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.

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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.

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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!