By Gavin King, 2nd Dan Go So Kempo

Sorry folks, the door closed at 1.” I explained to a group of revellers looking for a last beer.

“’Aving a laugh ain’t you mate?” spat the self elected spokesperson of the group as I caught full whiff of his alcohol induced halitosis.

“No mate, I’m not. Unfortunately we close the doors a 1!”

“Why?” he grunted.

Generally we don’t take a hard line with the 1am shut off policy and use it to filter out the decent folk and pretty girls. Out of this motley crew of four, the two guys were totally obnoxious, lanky and oozing attitude from every orifice. As for the two girls, neither of them was going to win any beauty contests! The taller of the two was mustard blonde, on crutches and resembled a well weathered rake. Whilst the smaller troll like one wasn’t using her personality to make up for her lack of looks. Suffice to say they weren’t coming in.

“Sorry mate you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to drink tonight. Come back before 1am next time and you’ll be more than welcome!” I said after a protracted explanation of the bar’s entry policy.

“F**k it!”

“Good night, sir!”

Having dealt with our unwanted guests I done a lap round the bar to make sure all the fixtures and fittings were still there. After checking all was well, I propped the front door open with my foot and stood in the doorway. The DJ was playing a killer set!

“Keep your drinks inside mate!” I said as I half galnced at a guy trying to bring a handful of pints outside.

“But, my friends are outside!”

“Sorry mate, you’re gonna have to…” I pause as I fully turn facing the guy, “…hold on, I just told you that you we were closed!”

My ever vigilant colleagues had been paying more attention to the short skirt in the corner than they had to the front door.

“Didn’t say f**k all to me mate!”

“Don’t take the p**s mate! You’re with three friends and one them is on crutches!” I retort.

“Whatever! I’ve got my drinks now!” he blurted.

“Ok… tell your mates to come inside. Next time get here before 1 and don’t take the p**s!” I compromised.

With only fifteen minutes left of what had already been a long night I just didn’t need the hassle. The guy motioned to the rest of his group with his pint, deliberately bumping his shoulders against mine. I was far too tired to even think about rising to the bait.

The end of the night limped in as slowly as it could. I’d told the DJ downstairs to make it this tune his last and started to clear the upstairs bar. Once upstairs was cleared I came downstairs where Matt and another colleague were clearing out. I took up position on the front door to bid the punters farewell and make sure none of them snuck out any drinks for the road. Matt came over to me with the “It’s gonna geek” look in his eyes.

“Matey from earlier has just asked for my badge number!” Matt blurted.

“Why’s that?”

“I stopped him walking out with his drink!”

“And why did the prat want your badge number?”

Matt smiled.

“What did you say?” I sighed.

“Well, he asked why Sophie was outside with her drink. I told him she was staff and having a quick smoke before she cleared up!”

“And….”

“…and he asked to speak to the manager and for my badge number!”

“Did you give it to him?” I asked cautiously.

“Yep, like this”, he said as he motioned flashing badge with lightning speed, “..then I told him the manager was the Rasta behind the bar!”

“Ok, we’ll get the rest of ‘em out and see what he wants to do about it!”

Unsurprisingly our new friend and Co. were amongst the last to leave. I bid them a bon voyage at the door when the guy spun round and flashed a warrant card. A bloody Copper. That explains a few things!

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap. This guy was beginning to irritate me.

“That means I’m entitled to see your badge!” he slurred.

“Tell you what mate, come back, when you’re sober and have uniform on. Then I’ll show my badge!”

The rake hobbles forward flashing another badge and the Halitosis Kid repeats his original request with more venom.

“As I said when you’re uniform… Now f**k off!”

My new friend was dragged back by his lanky friend and the troll.

“Me and you, down the alley!” he screamed.

“Do it here you prat, with witnesses…“ I step forward, “… take the first shot and I’ll sit you on your f**king arse. I promise you, nothing will give me more pleasure than laying out a copper and then getting one nicked!”

He was dragged off down the road swearing and threatening all the way. I swung round and smashed the front door of the bar with my arm… ouch, that hurt!

For the rest of the weekend I walked round nursing what I thought was a badly bruised arm. During sparring the following Monday I was caught with a kick to arm and within seconds ballooned out!

“What happened there?” Sensei asked as he came running over.

“I elbowed a door at the weekend!” I replied embarrassingly.

“I tend to find that it’s hard to teach inanimate objects lessons by hitting them?”

“It was a choice between the door and a coppers head! I chose the door” I barked.

“They were the only choices available?” he said as I saw one of life’s little lessons unveiling.

“Well… “

“It’s amazing how there are times in our lives where we pigeonhole our entire existence into a couple of decisions… “ he interrupted.

“But… “ as I try and fail to justify my actions.

“Yup, some situations cause people to forsake the years they have lived and those that they will, all for a spark of emotion!” he said walking off and signalling the end of this little life lesson.

My little pigeonhole moment cost me a hairline fracture of my radial bone and two months of pain before I could train properly. We live and learn, huh?