KnightNice (Part Three)


Poetry by Hazel Tsoi-Wiles

(Read Part One and Part Two)

 

KnightNice

 

I went to the boards, where he dominated

All talk was of how much men were hated.

I looked – there it was, a day and location

To reclaim our right to run the nation.

Men are men, leaders with distinction!

Don’t let lefty lesbians lead our extinction!

The Union Jack isn’t Union Jill!

We stop the rot now, or nobody will!

Unite to bring the feminists down –  

Starting with evil New Meadow Town.

KnightNice was urging to “kill, or be killed”

I hated myself for feeling quite thrilled.

 

I went along. Just to see who was there.

I wasn’t protesting. I didn’t really care.

It wasn’t as if I hated women too;

It was a Tuesday, and I’d nothing to do.

So I turned up, walked about, had a good look around.

There were five, six men near the kiddies playground.

And maybe three more by the door to the flats.

I was glad not to be one of these shifty twats.

I was just there as a casual observer.

I thought they were absurd, their protest absurder.

But just like them, I had my phone in my hand

To keep an eye on what KnightNice had planned.

 

KnightNice had set for us a time and date,

We were waiting for him, but he was late.

He told the chat group he’d encrypted,

To look casual for now, as he had scripted.

He wrote: “I’ve loaded my car for you lucky lot!

Just wait till you see all the gear that I’ve got!”

I saw he’d uploaded a whole load of text,

That explained (but not really) what he would do next. 

He told the chat group to be very sure,

To wait for him by the primary school door.

 

It was actually a gate, and some mums were there waiting.

The eight or so men started jeering, and baiting.

The women had no clue what they were on about,

A few told them firmly to not swear or shout.

“There are children here,” a mum said loudly.

A man came forward declaring proudly:

“Not for much longer, you scrounging scumbags!

Your free ride is over, you freeloading slags!”

That’s when the car screeched around the corner,

Knocking over a mum before anyone could warn her.

 

KnightNice had arrived, but not on horseback,

It was him driving that killer hatchback.

He was driving recklessly, and very, very fast.

He was sweating and panting as he went past.

He swerved into the women standing by the gate,

He was knocking them down at a great rate.

 

You can’t exclude men from affordable homes.

You can’t create women-only zones.

What about men? When would we get a break?

Now look at what action he had to take.

Now look at him ramming his car at the school.

It’s their oppression of him that’s vicious and cruel.

Now look at him get stuff from the backseat.

Now watch him pour petrol all over the street.

Now see him throw bricks, see the dust fly.

Now hear him scream feminism must die.

“This is for men who have been beaten down

By the men-hating thinking behind Meadow Town!”

And then he set fire to the road, and his car.

A spectacular spectacle thus far.

 

The men who were part of KnightNice’s crusade,

Formed a balding, red-faced male barricade,

And chanted and yelled against a wall of flame:

“You bitches have only yourselves to blame!” 

This is what KnightNice had got them believing,

All women were lying, conniving, deceiving.

And the only sure way to get them under our thumb

Was to kill all their kids. Dads rule, not mum.

 

KnightNice had knives. KnightNice had a sword.

He had boasted about them on the messageboard.

It had seemed to be more of his standard bullshit,

No one believed him when he said he would do it.

A lot of us spoke like domestic terrorists

And a lot of us didn’t like modern feminists.

But none of us would ever make bombs or kill.

We just typed out our anger, had a wank to chill. 

Now, KnightNice was out there, attention-grabbing.

Now, KnightNice was out there, slashing and stabbing.

He ran through the fire, more determined than ever

To find more schoolkids to maim and sever.

It wasn’t the flats KnightNice meant to blow up.

It was Meadow Town kids he didn’t want to grow up.

 

The band of baldies all grabbed a blade,

But I saw their bloodlust start to fade,

When mums and teachers took blows to the head,

And begged the attackers “let me die instead.”

 

Mums willing to make such a sacrifice, 

Weren’t part of the plan set by KnightNice.

The baldies retreated, faded into the smoke

Each would say they were there as a joke.

They just meant to scare the council into banning

Their next round of discriminatory urban planning.

The fire and knives were from one man going nuts.

They weren’t terrorists or paedos. They hadn’t the guts.

 

They were okay with this being their defence. 

They would just say they didn’t mean offence.

“Sorry we scared those mums and kids senseless,”

But it proved that Leftism left them defenceless.

 

I’s vaguely thought that would be my line too,

Until I saw an abandoned small shoe.

A wee shiny shoe with a blood-drenched bow.

My investment in the incident started to grow.

Who left it there, was the girl alright?

It felt badly wrong, and nothing felt right.

KnightNice was mad, I was scared and disgusted;

He wasn’t to be listened to or trusted.

 

I looked, and I saw him, singed and charred.

I looked, and I saw him eyes wild, face hard.

I looked, and I saw him, crossing the yard.

I looked, and I saw them, hiding behind card

 

A dozen kids in the temporary huts,

Used for arts and crafts, due to funding cuts.

Their teacher was peeping through the window

Trying to hide them from the psycho.

But he had seen the hut and was charging toward it;

I put away my phone, I didn’t want to record it.

 

I was going too fast, before I knew I was going.

I was throwing a brick, before I knew I was throwing.

I got myself between KnightNice and the door.

I punched him hard, in the eye, on the jaw.

His silly sword (it was a skull on a stick),

Fell from his hand with one fairly weak kick.

I was unfit, untrained, fairly fat.

Still, I subdued him, it was easy as that.

 

I dragged him into the neighbouring hut,

Where he managed to give my arm a deep cut.

He had knives, but I got him on the floor

And tied him up with a chain from the door.

I left him screaming. I was shaking and sweating.

He was right, this wasn’t a day I’d be forgetting.

Teachers and kids hiding in the main block,

Began to emerge, in states of great shock.

Paramedics arrived, gave emergency care.

“It’s safe now,” I told them, “he’s tied up in there.”

But it wasn’t that safe, though he was contained.

The effects of his actions still remained.

 

The school was on fire, and so was the road.

I thought of the threads that I had followed.

KnightNice had delivered, he really came through.

He carried out the acts he said he would do.

And I’d stopped him, though I didn’t plan to;

Was I a hero? Was KnightNice one too?

 

The teacher from the hut, through snot and tears,

Told me school attacks were her greatest fears.

I had saved their lives, they were so grateful.

What could have made that man so hateful?

How was I so brave to intervene like I had?

How could one man be good and another so bad? 

 

She asked me why I did what I did –

Was I local? Had he hurt my kid?

What made me block his way to the door?

Did I know who he was? What he stood for?

What could I say in this strange afterglow?

Should I say I knew him, and what made him act so?

Or should I pretend to not have a clue?

If you were me, what would you do?

 


Hazel Tsoi-Wiles has a degree in English Literature, a post-graduate diploma in Cultural Management and a job in higher education at a London university.