In the 80s, my mum told me this story about an incident at the local market.
She and dad were out shopping in the food hall in Bury, Lancashire. She was queuing up waiting for her turn, when a woman pushed in at the front. Nobody said anything, they just looked at each other. So mum spoke up. “Excuse me, but we are all waiting, there is a queue.”
At the that moment a little man came right up to mum, obviously the woman’s husband and put his finger in her face. “Mind you’re own business,” he snapped.
Just then a voice boomed out, it was dad, “Get your finger out of my wife’s face!”
The little man then scurried over to him, “Yer what? Yer what?” he said. “What you going to do about it, eh? eh?”
At that point everyone was looking at them. Mum said she didn’t like being the centre of attention, and neither did Dad usually. She said her heart sank as the little man continued to be aggressive.
“Do you want to come out side then?” he said to drawing up his fists up. “Come on, come on, we’ll sort it out side.”
Mum said dad, who was taller than him, bent down and whispered something in his ear. The little man looked up at him and quickly scurried off.
When they got outside she asked what he’d said.
I just told him to “Piss off!”