Being set up I

Doorfolk like to wind people up. We mock the afflicted and seek inordinate pleasure from the mishaps that befall the drunken fools we see. This may be a self defence mechanism against the almost intolerable boredom that standing sober watching other people have fun brings about.

Being the only bloke left on the door as a herd of drunken men from out of town roll down the street intent on entering is seen as poor form, but when this is the inadvertent result of having 5 staff gathered in the gents toilet to laugh/jeer/humiliate/escort from the premises punters, as a spitroast is rudely broken up is just unlucky. More amusing to me, when the story was fully explained, was the piggy-in-the-middle fleeing half dressed, half cut and half dead from shame straight through the rabble of rejected gents where in a moment of serendipity they offered to carry on the roasting.

Still not as fun as trying to kick the transvestite out of the gents only to turn around and find all of the remaining staff bent double at the horrified look on my face as I sharply made my retreat. I've since repeated this trick on newer members of staff much to everyones amusement. The poor he-she must be wondering just how often we check the loos.