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Kickstarter campaign for our animated Bar Stewards project



From the 31st October Kickstarter will be available to the UK. I have set up a campaign for The Bar Stewards. You can preview it at http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1557663821/21277105?token=e486f934 but it will not go live until the 31st.

The aim of the campaign is to raise awareness of our animation project and to raise funds to finance our initial promotional trailer. You can read all about it by following the link

Cartoon show

Memoirs of a bar steward is currently being turned into a cartoon animation. You can follow the progress of the show and even get involved at www.facebook.com/thebarstewards











(NEW) Fri 25th August 2000: 2355 HRS

What have I done? Why did I do it? What on Earth made me tell my Mother what had just FECKING happened!?!?!?!?? All of that bum pounding (the none knobbing kind) had obviously rattled my brain! In my crazed mind I must have been telling my Mother so that she would make things better. Fucking section me now! Asking my Mom to help this better is like waggling a bloodied hand in front of a lion and asking it to kiss it better! Geezus. Right.... Well this is what I remember.

I’d ran passed me Mother and she obviously spotted something was wrong (Moms can sense these things can’t they, and of cause I was half naked with a big red bum so that might have been a clue as well). I ran up stairs and threw myself onto my bed. Thank God Miller or any of the lads weren’t there, but maybe it would have been better if they had, maybe then I would have been too busy trying to explain to them why I was pantless and red arsed (I’m sure Miller would have had his own suggestions), but no they were not there, Mom was. She burst into the room and asked why in the love of Jesus and all the sweet little babies was I running around with my carrot and spuds flapping about? At first I think I was in too much shock to answer her so then she just sat down next to me and stared at me. She must be a fecking Jedi because the next thing I know I’m sobbing my eyes out with my head buried in between her Mom cushions, wailing like a fat kid given green food. Big fucking biblical tears, like a God crying over the wickedness of his children, but there is no Noah in this bastard town, let my tears drown’em all. There I was, a saviour, offering to lead them along a path to a better life in my Royal Kingdom! I wanted to give them something beautiful, instead they wanna rock with the snake in the suit and eat his apples. I wasn’t crying for me, I was crying for them! Unfortunately whilst I am God I had forgotten that before me was the Devil packaged as a tiny little helpless old lady. Before I knew it I had told my mother everything, and then I realised I wasn’t wrapped around her like a newborn baby anymore, no, she had dropped me to the floor and now was stood in front of me. She wasn’t saying anything, she wasn’t even looking at me. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!

It was as if I suddenly woke up with a fright, but I hadn’t woken up, I was still in the middle of this nightmare. I was like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2 when she dreams about the nuclear bomb going off. I was looking at my Mother as if she was that atomic blast in the distance and I sat there braced for the explosion to engulf me. I held my breath in shock, waiting for her to erupt like a dragon breaking free of its chains and...........................and nothing, she said nothing, she did not roar and then I really shit myself (not literally, especially since I had no pants on either).

My mother walked out of the room. Fuck! I went to run after her but remembered I was still running about like a kid at a priests house. I quickly threw on some jog bottoms (further proof of my insanity) and ran after her. My mother had made her way to the living room, where she was stood silent still. Mom screaming and shouting is scary but Mother silent is fucking terrifying because you know the clogs in her mind are going ten to the dozen, thinking up some terrible horrible plan. She stood stone still. I was just about to open my mouth to try and take back what I had told her when suddenly her little cardigan clad arm flew out like a spiked ball on a mace and smashed our big old TV screen into a million little pieces. Before I could react to that I found something thrusted into my arms. A gun, a big fucking gun, the sort of gun that Tackleberry would be envious of. As I looked up from the cannon in my hand I noticed that Mom was hauling out a stockpile of small hand guns and little black machine guns from inside of the TV.

“Where’s ya fecking brothers?” Mother bawled at me. In my shock I was muted. “Where’s the fecking’ell is Miller and Clint ya bleedin ittle idiot. Come on now, speak up or I bloody well will be giving ya something to cry about, ay?”

I must have spluttered that they were out. She muttered something about us being a bunch of useless.....well lets just say what she said would break the TV bleep machine.... and she was off with more guns hanging off of her than Rambo and the Terminator combined, and looking twice as vicious. She was yelling for Marie (never Dad) but I had to tell Mom that she was out too, staying at her new friends house. If Dad was about, then not surprisingly he wasn’t showing himself. I tried to block Mom from getting outside. I threw myself at her like a rugby player, trying to catch her feet (I was pretty sure she wouldn’t shoot me) but like a whippet she dodged me and flew even faster down our long corridor heading for the private way out. As I lifted my head off of the floor I just has enough time to notice Mother grabbing her long knitted coat off of a hangar and watched as she vanished out of the back door into the darkness outside. I heard thunder tearing through the sky and rain began to pour down. Here comes the tears to drown us all. As I got to the door I could see Mother sprinting down the short road to blow the Queens Legs apart and to give her a pounding of her own. I bolted after her.

