Entry Number Thirty Six: Judo Man

Money, is a sod. I am back on the doors. Within a month of the big quit story, like a dribbling desperate money craving hound. I am back. I am both disgusted and ashamed of myself. Well, it all started with a new door company in my town. I heard about them, and gave them a call, met two head doormen in town, two days later i was working at a very busy local bar. Dirty rough place... sticky floor. Has its regulars, a bit cliquey early on in the night, later on the hordes of actual children (18+) come flying in to swoop up the insanely cheap drink offers.

The guys i work with Sadash, Eus, and Weez (girl) all seem cool so far. Eus is the oldest and seems like a typical happy go lucky cockney sort. The sort that should get annoying but is actually entertaining and makes the clock tick a bit quicker. The friday night was busy, pound a drink. Hordes of attractive girls in tight clothes falling over them selves to throw I.D. in our faces.

One pale skinned thing who looked about 14 actually couldn't name the full name on the passport she had borrowed, she didn't even bother to learn it!

"Ok whats the name on here" I asked her, the photo obviously not matching.

She gave me the first and last name, but her tiny head couldn't rotate the cogs to spark her feeble memory to jolt the middle name out of her lips. After many uncomfortable glances and a few awkward exchanges she conceded...

"this isn't your id is it love" I asked her.

She looked up...

"Ok i won't bother then"

No you dippy moo, you will not.

The rest of the night was just a rush, there was no trouble surprisingly. Think we lead out two or so kids, that was it. The venue is like a large open pub. Dancefloor in the far right corner as you enter. The toilets are the worst i have inhaled. Simply atrocious, seriously disgusting. My fear was something kicking off in here, and me having to get thrown into the shallow pool of piss and drink on the floor. Simply puke inducing. Night ended ok though. I was back in it. Back in the mess of it.

Saturday was a lot more messy, even thought tonight wasn't cheap drinks... it was more busy. Christ above only knows why, but it was more busy, more people. We had a few throw outs, one prat on a table dancing, who accepted his defeat so easily when i led him out, i think that was his sole aim for the night, being dragged out by a doorman. Good man, he can "facebook status" that one tommorow. Twerp.

Golf hat boy thought it would be fun to keep putting his hat on after i gave him two polite warnings. He put it on his head for a third time, just to take a picture he told me. Good, thats nice. I swiped the beer off him and led him out. I was polite giving him a second chance, he tried some kind of gesture, i think it was a swing for me. By then Eus was behind me with him and he was out the front door. His dopey looking bunch of rag tag golfing buddies protested something or other, they could go to if they wanted. This polite invitation zipped their traps.

A woman in her late twenties came up to me, thin but pretty looking like Posh Beckham and said

"I'm not trying to cause trouble but that guy over there is pissed and throwing his beer around"

I looked through the bodies and saw a red faced chubby gent with curly ginger hair, clearly intoxicated. I approached him out after waving the team over, just in case we needed to put a few more hands on his girth. He seemed to want to make some kind of issue as i was leading him toward the door. As soon as Eus put his hand on him though, he got violent. His podgy arms swang about like a trapped pigs trotters, but me and Bruce combined are a good weight. The laws of physics tell us it will be difficult for him to restrain. It t'was sir. He threw the door against me on his way out which clouted the side of my head and clipped my hooter. He then screamed at Eus the usual default, I'm so embarrassed i got thrown out the bar obscenities, and it was all over.

However the old boy near the beginning of the night was the best. And a lesson to put in my doormans notebook. I saw Sadash and Eus talking to an old boy with a white tash and hair who must have been in his early sixties, late fifties at least. He was punching the air with a fist and the pint in his other hand was splashing wildly. His face told the stories of many years of alcohol abuse, wives and probably wars. His friend near him was holding a stool right above his head, some kind of play game possibly his son. Stool boy was in his late thirties. I took the stool from him, plonked it down and then approached grandpa.

Eus said to me

"easy, just talk him down"

This was before i even uttered a word. I think Eus saw in my eyes i was quite ready to lead the old boy out. However on my approach the skinny old gent turned toward his empty pint glass. Apologies, but i'm not going to have my face glassed. Erm, if thats ok?

I put a hand on his back to lead him out, and he made it difficult. He wasn't going anywhere. He was shorter and more wiry than me, but he had been thrown out of many a pub in his time. Bruce took one arm, i took the other, but the old codger, LEG LOCKED ME with one leg. This quite effectively inhibited my movement. He basically wrapped his right leg, around my left leg while we were standing. A clever little trick. I kicked out of it, and we led him out with as much respect as is possible when leading out a drunk violent oap.

"I will fucking take you one on one now" He pointed toward me.

It was a sorry sight. This man was the same age as my old man, and out of sheer respect i couldn't fight him. I didn't even swear at him back. He stood at the door, attempting to LOOK like he was running back in for me, but conveniently being stopped by his family. And that was done. He was in there when we arrived at seven, so now he is obviously barred, if he's in next week. It could be interesting getting the old bastard out again. Especially if he bring some scummy family. What a tragic, sorry, and depressing state of affairs it all is.

