Yeah. The main things to take away from this thread if you want to avoid getting a smack on a night out seems to be 1) don’t dress as a cowboy and 2) absolutely stay the fuck away from the alley by BomberPat. And if you go into that particular alley whilst dressed as a cowboy, well, you deserve everything that happens to you.
I did think I was going to have to get into something late one night a few months back though. It must’ve been about 1:30am and I was in bed. My wife and daughter were asleep and my son, who must’ve been about 2 or 3 weeks old, was conked out. Our bedroom is at the front of the house, overlooking the driveway and path to the front door. I heard what sounded like someone fucking about with the door. My wife could sleep through a St Paddy’s Day parade but I’ve always been a really light sleeper. A cat can fart 4 houses away and I’ll wake up. So with this I was obviously wide awake. I thought I’m not having this. 1:30 in the bastard morning. Who’s this dickhead and what’s he playing at? I got up, put my best mean mug on and went downstairs as the Biggie lyric from ‘Warning’ popped into my head - “There’s gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing if my burglar alarm starts ringing”. I meant business. Right until I got to the hallway and saw that there actually was someone standing by my front door. Then my arse started going and I imagine my Anthony Joshua game face quickly turned into a look of distressed gormlessness reminiscent of Karl Pilkington that time the ‘terrorists’ kidnapped him on An Idiot Abroad.
Anyway, I shouted ‘Who is it?’ Like a twat. Like he’s going to say ‘I’m a burglar’ or ‘I’ve come to abduct your kids’. Or worse ‘We’re Jehovas Witnesses’. No answer. I said again, ‘Who is it?’ Fuck all. But they were mumbling something I couldn’t make out. Then I realised they were fucking about with a key. A sense of relief hit me as I thought it must just be a neighbour who’s been out on the piss and they’ve come home drunk and got the wrong house. Thank fuck. I was relieved but still pissed off at the inconvenience. I moved to open the door. Bracing myself with the nearest hard object to hand - in this case a tin of Febreze air freshener. Pathetic. I opened the door and to my surprise it was the lad from next door. Not drunk. As I was later to find out he was sleepwalking. He’s only 15 but he’s a big lad and he was just standing there blankly staring at me. I asked what he was doing and quickly realised he wasn’t with it and tried to guide him back round to his house. He wasn’t having any of it. Anyway, long fuck-about but from the tiny bit of speech I caught he must’ve thought it was me who was in his house and he got aggressive and tried to force his way in. Looking back it would’ve looked comical if any of the neighbours saw it. A 5’6” 33 year old wrestling with a much bigger zombie kid on the door step. But at the time, even mid-wrestling match, I was thinking what do I do here? I’ve got to defend myself but he’s a child. In the scuffle he somehow gave me a dead leg of all things (a fucking dead leg!) and dropped the nut on me while I just tried to keep him at bay and minimise the damage. Then he suddenly just seemed to snap out of it and stopped. I was on edge not knowing if he was going to kick off again, with a lump growing on my head where he nutted me and a leg which now had that horrible fizzy feeling that you get when your dead leg is wearing off. Luckily the commotion woke his sister up and she ran and got their mum. She couldn’t apologise enough and she came round again with the lad the next day to apologise again. He had no recollection of it and was really embarrassed. Apparently he’s been sleepwalking for years but never to that extreme. Freaked me right out at the time. Thank fuck I didn’t whack him with the deadly foreign object that was the can of Febreze. I’d be a headline on Chat magazine - ‘Neighbour callously murdered my son with air freshener’. We all laugh about it now but I admit I was jumpy the next few nights. Maybe he just fancied headbutting me and had the sleepwalking alibi in his back pocket. The whole thing was weird as fuck though and definitely didn’t do my street cred any good when, for the next week or so, my wife proceeded to tell the story to every cunt we’d ever met.