I got to my Mother just before she got to the Queens Legs front entrance and I managed to grab her by the shoulders. She tried to knee me in the nuts but from experience I twisted out of the way until she stopped. I must have been brave or still crazy because she had what looked like mini uzi’s in both hands. Now you may be wondering why my Mother wasn’t being kinder to me after my encounter with the savage natives but Moms wrath was more about family pride and duty and she wasn’t about to let anyone, even me stop her but I had to try for all our sakes. As the rain soaked us to the bone, and the wind and thunder roared and exploded all around (as if Hell was coming to the Queens Legs with us) I begged my Mom to listen to me but nothing was stopping her, so I let go of her shoulders, stepped back and put the cannon in my hands to my head. This got her attention.

“I thought you wanted to get away from all of this (I said eyeing the weapons that clung to her and the gun in my hand), I thought you wanted a new life away from violence, gangs, wars. Mom if you go in there its game over! You haven’t got your gang around you here, you’re giving me guns, calling for the lads, screaming for Maria. Is that what you want? I thought the whole point we came down here is so that we, your kids, wouldn’t get sucked into all that, to get Miller away before he got himself killed. If you go in there you will bring the family down, and I’m not on about us down here here, I mean you will literally bring the family down, the O’Shea’s. For all of your disagreements Uncle Connor, you know full well, wouldn’t let you go to prison, he’ll have the whole clan down here taking out witnesses and half the police probably and then he’ll have you in his pocket! (I could see this struck a cord) You will be honour bound to him and before you know it he will have all of us back in Brum to help him on his mad quest for glory and fortune. Don’t do this Mom, please”

Mother said nothing but her actions were loud enough. She put both uzi’s in her deep woolly pockets and then held out her hand for the weapon she had given me. Thank Gawd I thought (I never intended to shoot myself and deprive the world of myself). With relief almost flooring me I handed Mom the gun..........and then she floored me with a knee in the nuts. ‘Fecking idiot’ she mumbled as I cradled my love spuds. By the time I lifted my face out of a muddy puddle Mom had gotten inside the pub.

I quickly followed expecting to see bloody mayhem but the pub was empty. Closing time had come and went and all of the Queens Legs revellers had gone home, all except Mr Suit and two massive thug bouncers either side of him, all sat around a dim lit corner of the pub playing a game of cards. They hadn’t noticed my Mother until I came bursting through the door screaming after her. They looked momentarily shocked until they quickly realised it was me and then their expressions turned to huge toothy grins as they assumed that my Mommy had come along to tell off the nasty boys who had been ‘orrible to her precious little baby. The fools.

Mom walked across the darkened dance floor towards them with her coat firmly concealing the weapons about her. I could see her little head darting all around the room and I quickly realised that she was eyeing up where all the security cameras were. She eventually stood in front of the three laughing Stooges. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and waited for the gun shots to ring out, but there was nothing, well nothing except the sound of laughter, which was suddenly brought to a halt by Mr Suit.

“Are you this delightful young man’s mother dear?” he asked, followed by more chuckles and and elbow digs to the men either side of him. My Mom gave no answer. “Maybe you’ve heard about what happened here earlier and come down for a little spanking of your own aye luv?”

I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth and waited for the gun shots to ring out, but again there was still nothing other than Mr Suits voice. I walked over to my Mother hoping that what I had said outside had finally sunken in, maybe it had dawned on her that I was right. I tugged at her arm, gesturing for us to go but as I got closer she put her hands into her pockets.

“You’ve got until Monday” said my Mother to Mr Suit

“Come again love?” he answered, again breaking into laughs and ribbing his men either side of him.

“You’ve got until Monday to publically apologise to my son, in front of everyone” continued my Mother in a very low, slow quiet voice.

“Or what aye, or you’ll come and smack my arse luv. Well you can do that right now if you want” Said Mr Suit and in a flash he had leapt onto the table, dropped his pants and revealed his own arse. For all that was going on I remember being rather pissed off at what a hypocrite Mr Suit was, for his own bumhole was hairier than mine (maybe I’m not so weird after all?).

Yet again I expected my Mothers usual temper to take over this new found control she seem to had gotten and give Mr Suit bumfluff a uzi hair cut but she just turned on her heels and headed back out. I quickly followed her. As we walked away my Mother shouted ‘Monday’ one last final time. The three men at the table laughed as they watched us walking slowly away.

“I’ll not be in anybody's pocket Jacob” my Mother said in a clenched jaw hiss.

I stopped and watched her walk up the road, back to her own castle. From inside the Queens Legs I could still hear Mr Suit and his men laughing. All that they had seen was a little tiny old helpless lady but all that I can see is the numbers counting down on a massive nuclear bomb.

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NEXT: If you want to read what happens next, let me know. If you ask for the next entry I will get it uploaded. Either leave a comment here or email me at scott.evans@live.co.uk


New Jacob Cox posts coming in OCT 2011 Join Facebook or Twitter page to get..............

It has been quite a while since the last Jacob Cox entries were posted up and I know many of you are wondering what will happen next. Well, I will start posting up new entries very very soon, so if you want to be updated when those new diary entries have been posted up, join the Bar Steward Facebook or Twitter pages


Memoirs of a bar steward: The animation

Here is the completed artwork for Memoirs of a bar steward, which will be used to promote the idea of it being turned into an animated TV series. I will keep you updated with any new news i have on this.

Hello everybody

It's been a while since I last posted but you may be interested to know that my design studio is working on a proposal to turn Memoirs of a bar steward into a animated show. Here are some images of the work in progress. There are more characters to come and I will get up the completed poster as soon as it is produced.

Let me know if you can guess whose whose.