So, thats it, first weekend back at a new venue done. I proceeded to end the night by getting drunk. Everyone else around me was all night, so why the flip not. In reality i had a few wet beers and went home... :-(

See you next week...

Entry Number Thirty Five: As one door closes, anuva opens... or somfin....innit

Tis with regret i end this blog, for now. I haven't updated this sorry thing for over four months now, and after now way over a year on the doors, recent events have ushered me in the direction of politely proclaiming..."f*&k this sh*t" It is over, the dream has ended. So after over a year of documented Doorwork, or Bouncing, from my initial giddy excitement, up until now, was it worth it?

The past four months I've had a blast if you will, with my colleague neville, seriously good times. The bar is never overly busy, no trouble makers, we've only thrown out four or five people in the time of being there, I've learned a hell of a lot about humans, and especially the sticky underworld of my local town. There really has been nothing to document, well there has, I've just been increasingly tired and exhausted working days as well, no time. Even now i sneakily squeeze this typing session into my schedule simply because I've woken up early and thought to myself "Gordon Bennett mate, that old blog malarkey you affa do summink about that innit" So, here i is.

I did a stint at another place for a special one off event, it got hairy there i might add, i remember it well so can make it my last entry...

The bar is small this one, like a mouse box, despite having a fair bit of floor space, its kind of laid out like a large "L" so it's a bit squeezy. The enormous speakers are also so low, that the music feels like someone is rubbing a cheese grater against the thin membrane of your ear drum. It can actually be painful, or, this could be me being an old duffer.

My new last minute team were not the friendliest bunch, i had been plucked out of my usual comfort spot and stuck with them tonight. Someone was off i think. Sometimes this can be a good thing though, as it's very easy to get comfortable at a nice little joint. Then get comfortable, get smacked in nose. Understand boss?? So this was good for me...

I nodded toward the miserable sods, and was plonked inside at a back door, preventing smokers from coming back in through the back. They can leave that way, but not come back in the same door. Fair enough, stops random bods walking in off the street who haven't paid at the main entrance.

I knew a few people who were at the club, they stood speaking to me for most of the night so it wasn't too bad, once again this was in my town, a club I'd been to on many occasions so it was all good. So all's well, next thing i see a group of young black girls zip up the stairs to the toilets. Now i was handed no radio, no security procedure for this particular team, no nothing. I bumped through the crowd and darted up the stairs after them.

In the small hallway one end was the ladies bogs entrance, the other the dudes. In the middle, is the top of the stair way. I stood here between a group of about seven youts rowing, one side trying to swing for the other, they were in their early twenties. Some girl didn't know who the other girl was. This wasn't a general statement, i mean more along the lines of...

"That b*tch don't know who i am yeh? She don't know who i am, who she's f**kind wiv yeh? "

The other side to my left are trying to push toward their opponents on my right, and once again I'm sandwiched in the middle. I tend to see this as my general style. I get in the middle of the sh*t and try and stop it, speak everyone down. It has worked for me for over a year so. After protests not to throw one of the little girls out, and the other party heading back down stairs...i kept them separate, bear in mind i couldn't call for anyone at this time, I'm upstairs in the toilet area, if someone had have pushed me down and gone for the other side, i couldn't have done anything, no one came to my rescue either.

The girl much more chilled out, later came to me, took me aside and explained her actions and anger, it turned out, the other girl didn't actually know who she was. Apparently some silly old moo gave her an offensive glance at the hand dryer. And then after the said questioning "excuse me, does one know me?" it got ugly. I kept the girl and her mates in one section, if they refused to stay there, i would throw her out by the back of her neck like a Christmas day turkey. They behaved, no bastard wants to get lobbed out at the end of the day, this bar is far from free to get in. Still, worth noting i had no one to help me here, the rest of the door staff were out the front, chatting, chilling out, also the club was packed, i forgot to mention.

Later on in the night i had the honor of the pat downs, by now it was really filling, to the point of one in one out. It was a black night, the small sardine can of a club was host to loads of shiny sweaty black faces, and the incoming lot were looking right dodge, this was why we had to do the full pat down searches.

I remember seeing some six foot five fu**er, muscle head, dark as coal with tight cane rows on his head earlier in the night sulking about. Thinking to myself, if anyone kicks off tonight, please let it not be that enormous bastard.

It was that very same enormous bastard who kicked off...

I remember standing in the cloakroom section, and looking through the glass doors into the actual main dance floor to see his enormous back swinging at someone, i did my usual "fish hook" i pushed through the doors, and grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back, he didn't put up too much resistance, he knew the night was over, one of my colleagues who later turned out to be pretty safe, helped me drag the hefty lump out. Just as we got to the front door someone pushed their way IN, toward the black hulk. He apparently knew them and whop, gave them an almighty clout in the chops. The lanky mixed race lad went flat on his back nose split, a chorus of claret bursting forth from his hooter and actually clonked his skull on the pavement, i remember being particularly disturbed at his drop.

