The articles I include in this personal Blog will include a varied range of subjects that interest me. They will predominantly relate to the United Kingdom (my homeland), Spain and Europe. Any opinions I express will probably not be too contentious, however they are mine and not that of any organisation or group of which I am a member.
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Thursday, 31 January 2013
Nick and Jack had seen the unkempt,
hunched tramp pushing the rusty shopping trolley, full of what they
assumed was rubbish, on the common yesterday. Now he was walking down
the deserted alley which connects the lower and quiet end of the
town's high street to the common, passing through their gang's patch
within the council owned housing estate. It was their allotted task
today to monitor anyone using the gang's alley.
“Hey Jack, let's have some fun with
the dirty old man. Let's see what he's got in his trolley.”
“Yeah, a good idea Nick, I'm
getting bored doing nothing. He might have something in there that we
They slouched towards their prey; their
hoodies covering most of their faces, their hands in the pockets.
“Hey you where do you think you're
going?” asked Jack.
“What you got in your trolley then
old man?” added Nick.
The vagrant bent forward over his
trolley, as if to shield its contents, ignored the questions and
continued on his way, unfortunately towards the hoodies. As he got
closer to them he moved to the left of the wide path to bypass them.
Jack moved to his right, stood in-front of the trolley, grabbed hold
of it, at the same time putting his foot on the bottom bar of the
frame, and stopped the man and trolley in their tracks.
“We asked you some questions you old
git. Are you deaf or what?” said Jack menacingly.
“What you doing coming down our lane
old man? Show us what you've got in there.” said Nick as he put his
hand forward with the intention of reaching into the trolley.
The man laid over his worldly
possessions to protect them. At the same time he pushed Nick's arm
away with his own. He tried to move the trolley forward away from the
two trouble makers. They both moved threateningly closer to the
“Hey watch it old man, let us see
what you've got in there.” said Nick.
“If you know what's good for you
you'll show us. You might have something we want” Jack said as he
tried to reach into the trolley.
“Leave me alone!”
“What did you say?” said Jack.
“Leave me alone please,” the
wanderer repeated: “I haven't done you any harm.”
“Oh yes you have. You've come down
our path without our say-so and you just hit my mate.”
“I didn't. I just pushed his arm away
from my things.”
“You hit me,” said Nick, “so I'll
have what I want out of your trolley as payback. Get out of my way.”
“No! They're my things and you're not
having any of them. Leave me alone,” said the vagabond as he moved
the trolley further away from the youths positioning himself between
them and his possessions. “You don't touch another man's kit.”
“You think so old man,” said Nick.
He put his right hand into his jacket pocket, pulled out a knife and
pointed the blade at the vagrant. “Now clear off unless you want
some of this. Your trolley is ours now.”
“You're not having my kit. Go away
and leave me alone – if you know what's good for you.”
“Stick him Nick, the dirty old git
deserves it. We'll show him he can't mess with us. Go on stick him.”
Nick suddenly leapt towards the vagrant
and at the same time thrust his hand holding the knife forward to
stab the old man.
But he wasn't a slow old man any-more.
With lightening reaction the traveller moved sidewards. He grabbed
hold of Nick's knife wielding hand with his right hand. At the same
time his left hand grabbed hold of Nick's elbow and pulled it sharply
to the left making the arm fold back on its self. The sharp, deadly
blade was now pointed towards Nick. With the momentum of his body
travelling towards the tramp; who at the same time forced the
knife-holding-hand back towards its owner. Nick's knife was plunged
deep into his own abdomen. After forcing the weapon upwards; the man
released his grip of the knife hand and took a step back. Nick bent
his head looking with amazement at the knife protruding from his
stomach. At the same moment the drifter landed an upper-cut karate
kick to Nick's jaw. The accurately placed, forceful blow sending
Nick's dying body hurtling backwards to the ground.
Instead of stopping for a moment to
think, and then run away, which would have saved his life: Jack
launched his own attack on the wanderer. He pulled the large Bowie
knife from its cover in his trousers' hip pocket with his right hand
and made a sweeping thrust towards his mate's attacker. The drifter
took half a step back. The blade passed in front of him almost close
enough to shave off his beard. With no contact, the momentum of
Jack's sweeping arm and the lack of grip of his shoes on the gravel
path spun him off balance. His back was now towards the tramp. He was
now the victim. He felt an arm wrap around his upper chest from the
left and grab hold of his right shoulder blade. Another hand from the
right grabbed hold of his jaw and violently twisted his head to the
right. The last sound Jack heard was a thunderous 'crack'. His limp
body was dropped to the ground.
The drifter returned to his shopping
trolley and rummaged amongst his worldly possessions for the maroon
beret he'd earned and loved so much. As he put it on, cap badge over
his left eye, cloth smoothed tightly to his head, he quietly said:
“Utrinque Paratus”. He stood up straight and started to push the
trolley to continue his journey. He calmly looked down at the two
corpses saying: “What a waste. I thought my killing days were over.
Why couldn't you have left me alone?”