Show No Fear: A Bouncer's Diary (2 page)

It was getting far too crowded for us in the basement, the air being filled with the distinctive smell of weed; so we decide to go upstairs where we could breathe a little easier. We stood at the back of the main room either side of the large table, which was full of drinks and clean empty glasses; an attractive middle-aged woman approached Pete and engaged him in conversation, he thought she was coming over to chat him up. What she actually said to him was that she would like two glasses of Champagne and a bottle of lager. Pete had decided to wear a bow tie for this particular function and she had mistaken him for the waiter; I had to laugh as Pete whipped the bow tie off in a flash.
There was lots of bedroom activity, if the bedrooms where full they would be mooching about in the dark corners of the large conservatory. At around midnight Philip came over to us and said that the two guys who he thought were going to cause trouble had now left and that our job was done and we were now no longer on duty.
“Stay for the rest of the party as my guests if you like boys or you can leave now if you prefer”.
We decided not to hang around; and if we were quick we should just be able to catch the last tube home. Philip could not thank us enough.
“Thank you very much lads I was so glad you were here”.
On our way out I gave him one of our business cards.
“Oh that’s fucking neat” …“Good night lads”.
As we were about to leave one of the guest’s jumps out in front of us barring our way to the
front door.
“I want to take a picture of these two they are the fucking stars of the party.” Hic!
Philip suggested he didn’t take the photo and to step aside, he wasn’t sure how we were going to react.
“These people are the fucking stars I want a picture of them”. Burp!
Philip interjects again and says these people duff people up for a living so get out of the way.
The door closed and we made our way through the cold wet streets, arriving at the underground Station with a few minutes to spare before the last train arrived. We boarded the train quite content with the evenings outcome, it was a good night with no trouble at all, a couple of beers and a pizza, plus fifty quid each resting very happily in our pockets. We were hooked and hungry for more. Throughout the journey home a pist up Aussie had been casting the occasional glance over in our direction and was looking for an argument. He eventually says,
“Are you two bouncers then?”
He was referring to our black attire,
“No were with the Royal Philharmonic…so fuck off” was my reply.

CHAPTER TWO
Fighting Fit
It’s been a few weeks since our last engagement, we change the business cards and basically blitzkrieg the pubs and clubs with them. This was all before the new strict licensing laws that are now in place, so in those days we were a bit of a law unto ourselves. Now day’s every door supervisor has to obtain a licence from the council at some considerable cost and attend a two-day course as well, which deals with first aid, fire fighting, and the understanding of the licensing laws, powers of arrest and the use of reasonable force. I could go on but it’s getting boring. We were not getting a very good response to our cards and letters; a few follow up phone calls were made. I rang the manager of the first pub we had sent one of our letters to and asked for the name and number of the Security Company that they were using. Basically our idea was to find out if any of these pubs and clubs were unhappy with their Security arrangements. If they were, we would offer our services.
But virtually every place we contacted we kept hearing the same company name. It looks like this little firm have most if not all of the contracts in the area. Well, I suppose if you can’t beat them, join them. After having a chat with Pete we decided to give them a ring. A fella with a Scots accent answered the phone.
“Hi, do you have any Door Supervisor positions available at the moment?”
“Have you done any of this kind of work before”?
“I’ve done a bit, and a mate of mine is also looking for some work”.
“Right then you had better come down and see me for an interview”.
We arrange a suitable time; it was for three o’clock on the following Thursday.
We had to bring with us two passport size photos [the worst I have ever seen] and also any relevant background information.
The office was located in the basement of a large restaurant in Ealing west London, there was a small staircase leading down to the entrance. I pressed the intercom and announced our arrival. I didn’t get a reply but after a few seconds we heard the sound of the locks being released.
Clank! Clank! Crunch! Clonk!
A very large individual who had a shaven square-shaped head finally opened the door; all that was missing was the bolt through his neck. We were then invited in, he didn’t ask us in he just beckoned us forward. There was a fella sitting behind a desk inside another smaller office over to our left. He looked up and stopped what he was doing.
“Take a seat lads, I’ll be with you shortly” he said.
I had a quick glance around the office; it was obviously a company in its infancy, and quite a dingy place with no ceiling just the exposed floor joists of the restaurant above. Nothing on the floor just the bare concrete, at the other end of the office was a desk, which was covered in papers. Over to the left on the wall was a large notice board with the names of all the venues they were looking after cross-referenced with the people who were looking after them. The guy behind the desk introduces himself to us with a firm handshake.
“Hello boys, how ya doing? My name is John he said giving us the once over.”
He then asks us if we have our photos for our I D badges.
“Yes, and the background information you asked for” I said.
He had a brief look at our C V`s and remarks,
“Peter and Paul - the two Saints?” He said.
“Well, we’re good boys…But not that good.”
We stayed and chatted for a while, and after about twenty minutes John says that he will contact us in a few days. He seemed decent enough; I am a pretty good judge of character usually, and he seemed like a very genuine sort of bloke. He gave the impression that you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him though. I also got the feeling that there was definitely more to these people than meets the eye. We’ll see how it goes. As we were leaving I notice a door that was slightly a jar. They had turned one of the empty offices into a gym complete with punch bags and various other pieces of training equipment, we couldn’t resist the temptation, so Pete holds the bag and I throw a few Boxing combinations at it.

