How To Win Any Fight (without even hitting them!)

How To Win Any Fight (without even hitting them!)

Something for the weekend here!

I’m sure all of you are aware of the thousands of different Martial Arts that are being taught.

A question I’m often asked, is “which is the best for real self defence?”.

The simple answer to this is that it’s any style which ADAPTS to whatever the threat is, your surroundings, and YOUR natural reactions and ability.

Ninjitsu, Krav Magar, Russian Systema, and a few other military styles fit this bill – but even then it depends on who the instructor is and how well they understand this concept themselves!

Muay Thai Kickboxing is another great style that does work on the streets.  Doing it properly, you WILL get yourself bopped in the snout.  This is good in that you’ll learn how to get hit and still be able to fight back – but bad in that you’ll be getting hit!

But there are, essentially, a few very simple moves that anyone can use against any attacker, and they are natural, work almost every time, and will hugely boost your chances of beating even a much more skilled and stronger opponent.

Most of this is in simplicity.

You can spend 40 years locked away in a monastry, learning beautifully skilled, near-impossible techniques, and then some drunk Nob-head in the pub will knock you out with a big swinging hoofer of a punch.

How did that happen?

Because your body, under real pressure when some little yob was yelling at you and spitting in your face, decided all it wanted to do was curl up on the floor and have a quick poo.

Dealing with the fear of a fight is a whole other matter for another day – but for now I’ll tell you probably the best move you can do that you won’t even have to learn.

OK, so someone is about to punch you in the head.

Aside from pulling a stupid face, what does your body want you to do?

You want to put your hands/arms up and cover your face, right?


So bollocks to all these fancy blocks, or moving your head so the punch just misses – GET YOURSELF COVERED UP!!!

Now hold it there!  Have a look at yourself.

Those filthy great big elbows sticking out are probably the 2nd best natural weapons that you have.

If someone were to punch that elbow, there is every chance that they will break their fingers or even shatter their hand.  If that happens, the fight will go right out of them!  Nobody wants to carry on punching with a broken hand!

How easy is that?  You’ve just won a fight and it was THEM who hit YOU!

Of course, it needs a bit of tweaking to make it reliable, but you’ve just done exactly what your natural instincts told you to do, and at the same time done what is known as a Devastation Technique – something which damages your opponent in a way that destroys their hand and makes it impossible to use.

It’s not as effective against hook-punches as it is against straight ones, but does still work.  Also, if you’re on the ground and someone is trying to boot you in the head, if you can do this and stick your elbows out so that it hits their shins, you can do severe damage to their leg and even break it.

In the unlikely situation that they’re trying to kick you below the waist, you do pretty much the same thing using the point of your knee – that is, the knobbly bone just below your kneecap that is actually the top of your shin bone.  Try and raise that so when they kick, that point connects with their shins.

If they’re kicking above waist height, then use the point of your elbow to get in the way.

There aren’t many people that will teach you this – and there are even fewer who will be able to fight against it…



FckMeHardRichard1 : hey

FckMeHardRichard1 : asl?

MrFiction : pig off, Boney

FckMeHardRichard1 : excuse me?

MrFiction : you heard me, you goat-faced quimbag

FckMeHardRichard1 : do I know u?

MrFiction : yeah – i’m stood behind you!!!!!!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : ? this is a chick, I hope u don’t think I am a guy

MrFiction : well…

MrFiction : you DO have the name Richard….

MrFiction : i once met a girl like that

MrFiction : and she had….. you know…… lumps

FckMeHardRichard1 : yeah, it’s telling a guy to fuck me, unless I was gay that don’t make sense

MrFiction : i’d still feel quite gay if we made a go of things and i ended up saying “I love you FuckMeRichard”

MrFiction : do you see??

FckMeHardRichard1 : k, i’m not a guy, i’m a chick

MrFiction : like Foghorn Leghorn?

FckMeHardRichard1 : ur something.

FckMeHardRichard1 : am I at least going to get an age out of u?

