My mate “Psycho” is enormous, probably the strongest bloke I’ve ever met and has arms like Dean Lukin (the scruffy, tuna-fishing, weight-lifting Dean Lukin, not the post-Olympics slimmed-down, neat one).

I’m a fairly… hefty bloke myself. One night we were saying goodbye at the door to a pub in Hornswood (being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby to Chatswood). All of a sudden three loud, cocky young guys wandered up leaning all over each other, in their really nice shiny shoes.

One of them yelled – “MAKE AN ORDERLY QUEUE INSIDE, BITCHES. WE’RE RICH MOTHER-FUCKERS.”

Wankers. They stopped in front of us.

Blonde Guy (to Psycho, with a smart-arse tone in his voice) – “It’s ok for us to go inside your fine establishment?”

They thought we were bouncers! Psycho dropped into a brilliant, Peaky Blinders accent.

Psycho – “Proof of age boys.”

They all quickly produced their id’s.

Psycho (moving his gaze slowly from one to the next) – “No trouble tonight! Ya wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

Excellent, Psycho had started quoting David Banner (aka the Hulk), in a Birmingham voice.

Blonde Guy (with a bit less smart-arse tone after the Hulk quote) – “Don’t worry about that, my good man.”

Psycho (looking closely at their licenses) – “I used ta be a good man… ‘til prison.” He looked away, paused longingly, as if remembering.

I tried to hide the smile that started to creep across my face. Men in our line of work, don’t smile and this was my first time being… Bouncer “Cool Hand” (my self-ascribed poker callsign).

Psycho (dead-pan) – “We’s been seein’ a shite-load of snobby private school students wiv fake id’s from Latvia recently. Ya wouldn’t know nothin’ ’bout that now… would ya?” He eyeballed them all.

Tall guy – “We’re all twenty four.”

Me (having become “Bouncer Cool Hand”) – “WE’LL BE THE JUDGE OF THAT.”

The three snobs seemed taken aback.

Psycho (putting one license between his teeth and biting down, testing it like a gold piece) – “Looks legit ‘nough ta me, Cool Hand.” Pointing at the blonde guy. “Michael, what’s ya dog’s name. Quick now, son!”

Blonde guy (hurriedly) – “Tim-Tam.”

Psycho (to Blonde Guy) – “Tim-Tam? Serious?” He was absolutely nailing the Brummie accent.

Blonde guy (embarrassed) – “It’s my sister’s favourite biscuit…”

Psycho just shook his head.

Psycho – “For fock’s sake, Michael this don’t even look like ya! The guy in this photo’s a lot skinnier an’ he’s wearin’ glasses. What ya tryin’ ta pull?”

Michael – “I have contacts.“

Bouncer Cool Hand – “WE DON’T CARE WHO YOU KNOW.” This was great.

Psycho (despite Michael looking exactly the same as his photo) – “Michael, why have you put on so much weight?” Uh oh, he’d forgotten the Pommy accent!

Michael – “Oh… well… I didn’t realise I had… I guess I stopped going to the gym and I just…”

Psycho (remembering his accent again) – “Likely story.”

Moving on to Tall Guy.

Psycho – “Phil, in this photo y’ave a blue shirt wiv some wanky logo. Now, ya’re wearin’ a green one and I can’t see no logo at all. Care ta explain?”

The situation was hilariously ridiculous.

Phil (sweating) – “I have… different shirts…”

Psycho – “Yeah, I bet you do. I’m keepin’ me eye on ya… green-shirt boy.”

At this stage I had to walk away a little and turn my back. I was a risk of emitting a loud, decidedly non-bouncer-like laugh.

Psycho – “DOES YA MAMA LIKE MEERKATS, ‘ARRY?”

Harry – “What difference does –“

Psycho (interjecting) – “IT’S THE ONLY PUB FOR MILES ‘ARRY.”

Harry (hesitating while he thought for a second) – “Um… I think she likes them.”

Psycho – “Why the ‘esitation ‘Arry? Not close wiv ya mum?”

Harry – “Oh, I just wasn’t expecting that question.”

Psycho (staring daggers at him) – “‘Arry… always expect.”

Harry – “Ok… thanks.”

Psycho (now with an excellent Clint Eastwood voice) – “Now Harry, you have a scraggly fucking “moustache” (Psycho made air-quotes) in this photo and now you’ve none.”

Harry just stared blankly.

Bouncer Cool Hand – “Why so desperate to change your appearance.”

Harry answered – “It was really itchy.”

Bouncer Cool Hand – “Psycho, I’m not overly comfortable with Mr ‘Disappearing-Moustache’ here.”

I was laughing, but they were all too focused on answering Psycho correctly. They didn’t notice his Peaky Blinders accent had given way to “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly”.

Psycho – “Any of you ever been convicted of Truancy? Homework copying? Well have you… punk?”

They all shook their heads. Four blokes who looked the same age as the three we were investigating, stood and waited their turn to be vetted by us.

Bouncer Cool Hand – “You can go straight in boys.”

Harry – “How come they were allowed in?”

Bouncer Cool Hand – “DON’T GET LIPPY WITH US HARRY. They formed an orderly queue.”

Psycho – “Are any of you married?”

They responded with a chorus of “No’s”.

Bouncer Cool Hand – “You don’t mind us checking do you? Ring fingers please gentlemen.”

We checked for not only wedding rings, but ring tan-marks. You can’t be too careful. Then, the actual bouncer came out of the bar! He was angry.

Actual bouncer – “WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

Psycho, who was big enough to get away with it, in a super-friendly way put his arm on the bouncer’s shoulder and led him to the side to chat. I knew Psycho was trying to convince the real bouncer to carry on the gag, as they occasionally glanced back at the increasingly nervous boys.

Actual bouncer and Psycho wandered back.

Bouncer Cool Hand – “Howdy, Iron Kev.” I really hoped Psycho had got him in on the joke. “Here’s a quick rundown. Michael here (I pointed him out) has put on a heap of weight, apparently used to wear glasses, now miraculously doesn’t need them and thinks he should be let in due to his contacts in this place.“

“Iron Kev” threw up his hands with a mocking look of being impressed by Michael (who appeared mortified by my summary).

Bouncer Cool Hand – “Young Phil here, was showing off about how vast his impressive wardrobe is. Harry, has next to no relationship with his mother, has no idea of her stance on meerkats and his ‘moustache’ (air quotes again) is suspiciously… transitory.”

“Iron Kev” (smiling and nodding) – “How could he not know his mum’s meerkat-stance? Ok, fellas I’ll see you both tomorrow.” We shook hands in a manly, bro-bouncer way.

“Iron Kev” (turning to the young lads) – “OK YOU PRIVATE SCHOOL POSERS. I HOPE YOU KNOW YOUR EXACT HEIGHT BECAUSE I’LL BE CHECKING AND YOU MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME. But I won’t be expecting you to know that one Harry.”

Iron Kev (to Psycho and I) – “Carry on gents. You’ve done some good work here.”

Our “shift” done, Psycho and I left.

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Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to be able to claim when meeting a new person at a Hornswood party, that I am in fact… a writer (whereby my wife generally jumps in and proclaims “he’s actually NOT a writer”). If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I write stuff for a few small companies, but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I have set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers