As if he could see into the depths of Deano’s rotten soul.

‘You don’t know what I’m capable of.’ He pursued the pair of them, elbowing his way through the crowd, causing someone’s pint to slop. ‘None of you wankers do.’

‘Give it a rest and go home,’ someone shouted.

‘Who said that?’ Deano swung round, balling his fists, searching for the culprit. He was a big guy, over six foot, with wide shoulders and a pit-bull face, and knew how to intimidate. ‘Come on then, if you want some.’

But then he was grabbed from behind. A pair of bouncers in black bomber jackets twisted his arms high behind his back and bundled him towards the door.

‘Get off,’ Deano screamed, calling them all sorts. ‘Get off me!’

He tried to squirm from their grasp, but he was pissed and slow and clumsy, and the tips of his toes barely touched the ground as he was dragged out the door, the laughs and jeers and shouts of ‘See ya’ from everyone in the pub ringing in his ears.

‘You don’t know,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘You people don’t know who I am, what I’ve done.’

‘Yeah, yeah, big man,’ someone called. ‘Bore off.’

And then he was thrown into the cool night. His legs folded beneath him as he fell to the pavement.

One of the bouncers jabbed a finger. ‘You’re barred.’

Deano sat in a heap in the middle of the street, the palms of his hands stinging from where they had scraped against the concrete kerb. He was humiliated now, and desperate for a drink, and just wanted to go back inside.

‘I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good,’ he told the doormen sullenly. ‘I won’t bother anyone.’

‘Get yourself home, mate,’ one of them said with a sneer. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself.’

Deano tried to convince them he’d mind his own business, he wouldn’t make any trouble, but they weren’t having any of it. So he climbed unsteadily to his feet – the road and the night sky seemed to tip and sway as he stood upright – and straightened his clothes with as much dignity as he could muster.

Now he knew he wouldn’t get back in, he pointed a finger at the two doormen. ‘I’ll be back.’

‘Sure, Arnie.’ They both laughed at him.

As soon as he was sure nobody could see him, Deano burst out crying. He wept because every night was the same now. He’d go out drinking and get into a fight, he didn’t even know how it happened but it always did, and then he’d go into blackout, and wake up covered in cuts and bruises on a hospital trolley, or in a police cell, full of shame and despair.

He smeared the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand, licked his sopping lips, and tried to focus on the street signs so he could work out where he was, but he didn’t recognize any of the landmarks.