The sickening sound of bone and cartilage

So far I’ve used this blog as a place to post general internet tat, largely for my own reference. However, I feel the urge to use it in a more cathartic, bear-your-soul-to-strangers-on-the-internet (although I’m perfectly aware that nobody will read this), immerse yourself in Spirit Of The Blog kind of way. So, to that end, here’s a personal tale of guilt and injury that took place over Christmas.

The tale starts in London, in the period between Christmas and New Year. Myself and two good friends – Adam and Phil – were out in the pubs, exercising our Christmas cheer and taking advantage of the fact that we didn’t have to go to work the next day. So, starting at around 6pm, we set to it, visiting a number of different pubs, drinking lager to our hearts’ content, talking crap etc – all the usual things. Eventually, at around 9pm, we found ourselves in The Nell Gwynne (just off The Strand), a cosy little pub with a small yard outside. After and hour or so in the pub, Adam in particular was beginning to feel the effects of the night’s drinking so far, and went outside. After a few minutes I followed him out, to persuade him to come back into the pub and carry on drinking like a big boy. After a few minutes of persuasion (i.e. Adam sat slumped in a chair, while I tugged different parts of his clothing in as irritating manner as possible), Adam chose to headbutt me in an effort to make me stop.

…and now time for a small aside…

At Adam’s stag weekend in Amsterdam in 2003, a bit of a game started. While standing at the bar in some place in Amsterdam, Adam approached me with his fiancee’s younger brother (Andrew), and insisted that we should go outside and punch each other in the stomach … hard (no doubt this was inspired by Fight Club). So, to cut a long story short, that’s exactly what we did. Adam punched Andrew, Andrew punched me, and I punched Adam. That would have been it really, except that Adam got a bit of a taste for it. Perhaps more significantly, Phil was still in the bar and missed out on all this. However, when he later found out about it, he was a little piqued at not seeing/taking part, because it sounded like fun. The result of this is that when Adam, Phil and I have gone out on subsequent occasions (and there have been a lot of these), this game often comes up, and Adam and Phil usually end up hitting each other for a while until the urge has passed. Adam and Phil go drinking without me quite a lot too (they’re in London and I’m not, you see), and I can only guess that they play the game on those occassions too.

…so, back to the tale…

Adam headbutts me. This instantly transformed itself into ‘the game’, and so he headbutts me several more times – I can’t be sure, but I’d estimate around half a dozen times. At this point, I didn’t join in. Perhaps as a result of my non-participation, or perhaps from a feeling of mately inclusion (or a mixture of both), Adam then goes into the pub, where Phil is happily sitting at the bar with his drink, taps Phil on the shoulder, and – as Phil turns towards him – headbutts Phil too. So, understandably, Phil hit Adam.

It gets a bit blurry now, but I’ll recount the next bit as faithfully as I can. After Adam and Phil play-fought for a short time, attention turned back to me (I’m not sure why). Adam in particular was adamant that I should join in the fun and headbutt him. I refused. Adam continued to persuade me, and I continued to refuse. Then one of us suggested that I should headbutt Adam outside. I can’t be sure whether I said something along the lines of “I’m not going to headbutt you in the middle of a pub”, or whether Adam suggested it as way around my perceived reticence. Whatever – we went outside.

When we got out there, Adam stood in front of me a told me to headbutt him. At this point I bottled it and backed out. Now things started getting surreal. In an effort to persuade me to ‘do it’, Adam placed one foot on a nearby chair, and told me to start off by headbutting his upper leg. At this stage it’s worth you trying to visualise the scene – we’re standing outside the main window of the pub (which had a table full of young-ish girls behind it), Adam standing with one foot on a chair, while slapping his thigh. Think about it. Of course, I didn’t really notice how this could have looked until I replayed events in my head the following day.

I refused to headbutt Adam’s leg, on the grounds that to do so would be utterly ridiculous. Things get a bit blurry again now, but – in short – Adam continued to try and persuade me, and I relented. So, Adam stood up, I faced him, and then I proceeded to headbutt him.

Now things speed up a bit.

As I’m standing nose to nose with Adam, I aimed my headbutt at his forehead. However, it didn’t go according to plan. As my head connected with Adam’s there was a sickening cracking noise and Adam immediately dropped to his knees, clutching his nose with both hands. I think he swore as well. In response, I dropped down to his level as asked if he was OK. Of course, this was a stupid question, but what do you do? That’s when I first saw the blood, which – understandably – indicated that all was not well. Adam remained on his knees, clutching his nose, and moaning with pain. After several moments of this, I asked Adam if there was anything I could get him. He replied “a doctor”. This was out of the question, so I simply stayed with him and said helpful things like “fuck” and “I’m sorry”. After another short while, and with blood now dripping to the ground through Adam’s hands, I decided that the most useful thing I could do was go into the bar and grab some tissues or something. While doing so, I also grabbed Phil (who was blissfully unaware of all this) and told him what had happened.

Phil and I rushed back out to Adam, who was still crouched down on the floor clutching his nose. Again, it’s a bit blurry here, but for the next ten minutes or so Phil and I attempted to tend to Adam, without having any idea of what to do (did I mention that we were drunk?). At some point Adam stood up, stopped bleeding, and removed his hands from his nose so that we could see, for the first time, the damage. To be fair, it didn’t actually look that bad, with a small graze on one side of his nose, and a largish lump at the bridge. It didn’t, for instance, look like a boxer’s nose. At some point during all this, one of the girls from the pub – who clearly had much more presence of mind than Phil or I – brought Adam some ice.

And that’s basically it. After twenty minutes or so of faffing about and endless apologies, Adam felt a bit better and we all went home. In the days that followed his nose swelled up a lot, bruised even more, and did all the things I’d imagine a broken nose does. On New Year’s Day he had to go to A&E, where they booked him in to see a specialist for an X-ray a week later. I haven’t actually seen him since, so I don’t know how his nose looks. However, I have spoken to him a number of times (starting on the day after the incident), and received progress reports. It seems that his nose is definitely broken, and now points slightly to the left. The swelling has gone down, but the bruising hasn’t. To his endless credit, he’s still talking to me, and doesn’t appear to be holding a grudge of any sort.

Obviously, since all this happened, some thoughts have been thought, and some conclusions reached. One thought was why on earth did I headbutt him in the face? All I can say here is that I really didn’t mean to; I was aiming for his forehead, and must have missed. In my defence, I’ve never headbutt anyone before, so I was aiming for the first time ever, while drunk. My best guess is that I misjudged the distance between us – perhaps thinking that Adam was an inch or so closer to me than he actually was. Hence, while aiming for his forehead, I fell slightly short and hit his nose instead. It’s just a guess though.

A conclusion that both Adam and I have reached (independently), is that this should mark a definite end to the Fight Club games. For my part, I reached this conclusion within seconds of headbutting Adam. Adam has also concluded that I owe him a few beers, with which I’m happy to comply. Adam’s wife Heidi has concluded that Adam and I shouldn’t go out to play any more.

So that’s it. You could read this as a cautionery tale if you wish, although I’m not sure which bit you should be cautious of. Actually, that’s not true – you should definitely be cautious of the “let’s headbutt each other” game. For what it’s worth, I don’t feel that any great weight has been lifted from my shoudlers as a result of recounting this tale to blog readers I’ve never met, so perhaps blogs are crap after all. Who can tell? One good thing that could come from this is that I’ll send a link to it to Adam, who can’t remember much about what happened.

So, if you’re reading this Adam, I’m sorry. Good luck with your appointment tomorrow.