Gruesome twosomes.
Friday 25 May 2007
Well.
The meeting was pretty much as anticipated - boring - but a few things of note emerged. One, that yes, it's true, 'the boss' has now moved elsewhere, and #2 is now #1. And Lynch is now #2.
Me? I've been offered the position of Head Doorman by #1, which of course I've accepted. It probably means more money too (he said as much), which I'm a bit uncomfortable about. It's not false modesty - nobody turns down extra cash but I'm not sure I deserve to be paid any more than Jabba or Edmonson, who do equally as good a job. I don't really know how I feel about it. This is somewhat evident in the fact that I haven't mentioned it to them. Yet. It may never happen, anyway. Won't be the first time for this place.
In other news, two incidents of note tonight.
One, we'd been closely watching a middle-aged couple go through their nightly 'domestic' all week. It's been building and building, and tonight there was a bit of violence. From her to him. It's a situation that's very tough to call. Both were pissed - her very much so - but she seemed to be going out of her way to piss him off. To get him to react. Maybe publically? She turned her back to him all night, called and texted people, slapped him several times (never on the face, but very hard) and told him to 'fuck off' left, right and centre. Edmonson checked on her a few times but, as they always are, she was 'okay'. The weird part was that each time she went to the toilet the bloke would just wait outside like a sentry, not moving until she emerged. At one point earlier in the evening the female cleaner came to get me because he wanted her to get his wife and wouldn't accept the toilet was empty. He'd been waiting outside for half an hour. It was empty. His missus was back at the table. Mental.
Eventually, they were asked to leave. I point-blank asked her if she was okay to go home with him and, of course, he answered. "I'm speaking to her, mate," I said, and repeated the question.
"Yeah," she said, "If there's a problem, I can always call you." And she held up her mobile phone.
Good luck finding the number. As I said, it was impossible to call as she was doing everything to push his buttons, while he didn't ever seem to do anything but make sure she was always with him.
The second incident also featured a domestic. This time, a much younger couple. I'd already cut off their drink supply at the bar as the bloke - basically a 6ft+ chav in a baseball cap - had already been on the verge of falling over. Him and his missus - who was with three very young children who may or may not have been his - were going through that endless drunk loop of having 'words' with each other and then smooching/slow-dancing etc. Tedious and boring, and when I left them to escort the aforementioned couple outside things seemed okay. I stayed outside with Edmonson for a few minutes, making sure they left without any problems. Then:
"FIGHT IN THE SHOWBAR..."
We rushed back inside. Cap-chav was standing on the dancefloor, looking stunned, with his missus being held back by Jabba. Cap-chav's t-shirt had been torn right down the middle, almost completely in two, and while I approached his missus managed to get in a few more pulls and face slaps despite Jabba's best efforts. I got in front of the bloke to attempt to calm him down, but he wasn't having it. There was a bit of to- and froing with Cap-chav announcing that he wasn't going to leave unless she was. That wasn't an issue, as both of them were, but we wanted to stagger it a bit. Her first, him second. But when she went out with the kids, he gamely followed, so I had to step in front of him again. At one point he had one of my fingers in the grip of a hand and I suddenly realised this could get very interesting. I was annoyed with myself for being so clumsy.
But he didn't do anything. We got them both outside and separated, and she went off with the kids, telling the 'cunt' that she didn't want anything to do with him again. All he could say to her was that we were going to put him in 'prison', but once we'd assured him that we were not, he calmed right down. Again, it's a hard one to call. All anyone had seen is her attacking him, but who knows what had been done or said in the minutes/hours/days/weeks/years leading up to this night?
Eventually a friend of his turned up and offered to have him stay in his caravan. Problem solved. Except, I later heard, on the way back Cap-chav had given park security (and the cameras) the slip and probably went 'home' anyway. But no further incidents were reported.
While outside, the aforementioned couple were still going through the motions, until park took them back to their abode.
The examples here are quite typical. Couples with 'issues' go away to relax and try and re-ignite old flames but once the alcohol starts flowing freely all that is given a spark is old wounds. And if a relationship is one that includes physical violence (or even mental bullying), the answer is rarely going to lie at the bottom of a bottle. But try telling them that.
Anyway, this is already old news. Finally, a day off emerges - I've done 46.5 hours on my fucking feet this week. And then, oh yes, it's the footballers. And a TV camera crew, for some fucking reason. Good times, good times.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:30 am
