Quotes About Violence

The only kicks and highs people got then were the ones dished out in nightclub fights.

I started to turn my life around for the better and try to instil a bit of stability and balance back in to it and take a back seat to violence. I wanted to leave that part of my life behind. The leopard wanted to ditch its spots!

I'd only gone and whacked his front teeth out and they'd stuck in my hand, I still have the scar to this very day. A few weeks later, I got banged up for it; he never went to the police until two weeks later. Somebody had put him wise about getting compensation from the Criminal Injuries Board. Anyway, the CPS (Crown Prosecution Service) kicked it in to touch as a 'no go' case.

We were called to a pub that had our doormen on, we were told there was fighting. It was he, Big George, but he'd already left. We went in and the bouncers were smashed to bits, shirts ripped off, teeth knocked out, claret and glass everywhere. Single-handedly, George had demolished them, as if they were made out of cardboard.

I have beaten people into the ground and the more they cry the more of a beating I gave them. If they don't cry, I come off, if they cry then I will beat them and beat them and beat them.

Usually with a couple of these shots the word 'Goodnight' would show up on their forehead, but he was still on his feet, but backed up and then I battered him with a flurry of combinations: right, left, right, right, right and a sweet right hand and he went down. For good measure, I booted him in the head and turned around and walked fast in to the pub away from the scene.

I opened my coat and flashed the gun to Brew, all I had to do was point it and pull the trigger and that would be the end of one of my enemies. I'd probably have to shoot the second as he ran way from me totting the gun.

Most of the pubs had barred Des, but he came in to the Tiger bar and he points to me and says, 'And you, out! I want you by the back of the car park.' So I obliged him and proceeded to kick the poor cunt all around the car park, he ended up in hospital for a week! Eventually, when he came out of hospital he said that I was the best thing that had happened to him, I'd cured him!

I pulled the loaded gun out of my coat, most people were the worst for wear with the drink, although I was well known and easily recognised with the big scar down my face. Well, didn't I go and let both barrels off at the streetlight, it exploded into pieces and the front of the pub went into darkness.

As one of the motorbikes came towards me, I let a big heavy right go, and knocked the rider's head clean off his shoulders! Fucking hell, the guy's head was still in his helmet and it was clattering all the way down the road.

These near death escapades didn't put me off working in violent situations. If trouble happened then I couldn't stop to think of what might happen. There were some good people about and my job was to protect them from trouble, I couldn't let past experiences put me off.

He caught me neat, right on the fucking face and I took one step back and thought, you're not getting away with that you bastard! I was punching the piss out of him, he kept going down, but I didn't kick him, he'd had enough. I didn't put the boot in to a man older than myself. But this confrontation was out of the blue, out of the fucking blue. That's what I had to face.

Thank God! He went down in front of the bar on the tiled floor. BANG! The fat bastard, he shattered both knees with the weight of him. My hands were in just a little bit of pain, but I was driven on to keep punching his fat head in by the gratifying squeals I was eliciting from him and, broken hands or not, with the coup de grace… I knocked him out.

When I got off him, I spat the blood that was swamping my mouth in to his face, I looked down at him and it really looked like he was dying… shit! The ambulance arrived in about a minute and they got an oxygen mask straight on him and I could see the life draining out of him. You see, this is the problem; we are only human and flesh and blood.

There was just one cheeky bastard in the club that night and it started World War Three. There was a bloodbath down there, they all got locked up, and the police dogs didn't need feeding for a week after that.

We heard the shots in the night But nobody knew next day what the trouble was And a man must go to his work. So I didn't see him For three days, then, and me near out of my mind And all the patrols on the streets with their dirty guns And when he came back, he looked drunk, and the blood was on him.

Batterers aren't renowned for taking responsibility for their abusiveness, Sam. They tend to shed blame like a snake molts.

If there is a God, the phrase that must disgust him is "holy war".

Believing the monster was preparing to ram his yacht, Bud Harris panicked. Drunk, depressed, and suddenly quite terrified of meeting the same horrible fate as his lover, the millionaire shoved the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger, blasting the back of his head open like a ripe watermelon.

Murder's the taking of one man's life by another - war's the other way around.

Behind the bar hung a photo of Roni Loveless, the boxer who, ordered to throw a fight, burst through an inner struggle to beat not only his opponent but everyone in the arena and its locality in an outward-blooming explosion of violence against suppressive mediocrity.

Do patnácti let v?ku umírají (chlapci) t?ikrát ?ast?ji než d?v?ata, a to z nejr?zn?jších p?í?in - ale nejvíce následkem úrazu, násilí a pokusu o sebevraždu.

You don't whack someone upside the head with a poker unless you mean it.

Blood, blood, and destruction, destruction," bin Laden crowed as the tape concluded. "We give you the good news that the forces of Islam are coming."21