I aint avin it

I 'aint 'kin 'avin' it

Everyone should have a few cards, each day, that they can lay on the table, then walk away for a cooling off period.

The cards should have:

“I 'aint 'kin-well 'avin' it” written on them.

On a full-time fire station, often visited by people without a clue about just quite what that might mean in terms of testosterone, muscle, and strongly-held opinions, the “I 'aint 'avin' it” ploy was the safety valve between raised voices and raised hands.

MM and I were talking about this recently:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtidXpWaVVM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcQpq0_BqOc

The first one gives you the gist. The second one, with title sequences “Giles, You Legend!”, taken from the lower tier, gives the crowd's reaction.

Bergkamp's testimonial. A friendly game. A proper friendly game, played in a non-contact spirit, with the players avoiding tackles and pulling out of all and any collisions. Genuinely friendly. Arsenal legends v Ajax legends.

Then: Edgar Davids, S***s-tainted, is in on the Arsenal goal, past Seaman, bearing down on the open goal.

Enter the Grimster...

...and:

HE AINT AVIN IT, RIGHT?

He isn't going to stand for no S***s-associated player scoring at the Emirates, competitive, friendly, super-friendly, whatever. Watch the fans' reaction. The whole stadium rises to give him a standing ovation. They understand someone who simply isn't having it. In a world where there's too much bowing and scraping, too much tugging of the forelock and bending over backwards, where the customer's always right and we have to avoid offending the perma-offended, someone's made a call and stood by it.

Naturally, a bemused Seaman saved or watched the penalty go over the bar or whatever.

Not only is I 'aint 'avin' it a valid point of view, it's one that 60,000 people instantly identified with. In full:

“Look. Mate. We can go over and over this for all eternity. You're not going to revise your position, and you're not going to stop talking out of your arse, and I 'aint 'avin' it. I'm going down the gym. I suggest you don't follow me, because the red mist's a-commin' and I'll have trouble telling you from the heavy punchbag.”

Maybe the use is limited to big, hairy folk working in extremely hostile environments. Certainly, I miss it. I recognise early when the other side isn't backing down one iota, but going on at length as if I will, and I won't, and my mood swings instantly to extreme boredom with background simmering violence. I would rather be elsewhere. It would be better were I elsewhere. I can feel that Grimster tackle, or the equivalent, coming on. Thinking about it, I've got a pre-season friendly sending-off on the CV.