I only survived in the ‘free’ world for a couple of months. My whole adult life has been in maximum security – I am still in a hole, but I am alive and kicking. So, from 1974 to 2007 I have been caged up, apart from a couple of months of freedom. Thirty-three years of porridge! And out of those years, 30 have been spent in solitary. And I am still in solitary. Why? Because I am Charlie Bronson . . .

Although I’m a 55-year-old man and now anti-crime, anti-violence and anti-drugs, my past has buried me deep inside the ‘Belly of the Beast’. So bear with me . . . I am a bit lost and confused as to how doormen and minders conduct themselves today. This is my story from years back.

All you really needed in my day was a sharp eye and a good right hook to diffuse any situation. And my hook was second to none! Although my profession was blagger, I often done some collecting and security work, and on a Saturday night you would often find me on a door just passing the night away.

One memory that often makes me smile in my hours of boredom is of a crazy lunatic who just wouldn’t stop causing problems. I was on a club door when he came in. I said to the other bouncers ,‘Watch him.’ I just have this inner sense about trouble. You either have it, or you don’t. It is a vibe you pick up – I can smell it, feel it . . . and I am 99 per cent always spot on. This lunatic was oozing madness. His eyes were spaced out, and he had that walk. His whole posture was saying, ‘Come and fuck with me if you dare.’ It didn’t take him long to kick off.

We had no earpieces or CCTV in them days. All we had was speed. We were fast – get in hard, ask questions later. He had put his hand up some bird’s skirt, and a fight broke out with the bird’s fella! I got in fast – I stuck my two fingers up his nostrils (my speciality!) and led him out into the car park. Simple as that. Or so I thought. (You really can’t plan for a lunatic.)

As I let him go and wiped my fingers on his jacket and told him to fuck off, he dived at me and tried to bite my face off. The rest you don’t want to know, but he was never the same again. He’s sure got through a million colostomy bags, and he’s never put his hands up another bird’s skirt since.

Another time, I was on the door of my mate’s club when a giant of a man came in. I mean awesome. (Incidentally, the tallest man I ever chinned was at Broadmoor. He was six feet ten and a half inches.) This guy was about six feet nine inches. A fucking giant or freak. He became very abusive to the bar staff. I am five feet ten inches, and I strolled up to him and said, ‘OK, mate – LEAVE!’

He looked down to me and said, ‘Fuck off.’ Well, I tell a lie. It was just, ‘Fuck . . .’ He never had time to say ‘off’ before I hit him. It was like a tree going over. I was told the following week that he had come back twice to see me. The third time, he found me and said, ‘Sorry, mate. I was out of order.’

And that is how crazy it can sometimes be on the doors. Guns can be pulled, knives, all sorts. I once had a transvestite slice his wrist in the toilet. I wrapped a towel around his wrist and tied a tie around his bicep till the ambulance arrived. I’ve seen it all: birds getting shagged in the gents, poofs at it, threesomes in the cubicles, blow jobs under the table. You could write a library of books on what doormen experience. Every club, pub, nightclub is different. It’s exciting but not as good as a blag. Counting up the loot is the world’s best buzz, and spending it even better.

I was with a doorman when he had his eye ripped out. It is a lot to lose an eye on a job. Others have been shot dead, stabbed, burnt, all sorts. It’s a fucking mental job with little thanks. But it’s a way of life. Doormen are a special breed. They’re all a bit strange to want to do that job, but they’re a good bunch. Wars are won with such men! They sure don’t get the respect they deserve, and everyone has a story to tell.

Another job I had was looking after a serious ‘Bizz Man’ when he used to deliver a briefcase full of dosh. I mean big bucks. I had to make sure he got them from A to Z in one piece with no problems. On one run, I knew we were definitely being followed. I slammed on the brakes and ran out with an axe. I never got a chance to use it, and I have never seen a car go so fast in reverse. Apart from that one incident, the rest of the journeys we did were trouble free!

A man has to do what needs to be done, no matter what the odds are or the consequences. You do it fast and furious; otherwise, you’re a total cunt. I despise people who talk the talk, walk the walk, then bottle out. You learn who’s who in your own journey of life. There are some doormen, minders, who have yet to be tested. Until a man’s tested, you don’t know him. It’s the same in war – some can’t do it. It is the ultimate test of life.

My journey in life has forever tested me. It still does, even today. I’ve survived it all: multiple stab wounds (all in my back), guns to my head (Old Bill and villains), serious brutality. Read my books – it’s all in there. Although I am now a changed man and deserve any act of violence, it’s best you don’t test me. It’s so much nicer to be nice. But if you really want to test me, let’s go into the darkness alone and ‘discuss’ it!

Doormen, I salute you!

Initially jailed in 1974 for robbery, Bronson has been in prison more or less his entire life since the age of nineteen, and he has spent only three months out of custody. Due to repeated attacks on prison staff and inmates, including a number of hostage situations and rooftop protests, Bronson has spent most of his prison life in solitary confinement. In 1999, a special prison unit was set up for Bronson and two other violent prisoners to reduce the risk they posed to staff and other prisoners. In 2000, he received a discretionary life sentence for a hostage-taking incident. In 2001, Bronson married Saira Rehman, but the marriage didn’t last.

Bronson also supports a charity called Zöe’s Place Baby Hospice in Liverpool (www.zoes-place.org.uk). They do amazing work with severely disabled babies, so if you have some spare cash, send it to them – it will make Charlie very happy.

For the past ten years, Charlie’s art has occupied him and is now the main part of his life. His artwork is unique and is sent to all corners of the world. Bronson has also published ten books and has received numerous prizes for his poetry. His books include Solitary Fitness; Heroes and Villains: The Good, the Mad, the Bad and the Ugly; Insanity: My Mad Life; The Krays and Me; Legends; Silent Scream; Bronson; The Charles Bronson Book of Poems: Birdman Opens His Mind Book 1; and The Charles Bronson Cartoon Autobiography: Hostage of My Past.

You can contact Charlie at www.freebronson.co.uk