Saturday, 2 April 2011


In which an embarrassing but true story is recounted.

Random acts of violence are a part of my life. Rarely a day goes by when something isn't amusingly stolen from me, necessitating the most vicious and vindictive of reprisals. However, the other day - I took it to the next level.

Let's set the scene. Four guys clustered, seated, round a table. Three on the south side, one on the other. I the middle one of the three. Atop the table - a few books, a ring-binder folder, and a pencil case with a zip, currently opened, inside which sits an innocuous grey hole punch. And, unusually, a teacher, standing, conversing, immediately to the right of the solo sitter.

The solo sitter, who for the purposes of this blog we'll call Will (cos that's his name), enjoys stealing things from me, to which I conventionally respond with mock violence. Today he does just that. He reaches forward, takes from my case a pen, leans back with it solely in his grasp. The teacher continues talking, slowly, achingly slowly, the time  before I can lunge for the pen stretching away far into the distance. Eventually I can bear it no more - I must have it now! I know the best way to recover it, I decide: smack Will's arm with the pencil case. A foolproof plan, I think. I seize the case and lift up my arm to strike.

I thump the case down violently; Will retracts his arm with lighting speed; the case hits the table; and, horror of horrors, the hole punch jumps free and whacks the teacher hard on the hip.

The shriek of pain she gave could have awoken the very hounds of Hell. The world is over, I think; Lucifer and all his friends have come for me - I'll burn my books! (Yes, I make obscure Kit Marlowe references too.)

In actual fact, this story has a happy ending. When the pain had thankfully receded, the teacher took it in good spirits; laughed about it, as did my friends for the next three freaking days. (And counting.) But the emotional torment it created within me may never go away, for, you see, dear friends, I punched someone.

(Come on, you knew that pun was coming, right?)

Blog Some Days In April needs readers! If you value your sanity, but especially if you don't - follow this blog. A thousand glorious things will happen when you do. Or six.


  1. Interesting blog. Poor jokes.

    'for the next three freaking days. (And counting.)'

    Keep counting. See you tomorrow...

  2. Which unlucky teacher did you hit?!

  3. Mrs Burnham. LOL. You haven't lived 'til you've experienced her bloodcurdling yelp of pain three feet from your ears. Man. That was a bad day. :)