Domestic.
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
I was in a funny, disinterested-cum-lethargic mood all evening and to be honest I'd rather have been somewhere else. However, I do have two fairly typical/odd incidents to report.
About 8pm a chavtastic couple came running down to us at the gate - that's myself, Edmonson and Bilbo - and the woman said that she'd had her handbag on one of the machines in the arcade, and now it was gone, and she assumed the family next to them had taken it. This family had been pushing a baby in a pram, and she asked us if anybody meeting that description had come by. They hadn't, and we said as much. And then both of them immediately went bonkers and starting piling on the abuse, before storming back up to the complex. So, collectively, we thought: fuck 'em.
They come back a little later, ranting and raving, and chav-bloke is issuing all kinds of threats and insults. We don't take any notice. They storm up to the lodge and a few minutes later come back with one of the park security guys. They walk back to the arcade where the bag had been 'stolen' - and find it immediately, right next to the machine that they were playing. It had fallen on to the floor. Duh.
I speak to the bloke and explain how because of his behaviour we hadn't exactly been overly-enthusiastic about helping, and he accepted this. His missus, however, was in a foul one, and started accusing her man of having just 'pushed her'. She stormed off. He gave up and went back to the bar. We all realised this was a domestic waiting to happen.
We were right. We never saw him leave, but at some point the bloke returned to his caravan, and then came back up to the complex. He had a small gash on one side of his forehead and a large, bruised bump on the other. "Fucking women," he said, "I try to apologise and this is what she does." He's totally alright with us and is acting fairly reasonably so we let him back into the bars. He keeps popping out to the front to make phone calls (it's one of the few places you can get a signal) and then a little later leaves again. Soon after, we get a call over the radios from park security informing us that he'd met up with his missus a little further down, and once again the two of them had belted each other. He comes back up, but this time we tell him that he can't come back in. Again, he's fine, totally accepts it, and leaves.
Meantime, his missus has called her mother who has called the police. They never show up, but somehow the bloke must have got wind of something (not from us), because he then spends the better part of an hour scurrying all over the site looking for hiding places. Eventually the park boys catch up with him, again contact the police, who state that unless something else happens, they are happy for him to return to his caravan. With his missus and her mother. We never hear anything else, but you can really see that one ending well, can't you?
The best part? The entire family come from Malvern Way. Local residents will know that not only is this probably the scumiest area in the entire town (I have a theory that all chavs originated from there), it's about an eight-minute drive away. Absolutely fucking mental.
Later, a tobacco tin gets handed into the bar. It's opened and, lo and fucking behold, it's packed full of rolled-joints and a lot of quality cannabis. Nobody can seem to decide on how much it's worth, but it's clearly a lot. And this is supported by the fact that the owner - who's clearly an idiot, desperate, or has balls of fucking steel - goes up to the bar and asks if his tin has been found. I mean, what was he hoping for? Yeah, yeah, sure mate. We took one of the joints as a finder's fee - hope you don't mind. He's fucking lucky we don't have some kind of policy where things like this are immediately turned over to the rozzers.
For a short period chav-tastic geezer above had left his bag - full of clothes after his missus chucked him out - behind one of the bars, and we had an idea where we could plant the tin in there and phone the police, thus eliminating two problems in one throw. But management weren't all that keen, the pussies.
Tomorrow, we have two new doormen starting. It'll be interesting to see if they (a) don't show up, or (b) are anything but right wankers. Believe me, it's going to be one or the other.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:30 am
