I had considered posting this chez-moi but decided that it was a bit too serious, and I have spent a lot of my little acre of cyberspace being morose for a while, so I thought I would keep in the tone of being a serious individual rather than the iconic madman that I so often adopt the personna of.
I had a pretty serious ethical dilemma on Sunday. My good friend B texted me around lunch time to inform me that her husband had given her a pretty good kicking in front of the kids. I texted her back and got no reply. I waited 15 minutes and then tried to call. Voice-mail. I called her friend J and asked whether she had had no contact at all. Eventually, about another 10 minutes later, the phone rang and I could hear palpable fear. I suggested she call the police. She was too scared to countenance the idea.
I sat gnawing on the problem for around 10 minutes, wondering what to do for the best. Do you come between man and wife? Do you exercise some compassion in aid of the greater good? Do you go around and ensure that the guy in question knows that his cards are marked by a fairly large group of guys who are quite happy to deposit him at the bottom of a lake should he ever do that again?
I didn't know what to do. Da Missus and I had our moments, like all couples do. The difference here is that Da Missus wasn't averse to a bit of physical herself. We gave as good as we got and, where possible, the kids were not around. B is about 5 foot nothing and weighs less than a Mars Bar. Her husband is a 6 foot three ex-soldier who is built like your proverbial one.
After straining my addled brain for another 10 minutes, I took the view that I could not ignore the fact that this guy could well seriously injure her, if not kill her. I called the police. They went and arrested him. He was released later with a caution and her and her kids ended up in my bed while I suffered on a sofa knowing full well I needed to be up at 05:30. The ramifications of my actions worry me greatly. Have I caused a divorce? Is it likely to escalate now? Will it have taught the chap in question a lesson?
I would imagine that he is a combination of humiliated (being arrested in front of his neighbors), annoyed that he had to walk 8 miles home when released and relieved that he is not now sat at Her Majesty's pleasure.
The violence is not unprecedented so I think I feel vindicated. Opinions welcome.
In the meantime, if I can keep my eyes open when I get home, I may try to perform some bloggage on my realm. Perhaps something a little lighter?