Show No Fear: A Bouncer's Diary (6 page)

Blessed are the peacemakers. Now where’s that cup of tea?

The self inflicted damage technique had saved him and the charges were dropped and he was given the benefit of the doubt and was released from custody the next day.

This is a rough game and it’s no joke at times, some people do not respond to reason; the only thing some individuals understand is violence and the threat of violence, it’s the only thing they seem to respect. It is a sad absolute fact. That is what happened in this case the people involved were a very belligerent group of young men; they would not respond to reason instead they decided to use violence against us.
Muppets + drink + drugs = a g.
Some peoples Saturday night out solely revolves around going to the clubs and pubs to take on all comers including the doormen. Why? I don' know. I have never understood that, maybe they have to prove something to themselves all I know is that we were prepared to take on anyone if necessary. And that’s the way it was. I don’t like violence but you can’t talk to some people.
Prepared being the word to consider, I was ready for them. I trained hard and practiced as much as I could, that is my edge over my attackers, without the training you are no better than the person you are dealing with. If you are not prepared, you will probably lose.
The more fights you observe or become involved in the easier fighting seems to become, it becomes easier because you can read the signs which give you the opportunity to anticipate what is going to happen and then react accordingly. You react without thought sometimes, it’s like the reaction save of a goalkeeper he doesn’t think about what to do he just does it without thinking. It is what the Japanese refer to as mushin, (which means no mind) like Musashi says, strike from the void. But to get to the stage where you can react correctly without thought takes years of dedicated training, using your whole body as a weapon when delivering your counter attack. To move and parry your opponent’s blow, then returning your own devastating crushing blow in one movement. That to me is the essence of Karate. If you were to think too much about what you were doing it wouldn’t work. When you seek it you cannot find it.

If you fail to prepare be prepared for failure.

CHAPTER FOUR
Zero Tolerance
It’s not all doom and gloom we had some good laughs as well, I used to go to the office at Ealing to collect the wages for the lads on Saturday evenings so I was sometimes a little late arriving at the club.
This particular Saturday had just seen the defeat of the South African rugby team at Twickenham. The club was full of rugby supporters who had decided to bring in off the street the dirtiest old tramp they could find; they sat him in the middle of the dance area where he was given a steady supply of ale. His hair was grey and matted, one side sticking up and the other side was as flat as a pancake, he was wearing a vest which had taken on a life all of its own and was covered in some very dodgy looking stains. He was only a little fella but the jacket he had on was easily four sizes too big and the trousers were straight out of Charlie Chaplins wardrobe which were pulled right up to his chest, basically when he moved the suit followed a moment later. He’s got to go; I put my gloves on and get one of the other doormen to come with me to escort the old fella outside. Going through the crowd he started to respond to the shouts and jeers from the rugby supporters who found the whole scenario very amusing. He was starting to struggle and as we were passing a couple of attractive young women who were seated by the door, he decided to dig his heels in. A scuffle began, the timing could not have been better and as if on cue his trousers dropped to his ankles and minus any underwear therefore treating the two young women to a full frontal, a loud cheer went up and the whole place erupted into laughter. Eventually we manage to throw him out, we watched him as he zig zagged up the high street still holding a bottle of beer, with trousers at half-mast singing away without a care in the world. Brilliant, what a way to start the evening.
Another humorous situation occurred with the return of a peculiar woman who we had barred a couple of weeks earlier. She was basically very drunk and abusive, and was asked to leave the premises, it was not my fault that as she went through the door she tripped and fell on her arse. She had thought I had tripped her up, blaming everyone for her embarrassing predicament she then picks herself up and continues her tirade of foul language in our direction. She fell over because she was blind drunk. Perhaps I am a bit old fashioned but to see a young woman in this state makes a very depressing spectacle. Initially you find it mildly amusing but when you think about it, it’s a bit sad really. Unfortunately it is a common occurrence in this game and dealing with them is all part of the job.

