The Day A White Tracksuit Kicked My Head In

Around eight years ago I had been out on a works night out in Glasgow city centre. I was having trouble getting a taxi and decided to walk a bit into Partick to try again for a taxi. Just beyond Charing Cross on Argyle Street, I was heading through Finnieston. I ended up walking along beside a young couple, who were visible in the dark evening in their white tracksuits, white trainers and white caps.

God knows why but I started talking to them. I don't know why. I was drunk. I don't really know what I said to them. I was drunk.

At the bend in the road where the Police Station is they both turned right and walked off up a side street. I meandered happily along. About thirty seconds later, they both appeared in front of me. They had gone round the whole block and come out ahead of me.

Slight confusion on my part. Why were they now walking back? Why did they go round a whole block to appear in front of me.

I saw the look on the guy's face. He was striding very determinedly towards me. It took about two seconds for me to realise he was going to set about me. Even before he ran, I ran.

I turned and ran as fast as I could, but.....I was drunk.

I got halfway across the road then he was on me. I don't know if he kicked or pushed me but I went down right in the centre of the road, about thirty metres from the front door of the police station. I balled up into a foetal position with my hands up at my face.

He just started kicking me on the back, the head, round the front to the face. I'm grateful now that my glasses came off quickly or I'd have had them broken into my face. I found them the next day at the side of the road. He just kept kicking me and kicking me. At one point I looked up and saw his girlfriend just standing there watching.

I don't remember feeling much pain, just the thuds of his feet against my head. I was lying there beginning to think how ridiculous this all was. I'd probably said something to annoy him and he does this.

I started shouting at him;

"Gonnae stop that, come on, that's enough, alright alright I give in, for chrissakes."

While it might sound cowardly and a bit childish all I was thinking was how weird this was. It didn't feel like a serious assault, I wasn't feeling any pain. But he kept kicking me. It went on for over a minute I think and suddenly he just stopped and ran off.

I looked up and saw two women at the side of the road who had shouted at him. They kindly took me into their flat close by so I could get off the street and phone a taxi. I went into their bathroom to survey the damage and my face was grazed, bleeding in places and I had a large gash above my right eye. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and a man was standing there staring at me.

"Hello,"  I said with my face spattered with blood. And he closed the door. He'd heard a male voice in the flat and wondered what was going on.

I phoned my wife and explained I'd be a little delayed but I was just waiting on a taxi.

"Don't worry but I've had a bit of a kicking."  Was she pleased with me.

The next day I managed to get into work for 7am despite having been drunk and assaulted the night before. After work I went into Finnieston Police Station to report the assault, more for their stats rather than for any serious attempt at trying catch the guy. The officer at the desk asked why I hadn't reported it the night before seeing as I was only across the road and then as I was giving the description of my attacker and listing his white tracksuit and white cap, the policeman actually laughed. And from then on I could see he'd lost interest and was just really ticking the rest of the boxes.

So that was my only kicking and I've been trying to avoid a repeat occurrence ever since.