MrFiction : iron

MrFiction : do i win a monkey?

FckMeHardRichard1 : u know I can get nasty to if u want me to

MrFiction : is he a female too??

MrFiction : i’ll just speak to you, if that’s ok?

FckMeHardRichard1 : do you still think I am a guy

MrFiction : no Richard

FckMeHardRichard1 : well, just so ya know my name is Melanie

MrFiction : FuckMeHardMelanie?

FckMeHardRichard1 : why are u in a chat room if all u are going to do is attempt to insult ppl?

MrFiction : perhaps i’m a Professional Insulter?

MrFiction : you’d feel silly then, wouldn’t you?

FckMeHardRichard1 : actually I don’t really give a fuck.

FckMeHardRichard1 : i’ll probly never meet u so why would I care.

MrFiction : well that’s not the attitude to take, young lady!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : well fuck you, i’m not a fucking lil girl like u think I am

FckMeHardRichard1 : what r u sexist or a male chovonist pig?

MrFiction : i don’t think this convo is an ideal base for arranging a meeting

MrFiction : what’s worse than a Male Chauvenist Pig???

MrFiction : a woman who won’t do what she’s told

MrFiction :

FckMeHardRichard1 : maybe the woman won’t do what she’s told because the “man” doesn’t know what he asking

MrFiction : female chauvenist pig!!!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : all I have to say is your gonna be sorry someday if u ever realize who I am

MrFiction : are you Tony Blair????

MrFiction : cause you tried this last week

FckMeHardRichard1 : what the hell, I haven’t been in this chatroom for over 2 weeks

MrFiction : that’s a long time in chat terms…

FckMeHardRichard1 : u obviously have me mistaken for someone else, but thats not suprising that u can’t contain that much information in your brain

FckMeHardRichard1 : oops did I say brain? my mistake, you don’t have one!

MrFiction : it’s only the size of a small honey-melon, you know

MrFiction : softer though

MrFiction : more like a rotten trout, really…

FckMeHardRichard1 : ye, and we only use less then half of it

FckMeHardRichard1 : whats ur point

MrFiction : i don’t know – perhaps i’m getting started early on being sorry for realising who you are?

FckMeHardRichard1 : man, your such a fuckig cunt

MrFiction :

FckMeHardRichard1 : what r u, american?

MrFiction : LANGUAGE!!!!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : sorry I didn’t realize u were Mrs.Virgin Ears

MrFiction : i don’t mnd the “cunt” – but calling me “American”????

MrFiction : that’s harsh

MrFiction : so who are you, then???

MrFiction : hmm??

FckMeHardRichard1 : actually, i’d rather not tell u

MrFiction : why’s that?

FckMeHardRichard1 : now that u have made such a big deal about thinking I am some guy u have problem with

FckMeHardRichard1 : he ur ex boyfriend or something?

MrFiction : Tony?

MrFiction : no – he’s a Prime Minister

FckMeHardRichard1 : what the fuck, I already told you, my name is Melanie, but I guess ur incapable of remembering that too

MrFiction : but after that you said i’d be sorry when i realise who you are

MrFiction : see?? I listened, i did!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : yeah, I never told u my last name either did I

MrFiction : Sykes???

MrFiction : i LOVE you!!!!!!!

FckMeHardRichard1 : a first name means nothing, i’m just trying to make u realize that I am not a fucknig guy u probly slept with an then he never called u back….

MrFiction : (well – you were better withe long hair)

MrFiction : how’s Des?

FckMeHardRichard1 : Des? wtf

MrFiction : i thought you were Mel??

FckMeHardRichard1 : Melanie

MrFiction : Sykes*

FckMeHardRichard1 : who the fuck is Des

MrFiction : i dunno – some old crooner….. Lynham, is it??

FckMeHardRichard1 : I don’t know who the fuck u are talknig about

FckMeHardRichard1 : ur probly some sad skitso takin about urself

MrFiction : no….. i’m not called Des….