He got back up, beckoned the big guy to the street all the while don't forget this huge c**t was struggling with me and my colleague we got him out, but he wasn't gunning for us, he wanted who ever he knocked down. Outside he picked up one of the billboard signs for the club to throw, no no way, lets not be silly, i put a stop to that. He actually interestingly enough seemed quite reluctant to go for the guy who was beckoning him, i think the initial strike was a lucky thrown hit. Just because a lot of these guys are enormous, it don't mean they're fighters...

The police later arrived, larger black crowds gathered outside, we had to refuse to let people out by order of our manager because of the danger outside, not sure if this was kidnapping or something? Not too concerned as long as i gets my money lol (which i actually didn't not in full anyway - another story that)

I later got thanked the next day when i saw one of the door staff shopping for his groceries...

"thanks for helping out last night mate"

This was nice, although that is my job. I also remember the team being particularly short. Like munchkins. I'm not the tallest doorman, I'm 5'11 and they were all way shorter than me. But they did get stuck in with the action at the end of the night, so i can't really fault them although they let me deal with the crowd in the bogs on my own so i CAN fault them, and i WILL...he said to the king.

So my final review on door work. It kept my head above water financially, just enough to live barely, but in no way was i raking in the 18 and 20 pounds an hour, and other such wildly over generous figures that where dancing around in my head in the early days. The last half a year of my door work, longer actually, was based in my local town, so i will say this, doing this lark gives you a lot more recognition, mainly because I've now worked every seedy joint, cummy chaired club, and stinking sh*t pit in my town. Right up to the nice new bars n all that. So it's given me minor celebrity baby, oh yeeah.

It has been an interesting journey, as i sheath my sword into my proud leather casing, mop my brow and walk off into the distance. I found to be honest, most of the time if you don't talk to people like a pric* they stop acting like one, this is what i have found. I've never been directly swung for to my knowledge I've been clonked one though, a fair few times, elbowed, punched in ribs but its always been sneaky shots when im in the middle of a mass of fighting or rolling around on the floor scrapping. Bin thrown across a club as well.

Actually i did get hit once, but it wasn't hard, was kind of indirect, i dragged the bastard out with my boss. I don't need to stand there and get into a boxing match, don't get payed enough, and I'm not hard enough to scrap every plonker i come across f**k that, most of the time I'm on ten quid an hour, hardly worth it. Almost been bottled a few times, got involved in a mass scrap with Asians in one of my first nights on the doors. Helped my colleague Neville out when he got jumped by two former Asian doorman recently, i wasn't even working that night and got in the middle of it ugly that night. In fact did i ever document that? Not sure.

It's been interesting, it has but for the most part if you can handle yourself just in case (Krav Maga Fighting Lessons twice a week) then you're confident enough not to feel the need to have to box and smack up every idiot you come across. Chat to them like a mate, resolve it, be the bigger man and all that, and you get to walk home without a knife in your head, and with both of your eyeballs actually intact, that's how i've survived and i have wokred at a lot of rough clubs in my year, and I'm glad i did, I've done it you know? been a doorman, but all this, "been in the game for 37 years mate" I'm sorry? are you actually fking mad? nope... fucking sad.

I never planned to go over the three years of my license as soon as i found out you dont get the 18 and 20 pounds an hour i initially thought. So, in the end, was it all worth it? Hmmmm Yeah, it's fleshed me out as an individual, it's expierience and i reckon I'll be back doing it at some point in the future when the finances are squeezing my nuts. But due to pay disputes I'm no longer working at my regular, and think to myself let's see where else my life can go while I've got a chance to get out intact, no point in tempting fate...

Although i did get a text from my boss who i left, got it this very night "we need to talk mate"...

...so who knows.

Cheers for reading (I'll be back)

Entry Number Thirty Four: Ain't you fellas meant to er...protect us?

How long will the peace last? Forever i pray. I've done about two nights on my own at this place now, and so far so good. The nights I'm joined by Neville are Friday and Saturday, and there's more excitement and drama on the stage the good lords placed in front of us, that's the town centre, then inside our actual venue. Just the way it should be. We've seen of course, fights kick off outside fast food shops, we've seen the usual all singing all dancing clan of regular nutters we're now accustomed to. Actually greeting them like old friends. One incident i think will forever remain with me, and just in case it decides to fade away into the vast cavern of my empty ageing brain, i will document!

To the right of our front door across the road a stocky skinhead screams down his phone, some poor female on the receiving end of the torrent I'm guessing. His anger raises, and his protests get louder. He's had enough, he smashes his balled fist against the chicken shop window. The shop was closed, in fact, it's a new venue being built. Sky blue paint on the outside still fresh. Again he smashes a fist. Me and Neville watch, as two Police tentatively approach. Visibly looking scared. Yes, written correctly and read correctly, visibly looking SCARED.

