(official) Ricky Hatton come backk THREAD

Please tell me that's not true. I am rapidly losing the will to live.

 

What a bellend - 10 pages of guff

 

Scared to disclose a twitter rumour, you are "special."

 

He's gone back and edited his old posts.

 

What a twat.
Sorry, there is no other way to describe that.

 

Agree:yep

 

:rofl

 

So why the **** did you make out you knew who it was ?? Im sure everyone here has heard some sort of name in the last two week's.
Best thing you can do is name that person and hope and pray it come's true :good

Ps:Ricky just called you a wanker for spilling the beans and not to contact him anymore

 

Hatton speaking from the heart there as usual, good luck to him.

 

I'm a large man. In height and build. I am not easily intimidated or scared.

I live in the middle of nowhere, quite literally. There are no other houses or dwellings within approximately 4 miles of my home. All that exists around it is woodland, hills, a valley of considerable depth and an electricity sub-station. It is, in every sense of the word, remote.

Our home dates back to the late 16th century. If you were writing a ghost novel it would make the perfect setting.

One winters evening in 2006 I was woken by my wife. She said, in a somewhat startled and concerned voice "There's somebody at the door, there's somebody at the door." I looked at my mobile phone, sat on the drawers beside the bed, and it said the time was 3.11am.

I asked my wife if she was sure and she was adamant. There was someone at the door. Within a few seconds of getting out of bed her statement was confirmed. There was a loud banging noise at the front door. That was enough to wake me from any lingering slumber very quickly indeed. This wasn't a gentle knock or anything that might elude to it being a noise made by the wind - it was a very loud banging on the front door.

I looked outside the bedroom window. I'm still not sure why I did this because it's not possible to see anyone stood at the front door when doing this. Perhaps it was just an instinctive reaction caused by alarm and suspicion that someone might be running away? I don't know.

The banging came again. Someone really wanted our attention.

The wind had been howling around the house all evening. It was an awful night. Bitterly cold - yet the moon was full and shining through the trees as they swayed back and forth, adding to the sense of drama and movie-like trepidation that I could feel running through my veins.

I went downstairs.

The doors are solid oak, hewn from the trunks of the trees that occupy the surrounding woodland a century ago. They're a pain actually, because the house has protected status from a building and planning perspective and even though the doors let a little wind through (and light, although there was no light on this evening) there is nothing we can do about it - because to change them would mean an age of document completion and box ticking with the local authorities.

But I digress.

I was within about 2 feet of the door when the banging came again. Very, very loud. Aggressive, almost. I shouted "Okay, okay, who the f*** is this?".

Nobody answered. Now I was seriously worried. If anyone had arrived in a vehicle I would have seen it. The route to the property is such that I can see a good 1.5 miles down the tree lined track that leads to the house - all the way to the deep valley I mentioned earlier. There, at the valley, it dips down. Would someone have driven to the valley, parked a car, and walked 1.5 miles up to the house in these conditions at 3.11am in the morning? I seriously doubted it.

I shouted again "Who's there, what do you want?"

There was no reply. At this point a little common sense dawned on me. I hold a firearms license. Go get the rifle I occasionally use for shooting vermin. I grappled with a set of keys to access the cabinet in which the rifles are held, dropping them as I did because the banging at the door came yet again.

My heart was coming out of my chest at this point. My wife was whispering from the top of the stairs, "Who is it?" and all I could say was "I don't know, get the kids and go into the bedroom". That's how scared I was at this point.

Eventually I opened the cabinet, unchained a rifle and....went to the back door. No way was I going to open the front door. I made a point of taking a set of keys with me and putting them in my dressing robe pocket, along with a couple of cartridges.

I slowly walked around the outside of the house until I reach a point where we have holly bushes that mask the corner of one side of the house. From there, I could see the front door. I raised the rifle before I popped my head around the corner. I wasn't going to take any risks.

I looked. There, at the front door, I could make out the outline of someone sat, hunched, on the doorstep. They banged on the door as I looked - but that's when I noticed they had something in their hand. It looked like a rock, or a brick, something heavy anyway - it explained why the banging was so loud.

I raised enough courage to walk about from behind the holly bushes with the rifle aimed directly at them. They looked at me immediately. The ground around the house is gravel - so they'd heard me as I stepped onto it from the standard paving at the side of the house.

What I saw was the face of an old man, highlighted by the full moon. He looked very dishevelled and incredibly strange. Almost leper-like.

I shouted "What the f*** are you doing? What do you want?"

He didn't reply. But he did stand up slowly. As he did so I firmed my grip on the rifle and told him not to move. I was about to say I was calling the police when I realised I'd have to go into the house to do so - because our mobile phones don't work until we get a good 5 miles from home and I'd left mine in the bedroom anyway. Clever.

Instead, I warned him not to move and I'm sorry to say I actually said "Move and I shoot you, right?". He didn't say a word.

He turned and walked towards the entrance (not gated) to the house. He kept walking as I kept saying "Answer me or I shoot". But he didn't. Instead he continued to walk. I walked to the entrance keeping a distance of about 20-25 feet between us.

He walked straight down the middle of the track and kept going. I stayed in the entrance. Eventually I lost sight of his head as it disappeared over a slight brow ahead of the valley.

I went back inside after what would now have been a good 30 minutes, during which my wife had been stood at the bedroom window watching.

To this day I have no idea who he was or what he wanted. I have never seen him again. More strangely, there wasn't a single mark on the front door - but there were a few drops of blood on the step. I was sure he had a brick or rock in his hand and if he'd been hitting the door with it - there must be marks? But no, not one.

I was as scared in this 30 minutes as I have ever been. Scared for my family primarily, but also scared for what would happen if anything happened to me? Was this someone with an axe to grind - or was it literally someone with an axe?

Scared. Awful to admit it, but I was scared.

So why is this relevant?......





















...because I get equally worried when I realise there are f*ckwits like you on the internet who think that it is reasonable to see things on Twitter and then decide they should propagate them as facts. You need help. The End.

 

This sugar ****ing nupty is the biggest loser I have seen since I've been posting here and by a long way atsch

 

Gone? I do hope so.