They Messed With The WRONG Person

Bigphoot2

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Woman with plastic fork chased sword-wielding robber
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A sword-wielding robber who was chased by a shop worker armed with a plastic fork has been jailed for four years.

Arthur Rennie, 20, from Port Glasgow, targeted Cowden's News and Fast Food Shop in Greenock, on 16 March 2015.

He waved the sword and pushed 23-year-old Julie Crighton and demanded cash. She refused, pushed him back and chased him while clutching the plastic fork.

Rennie was caught when a bag containing the sword and clothing, which had his DNA on them, was found near the shop.

'Extremely brave'
Jailing Rennie at the High Court in Glasgow, judge Lady Rae told him: "I appreciate you don't accept the jury's verdict, but the evidence showed that you went into the shop - along with another - with your face covered and with a large sword.

"That young woman was extremely brave to tackle you and you then ran away."

The court heard that Rennie went into the shop, pushed Ms Crighton and repeatedly asked for money while waving the sword about.

When she pushed him back, Rennie then fled with Ms Crighton giving chase while clutching a plastic fork.

Lady Rae added: "This was a large sword and the incident must have been very frightening. She is an extremely brave young woman that tackled Mr Rennie despite the fact he had that sword."

'I pushed him back'
In evidence Ms Crighton said:: "He was brandishing what I thought was a machete and made his way to the side of the counter.

"He came towards me and pushed me and I pushed him back. I think he realised I wasn't going to give him anything. He went out and I went out the shop after him.

"I wasn't thinking of catching him. Just seeing where he was going."

In court Ms Crighton was shown a sword and identified it as the weapon she saw in the shop.

Rennie, was convicted, while acting with another, of attempting to rob the shop.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-glasgow-west-38014661?SThisFB
 

Coal

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He worked out pretty quickly who the least dangerous person was and floored him to even the odds.
 

hunck

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cycleboy2

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Re the Irish bouncer video, I like the way the drunks tried the karate/judo/whatever-type moves they'd obviously seen in the movies and then got floored by, er, an old-fashioned no-nonsense punch.
 

escargot

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Bigphoot2

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Re the Irish bouncer video, I like the way the drunks tried the karate/judo/whatever-type moves they'd obviously seen in the movies and then got floored by, er, an old-fashioned no-nonsense punch.
My old martial arts instructor said the only people who will do high kung-fu style kicks in a real fight are the very good and the very stupid and usually it's the second category.
 

Bigphoot2

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A high kick is an open invitation to a kick in the nads.
You don't even have to kick - just push the kicking leg up higher, kick the other leg out from under the idiot and stamp on their wedding tackle when they hit the deck.

I almost did that to drunken half-wit who wanted a fight - instead on getting his bits squashed he fell into a hedge and he'd also made the big mistake of wearing easily removable jogging pants. So when he untangled himself from the hedge his trousers were floating in a pond and I was long gone :D
 

Coal

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My old martial arts instructor said the only people who will do high kung-fu style kicks in a real fight are the very good and the very stupid and usually it's the second category.
Exactly. High kicks are slow unless you're brilliant. If kicker's not brilliant you can get inside the kick easily - then you're opponent has one leg in the air and the dangly bits handily placed for a swift punch.
 
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My old martial arts instructor said the only people who will do high kung-fu style kicks in a real fight are the very good and the very stupid and usually it's the second category.
I struggle to use the word 'friend', but a former associate of mine was kicked in the head 'roundhouse' style by some kind of martial arts expert many years ago in a nightclub. Twice in fact. Because the first time it didn't work. It didn't work the second time either.
Bigphoot, what martial art did you do?
 

Bigphoot2

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I struggle to use the word 'friend', but a former associate of mine was kicked in the head 'roundhouse' style by some kind of martial arts expert many years ago in a nightclub. Twice in fact. Because the first time it didn't work. It didn't work the second time either.
Bigphoot, what martial art did you do?
It was a "new" martial art at the time called Tukido - a mix of Tae Kwon Do and Boxing. I did it for about 18 months and then the instructor left and we got a new guy who was not up to much and packed it in.
 

Bigphoot2

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When you hear about pensioners battering muggers they usually turn out to have had some boxing experience in their youth.
That happened to an old neighbour of mine. He was in his 70s and about 5ft6 tall, you could probably pick him up with one hand. But in his youth he fearsome reputation as an amateur boxer and would still spend some time every day on his punchbag. Three youths decided to relieve him of his winnings on his way back from the bookies. When he decked the "bravest" one, the other two made Usain Bolt look like an arthritic snail.

Apparently when he was asked for the money, he took some money and held it high up in his left hand. Dopey mugger was so busy looking at the cash, he didn't even see the uppercut coming.
 

Swifty

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That happened to an old neighbour of mine. He was in his 70s and about 5ft6 tall, you could probably pick him up with one hand. But in his youth he fearsome reputation as an amateur boxer and would still spend some time every day on his punchbag. Three youths decided to relieve him of his winnings on his way back from the bookies. When he decked the "bravest" one, the other two made Usain Bolt look like an arthritic snail.

Apparently when he was asked for the money, he took some money and held it high up in his left hand. Dopey mugger was so busy looking at the cash, he didn't even see the uppercut coming.
An old mate's Dad was ex S.A.S. .. now I know what everyone's thinking .. true S.A.S. never reveal their identity .. he was part of an early wave of them in the 1950's and was a driver for someone important as well as being his body guard and an instructor of calanetics (a sort of 'body popping' taught to early S.A.S. troops that helped promote muscle growth, stem bleeding quickly etc etc) .. ironic sort of in that me and Rick's son Scott used to body pop and break dance together in the early 80's ..