"This old boy's getting hauled off" I say to Neville, almost trying to convince myself what i know inside is going to happen, isn't going to happen.

The Police almost apologetically walk up to the vexed gent, mutter some words, and walk off! Well, first of all, this is a display of aggression in public, the dude in questions face was as pink as a fine floral display. His voice louder than Satan's, and he's punching a shop window, and it's in the centre of town, loads of innocent ravers milling around. Nope, perhaps there's more to this than our critical eyeballs can assess, we go back to our perch on our doorstep and continue...

But not before we hear another loud smash, Mr angry is now whacking away again on the poor shops quivering window. The two PC Plod's who tried to make their hasty escape, stopped in their tracks, looked back, and actually...decided to LEAVE HIM TO IT. It seemed this embarrassing display of public protection even irked the said loon, as he proceeded to follow the police up the road, overtaking them at one point and mocking the poor couple. A more sorry sight, i don't think I've ever seen. Not since the old man in his sixties, pain, loneliness and sheer suicide written over his grey bearded face, carting a gigantic trolley with what looked like his entire belongings crammed inside it, wheeled past last week. Right down the middle of the road.

The Police though, on this occasion, were fucking embarrassing. It's probably best not to be a copper if you're scared of angry people. That seems like a simple enough assessment of any future career choice in public service. Sheeeeesh.

A few weekends ago the drunk parent was on the loose again, wheeling his son around in a buggy, can of scrumpy jack in the other. Bear in mind this is about eleven at night. At one point some kind of grubby associate of the dad took the buggy off him, and trundled past us, vision clouded by his blinding haze of alcohol. This was too much, i radioed CCTV to actually do something about this, get a local police unit who perhaps weren't going to piss their panties and actually sort the situation out. They assured me they were "monitoring the situation"

It was only minutes earlier up the street the intoxicated father was screaming at two men that "I've got a son you f**king c*nt, I'm with my f**king son" then proceeding to neck a good amount of cider, and stagger off up the road. What a truly sad bastard.

There was also a big group brawl near the same chicken shop Mr angry was whacking away at, about a week ago. The club up the street from us radioed of a disturbance heading in our direction, to CCTV. Our senses pricked, and we peered in the direction, waiting.

A motley crew of teens to early twenty types gathered, voices raised, everyone got more and more excited, you know what's coming next. CLOCK!!! The tallest and loudest of the mob, a smartly dressed mixrace fella, with tight curls threw a fast jab into the mass, and a short skinhead type staggered back, clutching the side of his head. Strangely enough a female buzzing around the edges of the goings on, broke out into laughter. Making the whole scene rather strange. Then he threw another fist, landing square on another unfortunate receivers conk. Which opened up within seconds to a river of dark red juice.

Next thing i remember is someone being on the floor and one guy really laying the boot in, enough was enough, i was about to hand Neville the CCTV radio and do my usual "pluck the fighter out, don't get hit" routine but a brave Taxi Marshall piled in and saved me the effort. By which time the big Police van had arrived, and a female copper and her mate had ran in also. The Police in the van were all visibly shaking and actually refused to get out. Poor sods...

not true that bit...

Some loud banging and smashing from within the meat wagon and that was that. Zip to tonight, it's my Thursday to man the doors alone again. Which it's looking like it could be a regular thing on Thursdays. No matter how quiet my bar is, this is a very risky position to take, anything could happen i would not be equipped to deal with on my own. But my finances are struggling and so the mountain must continue to be traversed. I am not actually sure if it's legal me being on my own?? Ah well...

I always said after a Year i wouldn't feel bad leaving the game, i could say "I've been a doorman for a year" kind of thing. At the moment, being 100% truthful, i quite enjoy my little bar, and working with Neville is a blast, but when things are good, that normally means the beady fingers of fate will play puppet master and tug a few strings, bringing some serious mess my way. Am i prepared for it, especially on my own? I like to think so...we'll see...

Entry Number Thirty Three: The Wine Bar Darling

Ok, the Big Giant Catch up...

What kind of shocking display of a doorman's documentary is this. I don't know, is the simple and honest answer. Truth is, im surprised how little time i have to keep note of the goings on, plus, i now work at a chilled out up market bar kinda thingy. All nice n chilled out. We haven't had one incident yet, besides "asking" a rather happy chappy who was doing multiple handstands to kindly leave our establishment. I'd been taking a few more fight classes, and learning some new holds i was interesting in trying out but since no longer being at the other place (yeh i'm gone from the rough rough place), i haven't had to face the unpleasant prospect of fighting ex bouncers about twelve on one (me) every night, no lie. It is a relief to have things on equal grounds again. It is a relief to not be concerned about actually dying when you leave for work.

