Fri 25th August 2000

1937 HRS

I’ve told family about my magnificent coup. Clint said it was fantastic news and that I’ve done really well. He acted as if he was genuinely pleased for me. Ha ha ha, oh to be so bitter and to have to hide it so well, well that won’t do his health any good but then I suppose he better get use to it as he’ll have a lifetime congratulating me on my amazing successes while he stands idly by and marvels. Miller however was TOO bloody happy! He already thinks that it’ll be the Miller show! He’s even thought up a catchphrase for himself ‘Dribblylicious’ his new word to replace ‘cool’. I’ve told him that if he puts one foot out of line, he’s nuts will have a date with my size nines. However not all my family were so enthusiastic. Mom, Dad and Marie all seemed upset about a TV crew being here. Why? They just can’t stand my brilliance; it’s as if my brilliance makes them realize what losers they are!

Anyway, I can’t let myself be distracted by this at the moment as its mission time. I’m ready to go and secretly mingle with the local yokels in The Queens Legs. I’ve taken off my slick glossy shirt and tie, put away my designer glasses, messed my hair up and I’ve peeled one of Millers crude t-shirts off of his bedroom floor. I didn’t iron it (must fit in with the common people). I also managed to find a pair of his jeans which weren’t caked in old crusty vomit, nor had an old pair of discarded skiddy pants left inside them. I ALMOST put on some aftershave but luckily didn’t, they’ll sniff me out if I don’t spell of piss. Lucky escape.

Right, so now I look the part, well almost. My beard growing op has gone a bit awry. I’ve never tried growing a beard before, and all I’ve seemed to have grown is some bristle beneath my nose, which has a kinda Hitler shape about it. No time to shave now though, must dash. Watch out Queens Legs, big Cox is coming!

2232 HRS

Whattt Hell hol ave I moved to?!?!? What a terriblle, horrendous nnnnight. Cam’t type propaa….hands shking too muchjh!

2258 HRS

I’ve had to get myself a drink, calm the nerves… a pint of coke with a splosh of vodka.

Just after my last log entry I went straight off to carry out my plan. Bloody Clint, this is all his fault, him and his stupid feckin karaoke contest…anyway, so yeah, I headed off to steal us some customers for Clints BASTARD first karaoke heat on Sunday
I manage to get inside the Queens Legs without detection and discovered it was as scabby and dirty as I imagined it would be. The carpet was like sticky shit and all the lights were off. It would have been pitch black if it wasn’t for the blinding strobe lights going mental. The music was far too loud, terrible karaoke noise. There was hardly any room to move, I could barely make my way through the packed crowd to get to the bar, and how they make money if people can’t get to the bar I don’t know. They very clearly have no idea how to run a business properly. I didn’t want to spend a minute longer in the shit hole, so I decided to get to work straight away. It was clear that people needed to learn about the much better quality of pub that was now operating under my superior rule just up the road. Those bastards should have thanked me, there I was, certainly a class above them all, willing to allow that rabble into my establishment….but they didn’t thank me…not at all! This is what happened.

After I got myself a half weak shandy, served with a smug laugh for some reason, probably because they know they are robbing me blind for paying for such watered down piss, I sat myself down next to the only person in the whole place who was wearing a suit, a good place to start I thought. He was all by himself at the end of the bar and was trying to read a newspaper. Poor sod I thought, he was just typical of the sort of person I wanted to save from the dive. He clearly looked like a respectable fella, a tall solid man, with fine graying hair and a kind face. He obviously just wanted a pint after a hard day at the office and to be able to read his newspaper and unfortunately for him the only pub he could go to was this crass, vulgar place. I lent in close to him and began speaking into his ear

“You look smart sir”, I said, wanting to start on a friendly note “do you come here often?”

The man looked a bit startled, but I just put this down to him obviously not being use to being spoken to in anything other than the grunts that’s half the blokes around us looked like they communicated with. Anyway, he looked a bit taken aback but he was listening still, so I smiled and got a little closer so that he could hear me over the terrible karaoke racket.

