On being asked politely to leave there are some classic responses, the first being, "Yer What?" This one I let slide as the music is loud and the punters are thick.
The repeat of "It's time you went home now" is then when the fun begins.
The Good get up, stagger and collect themselves for the Amundsen like trek to the front door and the sobering horrors of the night beyond.
The Bad sit down and say No, I'm not leaving. Then the message is repeated and the radio is readied. Now is a good time to get ready to duck, sidestep and grapple. Once positive movement towards an exit has been achieved a swift acceleration into the doors and then a swifter trundle down the fire exit lands the punter on the street, a tie needs straightening and someone needs to reset the fire-alarm sensor.
The Ugly, well ignoring those covered in their own or others vomit, that generally just leaves me and my face a mother would struggle to love.
A nice quiet weekend all told. I don't think I was sworn at more that 5 times though sadly none were original enough to be memorable.
To those who feel the need to swear and abuse doorstaff, please do it in a novel and amusing way, it won't get you back in but it will lighten the usually bored, dour mood of the men in longcoats.
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