Tuesday, 29 July 2014

Scumbags get scummier with time

Clicked on this link in the local paper, and had a laugh out loud moment of recognition.

In the short time I worked as a bouncer, I once had a run in with this shithead. Aggressive and belligerent, he appeared to be on cocaine. (I always trusted my instincts - if someone gave me the heebies at the door, I just didn’t let them in. Several hours of drinking wouldn’t improve their demeanour.)

He asked me: “Do you know who I am?” 
“Yes. You’re a guy who isn’t getting in here.”
“I’m a former Hamilton Tiger-Cat.”
“That’s nice. You’re still not getting in here.”
I guess he thought having been a Ti-Cat was some magical “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want” talisman. It meant nothing to me.
He tried to barge past me. It went badly for him from there. One of my co-workers came over, he got lippy with him, tried to barge past him, and before he knew it he was down on the ground, arm twisted behind him, and a foot on his back. And he wasn’t a small guy either. He was tossed, and then tried to go to another bar a ways away. We had already warned them via radio, so they knew not to let him in. 

He was a turd then, and it appears his turdosity only increased in the intervening years.


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