FckMeHardRichard1 : I don’t fucking care what u call urself

MrFiction : oooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!!!!

MrFiction : you did earlier….

FckMeHardRichard1 : have u clicked in yet that I am not a guy and my name is not richard?

MrFiction : ye Tony

FckMeHardRichard1 : did as in the past tense

FckMeHardRichard1 : tony as in another guy?

MrFiction : no – he’s female too

FckMeHardRichard1 : man ur fucking hopless

FckMeHardRichard1 : I really wish you lived in the same town as me, I could get so many ppl after you

FckMeHardRichard1 : I wouldn’t even be sorry when it was ove

MrFiction : why??

FckMeHardRichard1 : over*

MrFiction : *overy

FckMeHardRichard1 : what the fuck? Overy?

MrFiction : it’s where they keep birds

MrFiction : i think

FckMeHardRichard1 : yes yes, of course you think, only cuz you don’t know anything!

MrFiction : i don’t understand

MrFiction : you’re male?

FckMeHardRichard1 : of course you don’t understand

FckMeHardRichard1 : I am a fucking female, not a fucking male, but your probly a trans so u don’t know the difference

MrFiction : so you don’t fuck males??

MrFiction : lesbian?

MrFiction : this is sooooo complicated!

FckMeHardRichard1 : i’m a fucking female who fucks guys because I am fucking straight

MrFiction : so is Richard a lesbian?

FckMeHardRichard1 : you know what, that was along time ago, richartd is a fucking guy, I don’t fucking like him anymore just like I fucking hate you

FckMeHardRichard1 : I have better things to do and I have to go

FckMeHardRichard1 has left the conversation.

Murder, She Rode

Murder, She Rode

Everywhere I ride to.

It would make sense if I’d even thought of the damn show or music in the last 20+ years, or if I rode like a granny with a typwriter fetish, but I don’t!  I can be scraping my knees, on full throttle with the front clawing at the air, and all I hear is this:

I thought it was the Miss Marple theme tune for weeks, but it turns out that at least it has a good strong ‘Murder’ in its title.


Is it Angela -ing Lansbury, or something?  I’m scared to find out any more about the whole thing.  In the car I can stick the radio on, but on a bike if you get a tune in your noggin you’re doomed for that journey.  Just you and the tune… and you’ll note this one is only 40-odd seconds long!  That’s a LOT of plays over even a 15 minute journey!

If it was something dramatic, like the Hawaii Five-O theme at least that would liven things up.

Check that shit out!  It makes you think you’re on a mission, rather than on a Missionary!

So why is Murder, She Wrote in my head?  And what stupid crap gets stuck in your head?

Thoughts To Norway – For A Few Moments, Anyway…

Thoughts To Norway – For A Few Moments, Anyway…

I’m a bit behind with the news.

It’s all either doom & gloom badness, celebrities, propoganda or knee-jerk reactions, so for years now I’ve barely bothered to watch any news – let alone read a paper.  It just makes me mad and ranty.

But this morning I spent a good few hours finding out about the bomb and shootings in Norway.

The bomb was shocking enough, but some man dressed in Police uniform went on a shooting spree on an island filled with children at a Summer camp.

Ninety or more confirmed dead so far.  NINETY.

Whatever statement the gunman was trying to make, I just can’t comprehend him wanting to murder CHILDREN?!  Killing adults, deserving or not, is sick and pointless enough – but why young children who haven’t even been alive long enough to corrupt or adversely affect the World?

Now THAT is real tragedy.

THAT is real news.

Oh, look!  Some druggy bint of a scum-cunt pop singer has died!

That’ll be the end of Norway on the front pages…
***Already all the news channels have cut coverage from Norway in favour of showing picturs of the outside of Amy Winhouse’s house.  For fucks sake, people!  This is why I hate the press.

