Freaks.
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
The new staff have definitely made a difference in how we control the club - basically, as you'd expect - and because I've actually been only on the doors/gates for three nights now I've found myself having a much better handle on who is coming in. When you're on the (actual) door some of the time, you only see some of the people, which naturally gives you a grip on some of the potential risk. Since Saturday, it's been very easy to spot problem areas and as a result whenever something has happened it hasn't been a surprise.
One chap - already well pissed-up - had an early exit tonight. He subsequently re-appeared just outside the main gates with a can of Stella, and went and sat on a grass hill about a hundred yards away. And then promptly passed out. Park security came to deal with him, but had problems waking him from his slumber. When he finally did get up, he seemed to go into some kind of panic and promptly ran off. They went in pursuit but he kept on running every which way, until ultimately he thought it would be a good idea to climb into one of the fenced-off electrical areas, lost his balance, and smashed his head on the concrete floor. He then woke up from that, refused to go to the hospital (and, we were told, speak any kind of recognisable language, even though he was English) and went back to his caravan instead. As he walked past me on the gates he was clutching quite a nasty looking wound on the back of his neck. Later, I noted an ambulance making its way in his direction. Ten quid says he tries to sue the park.
We had some other fiftysomething bloke in tonight who kept on asking everybody in security if they were an ex-army guy - myself, specifically, about four times - because he was. Just one of those punters that, given half the chance, will waffle on all night, and as he became increasingly intoxicated it became increasingly dull. His missus was well off her face too, and the amusing part was both of them had earlier (whilst sober) ridden up to the complex on very old-fashioned bicycles. Watching them trying to leave on these bicycles provided significant laughter material. When I checked out, they were still there, probably a hundred yards from the main gates and with neither of them having any idea where they were staying and not a single key between them.
The other highlight tonight was some lunatic who had stalked his ex-wife and children to the park and was now hanging around outside the lower exit, menacing anybody who passed his way. We had loads of complaints about him, but he never made any kind of effort to enter the camp and so there wasn't an enormous amount anybody could do. Rumour has it he walked here from Brighton, too. What a fuckwit. Later, a girl, who was probably 19 or so, and absolutely chavtastic, told me she'd had an encounter with him that had riled him up quite a bit. "What was he going to do?" she told me, "Stab me? I've already been stabbed once before. I ain't afraid of that."
Quite. She asked my opinion on whether she should go back and apologise. "Probably best to leave it," I said.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:30 am