It was getting near to last orders and we still had a small queue at the front doors when this old trout turns up and walks to straight to the front of the queue much to the annoyance of a big fella who was next in line. She was ranting and raving and demanding to be allowed in. I was called to deal with the situation. I told her she had no chance and basically to go away or words to that effect. (It was the same woman who I had barred the previous Saturday.)
With that the big fella butted in-
“Can I go in now mate”?
Before I could say a word she screams at him and tells him to fuck off at the top of her voice and then she takes a huge swing at him. He manages to avoid her punch and then the bell for last orders is rung. A red mist must of descended over this normally peaceful individual, he was not worried about being attacked by this mad woman, but because of her the frightening prospect of not getting in to savour the last few pints of his Saturday night out was becoming a reality. It’s all too much for him and suddenly out of nowhere a peach of a right hand punch catches her flush on the chin, Mike Tyson would have been most proud of that one. She goes down and gets up to stagger down the road holding her chin, not too much to say now I thought.
I told fatty off for what he done and he was very apologetic, and then I let him in so he could purchase his well-deserved pint. To the victor the spoils.
Don’t get me wrong I am not condoning violence against a woman but this person would not respond to normal requests she was ruining everyone’s night out, threatening us all at the door, she used so many expletives that she actually ran out of them and then tried to use violence because she could not get her own way, just the sort of girl you could bring home to meet your mother. She was drunk, violent and foul and got what she deserved. The fairer sex… my arse.

Peter John and I were standing outside the front doors one warm summer evening, the usual crowds are all filing past when I notice a young woman walk past.
She stops suddenly turns around and comes back in our direction and enters the bar. About thirty seconds later we hear screams and that telltale sound of breaking glass, the alarm is sounded and we rush in to find that the young girl who had just walked in had just smashed a pint glass over some guy’s head. Pete is the first one inside and he grabs the young woman, she is going ballistic, shouting and screaming at some fella who was sitting by the window. Pete puts her in the strangle hold, after all this is the nineties equality and all that. And so she is thrown out just like any other violent person. Male or female they are all treated the same. As she goes past me I notice that she has a cut to her right hand, she then sprints up the road and disappears. Actually we should have kept her there in case the guy wanted to press charges, I’m glad we didn’t in the end because he was a right little wanker. John is busy throwing the guy out of the door who has a nasty looking couple of cuts to his scalp and blood was trickling down his forehead, he has also got some small shards of glass sticking out of the top of his head. The guy wasn’t too happy about being thrown out and starts to try and go back into the bar. John grabs him by the collar from behind and yanks him off the step and back outside; he must have pulled the guy really hard because as he done so the whole back of the guy’s shirt comes away in John’s hands. It was like something out of a Laurel and Hardy film. He turns around in disbelief and points at John and says-
“You owe me a fucking new shirt you bastard”!
We don’t generally respond too well to that kind of behaviour, John walks over to him calls him a stupid prick and laughs in his face. He’s standing outside with pieces of glass in his head, blood trickling down his face wearing half a shirt, also the girl he had been with in the bar has done a runner. I would imagine he has had better nights out.
What happened was that this fella had been seen through the window with another young woman, his regular girlfriend spotted him as she walked past. She enters the club and smashes a pint pot over his head; he then takes a swing at her and the rest you know.
Young love, all together now ahhhhhhh.
Pete and I turn up as usual but John is replaced by the guy who was the regular
doorman at that horrible little place down in Sunbury, I thought it was a bit odd, as the office would normally tell me if there were to be any changes.
So we have got this fella and John has gone down to the pub in Sunbury with
Alex and Garry the two doormen that have been mentioned earlier.
We’ve only been there about half an hour when the alarm goes off, as soon as that alarm goes off you get an instant massive hit of adrenaline surging through you. Pete and I go in to find two groups of young fellas, about eight or nine of them are involved in a mass brawl. Two guys are rolling around on the floor punching, nutting and kicking each other, the rest of them were all engaged in one big scrap where boots and fists are all being used in a high speed frantic tangle of bodies. Chris the other doorman has got two of the guys in headlocks and is pulling them towards to exit. We quickly get to grips with the situation where Pete and I administer strangle holds all-round. We separate them and start to eject the ringleaders. I was surprised that there weren’t any serious injuries to deal with. All of the troublemakers have been dealt with and things are back to normal, when I notice that my boots have a splattering of blood on them, we then notice a trail of blood leading from the front doors along the pavement and up the high street. At the top of the road were a couple of the lads we had thrown out, one of them was sitting on the pavement holding the side of his head. As I got a bit closer I could see blood running between his fingers and down the side of his face and neck. I asked him if I could see the injury and as he took his hand away I could see that he had been given a (Van Gogh) his ear had almost been sliced in two. He had been slashed with a very sharp knife. An ambulance was called and the wounded soldier was carted off and stitched up and would live to fight another day. But not in our club. He was lucky an inch or two lower and it would have severed an artery. What a nasty little violent world we live in.

