Essex Boys, The New Generation by Bernard O'Mahoney Page B

yards, the taxi suddenly slewed across the road and its four passengers leapt out. Realising that a confrontation was inevitable, the man with Walsh and Alvin ran away. The men who had got out of the taxi began shouting abuse again and threatening Walsh and Alvin, who, although outnumbered, responded in kind. Both sides advanced towards each other, and when Alvin was within striking range one of the men punched him hard in the face. Dazed, but remaining on his feet, Alvin began trading punches with his assailant. Walsh, too, began to fight, and for a while it looked as if he and Alvin were going to be overwhelmed. The man who had punched Alvin had got in close enough to grip him in a headlock and had begun to rain blows down into his face and head.
    Alvin claimed that as he was ducking down to protect his face from the onslaught, he ‘noticed that there was a knife on the ground’. When discussing this incident with police many years later, Alvin said, ‘It seemed like a miracle, to be honest.’ Alvin being assisted in a brawl by an act of God may have been believed by Essex police, but I remain rather sceptical about the alleged divine intervention. Perhaps the endless prayers Alvin would undoubtedly have been made to recite at Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic School were finally being answered.
    Regardless of its origins, the knife, which happened to be a mere eleven-inches long, was plunged into the top of Alvin’s opponent’s leg – not once, not twice, but three times.
    ‘I think he fell, because he let go of me, and I backed away from him,’ Alvin said. ‘I don’t remember him saying anything; it sort of went silent after that.’
    That silence was broken not by a heavenly choir singing ‘Hallelujah’ but by the injured man’s friends shouting for help. As they carried their wounded comrade to a nearby taxi rank, Alvin disposed of the knife over a garden wall and ran from the scene with Walsh. The police arrived shortly afterwards and began patrolling the area, looking for the pair. Taxi drivers at a nearby rank were so incensed by Alvin’s cowardly act that they assisted the police in their search.
    Fearing capture, Alvin and Walsh made their way home using the network of alleyways that link the roads in that area. The following morning Walsh, Alvin and their friend met up to discuss the incident. Alvin had a black eye and fat lips, and his face was swollen. Still feeling sorry for himself and trying to justify his despicable behaviour, he later recalled, ‘I wasn’t laughing and joking about it, I was hurting. I don’t go around stabbing everyone I meet in the leg.’
    After the three had finished discussing the incident, Alvin returned to the garden to retrieve the knife. A cynic might take the view that he was depriving future combatants of miraculously finding an 11-inch-long knife midway through a fight, but Alvin was no doubt acting with only good intentions. The extent of the stabbed man’s injuries is not known.
    As he grew older, Alvin’s violent response to anybody who insulted, upset or generally displeased him became part and parcel of his everyday persona.
    Living on the same street as Alvin was the Percival family. Alvin and Danny Percival had become firm friends; they were the same age and mixed with the same crowd. Danny’s younger brother, Ricky, had his own circle of friends. For reasons known only to Alvin, he would often try to intimidate or bully this younger group of boys and in particular Ricky. Alvin would twist his arm, push or shove him for no apparent reason and on one occasion he used a set of handcuffs to tether Ricky to a bridge. Danny confronted Alvin after this incident, and when he too was threatened he floored Alvin with a head-butt to ensure he was in no doubt that his bullying would not be tolerated.
    Nobody who knew Alvin would suggest that he was some sort of violent Neanderthal man, who dragged his knuckles around the streets of Southend, beating everybody who had