Working as a security guard and a bouncer, I’m trained in “restrictive intervention”. Anyone who gets too rowdy or too close is first asked to tone it down. If they turn violent, the bodycam gets switched on, and the attacker may find themselves folded up like a deckchair.
But there’s one bloke who makes all my training evaporate. He comes to my house every day. He wears grey shorts, a red top and carries a high-vis handbag. He’s…