BD8 & Beyond, page 15
I teamed up with John Celebanski, the boxer and landlord I mentioned earlier. I was hoping that with John’s contacts in the pub game and the boxing, I’d be able to pick up a couple of decent venues and lads to man them. I’d worked at a few boxing/dinner functions that were organised by John, in Bradford town centre and all had gone well, so I thought I was on a winner.
Back at the bakery, things were moving forward, extra land, adjacent to the main site had been purchased and building work had started. My mate Simon had left and got the maintenance job at Fields, the printing place in Bradford and Eddie had progressed to drawing up all the plans for the new build. I was taking on more responsibility with the shift lads but was still ‘hands on’ and towing the line, with the odd fall out along the way.
I managed to book a few days off and headed for Great Harwood, Blackburn, Lancashire. Sean was getting wed to Karen and the venue for the stag ‘do’ was Ostend, Belgium. There was a total of thirteen of us sat on a train early doors on the Friday morning, heading for London, where we were to exchange trains down to Dover and then on the ferry across to Ostend. I’d met a few of Sean’s mates before, so I wasn’t totally ‘on my own’ so to speak. Billy, Zoy, Dickey, Spud, myself, Sean and the rest, a good set of boys really and it was going to be a good weekend. Early doors in Trafalger Square and the place was as packed as ever, both with punters and pidgeons! A small shop across the way was lucky enough to have our custom….or rather not. I think that I was probably the only one to pay for anything but the poor owner was well down on stock by the time we all departed! Not good and definitely not clever! We were having a steady drink as we lazed on the train on the way down to Dover, with one or two of the guys catching a bit of ‘shut’ eye for good measure. We were lucky enough to be booked on one of those new Hoverspeed ferries so our travel time was cut to half and all were buzzing.
We reached our digs and got checked in, a couple of the guys were straight into the tidy landlady of the small hotel, with fancy chat up lines, which was a giggle and she gave as good as she got! We had a decent day on the ‘lush’ and got to know where most of the sights were, one or two obviously hit the ‘red light’ section and, as always on these kind of weekends, it’s never mentioned again.
Saturday is football day almost all over the world and was stated before hand that we all had to where ‘colours’, so you can imagine to boos, cheers and jeers, when I rocked up in a ‘mighty’ Leeds shirt. Apart from my good self, there were a mix of Blackburn, Burnley and England tops on show, so after a hearty breakfast, we were heading for the boozers. We met up with ‘stag’ do from the Midlands and they were a mix of Villa fans and Wolves lads. We had a few games of pool for quids and there was quite a bit of banter regarding teams and where we all came from, before we left and headed further into the town. Down the steps and into a big Karaoke bar, which seemed to go on forever!! There were pool tables, an arcade, food tables, T.V’s, the lot really. The bar was oval and in the middle of the room, with three blokes serving on, all our guys went to one side, so I nipped round the other, consequently getting served first. I was feeling rather pleased with myself until I turned round and saw around thirty Chelsea fans, all eyeballing me!! I f I’d been ‘crewed’ up, there wouldn’t have been any conversation but because I was on my ‘Jacksey’, a few of those Blues, some in colours, some in suits, sauntered over and stated chatting. Leeds had done them at home 3-1 a couple of months since, so I was having a bit of a giggle and a laugh with these guys, with them buying me a couple of beers for my cheek. It could have turned nasty though when Sean’s mate Spuddy started shouting over to me, asking why I was drinking ‘with those Cockney cunts’!!! one or two of the younger Chelsea lads were wanting a pop but the older end and myself, luckily calmed it down. That fucking Spuddy just laughed, ha, barmpot Burnley boy! I ended up standing on the table and singing Baker Street on the Karaoke to them, which went down quite well. They bid us fair well and did one, just before the Midlands boys turned up. Leeds had just lost in the quarter finals of the F.A cup against Wolves (that scruffy looking fucker Goodman, did the damage!) and one of the Midlands lads decided he’d had enough ale to start trying to take the urine out of me. He was spouting about Goodman and how shite Leeds were etc, the usual claptrap. I played it down but inside, I really wanted to knock all the shit out of this wanker but also, I didn’t want to be the one who ruined the weekend. One or two of the Midland lads were sound and things were nipped in the bud. Sean and myself told the lads that we were moving to the next bar and we’d see them in there, so as I left, I gestured to a couple of the Midland boys that I was leaving. The next instant, I was kicked from behind, right under the armpit but I managed to keep my feet and spun round to see one of the Wolves fans stood there shouting that I was a smug cunt. I think he was a bit shocked that I hadn’t gone over and when I fronted him and moved toward the twat, he backed off and apologised, saying he thought I was being funny with them!!?? I threatened to knock the fucker out but Sean pulled me away and we left it at that.
That evening, we again met up with half a dozen of the Midlands guys and the ‘cowardly’ kicker was with them. He apologised for the earlier incident and we just got on with having a good old night on the tiles. One or two of the guys sought out some of the local ‘hookers’, which is fair enough and it’s a well known fact that whatever happens on a weekend away, stays away.
