There comes a time in your life when you meet undercover Police for the first time. Either when they admit it to you in some Hotel bar hiccuping over way too much Oban whiskey or when you are caught in a South London brothel being arrested for sex trafficking. My first encounter came while I was stumbling through a hallway in Swansea’s, Mozart’s Hotel Club. A club where mellow drug users, average income gamblers and retired kick boxers in cream suits and ponytail’s came to ‘hang out‘.
It had its own bloody time zone, two bars, a strange collection of dropout art students as bar staff, 70′s decor and a back room that resembled, not through style or choice, a World War 1 trench. You basically got smashed as you sat on arm chairs talking to gentlemen and ladies around you who were all wife swappers, ex-religious freaks and people who were determined to find their mid-life crisis at 70 years old. As for the undercover Police, they didn’t look that inconspicuous when you saw them up close.
Filed under: Big Brother, mozarts, oban, photography, photojornalism, police, shaun of the dead, Stephen Sidlo, Swansea, swine flu, undercover
