Hungry Bum

The cold weather has not prevented the lovely local ladies wearing very little.
The motif of the season seems to be sequins, a splash of neon and leggings. If not in leggings then it's tights, bright patterned or fishnet. The fashion faux pas' this season seem to be showing the band at the top of the tights beneath skirts or shorts and leggings that cling to every curve.
It's been cameltoes and mooseknuckles in all the long nights.
The shiny pattern leggings bring only two things to mind, box rot and two seals wrestling on a beach.
On ladies who don't know their size or just don't care you can see their hungry bums eat their leggings until I can see their every intimate contour highlighted in shiny black or silver. Not a good look for any night out.
On a rare occasion I have to give out the "badly packed sausage of the evening" to a lady who combines all manner of wardrobe malfunctions. From the dark roots under straightened straw like blonde hair. Heavy tan with shiny light coloured lips looking like a bad negative. The neon asymmetric top with grey bra over the naked shoulder. The top coming too short on the torso with a pale white dunlap over the top of the sequined shorts. The hungry bum eating the hot pants into a scrunched up sequined thong and leaving the thick band at the top of the tights bisecting a showing buttock before the rest of the fishnet glory looking like a highly patterned garrote leading down to the high heeled high ankled, platform boot. These take the small well painted toenails and make them look like pigs trotters.
A worthy winner of the badly packed sausage of the night award. Messy and serially minging for a lady who last season scrubbed up rather than scrubbered up. "Saucer of milk to the front door"

Blindingly useless

This relates to something that happened a good while back but has needed a little distance and patience before posting.

One evening, on the door of a very busy bar, myself and 2 colleagues refused a gent. He was intoxicated and on refusal became very aggressive. He took on a fighting stance, I'd say amateur boxing not mixed marshal arts or anything that might kick. He swore a fair bit and then lunged in with a jab. Aimed at the doorman in the middle, not me in this instance. The lad on the far side shoved him off course, he missed the lad in the middle and I bounced him back out into the centre and away from the doorstep. My mate who'd been swung at was a little irate, the gent took another lunge at him. My colleague struck him, open handed, in the top of the chest. The drunk did a complete reverse in direction and fell backwards, onto his arse.
He got up and swore a whole load more, made some lovely threats and then on spying two high vis wearing members of the police accused us in a very loud tone of beating him up. The police invited him over the road and heard how he'd been punched, kicked and thrown onto the floor.
All of this had been done by my colleague, "yes officers, the one in the centre with the blond hair".
All of that is fairly common in this line of work. What's not is one of the officers, a sergeant, walking over, establishing the blond ones name and then arresting him. He called for a back up unit to whisk my colleague away. They did not ask to hear our evidence, they did not ask to see the ample CCTV. They did not ask if we were busy, they did not ask if this doorstaff's presence was necessary or more importantly if their absence invalidated any insurance or fire safety controls. They did not ask to see the doorman's licence and thus have full access to his criminal record and address details.
They lifted him off the door and went back to take a more formal statement from the drunk to support the allegation of assault. The chap in the van was more than a little pissed off, I was more than a little pissed off. The manager was more than a little pissed off. When the manager approached and asked if they would like to see the CCTV, he was told to go away. When he asked if he could expect the chap back that evening to finish the job he was paying him for he got told to go away or get nicked too.
The end of this story is long and pointless. The doorman was eventually charged, having not taken a caution. The case went to court, the CPS provided no case, he was cleared of the charges. The action against the officer for wrongful arrest was settled. All of this taking over 12 months.

All of it could have taken less than 12 minutes if he's asked to see the tape, 12 seconds if he'd have checked the badge, written down the details after checking the photo matched. He'd still be there at the end of the night, even if he vanished the club would have some contact with him, even if they weren't cooperating the SIA hold enough identifying evidence to get an arrest warrant. No need to pull him in on the say of a violent aggressive drunk.
If my colleague had hit him without restraint, without good grounds for fear of injury, without regard for the possible risks then perhaps a more front foot approach would be required from the boys in blue.

This is atypical, most officers we meet are professional, competent and pragmatic. Some are not.

