I clocked him across the smoky and crowded dance floor of the Prince Consort discotheque. He was six foot, a couple of inches taller than me, blond with an athletic build and would have been good looking were it not for the permanent sneer twisting his features. He was eighteen. I was nineteen.

His mates called him Barney and he was a cunt, quite literally, from the wrong side of the tracks across town and he was from a rough family whose reputation he lived off.

He was heading my way because about an hour earlier he had been giving my mate Jeremy a bit of hassle. I had told him to piss off. And he had.

It had been eating him since, he had lost face, I could see that, and with a few more beers in his belly he had come to even the score.

I watched him get closer and had shut out the thumping beat of the music and the dancers and had focussed, though pissed, on what I was going to do. Had to do.

Then he was about three feet away with his eyes angrily staring into mine. It was a mistake as he should have been looking at my hands. I'd smiled slightly to deceive him into believing that it was he who was in control and that I was no threat.

"Anytime you..." he'd said.

I smashed my right fist as hard as I could into his face with the intention of pushing his nose into the back of his head and as I did an electric shock of pain shot up my arm. He reeled back in agony brought his hands up to his face and wheeled away.

One hard punch and the cunt had had enough. I kind of felt good about that.

"Okay cool it, lads, just stay cool everybody," said the DJ who had had a grandstand view of the action. He also killed the music.

The dancers stop dancing and slowly realised that something has happened. Barney was over in the corner and one of his mates had his arm round him.

Another one of his pals, quite short and probably underage came up to me and said menacingly: "If you want trouble mate, we'll give you fucking trouble!"

I wanted to laugh, though it was swiftly dawning on me that I could have really been in deep shit, because the line sounded right out of a badly scripted gangster movie. I decided to brazen it out - they didn't know me and maybe I really was useful, besides which I took their mate out pretty easily and he was supposed to be tough.

"Look Shorty, it was between him and me, but if you want some of the same then feel free to have a go."

He'd said nothing and had sidled off. The problem was that my hand was really hurting, and I'd wondered if I've broken a finger. I was fucked if there was to be any more fighting.

I opted to get out, but I'd have to do it coolly, if I'd shown any weakness then I would have had it.

I'd then nonchalantly pushed another one of his mates out of the way and made for the back way to the cloakrooms where Jeremy was attempting to chat up the cock-tease of an attendant. I'd got to get him out in case they started on him. At the far end of the club by the entrance I'd just see one of the black suited burly bouncers begin to walk down, presumably called by the DJ.

I was really shitting it now inside but I if I could keep my composure, I stood a good chance of getting away with it.

As I stepped off the dance floor a big blond fellow with a petite brunette hanging on his arm said to me: "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

I'd just ignored him and had carry on walking. I'd also prayed he didn't come after me.

I strolled down the corridor fairly confident that nobody was following me and saw Jeremy leaning on the door frame of the cloakroom obviously trying to impress the flirty peroxide blonde of an attendant. He'd looked a bit annoyed that I was about to interrupt him, but he'd hadn't got a cat in hells chance of pulling her anyway.

I'd taken him by the arm and out of earshot.

"Jeremy, we have to get out of here. And quick. I've just smacked Barney and we could be in big trouble!"

"Uh, right," he said, suddenly realising the seriousness of the situation.

"I want you to act completely normal till we get out of here," I whispered to him. He'd nodded.

We made our way the ten yards or so to the exit. There was only one bouncer there; the other two were probably on the dance floor questioning people. I still couldn't hear any music. Not good.

As I approached the door, I'd feared that at any moment a member of Barney's little group could have just appeared. And we still had to get past the doorman.

The bouncer saw us and to my amazement had swungs open the reinforced glass door. "Early night lads?"

"Well, there's not a lot going on and I've got to work tomorrow. Good night!" I responded breezily.

I'd breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped out into the late evening air and had walked up the stone steps to the pavement, the Prince Consort nightclub being below ground level.

As we reached the top of the steps I turned to Jeremy and said: "I think it will probably be a very good idea if we sprint back to mine and wait for the furore to die down."

We were both pretty quick runners, but we had only gone about seventy yards when I heard a shout in the distance: "That's him. After them, lads!"

We got to the top of St Thomas's Street and then turned into Spencer Road. We were both badly gasping as we got to my family's house. I'd looked for my pursuers, but we had left them behind, and more importantly they hadn't seen where I lived.

I opened the front door and we had let ourselves in. It was quiet - my mother and grandmother had gone to bed.

"That was close Matt, what happened?"

"I punched Barney in the face before he hit me. I never realised he had so many mates and what's really bad is that I may have damaged my hand. It really hurts. I meant to punch him in the nose, but I think I missed and hit him on the cheek. I think I'll leave it a while before paying another visit to the Prince Consort."

We suddenly heard a group of noisy lads pass by outside the window and exchange knowing smiles.

"Fancy a cup of tea Jeremy?"

Yeah, don't mind if I do, Matt."

I filled the kettle and then placed it on the ring of the cooker before lighting the gas...