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Each week or twice a week, I would like to give you guys a snippit of my forth coming book, 'THE MACHINE'.
All the stories are true, look, read and laugh.
At Bentleys they used to have all sorts of functions every few weeks - this one time I think it was something like Wedding Dresses being displayed and modelled. This particular function was packed out. There were even photographers from the Daily Mirror there, quite an event it was. So there’s us lot, the doormen, in our dinner suits keeping watch over the proceedings. A few of us were standing round the front of the stage, which was done up sort of like a catwalk type of thing. Even at a function like this, and bearing in mind the reputation Bentleys had, anything could kick off at any time - if you let your guard down once, you’re ****ed. While I was standing, I felt something by my side. Because we were all in line and nothing should be past us; I turned quickly to see what was going on. False alarm. It was just one of the lads, Stevie Watson. I haven’t got the best hearing in the world and with all that was going on I couldn’t make out what he said. I just assumed that he’d nipped into my pocket to borrow my lighter and thought nothing more of it.
Back to the usual stance and on with the job. As I’m standing I felt something in my pocket again. It didn’t feel anything like a hand this time; this was like something twitching and flapping about. Of course I just delved straight in there to see what it was - the biggest @#%$ moth I’ve ever seen in my life! I @#%$ a brick there and then. Within a second my jacket was off and I threw it to the ground. I was totally freaked out and stamping all over it like a madman. That was when I looked up and realised where I was. In that kind of situation you are oblivious to your surroundings, aren’t you? All that was going on in my mind was to get this thing away from me by any means necessary. When I eventually looked up it turned out that somehow I’d managed to get myself up on stage. Christ knows how I’d got up there and only God knows what the audience was making of all this. I was giving that Michael Flatulence bloke a run for his money, legs everywhere, the full works. I’m sure I seen him in the crowd going, ‘That bloke’s got feet of fire, I say. Feet of fire, so he has.’ And the poor audience probably thought it was all part of the show; ‘And to your left, Mr Freeman is demonstrating the amount of damage our dinner jackets can endure, ladies and gentlemen.’ I was expecting a round of applause when I got down, I suppose I was the half time entertainment, after all. The rest of the doormen were going absolutely mental. They all knew what Stevie was up to and were all in on it. Bastards nearly gave me a heart attack. We always had a laugh there and taking the piss out of each other was second nature. In a job like that you’ve got to or you’ll end up going insane. They would keep bringing the moth incident up and there was this one bloke who just wouldn’t let it lie. A joke’s a joke and all that, but come on. Thing is with this bloke, he’d let slip one of his little phobias as well. Big mistake. It turned out that he was scared of seagulls......
Pre-orders can be made from Mirage Publishers cost £14.99uk.
ORDER HERE
Thank you.
All the stories are true, look, read and laugh.
At Bentleys they used to have all sorts of functions every few weeks - this one time I think it was something like Wedding Dresses being displayed and modelled. This particular function was packed out. There were even photographers from the Daily Mirror there, quite an event it was. So there’s us lot, the doormen, in our dinner suits keeping watch over the proceedings. A few of us were standing round the front of the stage, which was done up sort of like a catwalk type of thing. Even at a function like this, and bearing in mind the reputation Bentleys had, anything could kick off at any time - if you let your guard down once, you’re ****ed. While I was standing, I felt something by my side. Because we were all in line and nothing should be past us; I turned quickly to see what was going on. False alarm. It was just one of the lads, Stevie Watson. I haven’t got the best hearing in the world and with all that was going on I couldn’t make out what he said. I just assumed that he’d nipped into my pocket to borrow my lighter and thought nothing more of it.
Back to the usual stance and on with the job. As I’m standing I felt something in my pocket again. It didn’t feel anything like a hand this time; this was like something twitching and flapping about. Of course I just delved straight in there to see what it was - the biggest @#%$ moth I’ve ever seen in my life! I @#%$ a brick there and then. Within a second my jacket was off and I threw it to the ground. I was totally freaked out and stamping all over it like a madman. That was when I looked up and realised where I was. In that kind of situation you are oblivious to your surroundings, aren’t you? All that was going on in my mind was to get this thing away from me by any means necessary. When I eventually looked up it turned out that somehow I’d managed to get myself up on stage. Christ knows how I’d got up there and only God knows what the audience was making of all this. I was giving that Michael Flatulence bloke a run for his money, legs everywhere, the full works. I’m sure I seen him in the crowd going, ‘That bloke’s got feet of fire, I say. Feet of fire, so he has.’ And the poor audience probably thought it was all part of the show; ‘And to your left, Mr Freeman is demonstrating the amount of damage our dinner jackets can endure, ladies and gentlemen.’ I was expecting a round of applause when I got down, I suppose I was the half time entertainment, after all. The rest of the doormen were going absolutely mental. They all knew what Stevie was up to and were all in on it. Bastards nearly gave me a heart attack. We always had a laugh there and taking the piss out of each other was second nature. In a job like that you’ve got to or you’ll end up going insane. They would keep bringing the moth incident up and there was this one bloke who just wouldn’t let it lie. A joke’s a joke and all that, but come on. Thing is with this bloke, he’d let slip one of his little phobias as well. Big mistake. It turned out that he was scared of seagulls......
Pre-orders can be made from Mirage Publishers cost £14.99uk.
ORDER HERE
Thank you.
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