Falcon Punch


Recently I have been running instead of cycling around London in an effort to up my fitness levels. I’ve even been drinking protein smoothies to get RIPPED and reduce my bra size. But that is not today's story.

No, civilians. That is just the "intro" to today's story.

You see, when going around London on a bike you’re usually concentrating hard on not getting run over by prawn-heads driving with low IQs and yabbering into their mobiles. However, now I'm on the pavement my view of the world is different and I seem to notice just how many people throw litter on the ground.

I don't know about you, but littering is just about the worst thing a human can do. It shows such a fundamental lack of respect for anything that if you're happy to lob a coke can into a defenceless bush, then you’re probably cool stabbing a baby in the face.

In short, nothing bursts my piles more than litter bugs. And yes, I said "litter bugs" like I'm seven and learning about the environment for the first time. But that's what they are: bugs to be squished and shat upon by us decent folk.

Now, the only problem I have is that if someone is okay stabbing a baby/littering, then they're also probably okay punching me in my beautiful face too. That's why, thus far, I've never had the balls to tell a litter bug to pick up their rubbish and put it in a bin like a normal, fully developed and reasoned person would.

This vexes me because it makes me a weakling.

Well, turds to that, because I just passed the ultimate Good Citizen Test this morning when I was walking to work and a couple (an actual husband and wife tag team) attacked a man in the street.

I have no idea why the couple did this, and I didn’t hear the argument because I was listening to Justin Bieber's latest opus on my headphones. But, as everyone stood around watching, I still rushed over and stepped between the punches, kicks and screams...and HOLY SHIT, like a mutha-chunking super hero I actually managed to break that shizzle up. I even took a few punches, but shrugged them off like they were no thang (however, I did later wimper a little, alone, in a toilet cubicle).

The fight ended and I actually managed to restrain a bigger man than me, telling him to "cool it."

What an amazing thing to shout into a stranger's face. "Cool it, bro...not on my watch."

So yeah. I assume this means I'll be fine telling a litter bug to use the rubbish bins the council conveniently provided in future. Non?

Whatever it means, I’m now known as The Zezauriator.

Please use the bins provided.

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