Right, its been a good what two months since I've written anything, and it's coming up to now being an actual whole year on the doors right? When that time arrives i shall put on my frayed thinking specs and reflect. However, I've got some catching up to document. Luckily, at the end of most nights at the old place, i jotted down some words quickly in a rough bullet style format. Just hooks within which to catch the dotted memories fresh from my head, when i will later be needed to recall them, like now...

So let's rewind back about two months, until we get back to this point. Strapped into the Time Module my good sir? Jolly good, let's begin!...

Friday June 27th

The usual excitement, that i now miss was taking place at the club, music blaring, after the standard flirting with the ticket girl. Pretty girl. It became apparent to me, that tonight was going to be a night for me to take a stand for my race, to fight oppression of Black people the world over, one fist raised high like Barack Obama has never actually done. The Malcolm X Tattoo on my forearm looking up at me, winking.

Two Black boys approached, young faces, one with tight braids. It was me and my experienced colleague on the door, the Asian one, who has been there a good few years now. He sliced through the uncomfortable air that surrounded them quite swiftly with these puncturing words.

"You're not coming in tonight boys"

Their faces dropped with mock surprise.

"We ain't done nothing mate, ah come on" They protested.

"This is my venue, and i say you're not coming in"

They put up a pretty feeble fight, one was brave enough to use the race card, the response from my colleague, rightly so was as follows.

"My Colleague is Black and my boss (Yavin) is black" He paused, waiting for their next darts back. Nothing.

They protested some more, with the strength of a plastic bag, then they plodded on their merry way. The next young fella was a little more brave. After refusing him entry, i don't remember specifically why, or why we let him back in. But my brain has etched into its wall the sight of him mumbling some words along the lines of...

"Ok ok ok, right, i'll show you something"

It was at this point, he walked back to the parked car he pulled up in, a long Grey thing, blacked out windows. A few lanky Brothers perched on the bonnet, openly smoking something they shouldn't be. Wreck less. Young James Deans. He actually went to the boot, hid behind the side of the car out of our view, as if he was setting something up, or constructing something, this is how i recall it, and then he EMERGED! Now, my colleague didn't seem to fret this, he just simply whipped out the giant Metal Detecting wand and waved it up and down him, as if casting some odd spell over the boy. Nothing. We let him in. His walk crippled with a swagger so big he could have fell over with any kind of light contact. I'm not sure why we let him back in, or why we refused him entry in the first place, maybe a cap i think, but we did let him back in. We should have been more careful with that one i think.he could have actually shot one of us on the spot, and you never, EVER want that to happen.

Saturday June 28TH

The next incident is the one which got me sacked from the place, a shame as the hours and money were good. However, i now have a partial social life back and don't have to worry about things like my eyeballs or neck being stabbed with a smashed bottle etc. Anyway, here's how it went down, i remember this crystal clear...

There's a scuffle at the end of the bar, the usual group of Asians are in there, i don't know exactly what going on, but it's big, there's about twelve Asians and something is kicking off. I see a woman going hell for leather with fists at some taller dude, part of the crew. Instant ejection right? I run in to grab her, and take her out, next thing i know i'm being pulled back by an Ex Doorman who used to work there, part of the crew of Asians in the middle of the scuffle. My pride punctured like a big over inflated trye, i rush back in. My collegue, the one i was a bit closer with shouted

"leave it leave it"

I was told by two senior members on the door here, when there is a kick off and a big group are involved, leave it, just get the main people around them to safety, which is what i was attempting to heroically do by plucking the woman from within the middle of the scuff. The mess got louder, drinks flew, and voices were raised to a level where they were clearly audible above the music.

Me and my colleague saw one of the newer doormen rush in, to do the same thing i did, try and save this woman who was back in the middle, attacking this unfortunate man. I assume it was actually some kind of domestic, and boyfriends etc were matching up with boyfriends or something. Either way it was a big disturbance, and i thought my colleague was doing the right thing, the same thing i did. There about twelve hyped up, buzzing off the various steroid chemical combination's flying through their blood, Asians jumping about. All trying to be badder than the next man. My approach was let em scrap and pluck out any dudes on the edge of the moving body of fists feet, and bottles.

Anyway, my colleague, a Polish guy a little shorter than me, battle worn face, always sulking, rushed in to get the woman again, except someone within the fray was a lot more brave when it came to him, and they clocked him on the ear with a juicy right. The sound i still remember, it was painful. Like a slab of meat getting hit with a metal pole. Or the kind of sound you'd hear if you dropped a chicken ready to cook from your fridge, straight onto the floor. Almost juicy. He took it well, no problem, but my Asian colleague made the big mistake of holding the Polish doorman back! And eventually pushing him out of the venue!!!

I see what my colleague was trying to do, keep the Polish doorman at safety. Out of the firing line, as he had told me to do. But the visible act of dragging him off, undermined our authority as doormen, and to cut this whole sorry spectacle short, i will just say we were kindly asked not to return after that night.

