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.
Do you want to know what happens next?
Do you want to know how Jacobs Mother reacts when she finds out what has happened to her son?
Do you want to know what happens when the Rock star and the Porn star comes to stay?
Do you want to know what Jacobs father is up to, or even his little sister?
Do you want to know if Jacob will see his Winky again?
If so get in touch. Put a comment here or email me on scott.evans@live.co.uk. If enough people want to know more then it is waiting to be uploaded.
Follow Memoirs of a bar steward on Facebook or Twitter for updates on when entries from Jacob Cox are posted:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Memoirs-of-a-bar-steward/144308792255094
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BarStewardDiary
Do you want to know what happens when the Rock star and the Porn star comes to stay?
Do you want to know what Jacobs father is up to, or even his little sister?
Do you want to know if Jacob will see his Winky again?
If so get in touch. Put a comment here or email me on scott.evans@live.co.uk. If enough people want to know more then it is waiting to be uploaded.
Follow Memoirs of a bar steward on Facebook or Twitter for updates on when entries from Jacob Cox are posted:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Memoirs-of-a-bar-steward/144308792255094
Twitter: http://twitter.com/BarStewardDiary
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
“Aye?”
“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.
“LOOK, COME WITH ME AND I CAN SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME AT MY PLACE”
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?”
“YESSSS!!!!!!!!!!!”
“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!
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
“Aye?”
“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.
“LOOK, COME WITH ME AND I CAN SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME AT MY PLACE”
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?”
“YESSSS!!!!!!!!!!!”
“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!
20.42 HRS
20.42 HRS
OMG SOMETHING AMAZING HAS JUST HAPPENED!!! I’m sure I mentioned it a few days ago; well one of my big ideas was to get some free publicity (it was idea number 3 on my list). I’ve been emailing celebrities and offering them the chance to drink and stay here for free. The idea was that they would turn up and then I’d let the press know, and then all of their fans would turn this place in to some kinda Mecca and flock ere, thus making us a fortune while we exploit them. On TV at the moment there is a reality program about an old 80’s rocker and his famous porno model girlfriend, well they were one of the people that I emailed and just ten minutes ago their manager rang me up. He said (in real bad cock-knee) that the couple (Mick Champagne and his partner Sunshine) would love to come and stay with us and enjoy our kind offer of free booze. He asked if I minded if the TV crew came with them too. Do I mind? I almost fell off my fucking chair. I played it dead cool though and said the more the merrier. I’ve hit the fucking jackpot! I’m such a fucking genius. I’m gonna be rich! Probably famous too. When people see such cool celebs in my pub, everyone in and out of town is gonna queue around the block to get in here. My family will have to queue to kiss my hairy ass in thanks of my mightiness, for all the money I will make us! The manager (Chas) asked if it was okay if Mick and Sunshine came down this Saturday and Sunday because they are flying out to America next week to record a new album together. I said that was fine and that we would look forward to having’em.
I’m more determined than ever now to get as many people as possible out of The Queens Legs tomorrow and into here. I want this pub looking busy when the cameras are rolling. I want the whole of the UK to see what kind of pub this is…OH SHIT! Fuck fuck fuck. It’s the Bakers birthday party on Sunday SHITTTTTTTT!
OMG SOMETHING AMAZING HAS JUST HAPPENED!!! I’m sure I mentioned it a few days ago; well one of my big ideas was to get some free publicity (it was idea number 3 on my list). I’ve been emailing celebrities and offering them the chance to drink and stay here for free. The idea was that they would turn up and then I’d let the press know, and then all of their fans would turn this place in to some kinda Mecca and flock ere, thus making us a fortune while we exploit them. On TV at the moment there is a reality program about an old 80’s rocker and his famous porno model girlfriend, well they were one of the people that I emailed and just ten minutes ago their manager rang me up. He said (in real bad cock-knee) that the couple (Mick Champagne and his partner Sunshine) would love to come and stay with us and enjoy our kind offer of free booze. He asked if I minded if the TV crew came with them too. Do I mind? I almost fell off my fucking chair. I played it dead cool though and said the more the merrier. I’ve hit the fucking jackpot! I’m such a fucking genius. I’m gonna be rich! Probably famous too. When people see such cool celebs in my pub, everyone in and out of town is gonna queue around the block to get in here. My family will have to queue to kiss my hairy ass in thanks of my mightiness, for all the money I will make us! The manager (Chas) asked if it was okay if Mick and Sunshine came down this Saturday and Sunday because they are flying out to America next week to record a new album together. I said that was fine and that we would look forward to having’em.
