Search This Blog

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Bitch Fights

There are more and more girl fights going on it seems. Not just the domestic skirmishes of the drunken butcher lesbians getting possessive over the even more drunken less butch lesbians. These always occur when too few Y chromosomes are present in the presence of alcohol and flirting.
No, this is the girl on girl scrapping over boys, ex-boys, drinks, dresses and the like which used to end in tears. Now its more often ending in full on bitch fights.
It's not just the hair pulling stand off where both parties get locked in an extended judo-like stance. These are always fun when you separate them and they both end up holding the other muppet's hair extensions and they have to hobble out in one high heel as the other shoe gets couriered to the front door by doorman express.
The type of things I'm running into more often are girls attempting to throw punches or each other around. I've seen a good girl on girl left hook but that was only once. Luckily the participants skill level is a lot lower than their blood alcohol or their anger level. This doesn't stop them attempting to bottle each other or even try and shove a broken bottle neck into the others face.
It poses an issue for the mainly male door teams though. If it's an old fashioned hair-pulling stand off you can see it's not escalating in a hurry. You can overwhelm both parties when support arrives and by bulk alone get both parties to submit to an exit in disgrace.
When it's a whole load faster and nastier, you can get a quick radio shout out but have to think fast. If I flatten one or both, they'll likely end up in A&E. If I leave it, crimes will be committed, A&E will still beckon and I'll have explaining to do.
What I do usually is move fast and light, enough to alter the situation in my favour but not incapacitate anyone. It's not ideal. I could end up with a punch or bottle coming my way but I feel better taking the risk than having to scrape bits off the floor every time. Others I work with seem to form a spectrum of views on this. I don't know what the right approach is but I'll need to find one with the increasing proportion of my physical interventions drunken chavvete fights are taking.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Bad Nights

Some nights go tits up for a simple clear reason, others just go and go and go. You're short on numbers in the middle of the month and lower the bar for admission. All sorts of undesirable trash roll in and the inside teamroll's them out again. That's to be expected.
When the students return after a break, they roll in half cut and get rolled out fully cut an hour or two later. They're young and stupid and apart from the vomit they really don't cause any bother.
Other nights you just can't explain it. You let in a good healthy mix of locals, regulars and out of towners. You find a good male/female balance. The age range is fairly wide and you've not got too many big groups. All goes smoothly until one drunk gets his walking invitation, then 5 more in 20 minutes. Then there's one scuffle, then another then two at the same time. You might as well park a police van outside front door at this point as there'll be drugs finds, domestics and stranger scraps before the night is out. Where they come from, I have no idea. Maybe there's a fatal combination of songs that send people into a amoral state? Maybe there's a critical mass of incidents after which all bets are off? I've not got a scooby but it keeps me on my toes, even when I think it's going smoothly. It normally means a new shirt for me as there's only so much of other peoples claret I can be bothered to wash out of a cheap white shirt.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Feathers & Shit

I hate the pointless, low value imported chinese night out accoutrement that hen do's feel the need to adorn their entire party with before staggering 'round town to end up in the club I'm at. Stag do's occasionally have a bloke in a wig and a dress but they'll more than often leave in the dress and the wig is at least easy to make vanish.
The feathers from boas, deely-boppers, hat brims and garters get everywhere. By the middle of the night it looks like a flock of bright parakeets have been preening themselves to baldness inside the club. By the end it looks like the flock's been ripped to pieces. This despite the efforts of the glass collecting staff and sticks covered in gaffer tape.
This is temporary and highly annoying but the clincher has to be glitter. Be it body paint, sparkly hats or just sprinkled liberally on drunken ladies this gets everywhere. It clings to sweaty surfaces and hides in the weave of fabrics. After having to get close to many drunken glitter bearing fools I can find the stuff emerging for days. It doesn't wash out in a hurry of hair or clothes. It'll transfer from one thing to another endlessly. It likes to emerge on my bag of spanners face or simple dark clothing at any opportunity likely to cause the greatest embarrassment, interviews, dates or passport photo-days.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Pulling my arm

When I'm working inside I'll occasionally be found standing still, just watching a situation develop. This is not the time for a drunken punter to be thinking that I need to be included in his drunken attempts at impressing his friends. He'll have said something funny or thrown some crazy dance move and then thought through the beer induced haze that I really need to be involved in his drunken moment. He'll wander up and touch my arm or god forbid put his arm around me to get me to play with him. I'll shrug him off and possibly shuffle off a little if it's practical. If he tries again I'll likely turn and advise him that I'm working and can't spare him the time. Then we have to see how stupid he really is. If he tries again I'll spin and possibly flatten him as I make it clear it's time for him to vanish, in a "there's the door, get through it" kind of way.
Hopefully whatever I'm watching will keep 'til I get back. If it won't, I'll sort it first then give the pillock my undivided attention.

Monday, September 01, 2008

Just go,

Why do the folk who've found themselves out on the street not just go away? Most will bimble about by front door, texting their mates still inside or just shouting abuse at us. They usually get bored and bugger off in a little while, once we've decided we're not letting them in, we are not letting them in. If they just go away and we don't have to see their pitiful faces for the rest of the night then the less chance we have of remembering not to let them in the next night they stumble round our way.
Some shuffle off, getting more abusive the further they get, that's amusing providing they move fast enough. If they move really slowly the police will often drive up slowly behind them, hear enough and have them cuffed before they realise it's not a taxi they've blocked by standing in the road to hurl abuse at us.
Others just don't go away. They sit across the road, or lean against the walls beside the doorway. They linger, occasionally trying to sneak back in or just lurking as if they've lost their purpose completely. They can linger for hours. Even after the doors are shut, the music's off, the dj's have left the building and the staff are emptying bottles into the bin. There's nowt for them but they just can't get moving or get over their ejection and the apparent social rejection this entails. Why they want to sit 'til they sober up on a vomit and beer stained street remains a mystery to me. They do go home, they're not still there in the morning. Why they don't take 5 minutes to gather themselves and sod off out of my night I have no idea.