I mistakenly thought that someone spoke to me. So I said “pardon?” (at worse I said “what?”). With that, the bloke punched me and I went to the ground. From what I gather, he wasn’t actually talking to me and so took offense when I asked him to repeat himself.

In the literal sense I’m not one for standing up for myself. I blame one of my brothers for this. When he use to go to beat me up as a kid, I’d drop to the ground and he had no choice but to stop. You can’t play fight with someone who just lies there. Sadly, I use this tactic as an adult too.

And so when this bloke punched me, I naturally fell to the floor. He then attacked me on the floor.

After a short while he stopped and I got up off the floor. The two people I was with (my friend’s friends) didn’t help me. I’ve debated this many times with another mate. He believes they should have helped me. I can’t agree. A couple reasons:

1. They barely knew me. Do they really want to get their selves attacked for a stranger?
2. I don’t believe you truly know how you’re going to react until you’re in the situation.

In theory, maybe I would step in to protect a stranger. It’s the right thing to do after all. But in all other heated situations I’ve been in, I’ve done the exact opposite to what I thought I would. When someone tried to mug me, I always expected to be cool and cocky, full of wise cracks (honestly). But no, I pegged it home as fast as I ruddy well could and banged the door like a maniac in order to get Becky to unlock the door asap.

Once he walked away and the crowd that had formed around us (just like they use to when fights broke out in school!) split, I headed straight home.

As I neared home I checked my pocket and realised I’d lost my phone. Nuts.
Figuring that the person who beat me up had either gone home or wouldn’t even remember my face I turned round and headed back into town.

I had a look around the site of the fight for my phone but couldn’t find it. Whilst there I saw the two friends of a friend. We agreed to go get a take away (based on that same  “the person who beat me up had either gone home or wouldn’t even remember my face” theory). Minutes after that I heard words to the effect of “There he is!!!”.

Next thing I knew someone was running towards me. This time I had a chance to escape. I don’t know why but rather than run towards home I ran into the town centre. For those who know Bridgwater, I ran past Gallery’s and behind Town Hall. I then came out  where you have Blockbusters to the left and the bookshop to the right.

Unfortunately there were a few people waiting for me. I ran straight into one of them. He grabbed me and held my back against him, with my arms held behind my back. Essentially I was stuck there unable to protect myself from anyone attacking from the front.

Next thing I knew I was laid out in the road. I assume I tried the same trick as earlier (If I fall to the floor they couldn’t possibly attack me!). It had as much success as earlier as I was still being beaten up as I laid there.

I have a very distinct memory from lying there. I remember that in my line of sight I could see someone running from the other side of the road to kick me. I remember thinking “Jesus this is going to hurt!!!!!”. I then got the kick and thought to myself “Nope, that wasn’t so bad..”. I assume that I’d gotten slightly use to the pain by then.

I’m not entirely sure how long this laying on the floor and getting beaten up lasted, but at some point I heard the words “Hey! That’s Ganni’s cousin!”. Turns out my cousin’s ex-girlfriend was walking by. I don’t know why, but this prompted the people beating me up to stop.

I can’t help but think that had this happened on a Saturday night rather than a college disco night, I might have had more luck with someone stepping in sooner (that’s not to say I’m not extremely grateful for Ganni’s ex-girlfriend for stepping in). My family is Carnival orientated. They’re in the club The Ramblers, and they seem to look out for each other and their friends and family. Had it been a Saturday night I think it would have been far more likely that a Rambler may have been walking past. Who knows?

Once they stopped I stood up. There was then another stroke of luck when a mate of mine (Adam Newbery) happened to drive by. He enjoyed cruising around town at night. And yet to be fair I wouldn’t call him a boy racer. I don’t know how I’d describe cruising around town when you’re not a boy racer, but he was that.

I got into the car and he took me straight home.

When I got home I remember thinking that I didn’t want to wake my folks. I’m not entirely sure why, because I know they’d have no issues in being woken up for such a reason. And although it was almost inevitable that my dad would want to run into town and get those that attacked me, and that inevitably I wouldn’t want him to do that, that wasn’t why I didn’t want them to know. I think it was simply that I didn’t want to create a scene.

And yet, rather than go to bed I laid at the top of the stairs. I think I sobbed. I don’t know whether that was because I was in pain and felt like a good sob, or because there was a loophole in my brain that felt it would be OK if my parents heard me because I was sobbing, but not if I tapped the door and said “I’ve been attacked”. If it were the loophole theory, it worked. They came out to see what was going on and I explained.

I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty confident my dad wanted to go into town, but I don’t believe he did.

The next day I woke up bruised. But I wasn’t too bad. I remember having 1 day off work, but no more.

It did scar me for the medium term though in as much as I really wasn’t keen on walking at night by myself. I feared that the people who attacked me hadn’t finished what they’d started. I’m past that now, but it lasted a year or two I think.

I know that one of the people who attacked me was a best mate of my cousin when they were at school together. We knew each other via my cousin and always got on fine. He would have known it was me he was attacking, so he’s frankly a bit of a dick to continue attacking me (not that it would be any more admirable for attacking a complete stranger). I don’t know whether it were true or not (I’m told it is) but he became a bit reclusive after that night, out of fear of what my cousin would do to him. He eventually left town.

I use to go school with another one of the blokes that attacked me. Sadly (and I mean that sincerely) he has since taken his own life.

And that was the night I got beat up in town…