I remember at the end of the night, as the glass collectors were picking up the final discarded VK's and mopping up the sick from the floor with gusto, like victorian schoolchildren, or some kind of scene from Oliver. We all had a reflection on what had happened in the CCTV room downstairs. Note this was before i knew i was sacked. I said the thing which i think put the nail in my coffin right there. But i was just being honest. I remember my exact words...

"I'm sorry, if there's twelve juiced up ex-doormen fighting, I'm not jumping in there" This is the advice I've been given since I've been doing the doors, by almost everyone, and as soon as i follow it, i get the boot. Funny thing was, i did get in there!!! I actually dived in headfirst to pluck the girl out of whatever was mess was going on.

The thing is, there are serious problems with that place, due to certain people letting certain groups in, be they friends or whatever. This creates an atmosphere where some people think, its ok to parade around the joint, like it's theirs. They are above the doormen. That's fine if it's one or two people, but it's a regular group, it's still going on there, and the problem is getting worse at that place. I think it was maybe a calling from GOD i got sacked. Or just an extremely handy, and life saving coincidence but no good could have come of continuing to work in that kind of place. Besides the long hours, and even then i had money problems. As in, me actually gettign my money problems. I must say though the few months i was there was excellent door training, and i won't lie, i do miss it. The place had a non stop buzz about it, it was always heaving with excited teenagers something was always popping off. Every doorman needs to work a venue like this at least once.

Only a few months ago some psychopath went mad with a poor innocent chair throwing it all over the place, a known hard nut. It's a dangerous place to work, the only way i see how some have survived there for so long, is being safe. Like i tried to. Even some people who work there who i thought were willing to jump in and get their noses pushed sideways with a elbow, fist or shining forehead, were not so willing to do so. Everyone just tryed to stay safe at that place, do their jobs, and go home to see their kids, like me...anyway, with that another chapter of my door work ends. Lessons noted.

-----

After that place, for a few weekends i worked at a now closed down Indie Club. venue inside was gorgeous, really well laid out, and multiple rooms, only two were open though. The owners bought the place, changed what was a very popular nightclub, into some depressing Goth-Fest. It didn't do well after a few months and shut down a week after i left. Saying that, i didn't have one problem there at all. The people were friendly, all polite, and just seemed like they wanted to hide away from the demons that walked the Friday and Saturday night streets, i don't blame em. The girlies that worked there were friendly, and it was a breeze of a job. A refreshing lukewarm shower, that's just prickling your skin after a burning day. Proper relaxing gig that was. I worked with big Nick there again, the guy who i stood in the middle of the Asian mob with a while back.

-----.

Cut to now, i currently work at a very nice wine bar, and it's brand newly opened as well. So, just like way back, when i worked at the other venue from it's launch night. I once again have my foot in first at a venue. Touch my wood, we've had no problems here so far. A lot of money has been spent on this fine establishment, and the type of people we are looking for are the over 25's, with a bit of money to throw at the beaming barstaff. Interestingly, we have full control over who comes in, and who doesn't, which is nice, and a relief. For the most part, if someone looks dodgy, be they well dressed or not, we will cut their hopes, dreams and aspirations of entry down, with one foul swish of the sword. Over. Not coming in...

There's even a small upstairs. The wood shines with the fresh wash of Brand New-ness, the leather sofas and general straight out of the wrapping aroma of the furnishing is a sight to behold. Feel a bit proud the place has been entrusted to me and my colleagues. I work with two guys. One called Neville, and another Nigel. Neville is a short podgy but stocky white dude in his late thirties. A prickly ginger goaty hiding the bottom half of his features. And Neville is a black dude in his forties, a little shorter than me, but with a whole wealth of various martial arts experience apparently. We all spend our time eyeing up the delicious females that strut past. It's almost a personal perv fashion show. All shapes and sizes. The part of town the bar is located at is a ripe spot. Loads of buzzing activity right on our doorstep, and we're never short of a bubbly young blonde thing to stop in her tracks and have a chinwag to.

We now know a whole host of regular characters who twitch, plod, handstand and trudge past our doors. The smiling Rastafarian with long Grey dreadlocks who's words have no separation. He speaks in one long sentence with no full stops. Words slowly crushed together, until they overlap. The Jewish man who once again, speaks a language none of us have ever come across. Long beard hides his chattering anger. He occasionally barks loud obscenities, so i think he's one of those tourettes. The couple who dudder along holding enormous cans of Economy cider, pushing a buggy with a innocent blonde face peering out into the cruel world. Both so rat assed, they are completely oblivious to the pure shocked disgust on everyone's face as they pass them. A whole world of regulars come out on the Thursday Friday and Saturday night...no doubt more will make my future entries...and we always see them...

So, just to get me back into the swing of things, i will document Friday and Saturday... who knows... it might even all kick off? And as i type this, i just got a text from my boss saying im needed Thursday... oh, there's only one person manning the doors on a Thursday. That would be me.

