Martyn Johnson - Whats Tha Playing at Nah?

DEDICATION

I would like to dedicate this book
to YOU, the reader.

Thank you

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by
Pen & Sword True Crime
an imprint of
Pen & Sword Books Ltd
47 Church Street
Barnsley
South Yorkshire
S70 2AS

Copyright Martyn Johnson 2016

ISBN: 978 1 47385 812 1
PDF ISBN: 978 1 47385 815 2
EPUB ISBN: 978 1 47385 814 5
PRC ISBN: 978 1 47385 813 8

The right of Martyn Johnson to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the Publisher in writing.

Typeset in Ehrhardt by
Mac Style Ltd, Bridlington, East Yorkshire
Printed and bound in the UK by CPI Group (UK) Ltd,
Croydon, CR0 4YY

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Contents

Foreword

by Chris Mann

Ive known Martyn Fred Johnson, for over thirty years; and during that time weve laughed and weve cried. Weve watched our children through the ages, from birth to raising children of their own. A lifetime has passed, seemingly in a split second. But, what quality!

Over those years Martyns tales would come thick and fast and with that unforgettable and, so genuine, broad Darfield accent. Martyn has the rare ability of a good storyteller: to make the stories come to life. Over the years, both I and lots of his pals have tried to encourage him to write a book, which he has now done with great success.

Martyn does not suffer fools easily but if youre a pal of his, which I certainly am, then youre a dear and genuine friend for life.

His books include stories from someone who actually took part in the events which he portrays. The highs, the lows of policing in what was, a seemingly friendlier era.

Martyns Whats Tha Playing at Nah? paints a vivid picture of life in South Yorkshire, when he was proud to be a copper. Just read, enjoy, and become part of it.

Acknowledgements

If someone had told me six years ago that I would write a book about life as a bobby, Id have laughed at them. Im more of a reader than a writer and before I wrote my first book, Whats Tha Up To? the only writing that Id previously done was police reports and the odd postcard or two.

Luckily, just like my mum Esther, who passed away just short of her hundredth birthday, Ive been blessed with a good memory, which, of course, is very handy when writing your memoirs. I also love people and laughter, something that I have often used when trying to get out of a tricky situation or a fight.

Like all old bobbies I have many stories to tell and now here we are on book number four unbelievable and all because of you, the reader, who keeps asking for more.

A detectives job by its very nature is often more serious than when you are working a beat something that I couldnt wait to get back to doing. Anyway youll read more about that in book 5, which my publishers have already asked me to write.

Writing a book is no easy task and especially so for a thicko like me. Without the help of my fabulous wife, Christine, who has the patience and typing skills to turn my scribblings into something both logical and legible, I would be unable to do it thanks very much Christine love you loads.

I must also thank once more my editor and friend Brian Elliott for his continued patience and support; also Matt Jones and the staff at Pen & Sword Books Ltd; and my pal Chris Mann for writing the Foreword.

Since writing this series of books I have received hundreds of wonderful letters and emails, not just from this country, but from around the world, including cruise ships which amazes me. I am and always will be a people person and for that reason, without listing loads of names, I would like to say thank you to you all please see the .

Please note that some of the names mentioned in this book have been changed to protect the identity of the person mentioned.

CHAPTER 1

Clubs and Cubs!

What a MESS! But at least he was still alive. Both his eyes were badly swollen and closing up; and you could also see where his broken front teeth had cut through his lips. No wonder there was blood everywhere pouring from his broken nose and mouth; and running down his face, splattering onto the tiled toilet floor. So much for a quiet night, I thought.

It was a weekday evening and Id started work at a police station in the grimy industrial east end of Sheffield called Attercliffe. I was on night duty, starting at 11 pm, and had just taken over from my fellow detective John Longbottom who, luckily for him, had had a quiet evening most unusual for our very busy police division. I needed to take some court papers up to the charge office in relation to a case I was dealing with and John had asked if he could cadge a lift up to town where he had agreed to meet a police informant (or snout) in the Cavendish night club on Bank Street, in the middle of Sheffield.

After dropping off the paperwork at the charge office, John and I walked across the road to one of the most popular night clubs in the north of England, where many famous musicians, comedians, singers and pop groups had appeared whilst making their way to the top of the celebrity tree. It also meant that I could have a swift pint, a rarity on nights.

All night clubs have bouncers or doormen, quite rightly looking after their customers and that night was no exception. As we arrived we could see several bouncers wrestling on the floor with two guys who were covered in blood. The doormen had obviously got the situation under control and I recognized two detectives from the City Division standing nearby.

Everything alright lads? John asked the detectives.

Yes, was the reply, weve got em but Im not sure for what yet. They were trying to run out of the club and, as they were covered in blood, the doormen grabbed them and stopped them leaving realizing that something was wrong.

The detectives were obviously dealing with some sort of incident or other so John and I entered the club, showed our warrant cards at reception and went to the bar for a pint. John, who was a tight old bugger, was ordering two beers. Wow I thought, thats a first. Ill bet that wed not been in the club three minutes when Big Derek, the head doorman, rushed up to me and said, Mr Johnson I think youd better come to the gents toilets and look at the guy inside.

Why Derek, whats up? I replied, I havent even got a pint yet.

Derek was very agitated, so I followed him to the gents toilets and thats when I went in and saw the poor chap already mentioned. I could see that, although unconscious, the bloke was still alive but certainly not kicking!

Have you sent for an ambulance, Derek? I asked.

Yes, its on its way, he replied somewhat anxiously.

With that I stepped back out of the toilet cubicle in order to take stock of the situation further. As I looked at the bloke who was sitting on the toilet with his head lolled back and resting on the cistern I knew at once that it had taken at least two chaps to administer this savage beating. One guy at least must have come up behind him, reached over his shoulders and grabbed the big guys jacket lapels; and then pulled his jacket backwards over his shoulders and down as far as his elbows. It was one of the oldest tricks in the world; and would have totally restricted the movement of his arms, meaning that he would have been unable to defend himself.