Free Bouncers and Bodyguards by Robin Barratt

job worthwhile.
    Anyway, back to the point of this little story. I pulled the mother of all door scams at the Shepherds Bush Empire. It is, as they say, a story for another day, but it was so big and so bad that I became too hot a commodity to stay working in central London. My boss, John Smith, had to show his clients that he acted swiftly and severely when any of his employees broke the rules. In reality, if he did feel that way, I would have been fired on the spot and reported to the police rather than given a pat on the back and a sweet position as head doorman at a new brasserie-cum-nightclub in Hampton Court called Pals.
    Pals was just one of many in a chain owned by Danny Rose and his business partner Geoff. Danny used to own The Limelight club in Shaftesbury Avenue back in the late 1980s, early ’90s. I used to work The Limelight in those days; it was just around the corner from The Hippodrome, where my friend and occasional work colleague Lenny McLean used to run the door. In those days, London’s West End was a great place to work the doors – before licences were introduced. So many angles; so many perks – it was good times for all!
    Anyway, the timing, as usual, was perfect for me – one door closed and another opened, and I started my 18-month stint working at Pals in both Hampton Court and Croydon. I have to say that Pals in Hampton Court is one of my all-time top doors that I have ever had the privilege and pleasure of working, but as with any new establishment, it wasn’t always plain sailing, and in its opening week I was involved in a near-death confrontation. Had I still been thinking the way I had been at the beginning of the year, I would definitely not be around today to tell this tale.
    Danny opened the doors to Pals on a Thursday night. Although he already had a string of them across the country, it was this one that was his pride and joy. He had finally acquired a prime location opposite Hampton Court Palace and had plans to develop a wealthy and occasionally pretentious clientele. The cream-and-blue decor was standard, but each venue had tailored fixtures and fittings to complement the local area – this particular two-storey building had a cosy restaurant on a raised section that was separated from the bar and a sunken chill-out area filled with comfy sofas and moody lighting. The upstairs function room was for private hire during the week, but on Friday and Saturday nights it acted as a separate area for punters to dance the night away.
    The door rules were simple: between Sunday and Wednesday it was virtually anything goes, which meant over 18s and trainers were allowed; Thursdays were over 21s and smart dress; and the weekends were strictly over 25s and very smart dress. Danny was adamant that these rules were never broken, because he knew what the area lacked: a venue where the older, richer clientele could go and relax and spend their easily (I always presumed) earned wealth.
    The venue had a capacity for 550 people, but Danny always made a point of never going over the 500 mark. He figured that there was no need to squash people in – the customers were given decent elbow room so that they would enjoy themselves more and therefore come back for more. For Danny, it wasn’t just about the money – it was about reputation. When he owned The Limelight, it was the place to be seen; paparazzi, celebrities and high-profile customers would often be spotted coming and going from its large glass doors. Of course, the place went downhill the minute he sold it, and if it had not been for the door team that stayed on, it would have easily gone the way of other clubs that underestimated the value of a good door team. The proof of that pudding is that when they did change the security company, the place eventually hit rock bottom, and it was sold on again to an Australian company that came in and shut the doors to The Limelight altogether. They eventually rebranded the place to match their