It's reached that point again this year when I wonder why I keep doing this shit. It happens every year, usually when about this time. It's the flood of new faces that only emerge clubbing when the christmas party season and the time off associated brings them out from under their rocks.
Why am I still telling alcoholically retarded people to keep their drinks off the dance-floor? Why am I still advising the drink addled punters that they really shouldn't take their drinks onto the street? Why am I still telling the habitual idiots that they can't come in and then have to tune them out as they rant on and on in a most irritating way? Why do I have vomit, beer and brightly coloured high sugar alco-pop eating the nice polish off my boots each night? Why as a grown up do I still wear a clip-on tie? Why do I relish dirty kebab based foodstuffs when cold, sober and in need of my bed? Why do I do six nights of this shit and can't remember one day to the next?
Well they pays not bad and I really don't like mornings.
Occasional postings from a toe-to-toe customer services physical interface operative.
The ramblings and collected tales from a jobbing licensed doorman. Tales of drunken woe, machismo, loose women, loose fists and 99% boredom. Hopefully updated as thoughts worthy of an audience hit my mind.
'Over a decade at it and not winning any beauty contests'
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