Search This Blog

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Bring it...

As a man who very often stands between drunken people and their desires I often get abuse. The vast majority of folk tend to restrict it to verbal abuse. This is partly because I work in a team of folk who all cover each others backs and partly because any facial rearrangement would only be an improvement.

I get all sorts of ingenious abuse, from an Italian giving me a Nazi salute and calling me a fascist to having a shoe thrown at my head. Sadly I can’t report whether it really hurts, it was poorly thrown and I get out of the way very quickly for a big ‘un. Most of the time the abuse is quite frankly boring ranging from “you fat c$%t” to “you fat c%$t”. Occasionally remarks are made about us being on a power trip, which when you’ve just had to reject/eject someone I can appreciate. We have the power.

Those in my line of work are frequently accused of being thick. This is a universal assumption from all of our punters, not just the troublesome ones. I enjoy the fact that I can get a good conversation from the people I work with. They have between them in excess of 15 years at university and a diverse range of day jobs from full time security to lecturer. Not universally thick, we’re probably just bored of listening to you and we will have heard it all before.

None of this really bothers me. I’ve had folk saying they know where I live and they’ll come round and kill me/shoot me/kneecap me/do me in. I always think this is a very pleasant means of expressing your dislike for me and thankfully no-one I work with knows where I live apart from the lass in the office and that’s only to keep the tax man happy. If you know where I work you could always offer to come back at the end of the night and “sort me out” though considering the number of us, the drunkenness of you and the sheer level of pent up violence coursing through a doorman’s veins at the end of an evening, you’ll likely find that baseball bat very uncomfortably placed for wearing anything other than a surgical gown.

It is amazing how many people think that telling you their name and where they live whilst making these threats is a good idea. It helps me as I’m always bad at putting names with faces. It helps the police too when they roll on to another place and sharply commit a more serious offence.

To conclude, I am fat, I am not gay/homophobic/sexist/racist/stupid/criminal/thug/f*ck/c%$t. If you want to insult me please make me laugh, a good insult will not get you back in but will keep us chuckling for a long while.
You’re so f*cking ugly your girlfriend makes you to do her up the arse just so she doesn’t have to look at you!

No comments: