Show No Fear: A Bouncer's Diary (8 page)

Pete and I were back at our usual venue the next week, we had decided that we were only going to work here from now on, our particular way of working not being appreciated elsewhere. Jo was very pleased if not relieved to see our return she told me that there had been some trouble during the past couple of weeks and was more than a bit concerned with what was happening. Probably down to Simon with his own unique brand of Door supervising. Nut first and ask questions later. I must admit there are a few undesirable characters in and definitely some that I have barred in the past, time for a bit of scumbag cleansing. One guy was a dealer that I had barred two years ago, he must have been waiting for me to have a night off so he could ply his trade again, he was a very strange character. Black and of medium build, he looked like he was trapped in a 70’s time warp complete with flares and a large brimmed hat plus shades of course. I remember a couple of year’s back he would try all kinds of variations of what he was wearing to gain access.
He was very compliant and left immediately he knew we were not going to fuck around with him. I have no time for drug dealers they are near the lowest of the low the absolute dregs of society as far as I’m concerned.
Jo comes out to the front doors where Pete and I are and informs us that a known dealer
is on the premises she tells us that someone from the drugs squad wanted to have a word with him, she gets a call from the drugs squad saying that they are very busy and will pick him up another time but meanwhile they want us to leave him alone and we are not to touch him, yeah right. Pete and I look at each other and without a word we make our way over to our friendly neighbourhood drug dealer; he was a small thin black guy with shoulder length dread locks, which contained a veriety of small coloured beads. He wasn’t alone he had three associates with him two large black fella’s who were both about the same size as me and a young white guy who thought he was the daddy.
We manage to separate the dealer from his companions and take him into the gents where we tell him that he is leaving; he was more than a little nervous now that he had been separated from his minders. He was visibly shaking as Pete put his boot to the bottom of the door to stop anyone coming in; we did put the frighteners on him a bit though, he thought we were going to give him a kicking I don’t know why? It was probably the way I was holding him by the throat that gave him the idea. But we didn’t, all we wanted to do was to get them out of our club. I pushed him over to the urinal trough and told him that we didn’t want scumbags like him on the premises and he is to leave immediately. And he is not to go over to his companions but just to go straight to the main exit. He agreed and on leaving the gents he quickly makes his way over to his mates. I was right behind him; I thought that he might seek the sanctuary of his friends, after all how can you trust the word of a scummy drug dealer? He doesn’t quite make it. I grab him around the neck from behind with one arm and with the other I grab his dread locks and drag him backwards through the crowd and throw him out and down onto the pavement. His mates are following right behind trying to rescue him; Pete is pushing and shoving them out of the main exit. All of them have been ejected and are now giving it big style; they were all making that stupid sucking of the teeth noise and gesturing with their hands mimicking the using of pistols. Threats of reprisals are coming thick and fast mainly from the younger white lad, apparently he’s going to go home and come back to shoot us all later on. After about five minutes I had started to lose it, basically I’d had enough of their bullshit. With fists clenched I step outside and confront them, shit or bust lets have some I thought; and now they have the opportunity to carry out their threats. I walk right up to them and shout -
“Come on then let’s fucking do it!”
I wanted one of them to make a forward move but just like a lot of these types of incidents when it came down to it none of them decided to accept my offer, they were all mouth and no bottle. They all backed down and walked away.
I shouldn’t of gone outside of the club, our job was done they were out so no need to get involved any further, I think the job was definitely getting to me, my tolerance barriers were becoming far too easy to breach. I must admit I wanted to take them on, at that moment when I walked out of the door of the club I wasn’t aware of anything, the other lads as far as I was concerned didn’t exist. I just had one thought, steam straight in and start clumping.
On leaving the club that night just as we were about to get into the motor we here someone shouting in our direction. I thought it was the drug dealer and his mates coming back for a tear up but no, it was someone else shouting some form of abuse at Pete.
He thought it might have been someone he had barred a while back; this guy was a young stocky black lad of no more than about twenty, twenty-two maximum. Basically he was showing off in front of a large group of his pals and shouting at the top of his voice. I tell him to shut the fuck up, he tells me to come and shut him up, such arrogance can only be rewarded in one way, his challenge was accepted. Pete could see what was going to happen and says-
“Ignore it lets get in the motor”.
Which was probably sound advice, it was not long after the encounter with the drug dealer so my blood was still up. I could hear more abuse coupled with laughter, I wasn’t having it, who the hell does he think he is? Within a few seconds I was half way across the road ready to do battle with our tormentor. As I approached he started to dance about giving a pathetic little Bruce Lee impersonation, he thought it was all a big joke. I didn’t say anything; I just moved in quickly, closed the gap and clumped him really hard with a powerful right hook which smashed into the side of his skull, just as I threw the punch he lent forward a fraction in an effort to duck out of the way and so the blow didn’t find its correct target area. It was a very powerful blow, which actually upended him; one minute his head was there the next thing I saw was his feet. Who’s laughing now I thought? The blow had broken one of the knuckles in my right hand, which was starting to swell up big time; it didn’t matter though I still had my left.
The guy was on his back as Simon ran over and he decided to give his own rendition of river dance on the guy’s head and began stamping repeatedly on his nose. I stopped him after two or three stamps; he looked as if he was enjoying it a bit too much. Then one of his pals decides to help his fallen comrade, Simon deals with him buy literally kicking his arse up and down the high street. The busy traffic had come to a halt to view the spectacle, a double decker bus pulls up and the driver decides to stick his head out of the window to have ago at us. I tell him to mind his own business; the way we were carrying on he was lucky he didn’t get a slap as well. He got the message and fucked off sharpish. I think there must be a full moon out tonight or something.
Pete had decided to call it a day, he said that he’d had enough basically, he had been showing signs of disinterest for a while, and he wasn’t training as much as he used to either so it came as no surprise really. He suggested that we both turn it in. We had started together so we probably should have finished at the same time. I decided to stay on.
What can I say about Pete, his friendship and loyalty was greatly appreciated. It takes a considerable amount of courage to do this job, especially the way we did it. I knew that without a doubt he would be there when I needed him and vice versa. We always got on well; I don’t think we ever had a disagreement in all the years I’ve known him. He could be very witty at times as well, which always helped during the more stressful moments.
The scars you acquire while exercising courage will never make you feel inferior. D.A. Battista.

CHAPTER FIVE
My Manor
We have a new member of the team to replace Pete he was a mate of Simon’s; small in stature but relatively confident and likeable. He was in his mid to late twenties and seemed to be able to act as a calming influence over Simon, which is not a bad thing.
A week after Pete had left the two guys with whom we had a run in with at Ealing turned up in the queue they were a little bit taken a back to see me and a bit apprehensive to say the least, they both apologised and promised to behave themselves, I let them in, but inside I knew that it would’nt belong before these two caused some sort of trouble thereby giving us the opportunity to give them a couple of slaps. We didn’t have to wait long the two boys started on a couple of younger lads who were just having a quiet night out with their girlfriends. They were both small guys one of them was really skinny, I’d seen more fat on Frankie Dettori’s whip. The two couple’s leave the club closely followed by our two brave hard men; outside the club the fight begins with the two smaller guys taking a hammering. One of them is being repeatedly punched and kicked all over the place; the fight has moved away from the club and is now continuing in front of a lovely little Mexican restaurant which was about thirty feet away. Tables, chairs and plants are all being knocked about as the mindless assault continues. The two young women are hysterically shouting and screaming in our direction gesturing for our assistance. One of the lads goes down on his back; the two attackers now take it in turn to stamp and kick the poor guy in the head he then took two full-bloodied boots to the skull which put the guy out cold. We could hear the sound of the boots going in from where we were standing; two more sickening powerful kicks are slammed into the side of his lifeless head. Simon and his mate are like a couple of Pit bull’s straining at the leash in anger at what they are seeing. They turn to me and ask if we should get stuck into them, usually we don’t involve ourselves in what is going on outside we are here to look after the club and the people inside it, but there are exceptions to the rule. I unleash the two lads and they set about mauling one of the attackers to the ground where all sorts of dirty tricks are being used as Simon initiates the rescue by smashing his forehead into the guy’s nose. I grab the other one and give him two powerful knee strikes into the stomach; he doubles over where he gets a right hook to the jaw. Which was enough to end the assault, the guy didn’t want to know repeatedly saying
“I don’t want to fight you mate”.
