Show No Fear: A Bouncer's Diary by Bill Carson Read Free Book Online Page B

remember her. A succession of manager’s come and go but then a permanent manager is given the licence. Her name was Jo she was a very attractive young thing, slim blonde and in her mid to late twenties, she was also an ex copper. Fuck me that’s all we need. She would often remind me that she still had her uniform and hand cuffs upstairs; she was a fruity little devil on the quiet. Actually her being ex old bill was an advantage for us; she would often have a word on our behalf, when the police turned up to the occasional altercation, she spoke up for me and the lads many times even when there was more than reasonable force being applied to our attackers. I liked Jo; she was very shrewd but quite shy and vulnerable really, a good hearted person as well. We had a few laughs with Jo and she would all ways sort us out with a couple of beers at the end of the night.
A number of different guys are sent down to work with us, some good some bad and
some ugly. Paul was one of the new recruits, he was mean looking with his close cropped hair and close shaven beard, he also had a cut running the entire width of his forehead, apparently caused by someone slashing him with a Stanley knife.
I remember one night a very well-known male dancer was walking past, I had seen him walk past quite a few times on his way to the train station which was nearby. I think he was performing at the theatre, which was just around the corner, he had a big bunch of flowers with him, Paul walks over to him and says-
“Have you bought those for me”?
He frightened the life out of him, he did a quick couple of side steps and was away, and I never saw him again, he must have taken the scenic route and by passed the club from then on. Paul had that effect on some people. He stayed with us for about six weeks and that was the quietest period I’d ever had at the club, maybe it had something to do with him.
We used to get a few old dossers mooching about, and every Friday night without fail the same one used to turn up and try to get in. He was a small old Scots guy; he wore a battered old straw trillby hat with tufts of red hair protruding from underneath the brim. He had elastic bands around his shoes to keep the soles on (he was literally on his uppers) and a filthy old jacket and trousers. As he came closer to me I could see the dirt and filth on his shirt, well it wasn’t like dirt it was probably more like topsoil. It was also a warm night and he was beginning to chuck up big time. He turns to me and says…
“I'm coming in who's going to stop me”? Hic! Burp! Fart!
I turned and pointed in the direction of Paul.
“He will” I said.
“HIM!…………… he should be in a fucking cage”
He marched up the high street mumbling and shaking his head and I never saw him again.
Paul was asked to take over the door at another venue.
We now have a new member of the team, a tall fair-haired good-looking young fella, with an eye for the ladies. He was called John; we had a slight problem though with John, he was smaller in stature than Pete and me and so when we had to ask someone to leave they almost always turned around and vented their anger against him. Which was a big mistake because he could handle himself quite well, coupled with his hot temper made him quite a handful. And so there was me Pete and John, it stayed that way for just over a year.
One of the good things about having John with us was that he had a motor, Pete and I were used to getting the night bus, that bus was murder, everyone was pissed, belching, farting and fighting…and the blokes were just as bad. The other problem you would sometimes encounter was that there was a good chance you would be sitting next to the arsehole you had clumped and thrown out earlier that night.
    It was a nice cool spring Saturday evening Pete had gone next door to get our usual free coffee or tea from the burger bar. The manager used to sort us out with free drinks and towards the end of the evening she