I did a long stint on a general surgical ward. The crazed hallucinating detoxing alcoholics would remove their drips and try to leave to find booze the second the anaesthetic wore off. So you needed to do you absolute best to make them stay for their own safety. Well who was it they always went for? Always the smallest one, usually me so yer I guess if you’re particularly small you have to step up a few notches passed normal on the fearsome front.
I think occasionally we’re just an easy target for whatever bee someone’s got in their bonnet (like the carp park bloke), so sometimes you have to put on some metaphorical armour and put your dukes up!