of a Fuzzy Ducks Bouncer

Noel Higgins (Security Personnel for Fuzzy Ducks @ The O2)

Sigh. Here we go again, another Wednesday and another Fuzzy Ducks. Brilliant. My high point of the week. HAH! Yeah bloody right!

It’s not that I hate students, or Wednesdays, or even my job. Oh no. It is definitely Fuzzy Ducks. It’s like some teenage sexual nightmare for people who really should know better; even the themes scream ‘STAY AWAY’ to me. ‘Ann Summers Party’!? Surely no girl in their right mind would go to that, especially not actually dressed in ‘Ann Summers Party Attire’. And just in case you’re wondering, I’ll enlighten you – basically judging by the standards of what most girls (and boys) were wearing, it involved looking as cheap as possible by showing as much skin as possible without actually provoking the prospect of being arrested for indecent exposure. Although, in reality I don’t think most of the boys need worry about their clothing getting them arrested. Their repulsive displays of exaggerated masculinity, expressed usually in the form of either a) getting their tackle out or b) attempting to punch another inebriated individual, should be far greater concerns!

We, that is the security team at the O2, know we’re in for an extra special treat when they all turn up in pink. Oh yea, then we know we’re going to be kept busy. Pink is Oxford Brookes red flag, it effectively signals that they’re all going to be so much more drunk than usual. Not a pretty sight I tell you! I would normally say that they are a pretty good-looking bunch all things considered, but no one looks good with holes in their pink Primark tights and sick down their wife-beater vest.

The night starts reasonably enough, we turn away a couple of the worst, send another few home to fetch their student I.D.s. Actually, while we are on that point, why is it that they will insist on forgetting their identification? It is a student night. Obviously you will need to prove you're a student. You'd think from some of their reactions we were asking to strip search them. Then there are the ones who quite clearly aren't students and for whatever reason have borrowed their mate's, who, incidentally is stood right next to them in the queue. You feel like shaking them! We can only turn a blind eye to so much, seriously!

About an hour before we start the mammoth task of getting everyone to leave, I get called in due to a suspected scuffle. I grab Jason on the way inside and we shove our way through the parting crowd of drunken youths. I notice a bloke pissing against the wall as I go past and make a mental note to deal with him later. Someone in a pretty little pink skirt (and it's not a girl by the way) is slumped out in a corner, blood pouring from their nose. We're informed by his friends in overly loud slurred monotones that it "waas summ awwful bl-oh-ck. But we've manarged to chaase him awf!" Thank goodness for that hey! We drag the skirt wearer outside and leave him to sober up, generally we know they'll be alright. The girls however are a different matter, and some of the states they get themselves into; it is embarrassing watching them stumble out, skirts, or what presumably they are wearing as skirts, tucked into knickers, revealing tops even more revealing than normal. And of course they're hand in hand wandering off with Romeo, expectant for their night of passion. Clearly more like three minutes. If they're lucky!