Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The So-called Martial Arts Expert

Quite a few moons ago I would regularly frequent a pub in Ealing. Said pub would in those days get extremely busy of a Saturday night and as was the fashion in those times, the pub hired some big strong goons in penguin suits to guard the doors in case of trouble. Not that there was much chance of a fight breaking out; the place was usually so packed that getting to the bar or the loo would take about half an hour at a time.
Anyway. One Saturday night found me in a group that I hadn't seen for a while, and with them was a bloke who was... how can I say this nicely...? a bit of a twat.
We were catching up on old times and new gossip, but all he was interested in was talking about himself and in particular his new-found prowess as a Martial Arts God. According to his legend he was about to take on the Master in order to get his second dan, and was so adept with his skills that nobody where he trained had been able to beat him yet.
The beer carried on flowing and alas, so did his claims of how close he was to becoming the next Bruce Lee. After a while he decided he was going to give a demonstration of his lethal combat.
"Oi, Misty!" He shouted at me "You can do a high kick can't you? I want you to try and kick me in the face! I won't hurt you, and you definitely won't be able to hurt me, as I'll block it and then you can all see how amazing I am!"
'Yes' I thought. 'I can still do a high kick*, but I'm not sure I want to do that in a crowded pub, and 'specially not to a drunken prat'. Also, I was wearing a pair of rather sweet little kitten heeled boots, which were rather pointy. I certainly didn't want to damage them. But he kept on and on and on at me, and tried to encourage his friends to get me to kick him as well.
"Any time you're ready just try and kick me in the face; it won't matter when as my training will enable me to spot any danger coming even from behind me, such is my skill!"
Everyone was getting bored with him by that time, so I decided to test the new Bruce Lee.

BAM! I let loose with a perfect kick that aimed straight and true to his head without catching any of the people standing within the crowded confines...

There were a couple of seconds of stunned silence before he swayed slightly, then fell backwards with a bright red mark like a snipers target, right in the middle of his forehead.

'Oh. Shit'. Thought I, as the crowds parted and the biggest goon arrived at the scene.
"Wos goin' on 'ere then?" he said regarding the prone bloke.
"Well, he claimed to be a martial arts expert, and he'd been going on at me for nearly an hour to kick him in the head so that he could demonstrate just how good he was..."
The crowd made clear that that had been the case.
The goon bent down and shook the semi-conscious man.
"Oi, you! Did you ask this young lady to kick you in the head?" he asked as the bloke came round.
"Whrrrr... yeah... I did... wha happened?" The not Bruce Lee replied.
"You fu*kin' twat" said the goon. "Next time do that sort of thing outside, alrigh'!"

The so-called Martial Arts Expert never, ever, tried to demonstrate his skills in that pub again.
The goons from that day smiled at me and called me 'Miss' when ever they saw me. Which was nice.

*Years of ballet, tap and gymnastics. Can still do it now.