Trapped By Social Etiquette, Bullied By A Devil Child

I’ve got a couple of weddings coming up soon. I don’t mind weddings. They are a happy occasion and even my Grumpy self can appreciate the celebration of friends making that commitment to one another. It’s a wonderful thing. I might even give a little smile.


But that is unless you have the annoyance of a brat bothering you.


I’ve been the victim of one of these little sh*ts. Arrogant and rude; disrespectful and annoying. For some reason at one wedding, one such “little angel” decided to pick on me.


It had started so well. I was at a good friends wedding, amongst other friends when this boy comes over and starts talking to us. He was about 12 or 13. He was ginger. I remember him so well. I still have nightmares that he is waiting for me under the bed.


I remember his dark eyes. That look of a venomous, antagonistic and rebellious streak. Qualities that can be so prevalent in children who are spoilt with little or no respect.


I’m not saying the kid was evil but I wouldn’t have been surprised if his name was Damien Hitler. Okay, yes I am saying he was evil. He was an evil little b*stard. There, I’ve said it.


It started off as banter amongst the group. He seemed like a cheeky little chap at first. Perhaps even a little charismatic. But then the mood changed for me. He made a remark. A remark against me. This resulted in laughter from the group. Ha ha. Yes very funny, I thought. I can take a joke.


But then he continued. His fires of evil intent had been stoked by the laughter of the rest of the group. He had locked onto me and would continue to poke fun, and jibe at me for the rest of this wedding.


I tried the odd little retaliation but there are limits aren’t there? He’s a twelve year old! I was 28 at the time. He then started getting a bit personal having digs about my reducing hairline. This was a time when I wasn’t fully embracing it like I do now! There were times when the atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable because of it. But what could I do? It really wasn’t the environment to be harshly insulting to this small evil person.


I felt trapped by this. For one thing, I can’t exactly tell him to F*ck off because A) I’d cause a scene, B) I’d look like a mardy b*stard and C) I hadn’t quite established who his Dad was and whether I could take him.


He was at that awkward age whereby he wasn’t young enough that I could destroy his fantastical mysterious and innocent illusions, by simply telling him that his parents had been lying to him all along and that Santa didn’t exist.


He also wasn’t old enough to take an “accidental” slip causing a head-butt.


If it had been a grown man saying some of this sh*t to me, to impress others, I would have whispered in his ear that I’d happily fishhook his face, drag him outside and stamp on anything that twitches. Or perhaps follow him into the gents where only I would be walking out and the proprietor of the establishment would be making an insurance claim for accidental damage to his urinal.


Can I just say at this point, that I am not a violent person by any means, but this kid was a sh*t. Just in case I hadn’t made it clear enough.


So I just had to sit there and kind of laugh along with it. Through gritted teeth. My stomach forming knots as I realise I’m being bullied by a child and feel there is nothing I can do about it. I try to scope out the room trying to work out who his Dad was and whether I could take him if need be. I start weighing up various men in the room, considering my chances.


Also, I was at my friends wedding. This was their day. I wouldn’t want to spoil this occasion and be remembered by all and sundry for the guy who ruined the wedding by kicking a nasty ginger child in the face!


I’d endured about an hour and a half of this child of Satan, when near the bar, I am introduced to his Dad by my friend. We have a little friendly chat. I then decide that I should bring this annoyance to his attention. Perhaps I could nip this in the bud now.


I broached this in a way as to not make a big deal of it. “Little Damien, has been giving me some grief,” I said light heartedly, “He’s said some things that were a bit out of order to be honest.” There that should be enough. The friendly approach, but still making the point. “Sorry about that,” said the sperm donor, “Damien, be nice,” said with the firmness of wet toilet paper. This man was not doing his fatherly duty in my eyes. He didn’t discipline his child the way he should. This means that this disrespectful boy could grow into a disrespectful adult.

If I was disrespectful to an adult when I was a kid, my parents would have unleashed a torrent of ferocity and I would have without doubt, regretted it. After all, I was an example of them. If I was a little tw*t then they would appear to be tw*tty parents.


Perhaps I should have been as direct as my Mother in law would have been in that situation. She would not stand for it and I’ve said it before, I respect her directness and wish I had some of those qualities. “Your child is rude, disrespectful and needs some discipline, now are you as its Father, going to be a man and put him in his place or are you going to be as useful as a fart at the front of a queue?” That is what I should have said.


But in that moment, as I saw this man’s response to his child’s disrespect, the child shrug off his co-creators words like it was nothing, I knew that this was a spoilt child with no discipline in his life. I also learnt something about the father. That if push comes to shove, I could take him.


The Dad, in a fight. Not the kid. I’m not a child snatcher!


It wasn’t long before it started prodding again, looking to annoy me. Winding me up.


I decided to act but it was going to have to be my last resort. I went for a stroll in the grounds of this venue. Away from the loud music and flashing disco lights from the party. The Abba medley had just begun so it was good timing really. Sure enough as I anticipated, he was stalking me. This time he had his younger sister and a cousin in tow so he could show off at how much he can get away with. I continued to walk to the edge of the grounds, the soft grass under my shoes, the cool air brushing against my face in the early twilight. The sound of laughter and shouting could be heard amongst the melody and vocals of Dancing Queen. But I wasn’t there. I was here and I was ready.


He came closer and closer as I sat on a bench. He started calling names and pulling faces at me. Laughter from his followers. I let him say what he liked because I knew what I was about to do. There are only so many times you can prod a lion with a stick before it bites back, although, it is probably a lot less than two and a half hours worth of prodding.


I let him get comfortable and then he came closer still. So close that it would be easy for me to reach him. Then like a coiled spring I leapt towards him.


Then I punched him really hard in the face!


I didn’t really. Before you disown me and call social services or the police. I didn’t punch him.


I threw my drink in his face!


Again I jest. That would have been good though. But I did grab him, threw him over my shoulder, whilst the other two ran off. I then marched over to the pond near the fence and dangled him over it. I threatened to throw him in there unless he left me alone. I was sick of his sh*t. He said he’d tell his Dad, but I wasn’t bothered if he did. What’s he going to do? Attack me with a strongly worded letter? A leaflet campaign? Perhaps even a placard?

This wasn’t the ideal way of dealing with this. Ideally, the kid would have left me alone or his Dad would have told him off and he would have listened to him. But desperate times call for desperate measures.


Damien demon-child said that he would leave me alone. I put him on the grass and started to walk towards the party. He didn’t say anything. Perhaps my message had been clear enough. The crazed look in my eyes might have struck fear into his little ginger soul. I really do hope that as well as learning from the experience, my psycho eyes and receding hairline haunts him to this day.


Well it seemed to do the trick although to reaffirm my dominance as the alpha male, I did the only thing that could draw a line under this whole episode once and for all.


I completely annihilated him in a dance off.



  1. gingerfightback · August 2, 2014

    Whilst dangling him you could have said you saw a witch in him and a dunking was the only sure way to find out (you know the old float/sink scenario)


    • Grumpy Young Bloke · August 2, 2014

      Now that is a good idea. I could have rolled my eyes whilst shouting made up Latin words. That would have been scary. However I was expecting you to defend him a bit as he was a ginger.


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