Cut Price Bargain Bullshit

Cut Price Bargain Bullshit


Have you ever looked at the cut price foods in a supermarket?  They’re almost out of date and ready for the bin that evening if nobody claims them

An absolute bargain, and you’ll see hordes of Lummoxes sifting through them at any time of the day or night.

One day you may even be lucky/desperate enough to get to the front of the pack for a look yourself.  And what do you see?

Fuck all is what!

You find some sliced ham in a packet that looks like it’s been raped by a Corgi on amphetamines, with childrens fingerprints on the meat, a cornflake that’s somehow got inside the packaging, and the first of a new strain of penicilin starting to grow in one corner, and what’s the massive price slash?

From £3.00 for a brand new non-poisonous pack of ham, down to £2.29.


Yes – 71 whole pennies off for something that will either kill a Lummox or go in the bin.

And it’s not just the shops who seem to have stopped trying to give people genuine bargains!

People often post on our work email system selling their old goods.

Books for £3 each – when any charity shop or Ebay will have them at under £1…

Two tickets for Take That live in Scandanavia TONIGHT!!!  Cost £40 each – will sell for £75 for both!!!

One gold ring, made of clay and broken in 47 places – £58!

Want to book a last minute hotel room?  Was £80… now, at 11pm they’ll practically gift you the otherwise empty room for £70!!!

Fuck off you tight twats!!!

Where have all the bargains gone?  Would people rather just lose out completley rather than make something back?


Cuando Monos Vuelven De Mi Culo

Cuando Monos Vuelven De Mi Culo

Following on from my recent rant about people refusing to try ‘foreign food’…  Spanish (or “Ess-pan-yol” as we say in Birmingham) is the language out of the 7 I know to various degrees that I’ve found easiest to learn.

Unlike English and Japanese, and German-when-you-get-to-the-verbs, it all makes perfect sense!  Seriously, some of you reading this from outside the UK may not know (Un burro sabe mas que tu!) that even though Spanish is the worlds second biggest language and by far the easiest to learn, we get forced to learn French instead.

And I mean FORCED.

After 5 years of French in school, with some cunt-wig of a teacher bullying me, I finally managed to get out of it in favour of learning Spanish.  Ironically, this was after having also been forced to learn a year of German, and even more ironically it was only the Thick Kids who were given the option to learn Spanish!

How fucking retarded that those of us with the brians to be in top group were made to learn useless languages rather than the second biggest in the damn world???

Yes, I am still bitter, and with good reason.  I learnt more in six months of Spanish than I did in 5 years of French or a year of German (which itself was equal to 5 years of French, too).  OK, I wouldn’t mind going to Germany, and I listen to some German Industrial music, but fuck France!  When am I going to need that shit other than when I’ve downloaded a French film with the wrong subtitles???

*stares out of the window trying to remember the point of his blog*

Yes, so since school I didn’t need Spanish until a holiday when I was 27.  I brushed up on the basics, and sincerely think my holiday was vastly improved because I could struggle through the native language.  I just decided I’d better take a look at some basic phrases again, and was amazed at how quickly and easily it all came back to me!

Which brings me to another thing!  When looking at the online reviews of our hotel, one of the most common complaints was:

“The hotel staff only seem to speak basic English!”

You have GOT to be shitting me???

I can actually feel the sweet tides of Rage seeping through my body typing that statement out.



Scum like these idiots really should be banned from ever leaving their hometown!

I am horrifically embarrassed to be English when I’m abroad.  Oh my God, what if they think I’m like them???

One more reason to speak their lingo as much as I possibly can…

Oh, and for that little bit extra, I’ve finally found a truly excellent website that I thought disappeared years ago, which has, shall we say… more interesting phrases which may be useful:

Now, veta a la mierde!

England Should Ban Jaywalking!

England Should Ban Jaywalking!

Jaywalk –verb (used without object)
to cross a street at a place other than a regular crossing or in a heedless manner, as diagonally or against a traffic light.

Should we have it in the UK?

The ‘Merkins have a lot of stupid Laws – often only in one particular state.

