I work as a part-time barman in the local pub, The Miners Arms. The pub has one of those wide screen satellite TV sets and last Saturday was the big England v Germany football match so you can imagine we were very busy, the place was heaving. I suppose it was about 15 minutes before closing when two guys brought their empties to the bar and said goodnight. One of them shoved a pair of jeans over the bar to me and said there was some kid in the gents (mensroom). I didn't have time to enquire further; just about everyone was demanding to be served. It was after closing when I had just seen the last customer out and locked the door when I heard someone call my name. It was my young mate Mick, peering around the door of the gents - wearing only a 'T' shirt and looking very wet and worse for wear! Realising the pair of jeans left at the bar must be his I threw them over to him and tried to control my laughter. Hopping around, trying to get his jeans back on, Mick starte! d to tell me what had happened to him .............. but he's right here, I'll let Mick tell you himself, (he has a way with words) ..........
Hi, I'm Mick. My mate Jim says you won't believe the scrapes I get into and that I'm a dozy little git that deserves everything I get. Nice mate Jim! I sez it's just my bad luck. I didn't know these two blokes in the pub was Man. United supporters, after all we're all Leeds supporters round here. I've seen 'em before, they're both in their early thirties and live in them posh houses at the other end of the village (bastards!!!!). Anyway we was all in the Pit (that's the Miners) watching the big match between England and Germany. These two blokes was sat on the opposite side of the table to me, each with a bottle of lager in front of 'em. I know they didn't like it 'cos I kept singing and shouting, but I'd had a couple of drinks by then. I think maybe what really got 'em in a lather was when England first scored and I shot up and took the table with me. Their bottles tipped over and emptied into their laps. I was creased-up I can tell you, they both looked as tho! ugh they'd pissed in their pants! Talk about laugh! Jim says I should have offered to buy them another drink - as if! - AS IF! I think Jim's starting to go soft in the head! Then maybe the other thing that got 'em rattled is that I can't stick Man United, and I don't care who knows, and half the England team play for Man United. Jim's always saying to me "Engage brain before opening gob" but like I said, I didn't know them two bastards were Man United supporters.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I had to go to the bog to take a leak and them two bastards followed me. I didn't think anything about it at first, I was stood taking a leak, one of them was combing his hair and the other was filling up one of the two washbasins. Next thing one of 'em grabs me from behind. I'll tell you, I'd have smashed his face in but he caught me unawares like and, well - what can you do with your knob hanging out! Well it's only a small room and the next thing I knew they'd dragged me over one washbasin and pushed my head down into the other. GLUG - GLUG - GLUG!!! The bastard's holding my face down under the water, I could have drowned for all he cared. Next I'm pulled up by the hair and I hear 'em say I'm a nasty little toe rag of a kid that needs a kid's lesson. I'd barely gasped in a bit of air when GLUG - GLUG - GLUG - I'm back under the water again. This time, even though I was thrashing about, he holds me under longer and I'm taking in! a lot of water so when my head's dragged back up I'm really gasping and most of my fights gone. Then I see the other bloke pulling his belt from round is waist, which is also when I realise that while I was struggling to keep from drowning the bastards have only gone and whipped me jeans off. And by the look of it (Oh sh....sugar!) my bare arse is in for a licking from this bloke's belt. Then the bloke holding me by my hair says that if I stop struggling and take what coming to me he won't duck me again - well as if? AS IF? So I start to kick and mouth off and I'm telling them that they're a pair of fu...... GLUG - GLUG - GLUG!!! I'm back under water again, only this time it gets much worse 'cos I get the first crack from the bloke's belt. JEEEEES! Did that sting or did that sting! The last thing you need when your face is under water is a twang across your bare arse. I nearly swallowed the soddin' basin plug! They must have noticed that an awful lot of the water ! suddenly vanishes 'cos they hauled my head up quick like and there I a m coughing and choking. One of 'em turns tap on to fill up the sink and says that one way or another they're going to beat the _s_h_i_t_ out of me and they'll keep ducking me 'till I keep still. Well, I ask you ..... as if! As if I was going to put up anymore fight, I felt like I'd taken a trip on the Titanic.
So they kick my legs wide apart and get me straddled across the washbasin, holding me arms behind me back. I catch sight of myself in one of the mirrors - Oh sod it, what a target. Talk about humiliation - I felt a right prat! Then bastards tell me that I'm going to get ten licks of the belt from each of them - and suddenly I hear the blokes in the bar cheer - England's scored again - so there's no hope of anybody coming in to rescue me. Then CRACK, the belt twangs across my arse again - yeeeoooOW! and this bastard's really putting some welly into it I can tell you. CRACK - oooOW!. Long pauses between each stroke as he steps back and takes a long swing at me. CRACK. Jeeees! It feels like they've taken a blowtorch to my arse and I'm still coughing up water and Oh! .....I think the beers going to come back up! I've had some leatherings from my dad in my time but he never managed to get me to yell - he tried mind you, though that was a long time ago, but after half a! dozen from this bloke I'd really had it and I'm howling. The blows from the belt keep cutting in and I loose count; it's just a complete blur of pain. It was only when there was a longer pause than expected that I realise the belt is changing hands - at least half the whipping is over.
This other bloke though, he was something else, a real masochist, said he could reach parts his mate hadn't reached. He stood directly behind me and brought the belt up through my legs so it twanged on my balls CRACK - AAAAAh! - I shot forward but the other guy who was holding me just hauled me back into position. They were both having a real good laugh - 'I was a right little smart arse now', they kept saying. Then the bastard with the belt is taking real careful aim ' Lets see how high the little _s_h_i_t_ can really jump' he's saying, and when he lets fly the tongue of the belt sears down my nick and - CRACK! explodes right in my arse hole. I howl at the top of my voice and nearly take off. The bloke who's holding me has a job to stop me clearing the washbasins. JEEEEES! That one really counted, I mean I never knew how tender that bit could be. 'No more. Please no more' I'm saying! Oh hell! Fifteen minutes ago I was the 19year old Jack-the-Lad now I'm reduced to a ! snivelling juvenile who's offering his quaking bum and darn't even curse and swear let alone put up a fight. The he really starts to lace into me fast like - CRACK - CRACK - CRACK - CRACK! The pain's now so bad I think I could kiss his feet and beg him to put that belt away. CRACK - CRACK - CRACK .............. OH YUK! I'm sick in the washbasin!! 'Leave him' I hear the other bloke saying 'he's learned his lesson, he knows to keep his smart-arse mouth buttoned'. I'm spared any more belt and just thrown through the door of one of the cubicles. 'Stay boy' I'm told. The bastards took my pants so I don't have much choice but to stay. Jim says they probably wanted to be sure they could have a nice quiet drink.
The rest you know. Jim seems to think it's hilarious these two blokes should have gone that far. Creased up he was ' You should see the state of your arse lad' he kept saying. He's a good mate though is Jim, poured a shot of brandy down me. And those two bastards needn't think they've got away with it. One drives a BMW and the other drives a Merc. and both cars are on that pub car park every night. Just you wait. Bastards!!!!!!!!!!
Postscript from Jim. You'll gather Mick's a bit of a loud mouth and maybe not too bright but there's no harm in him. Trouble is, far from being taught a lesson, I think he's now carrying a real grudge. I'll have to keep an eye on him. By the way, England won 5 - 1 (Sat. September 1, 2001).