I've got a black eye but you should see the other guy

After yesterday's rather eventful game of football, i'm going to be walking around for a while with a tasty looking black-eye. Didn't think about it at the time, but being a PA who looks like he's been beaten up will surely change the oh-so-delightful on-street experience. I'm guessing that i'm going to hear at least (brain whirs into action and plucks random number) 5 times on Monday: "Ha, ha. Thats what you get for being such a ruthless bastard!" - or a more acute variation.

The harsher forms of Joe P like to pick on us at the best of times; talk about looking like an easy target! I'm going feel like the bullied kid at school whose mum insists that flourescent cycling shorts would be a great idea for muftie (dress-down) day. Or the kid whose parents didn't go to specsavers, but rather, shopped for her glasses at Morrisons in the strawberry preserve section.

At school as a boy, scars, scabs and black-eyes were badges of honour. Now my most prominent badge is not only that of my council - which some regard merely as a sign of undying honour amongst sneaky uniformed thieves - but the mistaken sign that somebody else, somewhere - snapped. For some irate Joe P's it'll be a sign that someone braver, managed to do what they are scared to do. I can hear the cheers already.

I need some good comeback lines...