Anyhooo .. fast forward to early 90's and Scott was in a bad way because of heroin use ... I used to visit and Rick always called me 'Son' .. I saw Rick's early paperwork so Scott wasn't lying about him being ex S.A.S. ..

One night, Rick was leaving a pub when SEVEN lads decided to try and beat him up. After beating all of them up instead at about 70 years of age, then going back into the pub for another drink, the local police in *undisclosed location* looked into it and somehow discovered that Rick still had some guns .. and discovered that Rick was taking Lithium for depression .. the road around his house was closed down and taped off so that the police could 'pretty please' ask him if he could give them the guns LOL :cool: ... Rick, being a law abiding type complied straight away. He was/hopefully still is a very gentle man as long as you didn't try and attack him I suppose.
 

Ringo

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My Dad used to recount a tale from his youth as a Teddy boy from back in the day, in Gateshead. He and his mates used to hang out in a pub where there was an old boy (maybe in his 80's) who used to come in late every night and drink one bottle of Brown Ale. As is common with regulars in pubs, he had his own place at the bar and had probably been standing there for decades. People would move out of the way for him. He was very quiet, didn't talk much and kept himself to himself. He only ever drank one bottle of Brown Ale and then he would order one more bottle to take home. And off he would go home with his beer.

One night, a bunch of rowdy lads were the pub. They were locals and regulars but always caused trouble. They were standing where the old man's place was at the bar. When he turned up, the old man asked if he could stand in his usual place. They made fun of him and told him to bugger off. Locals in the pub told them to move but they refused. The old man moved to another spot and ordered his beer. Whilst he was drinking it, the leader of the group was taunting and making fun of the old man, mimicking his bent back and bowed legs.

The old man drank up quickly, ordered his take home bottle and headed off. When it was closing time, my Dad said he was just finishing off his pint when the rowdy lads left. He heard an almighty smash and a load of noise from outside so he popped his head out for a look. The leader of the young lads was lying face down in the street, his head covered in blood, glass and Brown Ale. His mates had scattered and the old man was just tottering away down the street.

Now I realise that the old man's actions were probably a little over the top but what I love about this story is asking myself the question, "When did he decide to sacrifice his beer?". Had he made up his mind already when they refused to move or was it when the leader mocked him? Either way, I can see in my minds eye,an 80 year old man with bent back and legs waiting patiently outisde the pub...

This sort of violence was common in my Dad's area. He had all of his teeth smashed out with a glass bottle when he was 16 (IIRC).
 

Mythopoeika

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My Dad used to recount a tale from his youth as a Teddy boy from back in the day, in Gateshead. He and his mates used to hang out in a pub where there was an old boy (maybe in his 80's) who used to come in late every night and drink one bottle of Brown Ale. As is common with regulars in pubs, he had his own place at the bar and had probably been standing there for decades. People would move out of the way for him. He was very quiet, didn't talk much and kept himself to himself. He only ever drank one bottle of Brown Ale and then he would order one more bottle to take home. And off he would go home with his beer.

One night, a bunch of rowdy lads were the pub. They were locals and regulars but always caused trouble. They were standing where the old man's place was at the bar. When he turned up, the old man asked if he could stand in his usual place. They made fun of him and told him to bugger off. Locals in the pub told them to move but they refused. The old man moved to another spot and ordered his beer. Whilst he was drinking it, the leader of the group was taunting and making fun of the old man, mimicking his bent back and bowed legs.

The old man drank up quickly, ordered his take home bottle and headed off. When it was closing time, my Dad said he was just finishing off his pint when the rowdy lads left. He heard an almighty smash and a load of noise from outside so he popped his head out for a look. The leader of the young lads was lying face down in the street, his head covered in blood, glass and Brown Ale. His mates had scattered and the old man was just tottering away down the street.

Now I realise that the old man's actions were probably a little over the top but what I love about this story is asking myself the question, "When did he decide to sacrifice his beer?". Had he made up his mind already when they refused to move or was it when the leader mocked him? Either way, I can see in my minds eye,an 80 year old man with bent back and legs waiting patiently outisde the pub...

This sort of violence was common in my Dad's area. He had all of his teeth smashed out with a glass bottle when he was 16 (IIRC).
Yep. What these young twits don't realise is that some old men were bad boys back in their day. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy...
 

escargot

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Yup, my uncle Stan was a Teddy Boy, a bad lad in his youth. He settled down and had a family but wouldn't be pushed around.

Late one night when Stan was about 30 some bloke picked a fight with him in the street. Instead of backing down, Stan confronted him and he ran off. Stan gave chase and next thing, he told my Dad, he had the bloke up against a wall with a bottle in his face.

Stan thought er, right! and let the bloke go and they quietly went their separate ways.
 

Heckler

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Drinking with a Millwall supporting mate one evening up in Londinium he noticed an old chap rather frail looking at the bar, immediately stopped talking, walked over, said hello and bought him a pint then returned and in hushed tones talked about see this old chap chasing a rival supporter down the road slashing at his back with a Stanley knife.

"How many years ago was that?" I asked naively.
"That was a few months ago mate, he was proper naughty back in the day".

:eek:
 
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