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.

Entry Number Twenty Nine: The Fun Begins...

(Friday 23rd May)

The chronicler is back, where have i beeeeeeen. Aw, well a lot has happened. Politics, internal problems with my old company. Doormen with a grudge cos they ladies love the man. All stuff i really should have documented for blogging, but with working full time days as well, not having any time, i kinda slipped. Plus never being sure where i am, or where I'm stationed etc. It all got too much, but i now work somewhere new. aGaIN

In a word, the roughest dive in my town. To be fair. It's my regular, no question, my absolute regular.Loads of fights, scuffles. It's where you would dread working as a doorman who values his life. And I'm now working there. The big catch with this place is drinks are pretty much one pound across the board. This attracts like a magnet the scumballs, lowlifes and people like me...who go there regular. The floors sticky, the crowd often violent and aggressive the music hiphop, bashment, garage...you get the picture. If i named my town it would ALL fit into place...

Arriving suited and booted, one doorman i know from drinking there regular said...

"First time I've seen you sober mate"

And to be fair it probably was, i asked to meet Yavin, a stocky Black dude same height as me just under six, and long dreads. I'd been speaking to him the previous week about work, but decided to have a well deserved weekend off last week. But i had to start sometime, theres no delaying the walk of fire, there's no denying DEATH. So here i was. Yavin was no where to be seen until later on. I walked to the front door, and asked the familiar face when to start work because i was waiting for Yavin.

"Start working now bruv"

So, i whipped on the SIA badge of justice, it beamed bright with truth, freedom and the american way, and the fun began.

Age wise, you're looking at an average of about 20 I'd say, loads of kids. One pound drinks, loads of trouble. First incident was leading two steaming drunk girls out, the manager wanted gone. No problem, this is the kind of stuff i was used to at my regular little quiet bar. "Git out" Gone.

Second a bit more sticky. A tall light skinned black guy, holding a baseball cap refused to scan back in. (theres a system where you have to scan out and in when you go for a fag) He refused to scan in because he never payed to get in in the first place, and the machine would recognise this...fuck you PAY. I screamed at him.

I never, but i did ask him flat out, if he's going to scan or not...he said no, so pushy pushy, outty outty. He was tall so i had to get my positioning right like a sumo, but once i got that anchor attached, goodnight Vienna. He wasn't scuffling, just didn't want to be pushed out. A bald older doorman helped me by grabbing him from behind. He later talked his way back in with the doorman, cool whatever, but this is my first night, and this club expects doormen to be doormen. To be fair, the last bar i worked at was a quiet one for the most part, so coming into the hustle and bustle of the roughest club in town, was a wake up. I had to handle people differently, the talky talky tactic i used for the most part before had to be switched up. Now its more 30% talking and 70% pushing them the mother fuck out of there.

After leading out another kid who was caught smoking in the toilets, i was positioned next to the DJ Booth, and behind me were a group of about eight Asians, getting lary. I knew they were going to kick off, but, i gave them the benefit of the dou... too late. I turn round to see the bald doorman who helped me earlier in the middle of an argument with them, trying to prise someone from between about three big Asian dudes. A younger looking kid, raring up, too much drink, someone had disrespected him. I tried my usual claptrap to chill him out, no, he wasn't having it.

One ignorant slug garbled some kind of "leave him the fuck alone" chat. Yeh mate, suck my bollocks. No need for others to try and pour fuel on the situation. Eventually we dragged him out, his mates still attached, like some kind of odd black and Asian rugby scrum, moving, through the crowd. Near the door, the kid broke free and walked out. Barging a trail of pride and posturing through the captivated clubbers...over, back to the dancing, they're used to this.

Later on in the night, a black guy was lying out the back, eyes rolling in his head, his face displaying a picture of more than simply alcohol, something else was swirling around his blood stream. I got him some water, the manager was already with him, he was really in a bad way, he stared into the moonlight, and looked around with such confusion, later on the police arrived, i went back in for the night.

Bearing in mind, for the past four months I've been working in a pretty quiet bar, in a quiet town. It's a bit of a pitch shift for me, theres no doubt, but the money is good, hours longer. I have decided i eventually want to get out of this lark. But the weekly money, is very sweet. That's all it is. The actual job is mad, crazy, endangering my actual life. This new place will definitely test me as a doorman, it doesn't get no rougher then this. Police are always stationed outside most nights when it's busy. There have been stabbings, shooting, bottlings, i know the place inside out... come on that lottery ticket.

Entry Number Twenty Eight: It's Been A While

The following was written over two months ago, i now no longer work at this bar or club because of a disagreement with a head doorman, who made it his personal mission to get me out of this venue. I now work at a new club in my local town...but, i wrote this when i was at the other venue, so might as well post it..enjoy...