“Would you like to go somewhere else” I asked


“Would you like to go somewhere a bit quieter with me, somewhere a bit more relaxing and enjoyable for you?”

“What!” he shouted, still clearly finding it hard to hear me, so I put my lips as near to his near as possible.


I don’t know what he thought I said, the music being the nuisance it was, but he started pushing me, shouting at me. I tried to get close to him again so that he could hear me properly but he kept pushing me away until I tripped and fell to the floor. I thought he was going to crash a stool over my head but the song being sung ended and I was able to quickly make myself clear to him.

“I’m from the Royal Ship up the road” I screamed, and luckily this seemed to stop him dropping a cask iron bar chair on me. “I was just trying to tell you that you don’t need to drink in this shit hole, this fecking dive! I’ve taken over the pub just up the street and it is everything that this place isn’t. It has class; it doesn’t smell shit, look shit, or sound shit. This place is full of dick heads, my place isn’t!

I soon realized that there was a silence, that no song had replaced the one that had previously ended and that everyone was looking at me lying on the floor calling them all dickheads. I pretty quickly realized that most of those dickheads were now stood around me and swiftly had me up in the air. There was a massive uproar and for a moment there was utter chaos and confusion. I was being pushed and passed around a sea of vile, crude, angry faces of men and women. I looked haplessly for the man I had been speaking to, hoping that he would realize that I was trying to help him, and that he would come to my rescue and help me. After what felt like an eternity I found myself pushed onto the karaoke stage and forced to sit down on a chair by two big shirtless sweaty bald gorillas. The crowd of people was positively medieval, they wanted blood and were shouting all sorts of punishments that these brutes should dole out to me. In that moment I knew how Jesus must have felt, how he tried to help those around him and ended up being bitch slapped. People began laughing, pointing, making out that I was crying, but I swear I wasn’t, it was sweat running off my brow, though I was quite happy they didn’t notice that I had pissed myself.

Suddenly everyone went quiet. The crowd parted and the suited gentleman made his way to the stage. He dismissed the two thugs whose hands had been clamped to the back on my neck and arms and I felt relieved that I was being saved, that this man was obviously respected and that he would tell the people how wrong they were, perhaps even pointing out that the pub that they were in was obviously infecting their behavior in a negative way and that a more classy establishment would be better for those in the crowd who didn’t want to be surrounded by members who belonged to the dregs of society. However he said nothing, well nothing I could hear. He whispered something into one of the thug’s ear and then something into the other thug’s ear. I went to stand up to embrace my savior but I was quickly thrown violently back into my seat and once again held there. The man did nothing to assist me and it was then that I suspected that perhaps he was not there to help me at all.

One of the big bare chested men quickly jumped off of the stage and started gesturing directions to the crowd, moving amongst them, whispering instructions to them. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, other than the fact that I was the only person in the pub who was not laughing, whooping or cheering.

After a few minutes it became clear that the rabble of drunks, louts, hags and low lives were forming a long queue in front of the stage, in front of me! Then the suited man, who had been standing mutedly at my side, strolled across to the karaoke machine and picked up a microphone

“Hello everybody,” his shrill voice booming from the gigantic speakers that hung from every corner of my hell hole, “are you having a good night?”

“YES” roared the crowd

“Great, good, superb, mega. Well I wish everyone was, but as you probably heard, this young gentleman here….what’s your name son?”

“Jacob” I stuttered

“Jacob what?”

“Jacob Cox”

“Aw, Cock, well everybody, Cock here was not having a good time, in fact he came right up to me and told me so, not so kindly explaining that my pub is a shit hole, and that you all are shit heads, sorry, he didn’t say that…dick heads, you are all dick heads and that a fine looking man like myself should not be amongst the dick heads”

At this point the crowd started booing me, throwing beer over me and anything else that they had in their hands, like it was some kind of adult pantomime.

