There’s 5 types of security guard in the world. Some are bastards, some are funny, some think Bruce Lee faked his own death to work for the Chinese secret service. Either way, in their own particular style they say the words “right… move on now” and it really knows how to wind us up. After almost 20 years of research and debate we’ve finally finished our paper. Here’s the employment criteria you need when telling a fellow human to stop riding a bike on land, which has been privatised with a pen, a sheet of paper and lots of unnecessary force.

The Complete Tw*t

An all out bastard who never threatens to call the police as he’s ‘got this’. This is the guy you really don’t want to see when trying to nail a simple manny to 180. He strides up like Chris Eubank entering the ring and says;

“I’ve got a dog in the cabin who will bite off your tyres!”

Brilliant, and away he goes rattling on about being an ex SAS officer, ex bouncer, British champion in several violent sports during the early 90’s, and the time 18 skateboarders ambushed him and HE was done for GBH. We get it, you’re the car park equivalent to Grant Mitchell, but we just want a quick session.

The upside to the complete tw*t is if you get him talking, there’s an easy 20 minute window of opportunity to ride as he describes in full detail how he’s been trained to make a corpse disappear in under 4 hours.

Vital Statistics:
Threat Level 10/10
Productivity 5/10
Athleticism 7/10
Walkie Talkie Usage 2/10
Chattability 9/10

The Good Guy

In contrast to the Rottweiler above, the good guy once held down a modest career at the inland revenue. However, one day he finds his best mate in bed with the wife. Instead of beating him senseless he lost his bottle, huffed really loudly and walked out of the room. Then he sought peace in action films, got made redundant and fancied tackling petty criminals on a university campus for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, as we now know he’s got no bollocks. He’s just a bloody nice guy!

At no point during his painstakingly dire routine does he directly ask you to leave. Skirting around the issue with nervous pushes of his walkie talkie button he’s more interested in persuading you to “pop back later” or “ride here all you want on Sundays”. Then you get chatting about his life, and it’s obvious he’s had the shit end of the stick for the majority of it. Before you know it, you’re taking pity on a nice bloke who really should be working somewhere better suited to his personality and you’re leaving the place just so his boss won’t sack him.

Perhaps this is his routine, who knows but it works and you move on.

Vital Statistics:
Threat Level 0/10
Productivity 6/10
Athleticism 2/10
Walkie Talkie Usage 9/10
Chattability 8/10

New Best Friend

Chewing gum and wired up to the eyeballs with aftermarket communication devices this guy gives zero fucks about his security guard roll. Once a roadie for Blur and then personal security for Mr Blobby while in panto, all he wants to do is let you know that he’s down with this shit;

“Is uuuuummm Tony Hoffman still freestyling guys?”

The point arrives where you’re actually asking to be kicked off the spot…

“Guys you wanna vibe this bench, cool, am gonna fly up to the crows nest and I’ll re angle the cams, you’re lookin’ at an extra 30 mins here FOC BABY”

If anyone engages in conversation you’re done for. It’s not long before your new best friend is telling you more about the slam down bunny hop while desperately trying to have a go of someones bike.

In the end he wants you to ride the spot, he’ll even lose his job over it, this is fine. He cares about your safety though and does offer a routine which is based around this. Trying to tell you to move on for your own good kinda guy! It’s weird and if you’re not careful numbers will be exchanged and you’ll be fending him off for up to 6 months post bench “vibe”.

Vital Statistics:
Threat Level 0/10
Productivity 6/10
Athleticism 1/10
Walkie Talkie Usage 10/10
Chattability 10/10

Lady Guard

An ex PE teacher who was caught canoodling with a student of the same sex before being struck off, she’s a fiery character not to be messed with. Ambling over, almost dainty at first before puffing out her chest, setting back the shoulders and finally attacking you with a routine of sheer perfection. She knows every trick in the book, every rule is burned into her eyelids as she demands a reason for you being on ‘her’ property;

“You know you’re not supposed to be here, so why are you ere?”

It’s not long before her legs are apart, about the same width as her shoulders. Dark blue combat pants bellowing in a light breeze. She knows we’re on the canvas, this is now sport. Picking the bags up you’re ready to do one, but as if anchored to the ground it feels you need her permission to leave.

Now living with a PCSO, again of the same sex, their whole relationship is based on law and order. What must go on in the bedroom is nothing like the scenes you watch on Pornhub.

Vital Statistics:
Threat Level 10/10
Productivity 10/10
Athleticism 8/10
Walkie Talkie Usage 7/10
Chattability 3/10

The Dog Fancier

Sat on your top tube having a chilled sesh and you get a faint waft of sickly sweet biscuit. The smell starts to grow more pungent as you hear the slow, dulcet tones of the dog fancier;

“Now then lads…… av gotta ask you to move on”

You turn around and there he is, crouched over, grasping a mini bin liner of shite and stroking his pet dog ‘Matey’s’ ear.

He’s not a security guard, far from it. He’s a dog fancier who simply wants to work with his K9 buddy. General conversation is lost on him until you acknowledge his faithful companion, usually an old Alsatian with over grown claws. Then the fun starts and you have at least an hour before he realises you’re even breaking any rules;

“I’ve had him since he was 3 weeks old, it’s mother tried to bite off his tail, so I took him in.”

“Do you know he’s famous? Yep, Barbara Windsor once tripped over him at a book signing in Doncaster, it was in the paper.”

You find out later that the dog is actually blind and no threat to BMXers after a skip wagon backed into him in 2006. The talking ends as the smell is just too much. It turns out the large padded jacket this guy is wearing doubles up as Matey’s bed and it’s clearly never been washed. You say your goodbyes knowing that this spot is pretty much bust free, especially if you bring a packet of treats.

Vital Statistics:
Threat Level 3/10
Productivity 2/10
Athleticism 0/10
Walkie Talkie Usage 4/10
Chattability 7/10