It's been a while

Shit, actual shit, it has, my main reasons for not posting have been time. I now have none of it. I work five days a week in another Security "type" job. And generally have no time for Xbox, Lovemaking and even breathing i actually have to pencil into my diary. All for the love of money!

I've now been on the doors for coming up to half a year. I remember applying for the license all excited, thinking i could have my days free, wandering the land, more money than my bank account could physically hold. All the riches and bitches i could ever want. Thinking i could make enough money to actually take over the entire world!! I imagined walking the streets and turning the pavement to gold, I'd be so rich. Eighteen pound an hour here, fifteen pound an hour there...

Put 'Bull' and 'Shit' together...

Besides the wildly inaccurate view of the pay i thought I'd be raking in, it hasn't been too bad so far. I've had a few scuffles, and thank the gods nothing more. I'm glad i got a regular spot though, and it's a good venue. Nice friendly white town, over 25's type of bar although 18's the official age.

Which reminds me, last night i saw a very pretty girl I'd spoke to previously who told me she was 21. The doormen had never ID'ed her. She was wearing a flipping "18 Today!!!" Birthday badge. The deceit i felt in my heart bought me to tears on the spot...nearly. Big beaming Anime Japanese cartoon eyes, big breasts and wicked figure. Wow though, too young...eeech.

What else in the one and a half months I've had off writing...

Just getting to know all the faces now at my permanent spot. The bar is doing a really good trade, and is always busy, packed. Even on the quiet nights, the place is literally filled. It's mad. We have very little trouble, because when incidents do pop up, we handle them swift and politely. It's kind of like our unwritten code there,

Last night some 6'5 skinhead from up north kept dropping off. One of the bar staff came over to me with a big grin and told me...

"someones been knocked out"

I plucked my radio from my blazers chest pocket only to see this dude so smashed, he was leaning hunched over the table, arms folded, full on sleeping. I shook him, and this is a good example of how we, or I handle these situations. I told him politely...

"You can't fall asleep again or you're out"

He fell asleep again.

I woke him, and after a bit of innocent protesting, i led him outside for one of my infamous "chats" He was so friendly and like able, but just genuinely tired, i said to him have ten minutes outside in the smokers, chill out, get some air. He protested still. But nothing aggressive, after seven or so minutes i let him back in. He promised so hard, it was almost a plead, that he wouldn't fall asleep again.

To his credit he attempted dancing a bit, a plodding stumble I'd describe it. Hot moves. But mother gravity called him. He sat down and doof, was gone. Now to struggle him out would have been a challenge, he was taller than me and it would have been messy. I called a taller member of my team over just to keep an eye on me in case he got greasy, he didn't and out he want.

Of course I've worked in many venues now, and with lots of different doormen. I know many who would have thrown him through the crowd, knocking tables over, and kicked him out. With an actual BIG BOOT. But for one our establishment is a bit more classy than a grubby nightclub we like to think, and we handle tings in our own way.

I say "we" but there's a few issues. A lot of the door team for many reasons, the same internal politics I'm having issues with, are leaving or being sacked, and we've yet to get a regular solid team of workers. We have about three or four out of seven who are a definite regular team. I personally now know why the staff at the big big club i worked at were for the most part, a bit chilly toward me. It's because when you get someone new, you're not always sure if they have your back in a kick off, and they have their own ideas etc etc.

Last night a what looked like 6'5 Eastern European guy was being shown round by our boss. One of our regulars for reasons i reeeealy shouldn't type, I think has been given the boot. Which is a shame. He was a mate. And chances are new boy will replace him...we've had a whole heap of new staff the past month or so, as we try and get a tight knit group together. It's an annoyance, but not my side of the job to get involved in. As long as i keep getting my cash every week. It's a big thumbs up.

Ok, i will see if i can write regular again, i want to keep this up for a year, then look back. So far, it's been good. Just less money then i was ever expecting. I know for a fact if i knew before i actually applied for my badge the real money you get, i would not have ever applied for it, and been doing something totally different today. But...I'm here, and i will be back....

Thank you, after this last entry at this bar i left because of what i simply like to call internal politics. Head doorman jealous some barmaids wanted the kid? His penis insecurity?? I don't know, i just left before it got worse. I then got in contact with an old number for door work in my town at quite simply, the roughest club in my town, no two ways about it. Not the biggest, but the roughest. So read on as i chronicle the NEW chapter (again) in this door fukin saga init.

Entry Number Twenty Seven: Update

I'm here!!! And i have been writing the events of whats been going on in the world of sticky floors, sick encrusted toilet bowls, 17yr old girls, and getting thrown to the floor, abuse, violence and working in danger of your actual life every night. Fun....

I'm currently writing up the past few months I've been off into some kind of readable form and will post all them bitches over the next few weeks, until i catch up with the present day. So for fuck fucks fuck sake...don't die on me... The "bouncer documentary" will continue...

PEACE