At the end of the night, there were a few of us in the bar at our hotel and there were still, four of the Midlands lads making up the numbers. Our boys drifted off to bed and there I was, left with our ‘Black Country’ friends. Two of them were bollocks and staggered out and then one fell off the stool, struggling to get back up. I looked at the ‘kicker’ and said “that’s that then, you’d best put your mate to bed”. He eyeballed me for a couple of seconds and then picked his buddy up, said his farewells and buggered off…..weird twat! A top weekend overall and a great set of blokes to spend it with……..home, with a thick head for a day or two!
Steve, the gaffer at the Rio club had sold up to Paul Sewell who was the D.J, known to those in the ‘trade’ as Ziggy for some strange reason. He was in some kind of partnership with Steve for a while before doing the deal. Paul and myself had crossed swords a few times in the past and although I tried my best to get on with him, he had this real condescending tone about him which really got under your skin at times. He was constantly being smart with me and talking about being offered different door contracts, he also tried to ‘hijack’ my regular doormen that worked on the Rio door by telling them that if they worked for him direct, they would have a bit more money. I got wind of this through Bob and some of the lads denied knowledge of it when confronted but I did tell them that I know that Paul had another crew in mind that if they went to work for him, it wouldn’t be for long. In the end, I lost my rag with his two faced attitude, told him to pay me the balance and sort his own fucking door out. Although he struggled for that weekend, he eventually got sorted with his new crew of boys and that was that. I did contemplate ‘smartening’ the prat but knew he’d fuck up and get his comeuppance at some point. With everything he did or said, Paul was just one of those blokes that always had you wondering if he had ulterior motives and more often than not….he did!
Kinder was released from Armley after 12 months or so on remand after the court case fell down due to lack of evidence, although Slick got five year. There was a bit of a rumour spilling around that Gary had done some sort of deal but that was a load of shite and a couple of arseholes got smartened up in the process of that little story being put to bed. He married Lindsey and decided to pack the door side of things in altogether, so there I was, best man for a fourth time………that job was still as daunting as ever and didn’t get any easier!
Tom, along with his son Derrick, the Glaswegian blokes who owned Foxy’s in Cleckheaton, sold up and took on the Five Flags at Denholme. Wetherspoons took over and revamped Foxy’s, they brought there own crew of boys in and I couldn’t get a foot hold at all. Richard ‘the Bulldog’ worked the door at the Flags, along with Stevie Spalding and one or two others on rotation but it only lasted a year or so, as Tom was ill and sold up to move away….God bless you Tom…a really nice guy.
The Five Flags wasn’t too far away from the Rock n Heifer, where we’d done a fair bit of work. All around that area, there seemed to be plenty of ‘boys’ that weren’t averse to mixing it with the door staff. We’d had a couple of heavy incidents at the Rock, the main one was one New Year when Myself, big John and Geoff were at it in the doorway with the Thornton lads. There were iron bars, bricks, table legs….. pretty much the works apart from shooters. We came out of it ok but there was plenty injured and claret all over the bloody foyer area. The gaffer wasn’t too pleased, although we managed to get through the rest of the night incident free.
Although big John Celebanski was a nice bloke, we weren’t exactly hitting it off as partners and raking in the dosh, venues were hard to come by and so were good, licensed doormen. John and I called it a draw and I managed to get on board with Kevin Spratt, an ex-pro boxer who had a lot of doors in Leeds but needed a few guys to help out on his Bradford doors. This turned out to be really hard graft because all the venues Kev had required licensed boys and they all had to be on the books and paying tax etc…..I was struggling to get the guys to work for less ‘wedge’ than they were used to.
CHAPTER 12
At the bakery, the majority of machinery that was bought was all second hand. Certain pieces of kit were decent and some were just rubbish and hardly any of it worked when we acquired it but the gaffer was adamant that it was all good stuff and the engineers were told to bring them up to scratch. I took on the job of refurbishing some of the ‘would be’ scrapped off machines and bringing them back to life. The new site was half way to being finished, so I set up ‘shop’ in the new building with my broken, crippled machines. I had a radio on full belt, all the tools I needed and very little interruptions….great. I was well into the job, decent hours, enjoying all aspects of the refurbishments and still had some input into the running of the maintenance team. All was about to change though and for the better I might add!
Simon rang me up from Fields printers and said that there was an opening for an engineer and I had to ring the engineering manager, who at the time was a guy called Richard Warnick After a couple of interviews, I got a start date for April 1999.
There was a re-structuring of the engineering department going on at that time, so myself, Simon and Pete Kirrane, (Pete started the same day as I had), were putting in a hell of a lot of overtime hours. The money was good but the work was quite demanding, although the pressure wasn’t as ‘heavy’ as it had been in the food industry.
The printing industry is pretty ‘clicky’ and these printers had more perks than you could shake a stick at! Even the warehouse and packing teams had plenty of ‘extra’s’, in fact everyone except the Engineers had a piece of the cake. Without the Engineers, the place would have come to a standstill but there was no way we could negotiate the same shift rates or call-out pay as the rest of the workforce. The Engineers, Printers, Warehouse staff, ‘Make ready’, Packing staff etc are all pieces of the jigsaw and all play a part in the manufacture of the end product, therefore everyone should be treated with the same respect. In most industries it seems to be the case that the Maintenance Engineers are looked upon as a necessary evil and not as major players in the ‘make up’ of a successful company. Anyhow, the money was there to be earned and the conditions were good so………crack on!