I’m more determined than ever now to get as many people as possible out of The Queens Legs tomorrow and into here. I want this pub looking busy when the cameras are rolling. I want the whole of the UK to see what kind of pub this is…OH SHIT! Fuck fuck fuck. It’s the Bakers birthday party on Sunday SHITTTTTTTT!
Thurs 24th August 2000
Thurs 24th August 2000
1811 HRS
My plan today was to sit in the office and work out every last fine detail of what I’m gonna do when I’m inside the Queens Legs tomorrow. I’ve gotta slip in undetected, get what I want, then pull out fast! It’s such a great plan, I’m almost giddy with excitement because it is gonna feel great doing it, even though someone like me shouldn’t have to go into such a shit hole. God my family don’t deserve me and my brilliance. After yesterday I almost felt like saying bollocks to the pub, bollocks to the lot’em. Let’em roll in the shit they make for themselves, but then I remember that I’m not doing this for them, this is for me. Tomorrow is when my Empire grows like a beautiful flower out of compost. Though it’s quite hard for such a wonderful rose to grow when the shit keeps getting piled on.
Every two minutes there was a knock at the office door. First Curly asking for a hand with the beer delivery (really, would a maid ask a King for a hand serving the dinner?), so I told him not to be so bleedin cheeky and bugger off. Then Miller rung down to the office phone and asked me for some money to make the fat woman in his bed go away (he swore he never knew she was a prossy). I had Clint badgering me every two minutes about his crappy Karaoke contest. He wanted to discuss what sort of ad we should put in the local paper and how we should organize the event. I didn’t have time for his stupid little plans, not when I have a proper master plan to sort out! Then there was Marie. She didn’t knock on my door. In fact she was very quiet today, which worried me even more. All day I saw her on my CCTV, sat huddled in the corner of the pub, but she wasn’t on her own. It seems Marie has a new little friend, a little ginger head lad. White as ice cream, he has the kinda dead blue eyes you would see in a horror film. The sight of the pair of them hunched over a piece of paper finally got the better of me and so I went out to inspect what they were up to. Maria, being as sharp as a vicious cat, quickly noticed me coming and I saw her snatch the paper in front of her, into her fist.
“You two okay?” I kindly asked
“Fuck off spac face” came the charming response from my little sister. Many times I have wondered if I could convince a court that I was not a child abuser if I punched the little fecker in the head, but British justice being what it is I thought I’d best not try my luck and so let her remark go. I turned to the boy and asked him if he would like a drink (best treat him nice, then he can tell his family what a lovely pub his new friends family has). He didn’t say anything; he just seemed to stare at me with pant shitting frightened eyes.
“Come on Macky, we’re going outside now!” my sister shouted to the little boy. She jumped off of her chair and darted out of the front door, with the strange little lad quickly following after her. For the rest of the day I saw the pair on my office CCTV coming in and out of the pub, the whole time Marie’s new friend seemed glued to her side, though he looked like he didn’t actually wanna be anywhere near her. I’ll have to keep an eye on her, cos no one else will. I’m sure she is up to no good.
1811 HRS
My plan today was to sit in the office and work out every last fine detail of what I’m gonna do when I’m inside the Queens Legs tomorrow. I’ve gotta slip in undetected, get what I want, then pull out fast! It’s such a great plan, I’m almost giddy with excitement because it is gonna feel great doing it, even though someone like me shouldn’t have to go into such a shit hole. God my family don’t deserve me and my brilliance. After yesterday I almost felt like saying bollocks to the pub, bollocks to the lot’em. Let’em roll in the shit they make for themselves, but then I remember that I’m not doing this for them, this is for me. Tomorrow is when my Empire grows like a beautiful flower out of compost. Though it’s quite hard for such a wonderful rose to grow when the shit keeps getting piled on.
