Memories... memories...
I answered my doorbell one morning and the next thing I knew I had taken one hell of a fist in the face that knocked me ten feet back down the hallway and onto the stairs. I'm lying stunned, with this south-London hardcase screaming at me to keep away from his
fiancé!
At that point I really thought he was at the wrong address, but that evening a hostess I had been going out with for a few months didn't come into work so I asked a few questions around the club. It turned out she had forgotten to mention a boyfriend banged up for GBH, and I guess she didn't tell him about her lapse of memory.
I never saw either of them again. She didn't come back to work and my bosses sent a couple of the "boys" round to have a little chat with him. But definitely not a situation I would recommend anyone get into knowingly
