Security for proles
Security for proles
Back when I was working as a temp for airport security post 9-11 Gatwick airport was the most tedious place in the world to be at 4 in the morning.
However, you met some interesting people and I got to spend a bit of time with the rifle bearing lads of various police divisions.
Now airport duty is dull, dull, dull. So when something exciting happens everyone tends to be 'on form and up for it.'
Que me, politely asking people to check their bags for knives, scissors, various naughty objects that are now verboten in hand luggage.
I was checking the prole-express to some piss hole in spain - lots of ruddy checked wideboys already goggling the equally vile women in the queue.
"Allright lads - nothing that shouldn't be in your hand luggage then?" *I actually show them diagrams, just to get across the point*

"Yeah - my mate 'ere has got an uzi and I'm carrying a grenade - what can you about it?"

This particular brand of gorilla actually attempted to intimidate me. Now for those who don't know every inch of Gatwick is monitored - the only blindspots are the khazi cubicles.

I tell him to back down - even as I'm doing so I can see two black clad and armoured blokes moving to covering positions on the balcony - they're wielding the the semi-auto version for the MP5 for the gun connoisseurs amongst you.

I can smell stale booze on the gorilla who is mere inches away from me and glaring at me.

"I'll ask you again - you don't have anything on this list in your baggage?"

"I fucking told you already - uzi and grenades."

His mates have stopped laughing as two more armed men circle out behind him and signal for me to move away.

I break into a smile and give them the space to 'politely ask him to lie down, not move an place hands out flat'.

I think he may have actually shit himself.
( Razor What the fuck - a sig?, Mon 6 Mar 2006, 17:39, Reply)