I freely admit I can be difficult. I was reminded of this the other day, when I was talking with my friend Steve. Somebody else was gobbing off, and I took exception. Now I’m not a big bloke, Steve could possibly flatten me with a single blow, but I did take exception.

‘Would you care to say that again?’

‘What?’

‘The thing about niggers. Want to say it again?’

Twat looked sheepish, drank up, and left.

Steve said, ‘Not sure how you do that, but I’ve seen it a couple of times. You’re not a big bloke, tall, yeah, but not big. But when you’re fucked off, you just sort of unwind.  Suddenly you’re bigger, taller. You’re bigger. Then that fucking stare you have, that slow blinky thing you do. You’re scarey. That stare is scarey. I wouldn’t take you on.’

Now I have to tell you Steve is what you might call a tasty geezer. If he thinks I could face him down, I have right on my side. I was rather flattered.

Another tasty geezer I know is my friend Melvyn. I like him a lot, but fuck me do NOT get on the wrong side of him. He’s not too big, but he’s stocky, built, not steroid packed, just built, and a bit spooky. I’ve seen him fight, and he feels no fear, feels no pain, a proper brawler. I’m OK, he likes me, but stay on his right side.

He used to live on one of the small country feeder roads to Stansted Airport, and it so happened he had a substantial grass verge at the front of his property. It was his land, not public space. Inevitably he’d get chancers park on his verge and get a cab to the airport, expecting a couple of free weeks parking. Big error.

Melvyn had a sideline buying and selling motors. You’re probably getting a picture of him now. What he’d do is haul up a couple of cars bumper to bumper with the interloper. Interloper would get back from Torremolinos, find he couldn’t get his car out. Ring ring on the bell.

‘Scuse me mate, that your motor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could you move it?’

‘No.’

‘But I can’t get out!’

‘Then don’t park on my fucking land for two weeks.’

As I said, Melvyn looks useful, not somebody you want to mess with.

‘But I can’t get out!’

‘You got in. Let’s come to some agreement. How much would long term parking have cost you? Couple of ton? There you go. Two hundred quid, it’s all yours.’

Melvyn is a bit like me, but whereas he looks genuinely hard, I’m just a bolshie bastard who spooks people.