I don't know if it's my awesome new haircut intimidating lowlives, but people have really started to like hitting me. I was walking back from the gym at 11:30, just down from Oxford st. two nights ago when i heard three guys behind me. Next thing I notice one has ( from a starting run-up) punched me in the back of the neck. His mate comes and pulls me around, but when they figure out they've done f*** all and i'm not going down they run. Dumb c*** who punched me didn't realise i was wearing footy shorts, I chase him down and crash tackle him near central station, and have a good yell about how stupid he is. THEN HE APOLOGISES! apologises for punching me in the back of the head. If that wasn't bad enough, i go get something to eat at my mums, and when i leave to file a police report some dude (who i can't see properly) throws a beer bottle at me from his balcony. I should add that this balcony is in the building where i live. me: "oi, going to the police station, should i just get them to come up here?" him: "arrrgh ya f$cken krnt, raaaa" me *thumbs up* I walk into a convenience store, when this person of lebanese descent with a goatee (who i see in my building like every day, so obviously was balcony dude) walks in behind me, punches me in the back of the head, while wearing a signet ring. I push him back, telling him to chill, he punches me in the face around three times. I restrain him by his arms me: "dude, settle down, you don't want this to get serious" him: "arrrgghh i farkin own this place, i can put a farkin bullet through your head" *head buts me twice in the face* me:" just chill out, the cops are coming, you don't want to get in any more ****" him: "okay let go of my arms" he punches me three times, i back off, he then pulls a knife out of his hoodie. I run out of the convenience store and see two P.I bouncers at the Marlborough hotel, run there and tell them some maniac is after me. Police come about 45 minutes later, have to **** off to break up a pub fight, come back about halfa hour later. We go arrest the knob, pressing charges. That's what I call a bad night.