The height of cruelty

Meet < random Sheffield inhabitant >, who had a bad bad day at the office and was unfortunate enough to forget proper firearm safety. Read about it here.
Short version: he decided his pocket was a good place to transport a shotgun and blasted away a part of himself that rhymes with "dolls". Unsurprisingly, alcohol was a factor. (This is Yorkshire, friend. Alcohol is always involved).

To rub salt in the wound (*laughs weakly at that phrase*), he not only lost *ahem* a body part (or two), but also his freedom. He was booked for "possession of an illegal firearm". Yep, no one has heard about leniency to an injured man, at least not in Sheffield. Go on, yer honour, kick a guy in the nuts when he's down. *thinks a minute*. Oh wait...

Now imagine if you will, when he comes out of the carsey, what if he gets a job as a doorman at some club (or at a harem, even. There is historical precedent for such employment, ye know). And this club goes in for unusually decorated doors, like this one. (Not particularly safe for work). There you go. The height of cruelty.

At least Darwin will be pleased about this.