This article kind of follows on from what I wrote a couple of days ago, when I dealt with a bully some three years older than me who was much, much bigger than me. You can read it here.

Before I get into this just a bit of context. When I first went to school I was the kid who was different (simply because I was already wearing glasses) and kids are evil. Yes I say that again. They may be all sweetness and light, but they are absolutely ruthless at exploiting and dominating other children.

Now I have two kids of my own I even see it before my own eyes. The older one, now four and a half, is at times absolutely ruthless with is little brother, now 18 months old. It usually centres around disagreements concerning toys (interestingly when there are no toys around they are great together) and jealousy. The older one hasn't yet figured out how to manage it. In fairness to both, they each want to interfere with the other's play when each wants to just play on their own but at times it simply comes down to one of them playing with a toy, but then the other one doesn't want that to happen, even though he is not playing with it himself.

He doesn't want the toy, but he doesn't want his brother to have it either.

This usually manifests itself in the older one, seemingly inexplicably, taking a toy off the younger one. In microcosm this is probably a central tenet of sibling rivalry. The older one needs to tread very carefully though, because although there is some three years between then the younger one is no pushover and he will take the older one down and he's a biter.

We of course have witnessed this and try to intervene as quickly as possible as the older one has ended up with bruises before today. The little one is that quick that he can get ahead of us and I remember one particular occasion recently when he bit the older one on the back and when he bites he doesn't just nip he sinks his teeth in with all he has. It took me a mere second to separate them, but the result was a huge bruise on the older ones back.

The younger one is learning how to fight back - and this is what I learnt too when thrust into a hostile atmosphere.

I am not saying this is the ideal solution and I do have a very clear anti-bullying strategy.

But this wasn't where I was when I was a kid and so just like my younger son I learned how to fight back. I didn't want to be a fighter, but the first time it happened I had no choice. It was the late 1970s when kids were expected to make their own way home from school and that was what I was doing when I was literally surrounded by the boy's older brother and his friends with no adult nearby and chance of escape. 

Fight or be beaten.

I was probably about seven or eight at the time and just like my younger son, not knowing what to do I simply bit him as hard as I could. His mum came round later the same day to complain!

Around the age of eight a couple of formative experiences showed me that I can fight (not just bite) and that I had to and that's what I did. Of course I lost occasionally, but almost always I came out on top. I may not have been the strongest, but i was so f**king aggressive and I had no stop button.

So now to the main point of my post - and looking back it was a perfect outcome.

By now, in secondary school and about 16, my route home took me close by the route home for a bunch of other teenagers from a different school and where I was brought up inter-school rivalry was a big thing and this particular situation was one of three similar incidents I had with gangs from another school.

In this particular case, there were five of them and so, clearly outnumbered, I had to back down each time and eschew my way out somehow. I quickly identified that there were three followers and I was unsure who the alpha was between the other two as they were both extremely aggressive. One of the followers literally lived three houses from mine. 

A representative sketch map might help...

As you can see, there was a certain point on the map where all the lines converge and that meant trouble for me. However, something quite remarkable happened in the space of just a few days that changed everything.

It was almost certainly midweek and this occasion I was coming home, wary and watchful as usual, when I suddenly saw two of the boys maybe 100 metres ahead of me. I immediately recognised them as two of the weaker members of the gang (represented in purple above) and I quickly closed in on them. 

Let me make one thing clear at this point. I had matured enough that fighting was not my endgame. I just wanted them to leave me alone.

So when I got close enough, with a mouthful of vulgarities, I started provoking them while at the same time kicking out at their bags which were on their lower backs. My message was very simple, fight me now (bearing in mind there were two of them) or forever desist because if they don't, then I will track them down again on their own and I will "kick the s**t out them."

They turned down the side street towards their homes saying again and again that they didn't want any trouble and I persisted just a while longer to drive home my point without actually hitting them. Then, when I believed they'd had enough, I turned round to go home and low and behold my neighbour was coming our way (represented in green). He, just like me, had no reason to be on that side street other than for trouble. In fairness, and to his credit, he probably saw what was happening and came to stick up for his friends.

This of  course was a red rag to a bull and I was ready to take him down.

As soon as he saw me steaming towards him, he turned to make his way home. I chased him down and caught up with him just as he was going through the gate and into the garden in front of his house. I didn't enter his property, but stood at his gate and taunted him. I seem to recall it was something along the following lines.

'That's it run away you f**king c**t. I tell you what why don't you go and get your mummy and daddy and they can watch me kick the living f**king s**t out of you!'

Again, despite my aggression, I didn't really want to fight him, but I was more ready to do so than with the other two boys that I'd just seen off. I've never seen anybody move so fast. So my parting shot, as with the other two, was that he would be best advised to leave me alone or I will get him when he's on his own. Of course my language was far more vulgar and direct than that.

Then the most remarkable thing happened.

It was the following Saturday, just a few days after my eventful walk home from school. I was taking my dog for a walk and unusually I decided to go down the local riverbank rather than the park. I'd probably been walking about twenty minutes when up ahead I saw one of the alphas also walking his dog.

I resolved that I would take him down and given his status in the gang he was most likely to fight back.

I fleetingly considered the dogs, but decided that they would occupy each other doing what dogs do, leaving me free to take him down.

I approached, adrenaline pumping and fists clenched. This wasn't going to be pretty. I shouted at him when I was still a bit away from him and he turned to face me. I think he might have paled, but that could be my imagination. Either way, he put his hands palm up in a passive and non-aggressive way saying he didn't want any trouble and probably in my heart of hearts I didn't really want to leather him, although I was more than ready to.

Then he threw me what my American cousins call a curveball.

From nowhere he asked me which school I went to. That stopped me in my tracks and I answered. By now the dogs were sniffing around each other.

He then explained that his little brother goes to the same school as me and that he is terribly bullied. I asked him who it was and I immediately knew who he was talking about.

You see this boy, four years younger than me, was being bullied and was a nice kid. Maybe I saw something of my past in him, but I had become very protective of him in the schoolyard and as a prefect I was in a position to be able to do something about it. Yet, there I was on the riverbank ready to drop his older brother and somehow engaged in conversation with him.

This all came out in our to and fro and then suddenly he said to me, 'Why are we fighting? I should be shaking your hand for looking after my little brother'

And that was that. The whole incident was done in about five minutes and we chatted more than amicably for a while longer before parting although my parting gift was to remind him to drop his f**king shit with me because there'd be no second chances. He laughed and so did I,

The very next day, Sunday, in the evening I was passing our local shops when I saw the second alpha approaching me on his bicycle. Let me explain something about my mentality in those days. Fighting fair meant giving the other boy a chance and why the hell would I do that? I was more than ready to aim a kick at his hip and knock him off his bike before pouncing and knocking seven bells out of him.

As he got closer he must have sensed my intent because he took a wider arc to stay out of range and smiled with a simple "Alright mate,' (which for non-Brits simply means hi) and then he was gone. I am guessing that one of two scenarios led to this final outcome, either the guy from the riverside had told him that I was alright really or he'd got the message that I was very dangerous and not to be messed with.

I'd like to think the latter, but it was almost certainly the former.

This is the perfect way to deal with a gang of bullies and that particular gang never bothered me again, which was the outcome I'd wanted from the very outset.

As always stay safe and stay well my friends.