Credit Cunts

It has been about a week since I was attacked.  I’ve left it this long, probably out of a desire to let it settle, and not to write something fatuous while the event was still foremost in my head.

  

I was walking home from a gig with my friend, around midnight, and we were planning on getting something to eat on the way home.  We were enjoying what had been one of the better nights out we have had in an area which is renowned for being crap.

  

Whilst waiting outside the shop, we were accosted by a pair of apes, though it is likely that they are unfamiliar with the term ‘accost’.  We were treated to such gripping dialogue as:

  

“Which one of you is driving then?” and “Where are the house parties?”

  

Now given that both me and my friend were on foot, and it was midnight on a Thursday, both of these questions contain assumptions that were incorrect, which would’ve been an impressive persuasive linguistic technique, if the person who uttered it didn’t look as though he was about to drop to all fours and howl at us.  It is perhaps unfair to suggest that this particular individual and his goon had been left out of several evolutionary steps through the generations, but they had nevertheless further retarded this process with as much alcohol as they could find.

  

I would very much like to suggest that alongside an age requirement for alcohol consumption there should also be a mandatory intelligence set where people who are of questionable intellect should be banned from consumption.

  

I would like to point out at this time that these individuals were not disadvantaged in any way, they were good old fashioned thick as shit.  Though in recent times it is in vogue to bemoan those who are a danger to themselves, I must stress that these thoughtless twats are a danger to other people, which is significantly worse.

  

Now, I would describe myself as a person who is quite outspoken and I also have quite strong views on a number of contentious topics.  It is masochistically amusing therefore to be physically assaulted, not because of my beliefs, but for a bag of chips.  It is doubly crazy that I was also carrying my friend’s guitar at the time, and yet in these financially difficult times it is the basic sustenance option which these oiks opted for.

  

The injuries that I sustained from this were purely physical and luckily not hugely serious, though I can’t hold out much hope that the two bastards who attacked us will get caught, even though the police have been incredibly helpful, though the process was an incredibly tedious one.

  

Though you do get to see some quite shameless and gutsy individuals when you are made to wait two hours in the reception of a police station.  One notable fellow admitted to breaking and entering, and then proceeded to report that he had been assaulted.  Now I don’t claim to have Holmesian knowledge of crime but surely that is still him in the wrong?  There were also no physical signs of an assault, which was particularly aggravating as I sat about a foot away from him looking for all the world like I had the face of Quasimodo.  Brazen, barefaced behaviour, what a dubious prick.  On my way out of the police station later on there was also a woman who seemed to be reporting the same story from the other angle, I had slightly more compassion for her, it may be slightly cold to hope that she hit him with something hard, but I think I would do something similar if a slimy shit snuck into my house.

  

There’s very little chance the two men who attacked us will get caught, we didn’t know them and were only able to give a superficial description of them, and to be fair they do have the most effective urban camouflage, that is, the fact that they are a pair of cunts in a town of cunts.  It’d be like looking for shit in a toilet bowl, you are guaranteed to find some, but there’s no way of knowing if it’s the shit you’re looking for.

  

Perhaps it was slightly ill conceived to have built the final metaphor around investigating faeces.  Too late now.