I'd always joined in. I'd done my bit, my share. Knew where all the queers hung out. Kick their heads in. No problem.

I'd hated them, the cissies, the nances, the batty boys, the arse jockeys. Not real men, some sort of aberration. Sick bastards. I'd have their nads off, mash 'em up, feed 'em to the pigs. On second thoughts that was cruel, to the pigs. Girls in men's bodies.

I used to do a bit of body building. Went down this gym. Not one of those nance gyms like you get now, with a load of prats prancing around in two hundred pound tracksuits, and women as well, I mean a place for real men where boxers trained. That honest sweat smell that hit you as you went in, I always loved it, looked forward to it.

Started when I was sixteen. Rog took me. He was built like a brick shithouse. I wanted to look like Rog too. I started with the smaller weights just like Rog showed me then got on to the heavier stuff. Did a bit of boxing as well. Rog showed me that too. He was good like that was Rog, always willing to help a learner. In the end I was bigger than him. Could lift more, could outbox him.

I got some tatts done. Skull and crossbones on my left upper arm. Union jack on the right.

We hung out down the Crown. Me, Rog, the rest of the lads. Always ready. Mates, guys you would trust with your life. Any batties on our pitch soon got seeing to. No jockey lasted long round our way.

Funny though. Couple of months ago I was walking home from the Crown, alone. I was tanked up and the other guys were going for a curry, but I didn't feel like it that night. It was raining and as I turned down a side street I see these two standing under a street lamp, holding hands. I feel like taking a puke. Two batties almost ready to give each other one, right on my doorstep. Soon sort this lot out. They're both gonna be painting the pavement - red.

So I go up to em. "Having a nice time girls?" One of them, the taller one, dark haired, you wouldn't think he was a batty if you hadn't caught 'em at it, turns slowly, looks at me, "Piss off sweety, do us a favour, there's a good boy." He is not afraid of me. I look him in the eye, ready to take him out, but I'm not prepared for what comes next.

I swing a right at him and he ducks, returning the right with one of his own, hard. I stagger back and he follows up with a perfect, powerful kick in the bollocks and I'm sinking down to my knees, he doesn't give me time to sink very far as his sledgehammer right comes in again to my face and knocks me right on to my back. I'm in trouble now, in agony from the kick to the bollocks and the two rights to my face and he's standing over me, could finish me off no trouble now.

"You go on home" he shouts to his friend. I think this is it, he's gonna kill me, wants to do it alone. The friend runs off. He bends down, looks at me. I'm afraid now. This guy is some piece of work for a batty. He reaches down to my hand, "come on get up" he says. I'm scared he just wants to do me some more. "Come on, I think you've had enough" he says. I groan as I get to my feet, helped by him pulling on my hand. Blood trickles down into my mouth, my face is burning, the whole region round my knackers has gone numb.

What am I gonna tell the lads? That I was taken out by a batty? I'd never live it down. I'll have to make up some story. Three guys from out of town. Jumped me, didn't have a chance, gave as good as I got, you should've seen their faces but in the end they just got the better of me.

I can't believe this guy wants to help me now. I'm still scared it is all a game and he's gonna break my neck any second. "You're a mess" he says. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" I ask him. "Around."

"But you're a ..." I splutter through my bloody mouth but before I finish he agrees, "that's right."

He pulls a handkerchief out, cleans the blood from my mouth. He kisses me. Jesus! I think I'm gonna die. He breaks away then does it again. Puts his arms around me. I can't believe this. Warm feelings suddenly flood through me. I mean, I've had women before but it was never like this. I can't help it, his movements soothe the pain I'm in from the beating he gave me. No woman's body even remotely resembled this guy's in the sense of the way it felt to me then. I feel like I've broken free from twenty five years of being emotionally locked up.

I return his kiss. "Come on home with me" he invites, "my car is just over there." I go with him. I start the next twenty five years of my life.