It was at that time on one of my shifts, that I met up with Mick Robbo, one of the printers. As I mentioned previously, I’d had a run in or two with him and a few other guys from the Clayton area a number of years back. We had a laugh reliving an altercation or two and have been good mates ever since.
I went on a course to the Bobst factory in Lausanne, Switzerland to get ‘clued up’ on the Registron Systems that were instrumental in the running of the printing press’s at Field Packaging. The course was for one week and I went with Pete, who I was to be partnering on our shift system. We were sat in the departure lounge at Leeds/Bradford airport deciding who was going to look after the expenses money, when we suddenly realised that the tickets were actually Business Class!! Into the 1st class lounge, feet up and chilling without all the ‘hustle and bustle’ of the ‘run of the mill’ departure lounge.
The hotel was ok and was situated on the edge of Lake Geneva, which was very picturesque. The Bobst factory was a few miles away and we were picked up the next morning and driven to the site before being given a guided tour. This was a large site and full printing machines along with a host of accessories. The factory is out in the ‘sticks’ and there are even petrol pumps that are subsidised for the staff!
We found a great little boozer round the corner from the hotel called the White Horse and this was to be the closest to an English drinking venue that we came across. There was a ‘Happy Hour’ each evening and the time of this was advertised outside the place at lunchtime. So after having a decent chat with the little blonde barmaid, we were able to find out the ‘Happy Hour’ time for each day the evening before! Quality….we were able to use the ‘two for one’ drinking offer to its maximum. Hence to say, we weren’t always in the best condition when being picked up at 6.30 the morning after. All in all, this was a good trip and was to stand us in good stead with the work we were doing at Fields.
The British Ice Skating Championships were held in Belfast that year and I went and stayed in a large boarding house in the Newtownards Road, with Sue, Lucy and a few others from Lucy’s training set up. England were playing Scotland in first leg of the play-offs for the European Championships. I asked the owner of the digs which would be the best boozer to grace with my presence to watch the match and was told in no uncertain terms that it would be a very bad move for me to go boozing in any of the pubs in the area! Fair enough then, I took the blokes advice and watch England do the ‘Jocks’ 2-0, on the T.V. in the digs. Lucy had a decent championship but alas, wasn’t up in the top three skaters.
The Millennium New Year was painted up as major event when all the computers, databases, TV’s etc, were all going to go tits up and screw up the whole world. Well that didn’t happen and on Old Years Night, we had a big family gathering at Phil and Mary’s, place (my wife’s sister). A decent night with Karaoke, food, drink and fireworks, great until her half brother Chris, decided to push me over the edge. Two things that are really annoying and not up for discussion, are, being called a full weight wanker….with meaning and being prodded in the chest whilst being lectured. Chris had a problem at the time with some guys over money and drugs and after I showed some concern, he proceeded to tell me I was out of my depth with his finger banging into my chest. When he picked himself up, he carried on with his verbal abuse and prodding, telling me that I was a complete wanker, so he very quickly found himself sat on his shitter again. His verbal tirade came to an abrupt end and I told him to deal with his problems on his own. I was disappointed with myself for bashing him but felt he didn’t really leave me much of a choice at the time. Most of the family, I think, agreed and I did receive an apology from Chris shortly after. We are to this day fine and I occasionally see Chris and we have a chat.
The Craven Heifer at Manchester Road in Bradford was under new management, opening as Mr Q’s and I was supplying the doorman through a contract with Kev Spratt. On the opening night, I worked on the door with Bob Siree and although the night went reasonably well, this was an ‘open’ venue that really needed three guys to man it properly. I got a couple of decent blokes from the other side of Leeds to work the place and I was damn lucky because these guys were good doormen and the only reason I’d got them at the low rate we were paying, was because there was no work in their area. Bradford City’s Ointment boys began hanging out in the boozer and from time to time, this proved a slight problem. A couple of times the landlord rang me to say there was some grief, the lads weren’t too pleased with him, under minding them! One Saturday evening after a game I went down and it had kicked off, the three of us were up against a dozen pissed up footie fans in the middle of the busy pub. Pool cues, pool balls, glasses and chairs were flying everywhere as ‘normal’ punters ran for cover. We got the upper hand after three or four of their lads had gone down and a couple of local lads had assisted us. It settled down after that confrontation and there wasn’t another major incident with those lads. I was also supplying Scully’s bar with door staff at that time. This was a place in Heckmondwyke and anybody that is familiar with the area will know that it can get a bit tasty from time to time. I went through quite a few different guys in a short space of time before Martin and Steve worked it on a regular basis. These two had done plenty of work for myself and Gary, down in Cleckheaton and were an ‘ok’ pair of lads. They had a bit of a set too with a rugby team in a ‘curry’ gaff in Cleck and although the odds were massively against them, they came out on top, damaging quite a few of the opposition. They were promptly arrested and slapped with a Community Service Order.
