It was a Friday or Saturday evening at The Albion, in Newcastle-Under-Lyme. I was working the Door with tall Scottish guy called Ross. He was a tough ex rugby player, and he used to work on the doors in Glasgow. The guy was tough cookie, I’ll give him that. For some reason, one of the door staff didn’t turn up for work, and the other doorman had to go early because of a family emergency. So, there was just the two of us to work the door. That’s suicide!
Anyway, we couldn’t just go home because that would have made us both cowards in the doorman world. Quite late on in the evening one of the bar staff reported a commotion in the beer garden. We both went along to investigate. There were two males literally nose to nose ready to kick off. We had a serious word with them both about their behavior. One guy was quite reasonable. He didn’t want to get banned from the pub. He was very cooperative. The other guy wasn’t having any. He wouldn’t shut up. He kept making threats. He was jumping around and shouting. There was no way on this earth that he was gonna calm down. If you ask me – I think he came out looking for a fight. …and his eyes! There was something about a look in his eyes. I couldn’t tell weather he was insane, or if he was taking some kind of psychotic drug. I KNEW it was one or the other. …Maybe both of the above?
While he was threatening Ross, I did my usual trick. I went to face his back and slapped a chicken wing on him like lightning. Then something rather bad happened. Ross started to punch this guy in the head. Repeatedly. I could hear this sound. It wasn’t like the special effect sounds that you hear in the movies. It was a snapping, or a breaking sound. Ross was punching this guy so hard that he was breaking his own fingers and knuckles. …and this guy just laughed at the top of his lungs and shouted out to Ross “Is that all you’ve got?” I still had him under control in the chicken wing and told Ross to open the beer garden doors as quickly as. We had a real fight on our hands. …and I could tell this was far from over.
“Ross, you cover the right front door, I’ll cover the left. Quickly. I don’t want that fucker back in here” I shouted. His response wasn’t good…
“Chris, look at my hands for fucks sake. I need to go to the hospital, now”…
“Go on then, fuck off and get yer hands fixed up. Do me a favor. Go the front left door way, and lock it for me on your way out”
I shouted Brandon, the bar manager over and told him that I was closing the bar down with immediate effect. I wasn’t asking – I was telling. Then I went straight to the kitchen. Grabbed a Jif Lemon, kicked a brush handle in half and hid it up my right sleeve. The Jif Lemon was held in my left hand. I got to the only door that was left unlocked just in the nick of time. This nut job came charging at me and I had to do something to stop him in his tracks. A short sharp squirt of Jif Lemom in the eyes is just as effective as any C.S. spray. The acidity in the lemon blinds you, it’s effects last a while, but it’s not permanent.Besides Jif Lemon Juice isn’t a weapon – it’s a food seasoning. What could the police do??? While he was temporarily blinded, I gave him a terrific right backhanded strike to the throat with the broken piece of the brush handle. Then I just whaled him as hard as I could across the temple with it. He was incapacitated. I wasn’t taking any chances with this one. I couldn’t afford to.
The pub was starting to empty really quickly. I had to drag him up the alleyway, and delete the CCTV footage to cover my tracks. It turned out that this guy wasn’t only a big power drinker – he was into some recreational drugs big time. Speed, cocaine, PCP/ angel dust to name but a few… When people have cocktails like that they they can become very dangerous individuals. They have no fear, but can become paranoid at the same time. High pain threshold too. They are hard to hurt. So, you gotta knock em out, or put them to sleep. Sharpish!
There was a meeting with all the staff the following evening, and everyone agreed that I did the right thing. I was never one for calling the police. That’s seen as grassing in our world. However, the guy wasn’t banned because one of the co-owners, Jamo was friends with him. That really pissed me off, but the guy rarely frequented the bar after that, and he remained on his best behavior.