Chinese Boxing, as Wu Shu Kwan is locally known, is a great way to get fit, meet new people, and let them beat seven shades of sweet bejesus out of you. Beating the sweet bejesus out of beginners like myself is a good way to sell official chinese boxing merchandise – such as pads, groin guards, gloves, and gum shields. I vouched for shin guards first. Foolishly, after being kicked in the family jewels three weeks ago, I decided to upgrade my kit by getting gloves. The best form of defense is attack they say.
Last night, a new friend got a pretty solid kick in the nose during practice. The nose was glad of the attention and glowed red, as all of the blood in my friend’s face rushed to the front of his nose. It probably wanted to see who was knocking its nostrils.
Later on, I fought a leviathan amongst fishmongers. He punched me a bit in the face. My blood wasn’t interested in seeing the outside of my face, for which I bless my lazy corpuscles and immobile platelets. The instructor enthused that I should tuck my chin in.
She didn’t mention anything about my family jewels, which must evidently hang out when I fight. Patrolling my groin, giving the finger to my opponents legs, generally being boisterous and attracting too much attention. I’m very attached to my knackers. But last night, when a Spaniard’s foot crashed into them, I thought that I wasn’t. At the time I thought of my battered friend’s nose, and the enormous redness and swelling thereupon. I felt the stomach-churning twist of a knife in my abdomen. I saw stars. I couldn’t hear anything for a few moments as my body doubled up. Cycling to work this morning wasn’t really an option. Even now, every key-stroke brings back the ache of remembered pain to my trousers. Wu Shu Kwan, through their army of heavy footed sales reps, have kicked their way into another sale. I have ordered a groin guard.