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A lot of the fights that were kicking off all the time were because of feuds. People would have grudges against us from getting thrown out or because we’d given them a bashing. There were plenty of enemies to be made in those days. You would find that you’d clash with the same people nearly all the time. Because Sunderland is a relatively small city, it has groups of people from different places that become known to you … the Southwick lads, for example: One night they were in Bentleys and smoking dope. We barred them. Simple as that. They were taking the piss and weren’t even discrete about it. A few weeks later they returned knowing full well that they were not allowed in. Big John Cowell was on the door and we were inside, in the foyer. Big John was a bit older than us lot and at times, took a bit of stick about it. He may have been older but he did the job one hundred per cent. People say he’s too strict but that all depends on how you look at it. If you’re barred, you’re barred, and this lot were barred alright. There were around 15 of them and they had came down for one purpose - to fight. John had his arm over the door and wouldn’t let them in. They started taking the piss out of him.
‘Think you’re ‘ard, do you?’ they asked. (dodgy accent)
‘Oh yes I’m old,’ was his reply. (dodgy hearing)
‘No. Do you think you’re ‘ard? A ****ing ‘ard man?’
‘I’m just doing my job,’ he replied. He wasn’t biting. He could see they were trying to wind him up. He was smiling and trying to diffuse it. They took what he was saying the wrong way and one of them gave him a crack. Straight away he shuts the door and they start kicking into it. The front door was a single door and to the side there were double doors - fire doors. Down the middle of the foyer were big brass poles with rope between to separate the queues of clubbers coming and going. Once they realised that the fire doors were there, they started booting them in as well. There would be a surprise waiting for them. I knew that one of the brass poles came loose. The very end one. When they got past the fire doors I was standing waiting for them.
I had the pole poised like a baseball bat. The first one came through the door and let loose with it, braying him in the face with full force. I ran at them. The first one was left on the floor with a gaping hole in his head. All I was thinking was to smash anything that moved. Doormen were keeping out of my way cos anyone was likely to get cracked when I was in this mood. ‘****ing come on!’ Another bloke came in and I burst his face open as well. He went down and I continued to smash him up. Forget about it. It was a free-for-all. Anyone who came through that door was getting smashed to ****. Simple as that. The rest of them paused. I was standing there with this dented pole shouting at them to make a move. The veins in my neck and head felt ready to burst open as I was screaming at them. The rage setting me off, I was ready to take the lot of them on with no fear. They could see that in me and I could see they were shitting themselves. This rush is the best pleasure you can possibly imagine: Think your best ever sex, the best drugs, the fastest car, climbing the highest mountain, scoring a winning goal at Wembley or a touchdown at the Superbowl - mix it all together and you’re only starting to get close. Anyone within three feet was waking up with either a sore head or not at all. I didn’t care what happened to them. It was them or me and I’d put good odds on it being them. The doormen were fighting with them all around me and we just continued to bray the shit out of them until the police arrived.
We were left standing in the war zone. There was blood on the carpet, up the walls, shirts were ripped and there was a few headaches developing. Doormen were standing around with cut and bloody knuckles. All the action was caught on tape so we had to take the coppers upstairs to view it. We all erupted when we saw me standing there downing anything that moved. All of us accept this WPC who had recently undergone a sense of humour transplant. Granted it wasn’t that funny - the VCR didn’t have any sound so you could make up your own dialogue - but she had a real problem with the way I had handled things. ‘You what? There’s a load of people who kick the fire doors in to get at us and you want us to talk to them when they charge at us?’ I was well pissed off at her. Did she want me to sit them down and put the kettle on? You cannot win with them. It was self-defence. We had to stop a bunch of blokes coming in who wanted to smash us and the club up; I was not gonna let that happen. I just wouldn’t let them. I was prepared to do anything to protect my friends, the club and myself. If I didn’t do what I did they would have been watching a different tape all together. Some people are ****ing stupid.
‘Think you’re ‘ard, do you?’ they asked. (dodgy accent)
‘Oh yes I’m old,’ was his reply. (dodgy hearing)
‘No. Do you think you’re ‘ard? A ****ing ‘ard man?’
‘I’m just doing my job,’ he replied. He wasn’t biting. He could see they were trying to wind him up. He was smiling and trying to diffuse it. They took what he was saying the wrong way and one of them gave him a crack. Straight away he shuts the door and they start kicking into it. The front door was a single door and to the side there were double doors - fire doors. Down the middle of the foyer were big brass poles with rope between to separate the queues of clubbers coming and going. Once they realised that the fire doors were there, they started booting them in as well. There would be a surprise waiting for them. I knew that one of the brass poles came loose. The very end one. When they got past the fire doors I was standing waiting for them.
I had the pole poised like a baseball bat. The first one came through the door and let loose with it, braying him in the face with full force. I ran at them. The first one was left on the floor with a gaping hole in his head. All I was thinking was to smash anything that moved. Doormen were keeping out of my way cos anyone was likely to get cracked when I was in this mood. ‘****ing come on!’ Another bloke came in and I burst his face open as well. He went down and I continued to smash him up. Forget about it. It was a free-for-all. Anyone who came through that door was getting smashed to ****. Simple as that. The rest of them paused. I was standing there with this dented pole shouting at them to make a move. The veins in my neck and head felt ready to burst open as I was screaming at them. The rage setting me off, I was ready to take the lot of them on with no fear. They could see that in me and I could see they were shitting themselves. This rush is the best pleasure you can possibly imagine: Think your best ever sex, the best drugs, the fastest car, climbing the highest mountain, scoring a winning goal at Wembley or a touchdown at the Superbowl - mix it all together and you’re only starting to get close. Anyone within three feet was waking up with either a sore head or not at all. I didn’t care what happened to them. It was them or me and I’d put good odds on it being them. The doormen were fighting with them all around me and we just continued to bray the shit out of them until the police arrived.
We were left standing in the war zone. There was blood on the carpet, up the walls, shirts were ripped and there was a few headaches developing. Doormen were standing around with cut and bloody knuckles. All the action was caught on tape so we had to take the coppers upstairs to view it. We all erupted when we saw me standing there downing anything that moved. All of us accept this WPC who had recently undergone a sense of humour transplant. Granted it wasn’t that funny - the VCR didn’t have any sound so you could make up your own dialogue - but she had a real problem with the way I had handled things. ‘You what? There’s a load of people who kick the fire doors in to get at us and you want us to talk to them when they charge at us?’ I was well pissed off at her. Did she want me to sit them down and put the kettle on? You cannot win with them. It was self-defence. We had to stop a bunch of blokes coming in who wanted to smash us and the club up; I was not gonna let that happen. I just wouldn’t let them. I was prepared to do anything to protect my friends, the club and myself. If I didn’t do what I did they would have been watching a different tape all together. Some people are ****ing stupid.
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