STELLAKIS STYLIANOU
Stilks’ physique is that of an athlete, he’s wiry and fast. In his line of work, speed is of the essence – and I don’t mean a ‘dab’ of the white powder. He has to be able to defuse situations before they erupt into violence. The difference between him and most other meaty doormen is experience. I hate to quote a corny cliché, but he has been there, done it, and got every fucking T-shirt available.
I asked Stilks whether perhaps he thrived on dangerous situations and did he ever get nervous.
‘Nah, I don’t get nervous. I wasn’t even worried when a gang was going to lynch me for refusing them entry to a club. It’s just part and parcel of security work.’
I studied his rugged face. His strong features gave nothing away. He has a protruding nose and beady eyes and gives the impression that he is almost bomb-proof. I interviewed him at his home in Sidcup on the outskirts of London. As I knocked on the front door, I noticed that one of the windows was broken. Once inside, I asked his pretty wife Sheena how it was broken. She tutted and sighed, ‘It’s ’im. He forgot his keys again.’
She went on to tell me that Stilks is forgetful – ‘It’s his age,’ she teased.
‘I’m not old,’ he winked. ‘I can still chase you round the kitchen and catch ya!’ They looked at each other and laughed, sharing a private joke.
They were obviously a couple who were comfortable with each other and still very much in love after 24 years of marriage. Stilks waited until his wife left the room, then whispered, ‘She’s pregnant again, ya know. I’ve got four daughters, maybe this time we’ll have a boy, then I’ll retire from working on the doors. But don’t mention it to Sheena … Shh, she’s coming back …’
Stilks was like a naughty boy. The cat that ate the cream. Sheena put the tea down on the polished coffee table and smiled a radiant smile. Stilk’s puffed his chest out with pride. They were a smashing couple.
I was glad Stilks was considering retiring from door work. It was a nice thought and an even nicer thing to say to his pregnant wife. But I think the promise may have been made in haste, maybe in the flush of pride of an expectant father.
I really think the word retirement is not applicable to men like Stilks; it’s more suited to bank managers and accountants. When you’ve been a tough guy all your life, you can’t just give it up, it’s not that simple, because you can never retire from what and who you really are…
BACKGROUND
I was born in Plumstead, South London. Although I was born in England, I couldn’t speak English until I was seven. My parents were from Cyprus. Mum and Dad tried to be strict with me, but by the age of 14 I’d become uncontrollable. Then I started going to a local youth club and was introduced to judo – I loved it. It was a way of expressing myself in a positive rather than negative way. It became a way of life and I enjoyed it for 12 years. Each level and each belt I won gave me great satisfaction and when I won my black belt by beating a line-up of six opponents one after the other, it was the pièce de résistance!
LIFE OF CRIME
Nothing to speak of.
WEAPONRY
I’ve hit a few people with chairs but I never carry a knife or a knuckle-duster because I think, on the spur of the moment, I’d use it. I’ve broken my hand five times where I’ve hit people on the head. So I find the quickest and easiest way to control a violent situation is to use strangulation.
TOUGHEST MOMENT
It was late August and the football season had just started. I was working on a door at a hotel. Millwall supporters were celebrating a win. They were full of lager and up for a row. I was having none of it and told them to leave. There was a bit of a scuffle but I got them out and thought no more of it.
At the end of the night, as usual, I was hungry and fancied a kebab. I told the boys to start locking up and that I wouldn’t be long. I made my way down a dimly lit road towards the late-night take-away. Call it a gut feeling or instinct, but I felt I was being followed. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something didn’t feel right.
Half-way down the road I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw four blokes running towards me with sticks. I recognised them as the men I’d thrown out of the club earlier.
In my panic, I looked around but there was no one in sight. I had no alternative but to run towards my attackers. I grabbed the stick off the first bloke and bashed him round the head with it and he fell to the floor. I thought, If I’m going to get done, I’m taking this one with me. I pushed my fingers into his eyes and he screamed in agony. The others started beating me over the head and back, but I didn’t care. All I focused on was keeping a firm grip on the one I had on the floor. He was screaming like a stuffed pig.
In a situation like that you don’t really feel pain, the adrenalin blocks it out. I was taking blows from every angle. I was hit on the left side of my head, then the right, I saw stars and for a moment I thought I was going to pass out. But I held on – I had to. I just remember car headlights, people screaming and noise – then nothing. I thought I was dead.
IS THERE ANYONE YOU ADMIRE?
A man called Johnny Madden. He was head doorman at the Camden Palace and also at the Hippodrome. Johnny Madden is a man of respect and a man of principle. He gently eased me into door work and told me the dos and don’ts. That was 23 years ago and we’ve remained friends ever since.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN HANGING?
Yes. For paedophiles and serial rapists. Not forgetting the serial killers. String ’em up! That’s all they deserve.
IS PRISON A DETERRENT?
Yes, for some. On one hand I’ve got a friend, a good friend who’s a big, strong and well-respected man. I worked with him on the doors for ten years. He was a brave, fearless man, who wasn’t frightened to take risks. He was sentenced to nine months in prison and he did six, but he couldn’t muck it. When he came out of prison, he didn’t leave his house for a year. I’ve asked him many times to come back on the door, but he refuses. He got himself a little 9 – 5 job and became ‘normal’. So, yes, it deterred him.
On the other hand, I’ve got friends who’ve done five, ten, fifteen years and they’re still active. It didn’t deter them. So it depends on the make-up of the individual.
WHAT WOULD HAVE DETERRED YOU FROM A LIFE OF CRIME?
If I thought that I would not be able to see my wife and kids for a long period of time, then that would deter me. In saying that, when you’re up to no good, you don’t think you’re going to get caught.
WHAT MAKES A TOUGH GUY?
If I hit a man and knock him down and he jumps to his feet and comes back at me, then I knock him down for the second time and he still won’t give in – is he a hard bastard or a stupid one? In my eyes, he has no fear, which makes him a tough guy.
STILKS’ FINAL THOUGHT
I’ve done door work for 23 years and in that time I’ve had to deal with many confrontations in which I’ve felt my life was being threatened. I’ve been attacked by people you’d never dream in a million years would attack you. When I was first on the door I was gullible and I’d give people the benefit of the doubt.
On a cold Saturday night I stood on the door with my hands deep in my overcoat pockets. A customer tried to get into the club and I noticed he was wearing jeans, so I refused him entry.
‘Is it all right if I wait here?’ he asked, shivering in the doorway.
I shrugged. ‘If you like.’
For the next ten minutes I saw people in and out of the club. Suddenly with no warning, the man standing in the doorway hit me over the back of the head and ran up the road.
I was stunned. For a moment I leaned against the wall to gather my thoughts. This was lesson number one: when you tell someone to go, they go. There are no exceptions.
I hold the dubious record for being the longest-serving doorman. During my time as a doorman I’ve been hit, punched and shot at. The lesson I learned is: never underestimate anyone, no matter how big or small.