I have always done some sort of training, I first studied Karate back in the seventies I think it was the summer of 1973. I must have been about fourteen at the time. The Karate club was only a short walk from my house no more than half a mile away. The first I knew of the clubs existence was when I saw a friend of mine walking through the park. I was playing football at the time. I asked him where he was going, “Karate” he said, that sounds interesting I thought. He explained that some fella had given him a good hiding. Revenge being his initial motivation he decided to learn how to fight so that if he ever saw the guy again he could dispatch him with a few well aimed Karate chops. Hang on mate; I’ll come with you I say to him. I wanted to have a look at some of this Karate stuff, some of the other lads decided to tag along as well. Once inside the club we witnessed some strange activities taking place. There were People bowing to each other and every one running about in white pyjamas. As the instructor walked in everyone got into their positions. The other lads who came to watch were all taking the piss and went after a while. But I stayed right to the end. I thought it was brilliant. I joined up as soon as I could, and never looked back. I have been involved in the Martial Arts ever since. I didn’t have a great deal of confidence when I was a kid; I would run home if someone was picking on me. One reason that some people decide to run away instead of standing their ground to fight is through lack of knowledge. You don’t know what to do so you make a run for it. Karate made the difference that is where I would find the knowledge therefore dispelling my fears. It gave me the confidence that I thought I`d never have. I stayed at the club for many years and had some unforgettable superb training sessions. Fear is met by courage and destroyed.

