Hollywood Hayes: Adventures of a Corkman in LA

So I’m about to get into my car after the gym when a shaved head, stocky Latino guy covered in tattoos yells at me, “Come with bro, come, come.”

Where are we going? Who are you? Am I going to be a superhero?

No time to ask such questions. Just go, my brain tells me.

OK!

Are you OK? Why is the dog barking? Who’s the girl that looks frightened next to my car?

Stocky ignores my questions. “I’ve had enough of this guy, he’s been terrorising our street too long.”

Who, what, now?

Look up the street and see a 6’5’’ Dolph Lundberg- looking muscle head dressed in black waiting for us.

It’s like a Van Damme movie. Except, he’s shouting at a tree like a mad man.

“I OWN THIS STREET, I OWN THIS STREET!”

OK. Are we going to fight this guy or what? Daytime fighting with strangers?

Why am I here again?

Look over at Stocky,

“He just tried to walk into my house. He shouted at that girl. He does this all the time.

Us neighbours got to stick together. Which one are you from?”

I’m actually from Ireland.

“What house do you live in?”

Oh. I don’t live on this street. I’m about five minutes away.

Stocky looks at me disappointed. I look at him saying sorry. This random fight with a crazy stranger who’s still shouting at a tree isn’t my battle.

I stop walking. Point back towards my car.

Give Stocky the old head nod to say, I’m going to head off there, best of luck with whatever the hell is happening here.

Not that Stocky and Dolph were ever going to fight. They just stood about five feet from each other roaring threats.

That’s how guys fight in America. They talk to each other about how they’re going to fight.

“You come over here and I will beat you up!”

“No, you come here and I will beat YOU up!”

“No you-”

“NO YOU-”

“NO YOU-”

“U2!”

Back and forth until a screaming girl comes along. “STOP THE MADNESS! SOMEONE, PLEASE, THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!”

In America the threat of a threat of a fight is all you need to worry about.

Never an actual fight, just the threat. And guns, but that’s another tale.

Growing up in Cork, I remember the threat of a fight being everywhere.

Or maybe I was paranoid and have great hair, easy target.

Leave the house, you get claimed. Walk to the shop, claimed. Stop at the cinema, claimed, claimed, claimed.

“I claim ya” is an odd term, too for “I would like to engage in a fight with you, young man with great hair”.

Sounds like something an aggressive yet loving couple from Cork would say in their marriage vows,

“I claim ya to be my wife.”

“I claim you to be my husband.”

“I now claim ye both to be husband and wife.”

Anyway, I was always far more paranoid about getting in fights back in Ireland. Never knew when someone would throw a punch for no reason.

Over here, it’s gangsters you’ve to look out for but you know me, choir boy in the sheets, gangster in the streets. They know not to mess with me in LA.

Although there was that time a load of Mexican gangsters tried to fight me. During a soccer match. And I had the oddest group ever backing me up.

Our team was called Gypsy FC. Dream team, as in never in your wildest dreams could you have put the side together.

Captain and left back, Robbie Williams. Centre back and World Cup winner (as he liked to tell us), Frank Le Beouf.

Left mid, Gordon Ramsey, or Rambo as he asked us to call him. Centre mid, alongside myself, former England player, Barry Venison. Hollywood FC had nothing on us.

Anyway, we’re playing a final against a team of Mexican gangsters, teardrop tattoos on their face, the lot. All built like small fat teapots, huge beer barrel bellies but the grace and feet of ballerinas, it was nuts.

Tight game. We’re winning. Ref blows up. Hell breaks loose. One guy flies in on me, tries to break my leg, throws a punch. I must’ve sneezed twice because I manage to dodge both, but this is it, we’re all going to fight.

Until Rambo picks one of them up and says, “Cop on the lot of you, there are children watching.” The little teapot responds, “I like your show” and that puts the fire out.

No fight.

All talk.

Just like today.

Choir Boy Hayes lives to not fight another day.

Mark Hayes is a comedian and author of three books including RanDumb, which was #1 on Amazon Humour. He can be found on Twitter @trickaduu and on markhayes.tv.