As he goes down to the pavement he curls himself up into a ball so I couldn’t get a clean shot at him. Not so brave now I thought. I call the two lads back in, Simon and his mate had done the other bloke up like a kipper and his eye and nose were pouring with blood from the expert use of Simon’s forehead. I don’t know what would have happened if we hadn’t moved in to put an end to the attack, how many kicks to the head does it take before a fatality occurs?
The next night we had a little more trouble with a couple of guys who wouldn’t do as they were being asked, three times I had asked them if they wouldn’t mind taking their feet off the seats. Every time my back was turned they put them back up again, fourth time now and I’ve have had enough. These boys are most definitely looking for trouble.
“Ok fellas, you two are leaving”,
He still had his feet up on one of the little cast iron stools. We are not going anywhere he says. I pull the stool out from under his feet and he jumps up and adopts a fighting pose, his friend does likewise. He beckons me forward saying, “come on” “come on”.
I deliver a hard front kick to his knackers he then stopped talking and fell on the floor clutching his privates. Then to my surprise Simon bursts through the door and takes the other guy out and down to the floor with a very graceful dive and at the same time putting the guy into some mysterious form of a head lock, he’s got to stop watching that American wrestling. We get them outside and they decided to make a stand the smaller of the two makes a lunge at Simon and is put to the ground where he receives half a dozen blows from Simon’s sovereign encrusted fist into his face. His companion decides to take off his belt which had a very heavy looking oval shaped brass buckle attached to it and proceeds to advance swinging his belt around his head in my direction. I stayed just inside the doorway where his weapon of choice would have little effect. All the time that this is happening I was getting the usual threats of violence. What they actually said repeatedly was that this was their manor and they will be back tomorrow to settle the matter. These types of encounters will expose your every weakness if you allow them to. You have to fight against all negative thoughts, stand your ground and “show no fear”.
The threats were all said in a very calm and deliberate fashion and my life was threatened in no uncertain circumstances. It’s a funny feeling someone telling you that they are going to kill you but you sort of get used to it. I said-
“I’ll be here, see you tomorrow then”.
Their parting shot was to throw one of the heavy signboards in our direction, which was ironically advertising the happy hour. It crashed into the door, and cracked the window. Jo was not too happy; I couldn’t say that I was either. In actual fact the more I thought about these two the more enraged I was becoming. That was the lowest I have ever felt whilst working at the club. If I had a pound for every time someone had threatened to shoot me I’d be a very rich man. Why should I think this time would be any different from all the others? I don’t know perhaps I’m becoming paranoid or maybe it’s because John and Pete aren’t around. I will be here tomorrow so we’ll see what happens. They were a couple of nasty characters, their threats were taken seriously and so I may have to introduce them to a couple of friends of mine. The bruising irons, as they were affectionately known.
