Tuesday, 17 November 2015


Image copyright DC COMICS

It was around 1970/'71, and myself and two pals were leaning
on a railing outside a row of apartments above the neighbourhood
shops.  Passing below were three thuggish, slightly older females who
hung around with the local neds.   They glared up at us.  "Whit ur you
f*ckin' lookin' at?"  they trilled in their delicate, girlish way (sarcasm).
"Dunno - the label's fallen off!" I yelled back.  The gauntlet had been
thrown, and the nedettes responded by mounting the stairs, their
Doc Martins pounding the steps in pursuit of ourselves.

I say 'pursuit' because the moment I opened my gob, the other
two legged it and I followed.  These girls were bigger and older than
us, and as hard as nails.  Having been brought up never to hit a 'girl',
we'd have been at a distinct disadvantage trying to defend ourselves
against the furious assault that was surely forthcoming.  We fled
past the front of the apartments towards the door to the in-
terior stairway which led down to the shops below.

We reached the bottom door with a sigh of relief.  Once we
were through that exit, our safety was secure and an inglorious
fate would be avoided.  Alas, 'twas not to be - the door was locked,
being early evening, and that avenue to freedom was denied us.  We
considered going back up the stairs to the first floor offices above the
shops and below the apartments, and using the corridor leading to
the library to escape.  Too late!  We heard the 'girls' on the steps
and realized discovery was imminent.  What to do?

Then I had a brainwave!  The bottom flight of stairs wasn't
closed off, allowing us to seek shelter under them, so I beckoned
my comrades to conceal themselves as I did likewise.  We bunched
together tightly, as the merest glance under the stairway would've re-
vealed our presence, and tried hard not to make a noise.  The nedettes
pushed and pulled at the locked door, then grunted in frustrated rage.
"They must've got out on the first floor!" one snorted.  We expected
them to return to the upper levels again, but they plonked them-
selves down on the steps above us and each lit up a cigarette.

We moved not a muscle and feared even to breathe, lest we
betray ourselves.  After a seeming eternity (but was actually only
a couple of minutes or so), they ascended the stairs and made their
exit, amidst much muttering and detailed descriptions of what damage
they'd inflict if they saw us.  We stayed rigid for a few moments longer,
but once their voices were no longer audible, we exhaled a collective
sigh of relief.  What a narrow escape and we knew it.  I can't recall
any other moment in my life when I felt more alive, every sense
attuned to my surroundings, and I'm sure my two friends felt
the same.  (I wonder if they even remember it now?)

Even today, I think back to that moment and recall how
I felt at the time;  the excitement, the exhilaration, the fear,
and, of course, the sheer relief and gratitude at having survived
a precarious predicament unscathed.  It was like something from a
Investigators or a Mission Impossible tale - a truly thrilling
moment that lives on forever in my mind, and reminds me that, once,
my life was more than the uneventful series of events that it is now.  I
felt like James Bond, even 'though, at that time, I'd not yet seen a
Bond film.  However, I knew that anyone who had a real car like
my Corgi Toys Aston Martin must be a cool guy in the face
of danger - much like myself, in fact (he said, modestly), as
the tale I've just related surely testifies.

Okay, so, technically, we ran away from three girls - but
that's only because we didn't want to hurt them.  (Well, that's
my story and I'm darn well sticking to it.  Wanna argue?)

Ever been in a similar situation?  Then let's hear all about it
in the comments section, o cool Criv-ites.  Spill the beans!


Phil said...

I love a boring life. One time we jumped s security fence monitored by cameras to get to a bar because the gate was closed and we didn't want to walk to entire complex to the other gate. When we got over we ran all the way to the bar. Good thing we weren't black or some cop would have probably arrested us ..... I don't know why we ran we shouldn't have been scared of some rent a cop we lived there and were leaving not breaking in.

Kid said...

I remember being down in London in 1987 and I stood in a sentry box while the depute editor of Buster snapped a photo of me. After I vacated it, the police were straight over, searching it to make sure I hadn't been planting a bomb. I still have the photo - maybe I'll post it one day.

Colin Jones said...

Kid, how can you say your life nowadays is uneventful - you write these blogs and interact with people from all over the world that you've never met. Much more interesting than hiding from a bunch of thickos.

Kid said...

More interesting perhaps. More exciting? Nah!

Colin Jones said...

By the way, Kid, the term "neds" is only used in Scotland - I first heard the phrase a couple of years ago when the film Neds came out - have you seen it ? I haven't but I did read a review.

Kid said...

Nah, I see neds in real life every day, CJ, so there's no way I'd pay to go and see more.

WOODSY said...

Great story kid. Beautifully written. Those two gals remind me of the grubs in David Walliams' the billionaire boy! Never heard the term neds. As a kid in Lancashire we had neb. I think it meant to nut someone. In fact two brothers at our skoo were called big neb and little neb! Terrifying as I recall. In my adopted Yorkshire neb means to look at something as in let's have a neb.

Kid said...

We use the term 'neb' occasionally as well, Woodsy. One of the girls later married one of the biggest neds in the town. She succumbed to cancer a good many years ago. Haven't seen the other two in decades, that I recall. Glad you liked this true tale from childhood. I'll post more as I remember them.

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