Every two minutes there was a knock at the office door. First Curly asking for a hand with the beer delivery (really, would a maid ask a King for a hand serving the dinner?), so I told him not to be so bleedin cheeky and bugger off. Then Miller rung down to the office phone and asked me for some money to make the fat woman in his bed go away (he swore he never knew she was a prossy). I had Clint badgering me every two minutes about his crappy Karaoke contest. He wanted to discuss what sort of ad we should put in the local paper and how we should organize the event. I didn’t have time for his stupid little plans, not when I have a proper master plan to sort out! Then there was Marie. She didn’t knock on my door. In fact she was very quiet today, which worried me even more. All day I saw her on my CCTV, sat huddled in the corner of the pub, but she wasn’t on her own. It seems Marie has a new little friend, a little ginger head lad. White as ice cream, he has the kinda dead blue eyes you would see in a horror film. The sight of the pair of them hunched over a piece of paper finally got the better of me and so I went out to inspect what they were up to. Maria, being as sharp as a vicious cat, quickly noticed me coming and I saw her snatch the paper in front of her, into her fist.
“You two okay?” I kindly asked
“Fuck off spac face” came the charming response from my little sister. Many times I have wondered if I could convince a court that I was not a child abuser if I punched the little fecker in the head, but British justice being what it is I thought I’d best not try my luck and so let her remark go. I turned to the boy and asked him if he would like a drink (best treat him nice, then he can tell his family what a lovely pub his new friends family has). He didn’t say anything; he just seemed to stare at me with pant shitting frightened eyes.
“Come on Macky, we’re going outside now!” my sister shouted to the little boy. She jumped off of her chair and darted out of the front door, with the strange little lad quickly following after her. For the rest of the day I saw the pair on my office CCTV coming in and out of the pub, the whole time Marie’s new friend seemed glued to her side, though he looked like he didn’t actually wanna be anywhere near her. I’ll have to keep an eye on her, cos no one else will. I’m sure she is up to no good.
Weds 23rd August 2000
2249 Hrs
You know you’re having a bad day when the rest of the family are acting worse than Miller!
I was sitting in the office earlier, working out how I should best liberate customers from the Queen’s legs on Friday, when I noticed a little hoody raiding the till. I didn’t go out and unleash hell unto the fiend because the thief was none other than my baby sister Marie. By the time I dashed out of the office, she was stood on a chair, playing the fruit machine. I told the little brat to get off at once and return whatever money she had left to the till. I won’t repeat what she said back to me. Had anyone been witness to it, they would have thought that she was the vile mouthed girl out of the Exorcist, but they would have been wrong. She is not possessed by the Devil, but possessed by my Mother’s nature. Of all of us, little Marie is truly an O’Shea child. After she had stopped shouting, and accusing me of getting in the way of her winning the jackpot, I told her once more to get off the chair and get out of the bar. She then slapped me and told me to f-off or she’d do me.
I had no choice but to go and tell on her. I couldn’t find Mom as she was out walking her demon dog, but Curly told me that he had seen Dad go down into the cellar.
As I made my way down the deadly loose stairs that descend into our pit of a cellar, I saw my Father crouched over one of our beer barrels, with a large tube in his hand. It didn’t take me too long to realize that he was putting liquids back into the barrel. Watering the beer down would have been bad enough, but Dad was actually putting old beer, from the slope bucket behind the bar, back into the barrel.
‘DAD!’ I shouted, immediately displaying my utter contempt for what he was doing ‘what do you think you are playing at?’
You would have thought that he would be all coy and embarrassed at being caught doing something so deceitful and disgusting, but then I suppose you don’t know my Dad. Of course he wasn’t remorseful. He tried to pass it off as normal pub practice and then rounded on me for shouting at him.
‘If you get caught doing this, we would be fined massively. I could lose my license!’
‘Everyone does it J. I can’t afford to pay the breweries prices. They’re way over the top. I need to keep the costs down some way or another.’
‘I don’t care Dad. You’ll get caught. You AWLAYS get caught!’
‘I’ve got worse things to worry about that the brewery finding out’
‘What?’
