originally posted by LiamO
That reminds me... during the war
On the Manchester Martyrs march the local plod (or Dibble, as the Mancs would have it) were somewhat hostile. Thus they would encourage loyalists and fash to get right in our faces, with the plod in between. They could pretty much do as they liked but any response from our side was often jumped on, thus we either wound them up - by wearing rangers scarves, singing 'fuck the pope' songs or 'The Billy Boys' - or we just had to just ignore them.
The free hand they were afforded often allowed the fash to whip themselves up into a demented, self-righteous frenzy. One scouse fella was thus infected and had decided PC (not past caring, but a comrade from Hatfield) was to be the special focus of his ire. ' See you. Yer fuckin dead. DEAD d'you hear me, SCUM? YER FUCKIN DEAD. i'M GONNA SLIT YOUR FUCKIN THROAT YOU FUCKIN SCUM. D'YOU HEAR ME, EH CUNT? SOON AS THIS MARCH IS OVER YOU FUCKIN SHIT CUNT TERRORIST BABY-KILLER SCUM .' etc etc. Pc just gritted his teeth, kept his eyes front and ignored him. The alternative was probably a nicking.
Yer man managed to keep this tirade up for a couple of minutes and even the old bill were beginning to get annoyed with his consistent raving. Now he was facing into the March from the side, so to keep up with PC he had to keep sidestepping and jumping which added to his demented little pixie look and, combined with his ranting, drew quite an audience.
All of which made it all the funnier when he took a giant sideways leap, straight into a concrete lampost - and knocked himself completely unconcious and splitting his face like a peach in the process. The whole March was held up cos no-one could walk for laughing, especially when one copper - amongst the chorus of raucous catcalls - who had been encouraging him, gave him a sly boot and told him 'gerrup you daft cunt your making a show of us'.
This set us off again worse than ever and yer man suffered the ignominy of coming to, being laughed at by chorus of 150 of his arch-enemies, whilst his comrades just shuffled away in embarrassment, trying to pretend he was nowt to do with them.
PC had to be half-carried for the next mile or so as he was rendered completely incapable of walking by hysterical laughter.