There’s no respect for older people at all today, and that’s saddening. Look at the way crime against older people has risen! You know, there’s no calling people ‘Mr’ or ‘Mrs’ now, they just call you, and it’s all ‘fuck off’ and the likes of.
Someone once asked me if I knew the feeling of fear. Oh, I knew fear. Well, really speaking I never feared any fucker at that time; I’ve got to be honest. But I knew fear, the fear of losing! There was never any fear of combat! My father instilled that fear in to me and that was what drove me on to win … the fear of what was to come after you went home saying you’d lost!
Today, these doormen, they wear body armour, armoured gloves, stab proof vests and all sorts; it’s totally changed, you get shot at the door you are paid to stand at, never mind getting stabbed. Druggies go away, get a gun, return and start shooting at you! Yeah, times are changing fast and there are some nice kids out there and some of them are fucking wild. I can’t see it getting better with these drug mugs because they get on them and they can’t get off them again.
On this world you have the animals and they have as much right to be on this world as us; and it’s man who is the reason they are pushed to extinction. They’re killing them for their tusks and their horns, and these fucking idiots, they think claws will give them sex appeal and they get all fucking sissy on you.
I believe in most men there is a certain amount of violence. Every man has a bit of fight in him, but some of them have to look deeper within themselves, further than most. The fight is there if you search for it; people don’t think they’ve got it at all, but they have got it, like the weakest fucking crony you could see on earth. If someone broke in to the house, I believe he’d fucking have a go rather than somebody hurt his wife and kids; it would press him to his limits. If he’s not going to defend his pitch, he’s not worth a cup of cold fucking water.
People keep telling me that I’m a legend in Merthyr and a legend in many other places. Here’s my understanding on that, what’s a legend? I don’t really know what a legend is, I don’t even know the word. I’m not a King Arthur reincarnate either. I might be one of the Round Table, but I’m not King Arthur.
In a dancehall in Kendal, I chased the bouncers out of the fucking dancehall, they were wearing white coats and they took these coats off, put them on the floor and jacked; Ginger Harris and me, we put the white coats on and took over for the night!
Malcolm Price embodies all that is Welsh, aside from the green valleys and male voice choirs. The will to win against insurmountable odds is a penchant of the Welsh, put this with a propensity to never say ‘die’ and that is what makes the Welsh so durable.
Examining the background of anyone can bring skeletons to our attention; a blot on the landscape can mar all what pleases the eye. This is how Malcolm Price was perceived by those who would stand back in fear of what he was all about, yet nothing could be further from the truth!
One lesson I learned from all of this, and that was a hard one, for all of the good I did people, it was never remembered. I was the one doing jail, not them. Apart from a small circle of close loyal friends, I was and am on my own.
A normal fighter in the street fights in a different way than a disciplined boxer, but a boxer is from the other world, it’s a big difference. A boxer can throw a six-inch punch. A six-inch punch can knock you clean down. I’m very wary of those boxers, I can tell you. If you get a boxer that can street fight and he mixes it together then it makes a lethal combination! I mixed boxing and street fighting in to a cocktail and when I knocked them down I kept them down by use of the boot.