Читать книгу One-Eyed Baz - The Story of Barrington 'Zulu' Patterson, One of Britain's Deadliest Men - Barrington Patterson & Cass Pennant - Страница 9

I started getting braver and venturing out of Handsworth into the big city of Birmingham with my good pal Thomas Coley. We were part of a gang called the Handsworth Wanderers who used to go to the Bull Ring in Birmingham and hang around the ramp and fountain, at the entrance to New Street train station where all travellers into Birmingham had to come. (This is where I would base myself in my Zulu days, later in my life.)

At the Bull Ring, we were fighting, robbing and taxing whoever we could. Our numbers swelled and there were now over 50 of us. My reputation was growing too; I wasn’t aware of it, as I was a follower not a leader, but people were scared of me and did what I said. I used to have dreadlocks, little picky locks, as was the style if you came from Handsworth. Our gang had some terrifying people – whether we were Rasta, Asian or white guys, we feared no one. We just loved to fight and make money. We would attack every football fan that came into the centre, no matter where they were from. People used to hate coming into Birmingham because they knew the risk of getting taxed, or of a knife being pulled and them getting slashed by us.

I can’t play football to save my life. It had never really interested me and it might have stayed that way. But football came to me when I was a rude boy, hanging uptown on a Saturday night during the early eighties. My pal Horsemouth ran with the rude boys; we would wear the two-tone gear and pork-pie hats, short trousers and brogues, so we were a kind of mixture of mods and skins – but we didn’t really get on with the mods or the skinheads, with their long Parka coats or big Doc Marten boots with coloured braces. We were into ska music, the Coventry band The Specials, The Selecter and all that. We’d go to gigs in town to see bands like The Beat; we’d steam the clothes shops for our gear and be wearing it the same night. One lad would walk in the shop and steal a rack of clothes; nobody would chase him because he’d have five lads behind him to stop anyone when he walked out. We were the rude boys, we did what we had to do to make a bit of poke for ourselves and to enjoy ourselves.

There used to be about five of us from Handsworth and we’d meet up with other lads to go out on the town on a Friday and Saturday night, or fight with the skinheads and mods on a Saturday afternoon. Town was our base and that was where we used to hang out and earn our money.

We were now part of a larger gang with more clout, called the Townies, and we used this as cover for ‘draipsing’ (taking designer clothes and jewellery off the rich kids). This led to us running the town; it was our manor and no one could trouble us. We were about 20-to-30-strong, with people like Rupert, a really good friend who’s been like a second brother to me, plus Todd, Rupert’s cousin who lives in Tamworth, Louis, Skan, Sharkey and Curly. As Birmingham was our domain, we used to rob football supporters – sometimes even the Apex, who were Birmingham City supporters. We had no morals.

I used to notice all these skinheads coming into town and wonder where the heck they were all coming from. We soon learned they were Apex and as rude boys we just said, ‘Fuck ’em, skinheads are racists,’ but we’d see this black skinhead with them from time to time and say: ‘Hey, what’s that nigger doing with them skinheads?’ We’d chase him as well and, to be honest, he would get a worse kicking for being black. So, after every match on a Saturday, when all the skinheads used to come through town, we’d have it off with them – even some of the Apex. We used to have it with their lot all the time – that’s how we got into the football. Then we started attacking all the away fans that were coming to town.

At that time we weren’t really interested in football. We were Townies and only interested in making some fucking poke and having fun! The Bull Ring shopping centre was the place where we hung out, fought and earned our money before and during the match, which was why more police were brought into the Bull Ring, as on most Saturdays while everyone was out shopping, you would have people running and screaming.