California, for example, has a law that everyone must grow long hair and play Death or Thrash Metal.  And their wives are allowed to blow their heads off with shotguns when they get famous. Ohio has something in their Laws about crap US football teams and corn.  And serial killers are encouraged.

But much as it pains me to admit, one of their laws is just downright sensible – and that is the aforementioned ‘Jaywalking’.

If you go pottering across the road in New York, a big porker in a rain mac will shoot you dead.  You don’t even have to be Muslim!

In Bromsgrove Town Centre, UK, however, it seems to be perfectly acceptable to ignore the two pelican crossings which are around 50 yards apart, and go Ninjaing between the traffic regardless.

People seem to see this as fine, for the sake of saving a good three or four seconds of their life where they’d have to walk to one of the crossings… and then they get splatted by a filtering motorbike, sending all their bags of pound shop goodies flying through the air.

This has happened to a few people I know over the last few years.  There weren’t any real injuries, by some miracle, but the aftermath in one involved the stupid bints husband calling up my mate afterwards threatening him and trying to make him pay out compensation.

Compensation for your wife being a dipshit who couldn’t be *rsed to use one of the PEDESTRIAN crossings???

I’ve had a few near-misses myself when these idiots suddenly pop out between the cars, not looking and certainly not thinking.

I will tell you that if I ever hit one they better be dead, because I would beat the ever-loving shit out of them if I or my bike got damaged!

And that’s why it should be a crime in the UK.

Because it’s yet another thing that innocent people get punished for and end up paying out for, all because some retarded mouth-breather feels it’s everybody elses fault for them being a dick head.

Watch for around 2:20 into this video for a prime example:

Fish Fingers, Chips & Mushy Peas – Chinese Style

Fish Fingers, Chips & Mushy Peas – Chinese Style

“Let’s go out for an Indian meal tonight!”
“What are you going to have?”
“Umm… , chicken and chips!”

What the fuck is all that about????? People go to a foreign restaurant, to eat food cooked by those foreigners, for a change – and what do they do?

They order English food!

What a waste. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s ignorant and boring. Shame on you.

The worst possible version of this is ‘Brits abroad.

You know the kind – they fly half way across the world on a holiday, then eat nothing but chips, baked beans, sausage and egg.

Last time I was in Lloret de Mar in Spain, I was accosted numerous times by locals trying to drag me into ‘English bars’ and suchlike.

“Si, si! You come een, Senoir!!! Eeet’s just like back home, no?”

Yes, it fucking well IS just like back at home. You know? The place I’ve flown 6000 miles to GET AWAY FROM?!?!

What better place to try Spanish food and Spanish culture, than in Spain??? Surely that should be the damn point?

Don’t get me wrong – I’m a huge fan of the good English Breakfast, and Steak, Chips & Peas – but if I go to Spain I want to try SPANISH food… if I go to Greece I want GREEK food etc…

At the very least in somewhere like Spain I’d want to try the Mexican, Greek, Chinese, Indian…. ANYTHING rather than the bloody English food that I eat almost every day of my life!

In most places catering to Brits abroad, you’ll even see, amongst exotic and numerous choices of breakfast fodder, some chips for the fat twats from Wigan.

And I don’t want to sit in a bar draped in Union Jacks drinking Birmingham’s Finest Frosty Jacks Cider, listening to Chas & Dave and playing ‘spot the foreign accent’ – I want to sit in some pub with exotic dead fish on the walls and tropical trees on the patio, drinking El Bastardo Cerveza and having to at least make an attempt at asking for my drinks in Spanish.

And if I go to the local village Chinese, I’d rather eat my own legs than try a non-Chinese dish.

Housing Benefit Rant

Housing Benefit Rant

I just glanced at the front of a local paper to see that there’s uproar because the Government is going to start paying out less for Housing Benefit.

They cry that it’s the worst possible time, with everyone already facing hardships, and it could make up to 500 claimants in Bromsgrove homeless – at great cost to society.

