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...
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