‘Look, never you fucking mind what! I’m doing what is needed to be done to keep this place going! What are you doing, how are you helping? All you do is moan, moan, moan. I bet you’ve come down here to moan about something or someone’
‘No I haven’t’
‘So what do you want?’
‘I came down to ask if you wanted a cup of tea actually’
‘You lying little bastard. I can tell when you’re lying. Stop worrying about what I’m, or anyone else is doing, and be more concerned about yourself! What are you doing useful at the moment?’
‘I’ve been looking over the books’
‘How’s that going to help us’
‘Well it’s what managers do. They look at the books’
‘Managers get people in. Managers get money in! What are you doing to promote Clint’s karaoke competition? It’s the first heat on Sunday and so far I’ve only seen your brother running around putting posters up.’
‘Well I’m doing something much better than that. I’m doing something on Friday that will have this place heaving’
‘What’s that then?’
‘You’ll see’
‘So you’re doing nothing then’
‘I fecking well am! So get back to sticking the old fag ashed beer back into the barrels, and leave me to act like the only professional person working in this place!’
So after putting my father well and truly in his place I stomped back upstairs, just in time to see Marie collect her 150.00 jackpot out of the fruit machine and celebrate by giving me a one finger salute.
A couple of hours later I thought I had a reason to be happy. I should have learnt by now however that fate conspires against me.
At about three o’clock this afternoon we had quite a few people come in for food. The weather had been glorious this morning and so Babbacombe was busy with tourists, but when it started to rain we benefited from some of those people coming into here for shelter. So once again Kung Fu Phil was running around the kitchen like a headless chicken when the food orders started coming in fast. A particular couple, an old pair in their 50’s, ordered sausages in buns. I was busy serving drinks while Clint took orders, Curly brought out the food and Miller slept in bed. I imagine Dad was still in the cellar fiddling the drinks. Anyway, I had to go into the kitchen to get some glasses out of the washer where I was confronted by Kung Fu Phil’s bare ass. Not only was I staring directly as Phil’s saggy, battered love cushions, but I was shocked to find him mincing around the kitchen with a large sausage wedged up his bum like a tail, wagging side to side.
‘What the HELL are you doing Phil?’
Phil dropped the meat and turned around in surprise. Now you would think that he would be all coy and embarrassed at being caught doing something so disgraceful and disgusting, but then I suppose you don’t know our chef. Of course he wasn’t remorseful. He tried to pass it off as normal kitchen practice and then rounded on me for shouting at him.
‘This is what you should expect if you insult a chef’ he shouted, whilst wedging the sausage back between his bottom in defiance.
‘How have you been insulted Phil?’
‘The bitch sent her meal back’
‘Why?’
‘She said it was ‘too cold’ he answered in a mock feminine voice.
‘Well that sounds fair enough’
‘Well if she’d had eaten it when Pubic head brought it out to her, instead of chatting away to lover boy, it would have been warm enough! Well if she’s gonna talk shit, she can fucking eat it too!’
At this point Phil yanked the sausage from his arse and rubbed his tiny knob on it for good measure. He then slapped it back into the bun it had originally came from and shouted for Curly, who promptly appeared.
‘Take this back out to the ol’cow and tell her to enjoy’
I quickly snatched the plate off of Curly and told him he would do no such thing.
‘Get your stuff Phil, YOU’RE FIRED. Now fuck off you spotted arse weirdo’
‘You’re not the boss of me, you jumped up, spoilt little mummy boy’
It took every last restraint in my body not to ram the hotdog into his face.
‘You’re quite right, I am not your boss, because YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED. NOW PISS OFF!’
It looked like Phil was about to advance on me and try some of his moves, but luckily for him my Dad appeared.
‘What’s all this fucking noise about? All we can hear out there is fucking this, and fucking that. Watch your fucking language will you!’
‘You’re boy ere has just told me that I’m fired’
‘You’ve done what Jacob?’
‘That’s right Dad. I’ve just walked in here and found gay boy there with a customers sausage up his chocolate factory. Of course I’ve fecking sacked him!’
‘You did what Phil?’
