Archive for October 2nd, 2007

October 2nd, 2007

Home is the Warrior

Posted in The Job - General by 200

I love CCTV.

It’s like watching Police, Camera, Action only it’s live.

Saturday night. It has its usual show of punchups, girls in unfeasibly short skirts and drunks bouncing off walls trying to reach somewhere to sleep.

It started with an elbow to the face, delivered with force by some paunchy bloke in his mid to late 40s. The victim, a younger salad dodger was floored first time. Mr Brave then stands over him playing on his early triumph & rains blows down on the victim’s head as he curls up hedgehog-like.

This is now the cue for all the rest of the bave warriors nearby to join in.

Aaron Shite is there, he usually is. He wouldn’t have the balls to front up a wet lemon on a one-to-one but give him some defenceless lump of lard lying on the pavenment and Shite is well up for it. He looks left & right perhaps checking that Old Bill isn’t making their way and then flips his hoody up over his head & joins the queue to kick the victim.

And now there’s seven or eight of them like flies round shit, kicking & hitting.

Jason Asbo is careful oly to kick the man in the back;there’s less chance of him reaching out, grabbing his leg or foot & fighting back if you attack him from behind, when he’s curled up in a ball, on the ground.

Two nearby bouncers, removed from the safety of their doorway try to step in. They can pull one or two from the swarm but each one dragged off is quickly replaced by another brave soul who kick and lash out & then run off to stand nearby lest someone try to seek retribution on them.

Somehow Fat Bloke is now on his feet. Someone else tried to help him and now he becomes the new victim. He too ends u0p curled on the floor trying to protect his head while anyone who wants a bit of excitement joins the queue to punch him for something nobody knows about, nor cares.

CCTV flickers from one viewpoint to another capturing the same scene from multiple angles, the operator in his comfy office playing the roll of Speilberg. This is how murders happen, This is how lives are ruined. If one of those kicks connects just so, someone’s going home in a box. Nobody cares, there’s fun to be had.

Eventually the fun wears off, they step away. The looks on their faces & the body language tell a story of conquering heroes, triumphant warriors. Mutual back-slapping as they walk off swapping tales of well-aimed kicks and derring-do. So brave.

The girls kneel & crouch round fat Boy in shock & concern, their matriarchal role.

Tonight nobody died.

But I can watch the repeats next week.