“Did I tell you about the night I spent in jail?” I gulped some beer. Me mates were huddled around the bar table sucking on wings and swilling whiskey.
“I don’t think you did James boy.” That was Kyle. He was a dock worker with a solid chip on his shoulder. He hated every political party and every politician. He hated priests too. And the Queen. And even Queen. I didn’t agree with him about that. I thought Freddy Mercury was awesome. But he was gay and Kyle hated gays too.
“You know…they tell us there is never a reason to hit a woman.” I gulped more beer. I was getting low.
“Aww…that’s a load of shit. There’s plenty of reasons to hit a woman.”
“Agreed.” That was Charlie. He wiped wing sauce from his mouth. “A day doesn’t go by that I don’t want to clock my wife. I don’t want to knock her teeth out, yeah. Just stun her a little. Get her to shut her mouth a bit.”
“I never met a woman I didn’t want to hit at one time or another.” Kyle was looking serious. “So why jail?”
“So one night I go to take a shower and I leave my clothes on top of the hamper and my wife walks by and starts screaming that I’m supposed to put the clothes in the hamper not on. She’s red as a tomato and seething. There I am…naked and she comes after me and I grab her wrist and then she goes to knee me in the balls so I take my other hand and push her away and she falls back and hits her head on the bathroom wall. Anyhow, she calls the police and the ambulance and I get arrested. So I’m sitting in the jail, handcuffed to a chair, and this policewoman is asking me questions. I tried to explain my side. Clothes on the hamper and all that shit and then wifey trying to knee me in the balls. So the policewoman says my wife has a concussion and it’s all my fault. Then the policewoman folds her arms and says ‘you know, there’s never an excuse to hit a woman’. I think I rolled my eyes. Can’t be sure. I said ‘what if she’s coming after me with a knife? Can I clock her then?’” The policewoman is seething and then sticks me in a cell. I bunked with a tranny and some drunk blokes with beer glass still in their wounds. That was my night in jail.”
“You’re still with Caroline,” Charlie stated.
“That is true. She doesn’t have a job. Where would she go? Last job she had was serving chips with vinegar.”
“I want to start a movement,” said Kyle. “Hashtag UsToo. We suffer needless abuse too. Just last Friday this hen at the Whistle kept rubbing against me. Didn’t even want her. I wanted to drink my whiskey in peace. But she kept rubbing.” Kyle set down his glass. “Yeah. I’m going to start it. #UsToo. Men can vent all their bad women experiences. Are you in men?”
We all raised our glasses and clinked. I realized I would have to set up a new Twitter account. If Caroline noticed she might try to clock me again and I never wanted to go back to jail in my lifetime.