Slow Working

I've had a very slow weekend. One lass with an ID that really wasn't hers. One lass lost her handbag and then we found it again. One lad rejected for being far too stoned. One lass emptying her stomach contents on the front step and again just along the street. Smelly but tedious.
I tend not to grumble too much when its non stop, when its non start I'm just gonna stay a grumbling grumpy man with too much time to dwell upon the unachieved, the unattempted and the unattainable.

smelly buggers

After reading this from an amusing cabbie I can only sympathise. I get to play with a lot of sweaty hot punters and it is sometimes horrific. A little niff every now and then is expected but some folk could populate an entire nightclub with the stench demons lingering about their bodies. Being stuck in a closed cab with them is not something I fancy at all.

Please sir, can I come in?

Every other night we get a punter coming back tail between legs asking if they can come in yet. Usually after they've been kicked out the night or week previously. They ask if they are barred and what can they do to get let back in? If they turn up soberish, if they talk to us and don't try to sneak in, if they admit they were at fault, all these things help. If they think they can argue, swear and threaten us into letting them in they may find even a small infringement means a long time not getting in.
The kind of things that get help folks get back in is if they walked out without difficulty the previous time and didn't linger at front door. If what they were doing was out of character in terms of their drunkenness, a rare domestic or getting caught up in the side of a scuffle.
All these things will help a customer get back in earlier.
Longer periods out of the towns 'best' club get allocated to habitual fools. Those too drunk, falling asleep, having domestics time and again.
If the punter was very aggressive with the doorsatff we'll remember their face for a very long time. Similarly if they've stolen or damaged something or threatened or assaulted one of the other staff. If its smacking another punter then we'll see if they walk off and don't be dick. Some folks are pushed into a bad situation and welcome the doorstaff hauling them out. We're not too harsh unless they're going on and not coming off the boil when the situation is over. Staying on the boil is usually a sign of problems best left outside a crowded nightclub for a few years.
When a punter takes the chance to talk to the manager and explain himself he's usually going to get a shorter barring. That's not because the manager is soft, it's because he doesn't have to deal with them when they're a dick again.
What you really don't want to do is stagger down the street in a worse state than when you were kicked out, get talking to the manager who's outside, get into an argument with him and headbutt him in the face. This leads to getting folded up and detained 'til the police turn up, the cctv leads you to a quick caution and a rather obvious life ban. Turning up meek and sober next week is not going to help on that one.

Moving on

I've been doing this job for a while. From my student days in 1999 to date. I've had 5 different licenses to do exactly the same job. I've worked on so many premises I can only remember the names of the good ones and the truly terrible ones.
I can only think of a few venues that have kept the original name and none that have kept the original licensee or manager. There are a few doorstaff and barstaff who've been doing this as long as I have, I know them from drinking with them, working with them or throwing them out.
Every now and then I encounter a friend from the early days. They may have moved onto other things, settled down with a wife and kids, gotten a real day job.
If I see them socially we catch up and chat shit about old times until we run out of shit we're both interested in and realise that was the reason we didn't stay friends.
If I see these folks while I'm at work they usually look sheepish and nod a hello but don't hang around for a catch up. To be fair I usually do the same, I say hi and wait for the penny to drop but I'm not expecting much more, I'm there working and usually have my head in a very different place to them. I don't but they think I've gone nowhere and am likely going nowhere. This doesn't bother me, I've made my choices and learnt my lessons, I know my limits and where I thrive.
Am I quitting the door? Not just yet.
Am I moving on to different things on the side as well? I always have been, I always will.
Will I write about them? Not just yet.

'Roiders

There is a certain type of bloke who is very keen on looking a certain way. An excessive amount of gym time. An excessive monitoring of dietary fat, protein and carb levels. An idiotic amount of time under the sunbeds. The careful choice of slim fitting small waisted jeans and the baffling choice of skinny fitting bright tops. The short cropped hair held in place with excessive amounts of product. The select use of large tribal tattoos across the major muscle groups.
This combined with a chemically enhanced metabolism and low alcohol tolerance leads to some very entertaining nights on the town. The customary other halves are by routine, small, young, curvy, dressed to attract attention and play the submissive role superbly. They totter around in the wake of their alpha males and bask in their matching tans.
I had myself a laugh when I encountered a prime example in another walk of life. In a more conventional meeting during the day at some firms offices who should I encounter but a complete with dyed hair 'roider trying to do his day job. I had to laugh when he did that alpha male assessment thing and pulled his poise straight in challenge. He quickly gave up when he realised his boss and my boss were both there too and his position in the food chain was very far from alpha male in that context.