Hope you all enjoyed the catch up, let the madness continue!

Entry Number Thirty Two: Nobs

(Saturday June 14th)

There's now a problem brewing. There's a group of lads who really want to make the club their own, I'd say they total in about ten or twelve, and they're always at the top bar sulking about like the world owes them something. Making a racket, and acting really unsociable. I do not approve at all, no no no. They are friends of, or connected to my door colleague who we'll call Deli. So they seem to be given a little leeway where they shouldn't be. I'm old school, I'd have them out by their actual ear, and ban the fuckers... But it's not my club, I'm the new boy. So...

Soon enough, as the night went on, again at the bottom bar, My eyes were peering over the mass of bodies as usual when there was a scuffle, and the scuffle turned into something bigger, by now a large group was formed, my main memories of this night was a short fat Asian dude zipping from doorman to doorman, trying to save his mate from being lobbed out by saying

"don't worry, chill out, he'll be ok" etc

The thing is, we didn't even know who his mate was. There was just a moving lump of shouting Asian faces on one side, and what seemed like a few white blokes on the other. The Asians outnumbered them like, twice over. It really didn't look good.

All the time while I'm in the middle of this, my brain kind of switches to another mode. Its almost like I'm detached from the reality, and i just focus on making sure no fighting or scuffling happens. The bright bar, the dancing, the faces looking on, the music. Its all there but secondary. I don't provoke people, I'm not trying to get people to fight, I'm not trying to fight, i just almost fall out of myself and let another version of me take over, the version unaware of how fucking dangerous this job really is.

Me and my very tall, very big colleague Nick simply stood in between them all, there was nothing we could do. Apparently someone had slapped someone Else's girlfriend, or something. It all boiled down to the usual, the cocksuckers had to ruin the fun for everyone else. Nobs.

The situation here was frustrating however, as we couldn't throw anyone out, all we could do was stand in the middle of this heated exchange between the two groups. If we threw one person out, the whole place would erupt, the groups were waiting for a ruck, all standing there, tense, taut like springs, ready to shoot off. Facing each other like two Samurai armies about to clash. Me and big nick simply had to stand between the groups to cool the situation down, it worked, eventually. I think they all took it outside to tear each other into minced beef... which I'm more than happy with. Here, I'll even add the seasoning, but not inside.

I remember one person from one group got a bit to close to the other person, and i had to intervene, gripping up one guy and holding him back. I got covered in some dark alcoholic beverage for my efforts. But within seconds the cold wash of the drink on my hands was forgotten, back to being the human wall with Nick. Literally.

Eventually it got to the point where one of the senior members of door staff asked the DJ to actually change the music, the high temp dance hall and hip hop was too much, getting the prick heads to amped. So in turn every one Else's enjoyment had to be effected. I'm not happy about this situation, the same lot, we keep letting in, the same shit, keeps happening.

There will be a giant showdown soon with the doormen and this group, and me...Mr c*nt will be right in the middle, eyes darting left to right like a rabbit in headlights, frozen. Clocks ticking for this...you watch.

Entry Number Thirty One: Mop Boy Cometh

Friday and Sat (June 7th and 8TH)

Friday - My main memory of this night was Mop Boy! One skinny white dude with dark black hair, Italian looking, on his way out after the club closed, decided to play mr prick, and throw a glass bottle to the floor splashing sticky alco pop all over the wood floor. Just for a laugh. My colleuge was having none of it. He gripped him by his collar, slammed him into the wall with what seemed like the force of Iron Man and screamed at someone to get a mop. He actually told the dude to mop it up! He released the guy from his clench then told me to hold on to him "don't let him go" I stood in front of the spindly looking dude, seeing no need to hold on to him, he wouldn't be brave enough to make a run for it while my colleague went to get a mo...

Whoosh...off he went. Not before i grabbed the fools arm and almost ripped his white jumper. I gripped him up by the arm and he conceded defeat. Eventually my collegue let him go, but only because it was taking so long to get a bloody mop for the poor buffoon. Quite cool tho, demanding someone mop up their own mess. I'm gonna have to give that one a bash one time. "Mop that up BITCH" ...brilliant

Saturday - Was more busy, a barmaid who i once a long time ago tried to "hit on" and got rejected like a stupid bastard, i now work with. Not really as embarrassing as it could be, we don't ever talk about it. We're just both trying to make an honest crust working there right? let it be, let-it-be. I've discovered as well i don't actually like her too...snobby. Anyway, i stood at my usual spot, top of the stairs by the DJ Booth (there are two floors by the way, bottom bar and top bar) I stand on the top bar. She walked out from behind the bar and signalled me over to lead out a tall lanky white dude, skin headed because he had drunk too much, he had, he went without a peep. I thought he might have put up a bit of action, no, he wasn't even thinking to have it. His night was done, he'd drunk himself into a brainless stupor, his mission succeeded.

