Posted by Skyhook
on Wed 14 Jul 10, 12:55 AM to Skyhook's blog.
“Can I say something?” He said to me. By his stance, square onto me and eyes firmly fixed on mine I could sense that wasn't actually a question.
“Sure” I replied with a smile.
“He”, he started, pointing a finger at my son “has a deep voice. You however have a squeaky voice.”
I was a bit stunned, to be honest. First, because it felt like rather a bizarre thing to say to someone you've only just met, secondly because although I may not sound like James Earl Jones with a bad cold, neither do I sound like Duncan Norvelle (ask your parents, kiddies).
We were stood at the side of the room, just off the mat. The class had just finished at our local Judo club and I'd been in the middle of talking to the female Judo instructor, chatting about the possibility of me joining. Perhaps my new chum had mistaken the soft seductive flirtatious voice I had instinctively slipped into for a girly squeak.
I looked at my son, who had come along, to the instructor – who had a smile on her face – then back to my new mate, stood there in his angry pyjamas, still eyeballing me.
“Where I come from” I answered before I could think where I was and what I was actually saying, and to whom, “That's fighting talk. Are you challenging me?”
My new mucker stayed quiet, but kept his eyes on me, a curious look on his face. I glanced towards the instructor, who was still smiling.
“Do you want to fight him? It's fine if you do!” Quite frankly, she wasn't helping. Either she saw in me some innate pagga ability, or – and this is, in hindsight, my preferred conclusion – my flirting had right royally pissed her off.
“Well, I would” I replied, pulling at my tee-shirt “but I'm in street gear, so, you know…”
“Oh, we have spare jackets, I don't mind getting you one if you do want to fight. Go on!”
This then, was a bit of a bugger.
On one hand I'd just challenged a Judo-ist, still pumped from his class. People had changed and drifted away, but there were still plenty of witnesses. Including my son, and I really didn't want him to see his Dad getting his arse handed to him on a plate.
On the other hand, there were plenty of witnesses, including my son. And I reckoned I might just be able to take this muppet, take him down to Chinatown.
Now, while I have a black belt in sarcasm and am more than capable of talking myself into trouble, I'm not that much of a scrapper. Several years ago during our lunch breaks at work a cage fighting mate of mine used to teach me a bit of the noble art of defending oneself on 'the cobbles', but my Martial Arts career started and ended on the same night when the same mate took me to his combined martial art/kickboxing/wrestling/Eskrima class, and I couldn't walk properly for a week and a half after. I was fucked after the warm-up quite frankly, and the 15 minutes of sparring at the end (read: getting punched repeatedly in the face) was the insult topping on the humiliation cake.
I digress here, but I'll never forget one of those lunch breaks. Me and my mate, stripped out of our suits and in gym gear, hot and sweaty, in the middle of practicing choke holds and take downs when our MD walked into the courtyard between the offices with an expensively suited new (potential) client. The MD didn't miss a beat. “Ah yes” he said with admirable restraint “And here are two of our finest young Engineers…”
Back to the dojo. Decisions, decisions.
What would be better then, in my son's eyes? Seeing his Dad being a good sport but never the less getting twatted by a bare footed Dylan in jimmy-jams, or Dad righteously kicking the ass of – hey, for all I knew – the club's champion?
Because the thought had occurred to me, that even though I, a lover not a fighter, may be facing a highly trained killing machine, he would be abiding by the rules and fair play of Judo, while I, not being a club member, would happily and in all lemony fresh clear conscience use every dirty punch and filthy trick in the book to mulder him.
Up to and including waiting for him to do that respectful little bow that Judo-ists do at the start of a bout, grabbing the back of his head with both hands and repeatedly smashing my knee into his face.
Which would be a bit harsh maybe, considering my challenger was all of about 11 years old, but yanno, male pride and all that…
| 14 Jul 10, 1:27 AM jules9 UK(CH), 3 yrs     |
LMAO - You really should give up the day job hun! XxX | |
| 14 Jul 10, 1:29 AM angellover UK(CM), 3 yrs |
PMSL Yea pride before a fall... The highest fences we have to climb, are those we have built within our mind Edited 14 Jul 10, 1:30 AM by angellover | |
| 14 Jul 10, 6:36 AM MarcusStrapp UK(CB), 7 yrs |
Brilliant! The @Fetish_Photo_Album A free and private flickr group for IC members to share dirty pictures! | |
| 14 Jul 10, 7:57 AM Dovetail UK, 3 yrs  |
Chase me, chase me? xx | |
| 14 Jul 10, 8:26 AM misstressclare UK(TA), 4 yrs £ |
The first laugh of the day brill ty | |
| 14 Jul 10, 12:39 PM Ima_Kant UK(PO), 3 yrs |
Hilarious... but what's a YANNO? sounds like some sort of African root vegetable  He who fights and runs... lives to run away another day - that's my philosophy. | |
| 14 Jul 10, 10:14 PM tony999 UK, 5 yrs |
That's brilliant.
Reminds me of this.
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Edited 14 Jul 10, 10:15 PM by tony999 | |
| 15 Jul 10, 10:20 PM rosarose UK(SG), 3 yrs |
Brill x |
