Ultimate Hard Bastards - The Truth About the Toughest Men in the World - Kate Kray

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I thought the landlady had made a fool of me – mugged me off – so, before I left, I felt I just had to have a word in her ear.

      Leaning nonchalantly on the bar was a middle-aged, peroxide-blonde woman reading a newspaper, a fag hanging from the corner of her mouth. I asked if I could speak to the landlady. Without looking up from her paper, she spat, ‘You’re speaking to her.’

      Small droplets of saliva cascaded on to the bar. Her very demeanour aggravated me. I asked what the problem was and why had she turned the music up so loud?

      ‘I wanna know what you’ve been talking about,’ she snarled.

      I told her it was none of her goddamn business.

      ‘Oh yes it is, it’s my pub,’ she continued.

      I was incensed, absolutely livid. How dare she? What’s it got to do with her what we were talking about? I was just about to get out of my pram when at that moment John came over and explained he was about to leave. I saw the landlady lift her eyes, which instantly widened.

      She looked towards heaven as if she was looking at a skyscraper; the ash fell from her cigarette. John couldn’t have chosen a better moment to walk over.

      The argument was starting to heat up; John’s sheer presence defused the situation. He gave me a hug and a kiss and said goodbye.

      I turned to continue the conversation with the landlady but she’d lost the sting from her tail, she wasn’t sassy any more. I should imagine John has this effect wherever he goes, but he’s a bit of an enigma. Nobody knows much about John, which reminds me of another line of that famous song.

      ‘Nobody knew where John called home. He just drifted into town and stayed all alone. He didn’t say much he’s kinda quiet and shy. And if you spoke at all you just Hi To Big John … Big John … Big Bad John …’

       BACKGROUND

      I’ve got three brothers and a sister; I’m the middle son. I didn’t get into many fights at school because of my size. I’ve always been big, naturally big. At 13 years old I weighed 16 stone. If I did get into a fight at school, it was generally with older boys.

      From leaving school I started minding small clubs and I suppose it was from then on my reputation grew. Nowadays, I spend most of my time as a celebrity bodyguard, both in London and Brooklyn, New York.

       LIFE OF CRIME

      All the time I’ve served inside has been for violence; debt-collecting that went over the top or an overzealous fan of the star I’m minding. I never go out looking for trouble – trouble is my work. It’s just part and parcel.

       WEAPONRY

      My hands. My fists. That’s all the weapons I need.

       TOUGHEST MOMENT

      When my father died. I’ve known lots of hard men but my father was the hardest I’ve ever known. Not just because he was my father, he was one tough cookie.

       IS THERE ANYONE YOU ADMIRE?

      My dad Joseph, he died eight years ago.

       DO YOU BELIEVE IN HANGING?

      That’s not just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. I personally do not agree with the death penalty. Having said that, I’m a father and if anyone abused my children I’d kill the perpetrator stone dead. It doesn’t make it right but that’s what I’d do. An eye for an eye. But capital punishment is cold-blooded murder and that’s wrong – it’s a civilised society killing someone for killing.

       IS PRISON A DETERRENT?

      No. Track record proves it. Look how many prisoners are repeat offenders.

       WHAT WOULD HAVE DETERRED YOU FROM A LIFE OF CRIME?

      To be honest, I don’t think anything would have deterred me. Most people in my world would be in it no matter what. It’s partly circumstances and also the make-up of that person.

       WHAT MAKES A TOUGH GUY?

      A man who doesn’t use violence for violence’s sake. Like when you see a bouncer on a door, a big guy, who has a reputation to match, then a 5ft drunken office worker abuses him. The doorman stays cool, he knows he can take him out at any time but he doesn’t, instead he tells him to run along and saves it for another day. If he was to take advantage of the situation and bash the office worker, that would make the big guy a bully, not a tough guy. How I see it, if someone is drunk and can barely stand, there’s no glory in bashing him up. I don’t have anything to prove. Little dogs bark, big dogs bite!

       BIG JOHN’S FINAL THOUGHT

      I’ve had more than my fair share of fights but I evaluate every situation. There have been circumstances where I’ve been outnumbered three to one; it’s then I make my judgement. Are they going to go away without a fight? If I come to the conclusion they’re not, then I’ll lash out first. I usually come out on top. I would fight to the death if I had to, it doesn’t matter how outnumbered I am, I will go forward. I’ve never gone down. My father always said to me, ‘If you’re going forward when you go down, then you’ve won …’

       HARD BASTARD

       Cornish Mick

       Still active

      CORNISH MICK

       Normally, when a man reaches a certain age or when his beer-gut swells, he seeks out a personal trainer. But not Cornish Mick. In his younger, thinner days, he used to do a bit of boxing. He’s from the school of hard knocks and is a little bit ‘tasty’. Mick tenderly pats his beer belly and winks, then he holds up his right index finger and smiles. ‘That’s all I need. It takes one finger to pull a trigger.’

      Mick can’t be bothered with all the puffing and panting, sweat and toil from training down the gym. He’s not a man who’ll waste words or make idle threats – no matter how big a man is, he just lets his finger do the talking.

      He’s a cutter; a shooter; a killer. Upset him and he’ll pop a cap in your arse and bury you in the woods sooner than look at you. I know – I have first-hand experience of Mick’s bad temper.

      It was late Saturday night. Yet another gangster do. Men in hand-made dinner suits. Villains’ wives, all lipstick, powder and paint. I sat at the top table with the top men all smoking the best Cuban ‘Lah-di-dahs’.

      Mick sat beside me. We chatted and laughed about this and that, until a big man in a cheap suit started making a bit of a nuisance of himself. He was a wannabe gangster, a loud-mouth with nothing to say and saying it too loud.

      I

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