Ended up walking home from Brighton last night. I'm really not entirely sure why, except that I was entirely drunk at the time, and couldn't afford the taxi by myself. I had just split from my friends on the way into a club when one of them decided it would be funny to punch me in the bollocks.
It was really just unexpected more than anything. And I have no idea why he did it, and I didn't find it particularly funny. No matter how much you're mucking about with the lads, you surely don't punch a bloke in the bollocks do you? It's the most sacred area of a man's body and, I would venture, is probably about as painful as childbirth. Perhaps that's an exaggeration, but it does hurt an awful lot - I can confirm to members of the fairer sex.
But for some reason it is funny to absolutely everybody present, except for the poor bloke lying on the ground clutching his plums. In organised sport it can be even worse. To have 20 other blokes standing around laughing at you in a state of indignant pain having been struck by, say, a cricket ball is quite embarrassing. Someone shout's out, "Don't rub 'em, count 'em!!", and more hilarity ensues. And you are powerless to stand up straight for several minutes. There is literally no way to speed the recovery from the dull ache that has encompassed your entire lower body. I obviously speak from some experience in the matter.
I have been caught in the knackers by a cricket ball several times - even whilst wearing protection it is still very painful. I got it a few times playing football, I think whilst goalkeeping once I managed to save a powerful shot from hitting the back of the net by getting my love spuds in the way of it. It's like my balls are magnets for balls. (I wonder how many different words that can describe testicles - there's another one - I can subtly squeeze into this blog?) I even once got hit in them by a stale French-stick once when I worked at a supermarket, and was having a kind of light-saber battle with a mate in the store room.
Anyway, enough about my genitals. I am basically just pretty sure that hitting your mate in them while on a night out for a laugh is perhaps slightly antisocial, and didn't really expect it from this bloke - who I've known for a few years, and whilst he isn't really the best person in social situations, surely knows the basics. I mean that is a pretty basic social skill isn't it, not violently attacking another man's joy department for laughs. I am still very annoyed, and shall be terminating that particular friendship forthwith!
I really had forgotten quite how far it is to walk home from Brighton though, otherwise I would probably not have tried it. Looking at the map this morning I discovered that it is about 12 miles all the way, and it really did feel like it by the time I got home. But it was a beautifully clear and calm winter's night and for the most part, not unpleasant. I'd had a pretty good night overall, despite my aching testes - and I guess the exercise on the way home was actually quite good for me.
And just to name and shame the 'Ball-Puncher' himself, it is my former friend Mike. Even though that isn't his name. I must point out that I don't use real names for people I know that get mentioned in my blog as it doesn't seem right to do so. But just so everybody knows, Mike punches his friends in the bollocks for fun. Mike the 'Ball-Puncher'. Bloody Ball-Punching not actually Mike. What a bastard.
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