The hatpin hidden in my hair is my preferred weapon of choice, with razor blades in the lining of my cloak for when a ruffian grabs hold of it (the cunt won't be playing subbuteo for a while) and a swift shin to the bollocks is in my armoury.
What about these poxy kids mincing around in Real Madrid and Barcelona shirts when they wouldn't know where the fuck Spain is. And don't get me started on English blokes wearing Brazil national team shirts. What the fuck is that about?