Criminal logo

Hell’s Angel Gangster Broke my Nose

Here's what I learnt

By Dean GeePublished 3 years ago 6 min read
Like
Hell’s Angel Gangster Broke my Nose
Photo by Kajetan Sumila on Unsplash

Young men can be very stupid, and we were no exception. My friends and I grew up in a city to the west of Johannesburg, it was originally a mining town, but had developed into a city.

I completed two years conscripted military service and then went to university. For some reason I always felt like it was my duty to entertain my friends. When I look back perhaps it was an insecurity I carried with me. My friends would laugh and that egged me on. We would go out to pubs and clubs in our twenties like most people do growing up in cities. At one particular club I took it upon myself to mock a guy, we called him ‘spinner’ and he was always at the club, and danced in the same spot every week. I would imitate him unbeknown to him, behind his back and my friends would laugh. I was a complete idiot when I think back, but it entertained us and I enjoyed the attention from my friends, they enjoyed my impromptu entertainment.

Here is a photo of some of us on Holiday at a holiday house at the coast a few years before the incident I am writing about. I am the one holding the case of beers with my shirt off and mouth open, probably saying something stupid.

Photo of Author and friends

We went to our favourite club called ‘Spats’ in Johannesburg like we always used to. It would once again be a night of laughter and drinks at ‘spinner’s’ expense. The nightclub scene was run by the biker gangs. Head of the Johannesburg Chapter of the Hell’s Angels, a chapter called the ‘Nomads’ was a mountain of a man a blonde behemoth. He had huge arms and long blonde hair. He looked about 6 ft 6 inches tall and solid, tattoos adorning his huge arms.

As we entered the club, I remarked to one of my friends. “Imagine that guy were to hit you, I reckon he would break your neck. His arms must be as big as my thighs.”

Little did I know at the time that those words would prove to be prophetic.

Fun can be paid for in blood and pain

The evening was going well, we were having fun, I was mocking ‘spinner’ as usual, and incorporating some more entertaining moves into my routine. My friends were enjoying the show.

Later on in the evening there was a scuffle near us in the club, we had nothing to do with it, but blonde behemoth thought that we had caused it. He singled me out as the leader of the group. The blonde man mountain came over and said to me “What’s your problem?” I couldn’t believe that he was talking to me, so I said, “Who me? I don’t have a problem.” While I was still talking he headbutted me. Blood was everywhere, then he punched me in the face. My friends told me afterwards they were impressed that I didn’t go down.

We counted that we had a group of 17 friends, and out of all of them only Colin, my friend with the blonde hair and the turquoise shirt in the photo above stood with me. He actually punched one of the other bouncers as they came to grab us. We were marched out with people screaming and running away from us. I was bleeding, I washed my nose and my face in a water fountain outside the club and then the funniest thing happened.

The blonde colossus came up to me to apologise, he said that he had the wrong guy. He offered to let me in for free from then on. I think he was perhaps scared of legal proceedings or perhaps within his huge steroid brain, there was some form of humanity, some bit of remorse? Others at the club had come up to me and said they witnessed everything and that the week before their friends had also been beaten up by this same guy. Perhaps he did have law suits piling up?

Colin who had stood with me, was still scuffling with his assistant bouncers. The blonde behemoth asked me who he (Colin) was, but I said I didn’t know him, that he was just some “rough dude from the south.” (The south of Johannesburg in those days was notorious for street fights and violence.)

Colin drove me to the hospital to get my face stitched up. I will write another article about what happened at the hospital, it was one of the craziest nights of my life.

Days after the incident when I was recovering, Colin told me that he knew that bouncer and that he hung out at his university. (selling drugs to students no doubt) Colin knew what the number plate of his Harley was. I attended a different university to Colin.

Revenge

I was plotting to wait around some corner with a baseball bat and kneecap this guy. Then my thoughts drifted to doctoring his brakes on his Harley. The anger had built in me, because I kept thinking that he had no right to just walk up and headbutt me. He had no right to do it to anyone. He could have thrown us out of the club without the violence.

I was glad I didn’t follow through with any of my silly revenge scenarios, because I later learned just who I was dealing with. This guy had a bio that reads like this. I quote.

“Soldier, spy, drug manufacturer and Hells Angel.

When tales are told and stories spun about the heady days when bouncers ran Joburg’s clubs like lawless tyrants and crystal meth was rearing its ugly head at raves, it is him who plays a leading role. He was the president of the Hells Angels, purported to be a spy for the apartheid government and an agent for the Scorpions….

……He left in his wake far more enemies who wanted him dead than friends who celebrated his life.”

When I read up more on this guy. I realised that he lived a life of self inflicted torment. Apparently he had run ins with mercenaries and others in the military. He was bashed and beaten by other thugs in the drug and club trade of Johannesburg, I read that one night the beating he received was so bad that the pool was crimson with his blood.

Looking back I feel sorry for this guy. I think he bit off more than he could chew. But truth is ‘as you sow, so shall you reap.’ This rings true so often in life.

Final Thoughts:

Of the many friends you have, very few will stand with you. Colin was one such friend, he stood with me.

Alcohol and senseless hedonism has a price when it clashes with the underworld of gangsters.

We cannot control what happens to us, but we can always control how we react to events in our life.

Revenge is not wise, particularly when it is born out of impulsive hate, I doubt I would be alive today to tell the tale, had I given in to my baser instincts.

Know who you are dealing with, naivety can cost you everything. It is incumbent upon all of us to be ‘wise as serpents but harmless as doves.'

guilty
Like

About the Creator

Dean Gee

Inquisitive Questioner, Creative Ideas person. Marketing Director. I love to write about life and nutrition, and navigating the corporate world.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.