The smoking ban...
Sunday, 1 July 2007
... doesn't start until 6am this morning so it wasn't an issue last night at all. In about 14 hours, it will be a big fucking hairy deal, however.
A few minor incidents this fine (and wet) Saturday evening. A young couple get ejected because they think it's okay to bring cans of Stella into the bars and drink them ("We've been doing it all night; nobody said anything earlier.") The bloke is a plonker to the extent that it all becomes very personal between him and Worthy and he promises to come back later "with tools" to sort us all out. "I've put down squaddies in the past," he says, adding, "If you were in London, you'd be dead by now." What, Hastings is some kind of fucking Kryptonite to him, is it? What a prick. Of course, like the rest of them, he never actually came back.
The second instance concerned this 21-year old who'd been drinking all night, but aside from giving a few punters a bit of lip, hadn't been much of a problem. Suddenly, however, it was brought to our attention that he'd passed out in the arcade, then woken up and had a swing at one of the attendants. The two agency guys arm-locked him outside, where he went from being your cliched pisshead, to apologetic, to curling up in the foetal position and balling his eyes out just around the corner. Literally. The shit you see in this job.
Later, another drunk passed out in the arcade, except this time it was a woman. Boy, was she. One of her F-sized tits popped out of her top to celebrate as she hit the dirt. So many veins it looked like a spaghetti junction. Quarter of an hour later, she had to be taken out in a fucking wheelchair. You can't buy that kind of dignity.
posted by Sheamus @ 4:00 am