I later saw behind me two girls shouting at each other, i looked at the body language and movement, studying, like an advanced model terminator and came to the conclusion they were friends having a heated debate about something. One was quite obviously, a Lesbian, sorry but she was, i later found out...she was. Short, stocky jeans, spiky hair, lumberjack top. Gruff looking. I asked her if everything was cool? She nodded in a "I've got this under control" type of way. So i moved to a position where i could observe discreetly, but it all seemed fine...

Ha...

A girl walked by and she swang for her and missed, Bash, right in there, her ample boobs tucked over my forearm as i almost lifted her out, she was stocky but short, she put up quite a struggle but walked off with the defeated "i know im going anyway" type of plod, as my hand firmly on her back led her to the entrance..BYE BYE... silly bitch.

Back to the top of the stairs, brush my self off, i perch like the eagle observing the scene, everything in order, a member of bar staff short mixed race kid come out and says.

"I think something going to kick off down there"

I looked to where he was pointing, and it did. I saw someone swing for someone else in the middle of the heaving crowd. I pushed through the solid block of young clubbers, knocking drinks and pulled the guy who threw the punch away, straight in there was my boss, scrapping with the other guy, i let the guy i grabbed out, but somewhere along the line i got clipped in the lip, it swelled up a tiny touch, physical, nice, i need more of this if I'm going to get used to working here. It was sorted. Checkmate.

After leading out an older faced Asian guy for mouthing aggressively toward someone, i came back in, out of breath from the previous encounter, to see the same group of Asians again, on the dance floor squaring up, i dashed through the crowd, almost jumping from head to head like Super Mario bouncing on mushrooms. I stood in the middle of them, about four on one side, three on the other. dark blue lights danced over us, and faces looked on. Aggressive shouts and gesturing between the two party's was increasing, someone was about to get smacked or worse. And i was in the middle like PC Flippin Plod. I fumbled desperately for a radio, one arm extended trying to hold one mass body of arguing Asians back, calling over and over "Doorstaff to the dancefloor, Doorstaff to the dancefloor" The radio policy is really really shit here. There's no amber codes, no real attention payed to the radio.

For what felt like a good 60 seconds i was in the middle of this crews disagreement until i heard a pop sound. My hands felt warm, and sure enough, someone had got bottled and splashed their fucking disgusting foul sticky blood all over me. It wasn't an innocent clubber i would have cared for, it was one of this arguing mob. What happened next was a rush of doormen dragging everyone out, me included. Once they were out the door i inspected my Hi Vis jacketand it was decorated with a pretty polka dot blood design. I looked down at my palms which were now a ghastly red paint, and i even felt glass, blood mixing? Nice... after a wash down, i was back out there on the stairs again. After the main dickheads were gone, peace resumed... in short i was a few inches from catching a bottle on my skull, or in my face.

My working saturdays will never, ever be the same again...

Entry Number Thirty: Hired Cheese

Friday and Sat (May 30th and 31st)

Same rough club again however i have discovered something, i would be a stinking liar if i said, in some bizarre way, deep down, I didn't enjoy actually working for my money. And you do at this place. For the most part I'm stationed on the stairs next to the DJ booth, making sure he gets no trouble, and keeping people off the stairs. This place is just chockablock, eyes darting everywhere every movement. As well as the constant distraction of heavy tunes (this is my spot remember) and knowing most people in there, remember its my town, and my local club.

I spot a scuffle going on, skinny white bloke arguing with some Asian guy, screaming, going at it. Boof, through the thick heavy crowd and i grabbed him by the waist, he slipped out of my grip and i literally pulled him back by one arm as he went to try and take the other lads actual head off. Got a good grip on the dude waist and hauled him out. Right past a group of girls i normally go raving with and through the front door. This was my first real test at this place and it passed fine.

The group of Asians from the other week were back again, and one in particular I'm going to clash with sometime soon. I'm bracing for it. I can just see it coming a mile off. One from the group casually lit up a fag behind me, like, i turned around and saw a ghostly twist of smoke rising in the air. I was thinking, fuck, they really are actually trying it. I led him out, he went without a struggle, so easily in fact, i think he wanted to leave, or made a bet to light it. Whatever, he was gone.

This lot always park up outside the club first with hired Ferrari's etc, it's so corny, but to be fair, the cars are fat. But hired. Whats the point in rolling around in a car like that if it's hired, everyone will know it's hired, so it takes the spark away. Why would someone in a fucking Ferrari pull up outside the roughest club in the town? To just, hang about there, shouldn't they be on a Yacht? Or something...corn balls.

Now compared to where i used to work, theres stuff going on all the time, it's hard to stress how busy this place is, so I've missed out about 100 events, bare in mind this is an eight hour shift. But i have left feeling, somewhere, deep down inside. I enjoyed that. How long I'll be here? I've learnt now in this game theres no guarantee of where you're gonna be, but it's all experience. Next week I'll document right after to keep the events fresh...so sorry, so tired...shifts so long...back soon.