Saturday mornings were without a doubt the best, we called it (animal hour).We would assemble in two lines one behind the other, the command would go out, take your Gi tops off (Gi = Karate suit) front line turn around and face your partner. Twenty punches into your partner’s stomach were performed hard and fast, then some press-ups, sit ups, squats, and then a run through the streets in bare feet. After that the free sparring would begin (more like free for all) the only protection we wore was a groin guard. I remember getting changed after one session, I took off my groin guard and examined the plastic protective cup, it was completely smashed in two.... Everything else was intact thank God. That’s what it was like in those days, the next week I fractured someone’s ribs with a reverse punch, you would come out of there with bruises all over you. There was this guy I can’t remember his name but I nick named him hiza, (hiza being the Japanese word for the knee). The only technique he seemed to possess was the knee strike; he would grab hold of you and knee you straight in the knackers. Once or twice you might be able to avoid, but a full three-minute assault on your cobblers and he’s bound to hit the target a least once. The techniques we practiced were mainly geared for the “knock down” fighting which was exactly as it sounds; knock your opponent to the ground with full contact blows to the body to win basically. The training required was extremely arduous; it was definitely the hardest training I have ever experienced. However it’s up to you how hard you want to train, if you put nothing in you’ll get nothing out. Hand conditioning was something that was practiced regularly as well, by the more dedicated of us that is. Just to explain about the hand conditioning it is very prevalent in some Karate schools and non-existent in others. A punching drill required you to repeatedly strike with full power into a small woven straw punching pad (makiwara) that was attached to a 4 inch by 4 inch five foot high wooden post. This would toughen the impact area of the fist; the striking area should be the index finger and second finger knuckles, 70% emphasis on the index finger knuckle and 30% on the second finger knuckle. It would also teach you how to punch correctly because if you hit it wrong you would know about it. It takes years and years of dedicated unending practice to perfect these Karate strikes. I used to practice on the punching post a great deal I even put one up in my back garden, also all press-ups were performed on your knuckles using pieces of flat pinewood board. This type of training is only practiced in the toughest of Karate schools. For your first dan (black belt) for example you had to have fifty consecutive fights. It was full contact and no gloves were worn, kicking to the groin was illegal and punching to the head was also against the rules. Thigh kicks were my specialty, if you delivered one in the right place it doesn’t matter how big you are the fight would be over. I received a kick in the thigh in one match that was so hard that the bruising came out on the opposite side of my leg. It took me a week to shake off the pain and walk properly. Another knockdown fight I remember was when I had been struck with a spinning back kick; the guy’s heel struck me with full power to the side of the head. I dropped down onto one knee, I didn’t feel any pain but what did happen was that I saw a group of perfectly formed five pointed three dimensional little stars spinning slowly in front of me. I used to think that was something that you only saw in cartoons. Take it from it me it actually does happen. I felt sick and groggy but I got back up to get in a few good blows of my own as the fight progressed. I had a black and blue ear for a couple of weeks after though.
You have to learn to take it before you can dish it out.
Every winter we were invited to take part in a Japanese style-training course, it was held in the grounds of a large private School in Buckinghamshire. The School had vast grounds, and for most of the day we where all running around in the mud rain and snow. Full contact sparring matches were organised in the fields where we also took part in the roughest game of British bulldog you have ever seen, where flying kicks and elbow strikes were traded with equal enthusiasm, but the best part of the course was saved to the end. In the grounds they had a large waterfall; each person would to go to into the stream and under the waterfall to execute fifty Karate punches with the heavy steady flow of ice cold water cascading down onto you, afterwards we were all invited to the local pub where chicken and chips in a basket were laid on washed down with a couple of well-deserved pints. I’ll never forget those Saturday morning training sessions with Frank, Tony, Nigel, Kevin, Keith, Eddie, Martin and Bill and everyone else who used to train at that Dojo in the mid-seventies and eighties.
Frank would join us sometimes at the local pub after training and one evening he
began to talk about a book. The book was called A Book of Five Rings.
It was written in sixteen forty five by the Samurai warrior Miyamoto Musashi,
by the time he was thirty he had fought and killed more than 60 men. Believing he
was invincible he retired to a cave and wrote his book. The book is about fighting
strategy, but there is more to it than that, it has taken me years to understand
some of what he has written. It is a superb book and is a constant source of inspiration.
I advise any serious Martial Artist to obtain a copy. Frank was now expanding his empire and lessons with him were sadly becoming less and less, because he is without a doubt one the best… Osu!

The final straw for me came when a guy who had been at the club for a couple of years was taking the Karate lesson and he decided to omit the usual sparring session. Karate without our usual kumite, what was the world coming to? This was unfortunately becoming a regular occurrence, no Frank, and no sparring; sadly I decided to leave the Karate school. I had been training there for about eight years; I had become very proficient at Karate and had built up a strong mental and physical toughness that has served me well over the years. I must admit I did miss the old place for a while. However, all was not lost, I decided to build my own Dojo / Gym, in my back garden where we would be free to practice the way we wanted to and do as much sparring as we liked. I suppose every cloud has its silver lining. I contacted a garage manufacturer who built the thing around your own design. Eventually I settled on it being 15 feet in length and 10 feet wide. It had to be built high enough for the punch bags, which were suspended from the thickest beam I could find; it was 8 inches in depth by six inches wide by ten foot in length. When it was all bolted together it looked absolutely superb. Now that I had built the thing we needed to buy some equipment to put in it. We used to go to a place along the Fulham Palace road which is sadly no longer there anymore. It had everything you needed to equip a boxing gym. Andy, a mate of mine drove Pete and I down there to get the equipment, the only problem was that Andy had turned up in a green Citroen 2 c v. It looked like a cross between a frog and a small green house on wheels. Not exactly designed for heavy weights either, we went around one corner on two wheels and I thought the thing was going over. It got us there and back though…just about. However we decided to take the tube next time.
That week I got a call from the Security Company and they said that they were willing to take the both of us on but on a trial basis at first, and that we would be contacted in a few days with the details of our first assignment. We had now joined the ranks of the professionals. This called for a complete restructuring of our training routine and a new one will have to be designed in order to get ourselves into fighting fit shape.
A ten-minute warm up. Stretching, callisthenics.
Three minutes of skipping. For three rounds.
Three hundred press ups in sets of fifty.
Six hundred sit-ups in sets of two hundred.
Left and right hooks non-stop on the heavy bag. For three rounds.
Combination punching on the heavy bag 1-minute non-stop. 5 times each.