Sifu's Book Review
Book Review
PARENTS WARNING ! PARENTS WARNING ! PARENTS WARNING !
EXPLICIT MATERIAL AND VIOLENT SCENES !!!!!!!!
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING !!!
EXPLICIT MATERIAL WARNING
SQUARE GO!
This is a brief excerpt from Sifu soon to be released book about his life as a Greenock nightclub Bouncer entitled 'Square Go'.
…. I had literally kicked seven shades of shit out of him but he kept coming back for more. I was covered from head to toe in piss and blood, I wasn’t sure if he would beat me to a pulp or if I would die tired before that, I was only eighteen years old and I had been working on the pub doors for just two weeks, young and pretty immature for a bouncer but it
was the path I had decided to go down, I wanted to face my demons and never wanted to be scared again this was my door to salvation facing my fear of getting beaten and not having the courage to protect myself.
I fought to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid to fight anyone (stupid
mentality really). I got mixed up in a fight on the Thursday night at “the Casablanca pub/Bogies nitespot”; this was a nightclub in Greenock, Scotland that I worked in. These two guys’ were fighting in the toilet of all places, there was piss and drink everywhere and soon we were to be rolling about in it.
I walked in on the argument when I got a nod from one of the punters that two guys were in the bogs arguing, I entered alone and this tattooed
fuck-wit immediately started to growl at me like I was in his house or something. I was naive enough to think that I could handle this situation myself, this was a lesson that I learnt very quickly and one I never repeated.
When I got there they had started to fight both guys were big, to my left was this dick-brained ass called Eddie ‘Kaney’ Kane (Deceased ‘nout’ to do with me) he had always took advantage of people that couldn’t fight to make a name for himself, he was smartly dressed to a point but wore a denim jacket that was at least a size too small for him, the other guy
was “Tony Collins” one of the then “Morton Football casuals” a local gang with a membership of some fifty to sixty skinhead thugs who mugged old people and hurt innocent bystanders, in the thug attire consisting of ‘Doc Martin boots’, short leg faded blue jeans and black capped sleeve t-shirt with anarchy written on the back in silver.
I tried to prise them apart; they were both bigger than me and fuck were they strong. I got in between and they didn’t separate until I fucked this one guy with a headbutt then a right cross, he fell to the floor he was already sleeping on his way down then this other fucker planted a “Grolsh Beer bottle” across the side of my left ear (a fucking sissy thing to do)
but he wasn’t for talking much I could guess that by the fact that he had just crowned me.
As I hit the piss covered floor I noticed I was cut and pouring of blood.
My first instinct told me ‘get to fuck out-o-here’ I had the feeling that I was in the wrong job and at the wrong place ‘n’ time I wanted to apologise to this fat cunt and get to fuck to a Doctor but this fucker needed taught a lesson and I was the only one there to do it, I made him pay for it alright. I remember that the music that had played in the background was
not audible anymore that made me scared as I thought he had made me deaf from the bottle strike to my ear, he was going to pay big-fucking-style.
I had always been a bit of a fighter but my main fear was “me” I was afraid that I would really hurt someone or at most kill them, I had a fierce temper and a thirst for a good scrap, I took all-comers and never lost at least until this fight to which was my latest test. “You see I believe that your only as good as your last fight, any trophies or prizes
you got from point fighting at martial art competitions, was just by chance and skill took a sad second place to a lot ‘o’ bottle your own tight asshole. I had already gotten my Karate black belt at a young age and I was into boxing and Judo and always out to show people I’m no arse. I could do some damage and that put the fear of God in me. I was always able (and
willing), to do the necessary no-matter what it took. (Sounds a bit psychotic really).
You know, when you think of “Bouncer’s” you can picture in your mind an enormous guy with muscles everywhere even on his nose. But in reality not all bouncers are as stereotyped as you think, take me for instance. I’m five foot five or there abouts. Soft spoken (often mistaken for being a softy). Generally a gentleman until I’ve gotten pissed off.
I’m of average build, fairly sculptured but not burly by any measure.
The biggest notion or mis-conception of a bouncer is that he is known for his violence – or so it would seem – however when you consider what shit they have to put up with, who can blame them right?
Violence plays a major part of a bouncer’s arsenal. Not just the physical violence but also the mental violence, you know the type that can fuck with an assholes mind. Mental violence is the best kind of weapon in many respects cause you can fuck with the mind of a would be cunt who thinks he has mega-large balls and talk’s like he has his own fucking
grave-yard of shitheads he’s buried on the way to the top of his soapbox. Truth be – told the cunt has most of the time smacked some poor fucker that couldn’t hit back at his own fucking mirrored reflection.
…so I was on the floor shocked and bleeding for fuck sake! This cunt had bottled me I was already stinking from the stench that was all around me so I swept this fat-fucks legs away from him bringing him closer to me and together on the floor we wrestled for a minute or so then I sunk my teeth into his snot-dripping nose (not my best technique I might add) but it
had the desired effect, I proceeded to elbow his fat-fuck head and after letting go of his nose he seemed to become more aggressive and tried to gouge my eyes with his fat cunt fingers as I pulled my head back I grabbed his out stretched arm and rolled onto my back with my legs across his chest creating an arm lock, he screamed out like a whore house chick faking an orgasm.
I knew then two things had happened “I got back my hearing and also broke his arm” taking advantage of this I jumped to my feet and laced into him with kicks of every description – but he wouldn’t sleep and by now he was struggling to gain his fighting composure fuelled by
the fact that he thought he could beat this young boyish looking Doorman. Every time I hit him he hurt and still he came back at me even with a broken arm. (But I reckon he didn’t feel the break totally until he later woke up) it wasn’t unlike hitting a punch bag you know, when the bag keeps swinging and you can’t beat it.
Finally I grabbed him with both hands on his denim jacket and swept both of his legs from him, I couldn’t hold his weight (due to the obese factor) so he fell real hard to the smelly floor we played on before but this time his fat cunt of a head hit the piss strewn urinal and it cracked at the sheer
force of the now felled Mr fat-fuck, blood spued from his battered head and he was now in noddy- land.
Thank-fuck the cunt’s out-cold, ye-ha another victory. But, at a cost.
Losing my blood, and a chunk from my ear.
I was well and truly knackered and as I crawled to the door to get help from the rest of the door men another punter entered the loo and almost turned chalk white at the site of three guys stinking of pish and covered in blood he freaked then ran to get help.
I thought that I had killed this fat-fuck this was a turning point in my career as a door-steward, I considered packing-in this new job but the attention I got from my fellow bouncers was that of heroism, from that point on-ward I became talk of the town and a force to be reckoned with.
With the realisation that I took a bit of a slapping during this latest conflict and under standing that it was due to the fact that I was working at the time of the altercation and that the situation was not a personal one in that although the fight was eventually against me the initial argument was not my business. After this was the police interview which was just as laborious they fired questions at me all night long and tried al least anyway to pin the blame on me for the whole event but I stuck to the truth as I remembered it and was free six hours later.
I decided to stay with the job for the mean - time anyway.
Twentyfive years later, I’m now aged 43 and just 9 months ago I was still working the doors.
