On The Frontline

Working for Ada Simpson (AMS Security) gave me opportunities not just to work different doors, but different types of security work. One regular gig was doing security at Stoke City Football Club matches at The Britannia Stadium. Crowds of say 18-22k easy! Tons of security there – but totally outnumbered. Imagine if it really kicked off. Thinking back, it was suicidal work.

There was a very high profile police presence there. Even mounted police officers on horseback. Police cars, riot vans, the lot… But I’ll tell you one thing, 10 minutes before the match was due to end they’d all fuck off and leave the rest of us to it. The good old brave British bobby eh?

The atmosphere there could be electric, and watching the fans could be more entertaining than the football match itself.

On one occasion Ada told me that I was to run my own “snatch squad” and do body-guarding for the former clubs manager called Steve Cotteral. He used to be football manager there until he left for another team, and to make matters worse – he said some negative things about the team and the fans. …What did the fans think? …In a word traitor! They hated him. I mean really hated him. The whole time I was watching his back they were cursing him. They were shouting things to him like “Oi, Cottetal – come sit over here with us and we will tell you what we think about you – ya fuckin’ two-faced traitor!” …Vicious and unforgiving football fans! One of the fans was really cursing him, shouting “I hope you, your wife and kids all die of cancer!” Nice people eh? Stokies don’t forgive – and they don’t forget!

He started being a prat. Turning around and gesturing to the fans to wind them up even more. I took it upon myself to lead my squad by example. I went over to him and had a little word in his ear. I remember saying something like “I don’t give a fuck who you are, or fuck all – me and a handful of my squad aren’t taking a beating for you, so stop winding the fans up cos’ we are the only thing standing between you and them. Now you may have noticed that we are totally outnumbered, and not me or any of my squad are going to the hospital cos’ you want to act the prick. Sit down before I put you the fuck down!” …He did as he was told. Good boy!!!

The SCFC’s football hooligan firm – known as N40 or The Naughty Fourty were more like 70 or 80 strong back then. They could walk into any pub, bar, or club and smash it to pieces. Very naughty people. Good friends, bad fucking enemies! I got to know a few members in it’s highest ranks and was on good good terms with them…

So for my squad I selected the following; Radio Kev, Jucy Lucy, and Mark Farooq. Kev, Lucy, and Mark all had balls. I gave Radio Kev his Mafiosa style nickname after he banged someone out with a radio, outside Flares in Hanley.
Lucy – I think Ada gave her the nick name – Jucy Lucy. She could bang a grown man spark out with one hit. She arm wrestled all the doormen, and she beat us all at arm wrestling. Im ashamed to admit that! Bitch! Nice gal, and very ballsy.
Mark Farooq was game. He had balls …but back then he couldn’t fight sleep. He was always getting beat up on the door, but what I liked about Mark was the fact that at least he had the balls to have a go. I’ve seen and worked with doormen who’d rather run and hide. In my book he was worth ten of them. Eventually, Mark did become a bit of a fighter and I believe he runs a few doors here and there. Good luck to him. I like a guy or gal with guts.

On another occasion, some prick fan dropped his pants, got his dick out and tried to run across the pitch. I ran straight on there. No hesitation at all. I rugby tackled him down. Gave him a right hook across the jaw and followed it through with a cross face into a chicken wing. I exacted as much torture as possible and instructed him to pull his pants up. He obeyed. I marched the nonce off the pitch and straight to the police detention cells. He received a lifetime ban from the stadium, a large fine, five years on the sex offenders register, and imprisonment. I did that in front of 18 thousand fans. This wasn’t pro wrestling. That was the real world!

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