That first night, we were doubled up and at chucking out time, made our way to the City Centre to help out as the nightclubs disgorged their drunken clientele. What sights to behold.
I should point out that at that time, Dundee City Centre had an assortment of nightclubs in an area bordered by Ward Road, South Ward Road and Lindsey Street, commonly known as the pubic triangle. CCTV covered the area, providing elevated observations giving all the cops an early warning of trouble brewing and fights already started.
Allow me to give you a little biology/chemistry lesson here:-
Take one mixing vessel - in this case a red blooded male between the ages of 16 and 24
Add large quantities of sexual frustration hormones compliments of uninterested girls inside the nightclub.
Add copious quantities of alcohol compliments of the very much interested licencee.
Result: uncontrolled build up of one of two hormones.
1st hormone is called "if I'm not getting laid, I'm going to behave like a complete f&*#ing idiot"
2nd hormone is called " if I'm not getting laid, I'm going to have a fight".
Being eminently conscientious we duly sat outside one of the night clubs making sure everyone was safe and no one got into any bother. Okay, we were simultaneously rewarded with the best view in the house.
As Steve and I sat there swapping stories of past encounters, a big stramash broke out about 30 yards down the road. Instantly, we are out of the car and running full tilt towards the melee, being passed on the way by the section van. Unfortunately, it screeched to a halt short of the trouble, just as Steve was right behind it. Now any of you who have studied physics will know that mass multiplied by velocity equals momentum. I have already alluded to Steve's mass and have just stated we were running full tilt. Yes, his momentum led him straight into the back of the now stationary van. Ouch. With hindsight, maybe that was the cause of his temper rising as I grabbed one of the protagonists.
Instantly, this drunken buffoon took umbrage at me stopping his Friday night entertainment and put up a bit of a struggle to get away, during which, and completely out of no-where, your truly gets an almighty smack in the mouth. Nonetheless, with Steve's assistance, this "spanner in the toolbox of life" was overpowered, arrested, trussed up like a Christmas turkey and popped into the back of the van for the short trip to HQ along with a few of the other idiots that didn't get a girl at Fat Sam's so decided to have a fight instead.
As Steve and I walked back to the car it was clear I had a rather sore face. Steve came to the rescue. No - he didn't dress up like Florence Nightingale and get the bandages out - he had a better idea. Since he was familiar with the CCTV system in town, he reckoned he could review the tapes and identify who had punched me. If it wasn't one of those already jailed, we might still manage to find him hanging about outside one of the fine catering establishments open at that time of night generally for the benefit of those who are no strangers to the fish supper. No wonder Dundee seagulls are so damned big, with all the dropped and left over kebabs abandoned to them on the streets of Dundee over a weekend.
Off Steve and I pop to HQ and whilst waiting our turn with our prisoner, nip up to the CCTV room and find the tapes. Perfect. Yes, the entire episode was captured in glorious Technicolor and clearly showed Steve rear ending the van (if you'll pardon the John Cairney). Thankfully, it also showed yours truly getting a smack in the mouth. Was it our prisoner? No. Was it one of the other prisoners? No. Would I be able to recognise the culprit from the CCTV and find him again? Yes...... It was Steve !!!
As he came breenging into the melee he tried to grab our prisoner around the neck with what can only be described as a pretty good right hook, landed perfectly on my fizog. Oh well. His time came when I was experiencing particularly bad flatulence. Being the driver, I was able control the electric windows and thus prevent Steve getting any fresh air. Touche.
Being eminently conscientious we duly sat outside one of the night clubs making sure everyone was safe and no one got into any bother. Okay, we were simultaneously rewarded with the best view in the house.
As Steve and I sat there swapping stories of past encounters, a big stramash broke out about 30 yards down the road. Instantly, we are out of the car and running full tilt towards the melee, being passed on the way by the section van. Unfortunately, it screeched to a halt short of the trouble, just as Steve was right behind it. Now any of you who have studied physics will know that mass multiplied by velocity equals momentum. I have already alluded to Steve's mass and have just stated we were running full tilt. Yes, his momentum led him straight into the back of the now stationary van. Ouch. With hindsight, maybe that was the cause of his temper rising as I grabbed one of the protagonists.
Instantly, this drunken buffoon took umbrage at me stopping his Friday night entertainment and put up a bit of a struggle to get away, during which, and completely out of no-where, your truly gets an almighty smack in the mouth. Nonetheless, with Steve's assistance, this "spanner in the toolbox of life" was overpowered, arrested, trussed up like a Christmas turkey and popped into the back of the van for the short trip to HQ along with a few of the other idiots that didn't get a girl at Fat Sam's so decided to have a fight instead.
As Steve and I walked back to the car it was clear I had a rather sore face. Steve came to the rescue. No - he didn't dress up like Florence Nightingale and get the bandages out - he had a better idea. Since he was familiar with the CCTV system in town, he reckoned he could review the tapes and identify who had punched me. If it wasn't one of those already jailed, we might still manage to find him hanging about outside one of the fine catering establishments open at that time of night generally for the benefit of those who are no strangers to the fish supper. No wonder Dundee seagulls are so damned big, with all the dropped and left over kebabs abandoned to them on the streets of Dundee over a weekend.
Off Steve and I pop to HQ and whilst waiting our turn with our prisoner, nip up to the CCTV room and find the tapes. Perfect. Yes, the entire episode was captured in glorious Technicolor and clearly showed Steve rear ending the van (if you'll pardon the John Cairney). Thankfully, it also showed yours truly getting a smack in the mouth. Was it our prisoner? No. Was it one of the other prisoners? No. Would I be able to recognise the culprit from the CCTV and find him again? Yes...... It was Steve !!!
As he came breenging into the melee he tried to grab our prisoner around the neck with what can only be described as a pretty good right hook, landed perfectly on my fizog. Oh well. His time came when I was experiencing particularly bad flatulence. Being the driver, I was able control the electric windows and thus prevent Steve getting any fresh air. Touche.
No comments:
Post a Comment