I was thinking, I bet John is having a nice quiet evening chatting up all the women. Actually nothing could have been further from the truth. The two lads who were working
with him had some problems with a pikey earlier on. They had been given the usual verbal threat of him coming back to sort them out with a few of his pals. Most of the time nothing happens it is just someone trying to salvage a bit of pride, but you have always got to be ready for the possibility that they will carry out the threat, you have to stay switched on and you’re not to let complacency set in.
Every doorman’s nightmare suddenly became a brutal reality; the guy did come back and with his pals, also they had decided to bring a claw hammer each. They then proceeded to take the place apart. They smashed everything in the pub including Garry and Alex. They were beaten to the floor and given the full treatment with hammer and boot. The two lads had a variety of injuries as you can imagine and were hospitalised for a while, they are tough lads and recovered with no lasting problems. John had survived the affair with little or no injuries he was lucky. There was something of the inevitable about that; it was just waiting to go off in that place. I remember that after the attack John had remarked that Gary and Alex had cuts and bruises all over them and that some massive bumps were sticking out of there foreheads, he then changed his mind and said that thay actually looked more like horns.
John was back with us the next week but didn’t seem to be his old self I think he was still suffering from what had happened the week before. It was getting near to closing time, last orders had been called and the two lads adopted their usual positions either side of the main doors, which was now a one way door, out only. I go in to get the punters moving when I notice that Jo the manager seemed to be having a few problems with a couple of guys. I make my way over behind them and overhear Jo tell them that she wants them to leave; one of the lads says I’m not being thrown out by a barmaid.
“Barmaid? I’m the manager”!
I don’t have to throw you out any way; I have security they do that for me, Jo says.
No poxy Doorman’s going to throw me out was the reply. I step forward and take over the conversation; I could see where this one was going.
“Put your drinks down lads you are being asked to leave.”
Fuck off was his response he had now also adopted a more aggressive attitude.
My kind and courteous manner was being perceived as a weakness and I was rewarded with abuse, violence being imminent I take the initiative.
I grab his throat with one hand and take hold of his other hand, which contains a pint glass, John has made his way over and Pete stays in position on the front door.
I push him over to the front doors where Pete puts him into a strangle hold, he was struggling away but once that hold is locked on your finished. As I turn around I was confronted by a mate of his, what we had not realized was that there were seven of them, aggrieved at the fact their friend had been ejected they all decided to converge on yours truly.
The first attacker came forward in a Boxing type pose and started to swing wildly with lefts and rights aiming them at my head. I threw a hard fast right cross it was just a natural reaction, a strike from the void perhaps. It connected smack on the guy’s chin and he did a 360 and spiraled down to the floor and out. I kept moving around with my hands in the ready position; everywhere I looked someone was coming at me. The next combatant threw a punch at John, which missed. John was more accurate with his and a hard left hand smacks into the guy’s jaw, which sent him stumbling into my direction. A right-hander from me sends him over to Pete and he is dumped outside on the pavement. The next one again adopts some form of fighting stance he was a little bigger than the others. He came forward with his fists clenched and decided to try his luck. Before he had time to think about what he was going to do I move slightly to my right and deliver a quick accurate powerful open hand strike. It was a technique that I have practiced for years; it went through his guard and the palm of my right hand struck him in the centre of the chest. The impact sent him flying backwards and he went upside down over a table full of drinks sending glasses, bottles and punters in all directions. Now we have two outside and two on the deck three to go, when they saw their mate go flying over the table it must have sent the right message and they decided to fight another day. They tiptoed over their fallen comrades and walked out under their own steam. I would imagine the whole thing was over in less than thirty seconds but when it’s actually happening it seems a hell of a lot longer than that. I took no chances; you can’t especially nowadays, anyone that presented themselves as a target were treated as one. Remember, the Queensbury rules go out the window and we are going home in one piece and that’s all that really mattered. It was time to lock up; the rest of the evening’s revelers were very accommodating at chucking out time and it only took about ten minutes to clear the place. Jo asks if we would like to stay for a few beers and so after a great deal of arm-twisting we were treated to a few well-deserved pints.
John would almost always have a young lady waiting for him and tonight being no exception his chat up lines seemed to have paid off and one was waiting outside. We finished our drinks said good night to Jo and jumped into John’s motor, which was a bit of a struggle at the best of times; the car was only a mini metro. I let Pete get in first and Johns date jumps in the back with him, talk about thick if her brains were made of dynamite she wouldn’t of had enough to blow her hat off. Mind you I don’t think he was too interested in what she had between her ears.
John drops Pete and me off back at my place. Wife and kids were in bed hours ago, the fridge was stocked before I left that evening so we chill out with an ice-cold beer and listen to a bit of Pink Floyd whilst mulling over the night’s shenanigans.