Saturday, Mar. 26, 2005 - 9:01 p.m.
In case of emergency, make like Bonnie Tyler
I'd always wondered how I'd react to being attacked. The corner of London I live in had never struck me as particularly scary, being mostly family and studenty residential. Sometimes a man might make a comment, but always while keeping on walking past. Tonight, however, one tried a little more.I semi-smiled at this 18-20 year old boy I passed when turning a corner, but when I'd gone another few metres, he said, 'Excuse me?'
I did what I normally do when I get into these situations - keep my distance and ask what? He said, 'You've got something on your back.' He said it kind of quietly, which alerted me to something being off. He repeated it, but this time it sounded like it was something on my 'bag'. My copy of Eleanor Rigby was teetering on the top of my bag, but I knew he couldn't be talking about that.
I started walking away and said, 'it's OK, I'll sort it out later.'
He persisted in telling me, even though I was walking away. I sped up but I could tell he was gaining on me. What a prick, I thought. I started nearly jogging, when I felt his hand on me. I remember not knowing what he could be trying to do - he didn't handle me roughly, but HIS HANDS WERE ON ME. They were on my bum and my back. That was all I needed to know. I shouted, 'WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING? FUCK OFF!'
And then, I realised I was shouting very loudly, 'HELP! HELP!', while moving my head round in manner of wartime siren. I couldn't believe the volume I raised! I sounded like Bonnie Tyler! And this was all completely autonomic. There was no thinking.
The little dipshit took off though - I only had to scream HELP twice before he took off at a light jog back to where he was going, while I shouted, 'FUCK OFF!' at his retreating back.
What a fucking arsewipe. What did he think he was going to achieve? I don't know if he wanted any of my belongings or just a quick feel, but he didn't really get either of those. I hope he was humiliated enough to never try it again.
I shouted help, and it worked, but it was lucky my assailant was such a stupid little weed. What a prick.