After we’d put together the Bullies Reunited site and got over 2 million hits in a week, The Observer ran an odious piece about two lovesick 30 somethings who had met once again through the Friends Reunited site and were now on their way to eternal happiness. I wondered how it might have been if a bully had decided to meet up with an old adversary…

“You’re still fat. And you smell. Buy me a drink.”
The enduring appeal of Bullies Reunited, by Alice Smirnoff.

Nigel Peacock hadn’t seen Brian “The Fist” Coker since 1984. For many of us those days were rich with golden memories. “Frankie Says…” t-shirts. The flirtation of the school disco, the first illegal drink. But not for Nigel. His memories of that time are somewhat clouded with half-whispered threats of decapitation during metalwork, the unmistakable stench of the flushing toilet bowl. Brian shares these memories with Nigel. But not in the same way.

Bullies Reunited, “the one stop shop for torment and fun”, enabled Brian to find out just what Nigel had been up to after all these years. A smile no doubt played across his lips as he discovered that Nigel lived alone, in a small cottage on the outskirts of St Neots. He decided it was time to renew their acquaintance.

*

Nigel, by all accounts, wasn’t too perturbed by their impending meeting. “Yeah, I remember Brian. We didn’t get on too well all those years ago, but time is a great healer. It’ll be good to relive old times. I’ve not seen anyone from school for years.”

I accompanied Nigel to The Old Red Lion on the High Street. Looking slightly nervous now, he entered to find Brian sitting in an armchair, peering over a copy of the Daily Mail, sniggering. “Hello, dickhead. You’re still fat. And you smell. Buy me a drink.” “W-W-What would you like, The Fist? I mean, Brian?” “I’ll have three pints of Stella, and whatever you’re having, haha.” Nigel departed for the bar. So what was Brian’s motive for arranging the meeting? “I dunno. I get bored. I like to see people squirm, even now. I hated Nigel’s guts, and it was good to see him get flustered. Should be interesting to see if I’ve still got the old magic!” Brian rubbed his hands and awaited the return of his old victim.

“I’m just going to the toilet”, announced Nigel on his return from the bar with a tray. “On your way back, bring me some fucking crisps”, said Brian, quietly. As Nigel disappeared towards the gents, Brian suddenly got up and moved quickly after him, looking back over his shoulder at me and winking. A matter of seconds later, there was a squeal, followed by the sound of the door slamming as Nigel emerged with his y-fronts pulled up around his chest. He ran out of the pub, wailing. Brian returned to our table, smiling. “Fucking great wedgie, eh, Alice? Fancy a pint?” How could I refuse?