Utter bastards.  Yet again we’re being fkd over by the Government!!


Hang on a second…

I had a look in the article at the actual figures involved here…

It seems at present, Mr Johnny Doledosser can claim £250 in housing benefit for a one bedroom house, up to £400 for a bedroom home.  The cuts will mean Mr Doledosser will be out of pocket by over £400 per year for the one bedroom home, and over £1000 for his five bed mansion.

Those figures aren’t per month – they’re PER WEEK!!!

Just to put that into perspective, I live in a three bedroom house where we pay £600 per month.  Yes – PER MONTH.

So by my reckoning, Mr Doledosser will, even after these ‘huge life threatening cuts’, still be getting paid more per month than I do for living in his one bedroom shed.

I shouldn’t care, anyway, because when I was made redundant I was refused a single penny of housing benefit whilst I was out of work and looking for a job.  The reason being that I’d worked all my life.

Which is a shame, because it seems that I’d have been able to pay my landlord all the rent AND still be bringing in more money than I am now working a full time job.

It strikes me that if I blow all my money on canabis resin, tracksuits and pit bull terriers, I can then jack in my job and earn a lot more money than I do now just in housing benefit.  Then claim all the other benefits that aren’t purely supposed to pay your rent on top.

Is it just me that thinks there’s something very Wrong here?

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Spiders, Spiders Everywhere! Plus My Brush With Death!!!

Have spiders got some sort of collective vendetta against just me at the moment – or is it everyone?

There aren’t all that many in the rest of the house, but every time I look up in my bedroom, Mini-Spider Hit Squad is moving into position surrounding me!

OK, they’re hardly going to eat me in my sleep, but I can’t say I’m too excited at the prospect of eating THEM in MY sleep, either!

So 6 had to die yesterday, and 4 the day before that.  And this morning another bugger was there!

But I suspect these are just the advance party.

Bigger beasties are lurking in the doorways…

I came home last week to find a medium-sized spiddy sat in the middle of his web – naked, no less!!!  AND it was blocking off the entire front door to my home!

What the fuck did he think he was up to???

Luckily, I hadn’t taken my bike gloves off at the time, so a swift right cross let him know his name wasn’t down, and he wasn’t coming in.

I think after 3 days of that, he either ended up in Spider Infirmary, or my cunning change to a back-handed knuckle strike felled the arsehole arachnid.

But lo and behold, a Morning Spiddy appeared for attack, covering the door so when I stepped out to ready my bike, I’d be covered in web like in one of those old Tarzan movies!

Luckily the spider never managed to sink his fangs into me, as I always escaped before it had chance but this morning was close!

Spiky hair is a bastard for collecting webs, too!

Then, as I rode my bike up the driveway towards the road, elated to be escaping my home without being mummified and having my juices sucked from me (and not in the good way that women can do), they had one last-ditch attempt!

Right at the top of the driveway, to my horror I spotted another Tarzan-catcher web, cunningly using an overhanging Holly Tree to cover my escape route.

And Harry The Hairy Spider was home!

I tried moving as far to my right as I could, but the left mirror sliced through the bottom support strand of the web as I rode past.

This caused the whole Spider-Web combo to swing around in a huge arc, disappearing from my field of view around the side of my helmet.  Last known trajectory: the left side of the escaping biker.

Staring straight ahead lest I see hairy legs clinging to my visor, I opened the throttle and kept it open, ignoring the crawling/biting feelings on my poor exposed neck and from within my leathers.

If I’m lucky, the wee fucker is roadkill somewhere between my house and my workplace.

If I’m unlucky, he’ll be waiting for me back at home with a New Improved Web possibly promoted by Barry Scott of Cilit Bang fame.

If I’m REALLY unlucky, he’s to my left right now, hiding in the pile of leathers, waiting to jump on me when I next touch them, so that I scream like a girl and all the women in the office laugh at me

I -ing hate spiders!