Anarchy In The UK

Anarchy In The UK

So, would you have a go? Would you intervene if you saw a bunch of youths vandalising your property? Would you intervene if you saw someone being attacked in the street? Up until recently, my answer would always have been “yes”. But now, I am not so sure.

Indeed, it is not all that long ago since I did tell two yobs off for causing damage. They were aged about fifteen and they were climbing on an ornamental hedge in the ornamental gardens of Tatton Park. They were standing on top of the hedge and beating it with a big stick. I told them to “Get the f**k down!” They did. It was a bit of a relief because it was a very big stick. And, imagine my surprise when I realised that the woman who was sitting on the bench in front of the very same hedge was their mom. She, their mom, batted not an eyelid, neither at their unruly behaviour nor at my aggressive admonishment.

I also, regularly have been known to have “a quiet word” in the ear of groups of teenagers who are making noise in cinemas. But, maybe I am foolish to do so. Even if the gang of kids don’t take you on themselves, you run the risk that they will have phoned their big brothers who will be waiting for you outside the movie theatre, with pit-bulls and baseball bats at the ready.

But recently, there have been too many murders of have-a-go heroes, or even, of innocents just trying to protect their own homes. And, it seems that every hoody in the ‘hood is walking around “tooled up” and prepared to use their weapons. On anybody. On everybody. Young male testosterone, bad attitudes, knives, drugs and alcohol are not a nice mix.

Now don’t get me wrong, my teenage years were far from non-violent and I was always more than ready to respond with my fists. Nor is it the case that knives were particularly rare in downtown Handsworth in the early ‘80s. As readers of earlier posts will know I had a boy die in my arms as a result of being stabbed in a schoolyard fracas. And, I have personally had a knife pulled on me three times in my life – once when as a school prefect I was trying to remove a fifth former from school (it was a very small knife and his arm hurt very badly afterwards!); once when someone tried to mug me in London (I only saw the knife after I had smashed his nose and he ran away); and, once when I stepped in to protect my next door neighbour from her enraged boyfriend (see earlier posting).

Knives and sharpened metal combs were omnipresent in my youth. Bouncers on the pub doors in Erdington would regularly confiscate penknives, flick-knives and metal combs. But, they were rarely used. Fights were frequent too. But in my day there were still rules. No kicking. If someone went down in a fight you would never have dreamed of kicking them or stamping on their head. And, the fights were largely self-contained, involving like-minded violent youths only. My teenage friends would never have dreamt of having a go at anyone who tried to stop us from doing something that we shouldn’t have been doing, or of picking on an innocent in the street or on a bus.

People seem to be getting more and more fearful. I read that black army officers are to be drafted in as positive role models to try and deter black youths from joining gangs and getting involved in violence (unless it is on the streets of Basra or Helmund Province that is). But I fear that we will see a growth in gated communities and a polarisation of society. We will find metal detectors and security guards in our schools. I fear that David Cameron’s plan to provide tax incentives to encourage people to get married and to stay together will fail to prevent the decline of our social make-up in which so many young men lack positive male role models. I fear that the Guardian Angels will soon be back on the London underground and groups of vigilantes will be roaming our estates.

So, would I have a go? I really, really don’t know. Would you?

Neighbours - The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly Part 2

There have been good neighbours along the way too. When I lived as a bachelor in a small, brand-new estate called Galley Common, near Nuneaton, I had lots of nice neighbours. Wikipedia claims that Nuneaton is most famous for its association with the gender-challenged author George Elliot, but I think it should be more infamous for its town planning. They built the ring road in the middle of the town! Both Mary Whitehouse (the TV moral campaigner) and Larry Grayson (the camp host of the Generation Game) lived in Nuneaton. Now that would have made for an interesting dinner party. Galley Common doesn’t even rate an entry.

Nevertheless, bachelorhood in Galley Common, in the late 80s, was a good time for me. I was the only single male on the estate. I worked from home a lot. I was often asked to fix a punctured tyre, to rewire a plug, change a light bulb, by the many housewives that were stranded there during the day.

I lived in a very small, badly built semi-detached starter home. The walls were paper thin. Thank goodness I had a great neighbour at that time, Ruth. She would sneeze, I would say “bless you” and she would reply “thank you”. We could hear each other switch lights on and off. We could hear the toilet flushing. We were both very glad to be next to good neighbours.

Everyone else on the estate seemed to be called Sue. Sue 1 lived opposite. She was ten years older than me, very good looking and bi-sexual. My dad used to love it if she was cleaning her car on her drive when he was visiting. She wore very short shorts and a very cropped top. She made Paris Hilton look prudish. She would fling open her bedroom curtains every morning, completely naked. The net curtains that my mom had installed as a moving in gift were very useful.

Sue 1 and I had a brief fling one Christmas. I changed a punctured tire for her and she reciprocated with lasagne and a Saturday night. We both had been recently dumped and found the festive season less than festive on our own. So, we wallowed in our depression together.

Sue1 almost fulfilled a teenage fantasy. By which I mean a common fantasy of all teenage boys. A threesome. Me, Sue1 and her girlfriend. I turned them down. Sue1’s girlfriend was not a looker. She was not attractive. She did nothing for me. I thought that it would be impolite to bring two paper bags with me, so I declined the offer. Just my luck.

Sue2 lived next door. Sue2 was 7 years older than me. Sue2 was a babe. She was tall, pretty, with long dark hair, short skirts, long legs and stockings. Sue2 was living with a typical Midland Man: bald, shorter than her, white socks. A Neanderthal who believed that women should be ladies, housewives, and “on call” and men should be whatever they wanted to be.

Midland Man worked away during the week, in Oxford. On one occasion Sue2 went to surprise him for his birthday. She surprised him alright. He hadn’t been expecting her. She also surprised the “other woman” he was with. It would seem that Midland Man was having his cake and eating it.

Sue2 cried on my shoulder. To cheer her up I took her to Alton Towers for the day. You get very close on those theme rides! When we returned home we had one too many drinks together and one thing led to another…….Ruth must have had her fingers in her ears that night.

That weekend I heard an almighty commotion coming from next door. Where Sue2 lived with Midland Man. From my bathroom window I could see into their kitchen. The door was open. The kitchen was a mess. Things had been thrown around. Then I heard a scream and saw Sue2 running outside, her dress torn, crying. Midland Man came running after her, clutching a carving knife.

I assumed that Midland Man had discovered our roller coaster ride and was none-to-happy. What was sauce for the goose certainly didn’t seem to be sauce for the gander. I rushed outside and put myself between him and Sue2. Between Sue2 and the carving knife. I don't like knives. It was a huge relief when he immediately said: “Dave, get out of the way. This has nothing to do with you!” Phew. He was a bully and as with most bullies he was also a coward. When I told him I was going nowhere and that he would have to come through me to get at Sue2, he backed down, handed me the blade, and collapsed in a heap of self-pity. Phew.

I don’t think that Sue2 and Midland Man stayed together very long. Unfortunately, after the incident with the knife, Sue2 developed a bit of an infatuation with me that wasn’t reciprocated. On one occasion she came round with her bags packed and I had to persuade her that this was not what I was looking for. Fortunately, this was just as I was relocating to London with work. Sorry Sue2. You were gorgeous though, and, you deserved better.


I was just glad to escape Nuneaton in one piece. Metaphorically and otherwise.