After you have worked in a certain place for a while especially in this type of occupation you seem to acquire a certain amount of territorial pride for the place. Wrong perhaps to think in these terms but never the less you do tend to think this way after a while and so that’s one reason why some people may stand their ground in these situations. But I think it could simply come down to what kind of a person you are inside. Some people refuse to be intimidated and decide to fight back. It had been raining for most of the day and was steadily getting worse by the evening; it was cold, damp and miserable. I drove through the wet streets at a slow sedate pace thinking of what the night could possibly bring. I wouldn’t say that I was feeling scared, if I was I would have stayed at home, I think my mind was quite clear and calm but I was definitely feeling a little apprehensive about the situation. After all what if these two actually turn up; I will have to live with the consequences of my actions if it all goes pear shaped. Are they a couple of bullshitters or are they up for it? At the end of the day they are the ones who have threatened me and so whatever happens to them will be of their own making.
I parked the car in the multi-storey car park, which was a few minutes’ walk away from the club. I knew the guy in the security box at the car park so he used to let me park there for free which was handy because there’s absolutely nowhere to park in this area. I never parked in the same place twice, I would also vary my times as well, you’ve got to stay one jump ahead of your potential ambushers, and after all if you stay in this line of work for any length of time you will make quite a few enemies. I would sometimes sit in the car for a good five minutes to watch and wait for a while before I decided to get out. I always backed into the parking space as well so if you have to make a quick getaway it is much easier if the car is facing in the right direction you just have to put your foot down and your away. Why make it easy for them? It may sound a bit strange to some people or bordering on paranoia to go through such precautions. Well, I am here to tell my story and I know of at least two people who are no longer around and there are many others, maybe if they had varied their routine a little they may still be alive...It’s called survival.
I quickly leave the car park and approach the club, and I decided to go in through the beer garden which had tall surrounding walls and a high wooden gate; it was always locked so I jumped over the top and climbed down into the beer garden unseen, now I could enter the club through the back of the conservatory. The reason being is that the fellas who are coming back to sort me out could already be inside possibly turning up before the lads had arrived on the front doors. The door to the conservatory wasn’t locked, it never was, it was a little stiff though due to the wood swelling in the frame due to the persistent rain, and so I had to give it a good shove in the right place to get it to open. I open the door and enter the club and have a scan around, it was virtually empty. I ask the other two lads to work inside; I explained that I wanted to be on the front door all night. They thought it was a little strange but they knew it must have been for a good reason. I didn’t want to get them involved in this one. So I told them nothing, what they don’t know can’t hurt them. The rain was still falling and adding to the already unpleasant nature of the evening. I wore a three-quarter length waterproof coat for obvious reasons also for concealment purposes; I must have looked like Blakey from ‘On the Buses’.
Right then, body armour on, bruising irons in place, it’s now just a matter of waiting and staying switched on. Cold and wet I stayed put in a position that gave a good all-round view for any attempted attack upon me. I hardly acknowledged the people rushing along through the rain. I was just concentrating on looking out for my would be assailants, one thing about me was that I never forgot a face, as soon as they appear I’ll take the fight to them, and bash n dash… They never showed.
The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is.
Get him as soon as you can.
Strike him as hard as you can and as often as you can. Ulysses S Grant.
I feel that at this particular point in time it was becoming easier to settle problems with violence or to resolve the arguments on the door with a right-hander and I wasn’t too bothered about it either. You have got to be able to switch it on and off. I was finding it increasingly more difficult to switch off; the job does that to you after a while.
I was becoming the same as the violent idiots that I have been fighting against.
I didn’t really need the job any more, my Wife had gone back to work ages ago and I still had my day job so why am I still here? I’ve got nothing to stay for really. Is it through some form of misplaced loyalty…? To whom… I don’t know? So what was it then?
Was it a bit of a power trip? I was the head doorman; the lads would carry out my instructions without question, if I said you are not coming in that was that absolutely no argument about it. If I said you were leaving out you would go one-way or the other. The camaraderie was another thing. Sometimes it was just like a night out with a few pals, it didn’t seem like you were at work. So there are aspects of the job, which are agreeable. There was the nightlife and the lively music scene, and the regular punters who were genuinely pleased to see you. I don’t really have a clear answer. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I turned it in though.