“Well I didn’t think that was very nice, was that very nice?....”

“NOOOO” shouted the crowd

“No, I thought not, in fact I thought it was quite naughty…how naughty?”

“Fucking naughty” “Super naughty” “Very naughty” were some of the voices that rung out from the crowd

“Yes, VERY naughty, and what do we do to naughty boys ladies and gentlemen?”

And all together the crowd shouted “SMACK’EM”

Suddenly I found myself uprooted, tossed up into the air and slammed back to the ground on my chest, before being hurled up and bounded over the chair I had been sat on. Then Millers jeans were forcibly removed, leaving me completely bottomless, naked from the waist down. I was in utter shock! I really feared for my bum virginity.

“Yes ladies and gentlemen, we smack naughty boys, so that they learn not to be naughty again” and with that the suited man dropped his mic and gave me an almighty slap on the ass, the pain from which was white hot. He was quickly followed by all the men and women in the queue, who took their turn to spank me. I was like a fair ground ride, people were posing next to my red ass to have their photos taken! I think I passed out for a moment, but I soon woke up when I heard the suited man voice from the speakers again.

“Hello everybody, are you having fun?”


“Mega, brilliant, fantastic. Well I want to make an announcement. It looks like the Royal Ship is hosting a karaoke contest” The suited man was holding up a flyer, a flyer that I had in my pocket, one which Clint had handed to me earlier in the day. “And apparently it is going to be the best karaoke contest in the WHOLE Southwest, not just the best in town folk, but the BEST in the WHOLE of the Southwest. Well who would miss that aye?”

“MEEEE!” screamed the crowd

“What? You’re not going to go to the BEST bar in town, well where are you gonna go?”

“HERE!!!!” screamed the cheering queue, which was halfway through pummeling my now bamboo bum.

“What, this shithole, ha ha ha, you’re too kind. Well because you are SOOOO kind, and so good to be gracing us with your presence, I’ll tell you what, we’ll have our very own karaoke contest here…starting SUNDAY!!!!!!”

The crowd went mental.

“Spread the word, the best karaoke competition start here on Sunday!”

Then Mr Suit man stopped a old couple who were taking photos of each other making my ass.

“Hey, stop that” he said in a fake kind voice “you’ll hurt it!” Everyone looked at him and me in confusion

“Hurt what?” I heard a little old lady say

“Mr Bunny!” Answered Mr. Suit man, who pointed to the embarrassingly large lodge of bum fluff between my red bum cheeks. The crowd erupted like they had just witnessed a Beatles reunion suddenly before them. “I THINK IT LOOKS A BIT PEEKY, A BIT ILL” he shouted to be heard over the roar of laughter. He then held up a rather large carrot. “SHOULD WE FEED IT AND MAKE IT FEEL BETTER?”

“YES” screamed the crowd

“Nooooo!” screamed me.

I kicked, bite, slapped and struggled to break free. Eventually I saw Mr Suit man wave his hand at the giant who had his huge arms wrapped around me and I was let go. Like a trapped rat I saw my chance to escape and flew through the cackling crowd and out of the door and I ran as fast as my little bare legs could carry me up the road. My keys were in Millers jeans, which were still inside the Queens Legs, so I had no choice but to run through the main entrance of my own pub, and passed the only person who was inside, my mother, who………………………………….

2342 HRS

Fuckity FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I fear I have unleashed the devil. I didn’t finish my last entry because Mom burst into my room asking why I had ran half naked through the pub with a red monkey ass. Stupidly, perhaps the most stupid, most dangerous mistake I have ever made, I told her everything and made things a whole lot worse!


  1. What happens????

  2. Ok, gotta know what happened next!

  3. Hello

    My name is Scott Evans, author of Memoirs of a bar steward. It may interest you to know that after a mini break I have began uploading new entries from Jacob on his blog site at

    Best regards

    Scott Evans