‘That’s right. That stupid old bird out there was pulling my plonker, taking the piss and I was showing her what we do to people like her in the trade! So Johnny, is Jacob right? Am I fired?’
To my astonishment Dad yanked the plate out of my hands, handed it to Curly and told him to give it back to the silly old twat. He then apologized to Phil about me, and ordered me out of the kitchen. In case I didn’t make myself clear, he basically told Phil that he was not fired and made me look like a tit. I left with the image of Phil’s smug face violently burnt into my mind.
As I walked out of the kitchen I saw this silver haired lady delighted to have her meal back. I felt sick, but then I didn’t know whether to feel a little better when the dirty old cow started making crude oral sexual gestures with the hotdog, for the benefit of the old man. My stomach however couldn’t take anymore and I quickly took off after my Dad, leaving Clint to man the bar.
‘What the hell was that about Dad? You’ve just made me look like some sort of moron. You should have been as eager to drown the stupid fecker in the dish water as I was’
‘Oh Jacob, you are so inexperienced aren’t you. This is how the trade works. The beer fiddling, the sausage abuse, it’s all part of the trade. You just need to wise up’
‘That’s bullshit Dad. Fucking rubbish. You know what, I’ve had enough. You can stick this place up YOUR ARSE! I’m going’
I then turned my back on my Dad to storm off but he grabbed a tight hold of my shoulder
‘Look Jacob, if you go, we have no licensee. No licensee, no business. No business, no me!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean without the business the family is out of a home!’
‘You said ‘no me’
‘No me, no us, no nothing. That is what I meant! You’re not going to do that to your family are you?’
‘Why didn’t you back me up Dad’ I asked, and then came the truth. It appeared that King Fu Phil has been getting us all of the food on the cheap! From where, Dad doesn’t know, or wouldn’t admit to.
‘We’ve got the Barkers birthday party on Sunday and we wouldn’t find another chef in time for that, or food as cheap. So Jacob, forget the stupid woman out there, and worry about your family instead. We need Sunday to go well for us. I need that money. We’re losing dough left right and centre. I’ve got bills coming out of my ears and there’s hardly any money coming in to keep us above water. Please son, just help me out’
Dad looked so deflated, so downtrodden that I just nudged my head and we left it at that. Dad covered the rest of my shift so that I didn’t have to see the stupid sausage jockey in the kitchen again today.
Unfortunately that wasn’t the last falling out me and my Pappy had, because not an hour ago, we had our final bust up of the day. I found myself working again behind the bar because Miller was AWOL. He was last seen dressed in a suit, heading into town. Curly said he was on the pull and was playing the part of a jilted groom. I would call him utterly pathetic but I know the stupid gimp will con some stupid, legless old tart into sleeping with him, via his routine.
So I was stood behind the bar when a big gang of kids came in, looking all of 14 years old. One spotty face twonk came strutting up to the bar and ordered 20 pints for him and the rest of his classroom of friends. I gave him a hearty laugh and then told the lot of’em to piss off. As the mob of bad hair cuts and filthy ragged kids vacated the pub, my Dad appeared and asked where they were going. I laughed and told him how they had tried to order 20 pints for their first round. I momentarily thought my Dad might join in with my laughing, at the nerve of the children but then I should have remembered who I was talking to. He went mad.
‘DO YOU SEE? This is what I mean. You have absolutely no fucking idea how to run a pub do you!’
‘What now? Surly you can’t have expected me to serve them. If the old Bill came in they’d have shut us down in a heartbeat, possibly even arresting me!’
‘Arrest you. Fucking drama Queen. When was the last time a copper came in here? When was the last time any fucker has come in here for a drink on the night time? The Police would have thanked us! We’d be keeping’em off of the streets, keeping them away from annoying nice little old ladies. We’d be doing a fucking public service and making a few hundred quid. You’ve got a hell of a lot to learn. Kids are our best customers. All that money, but no bills to pay, no family to maintain, mortgage or anything. All that lovely money that they just wanna spend on getting pissed! Once they find somewhere that’ll serve them they will keep going every night like it’s Byker fucking Grove! You’ve just lost me a fortune you stupid moron!’
With that I dropped my dish cloth and told my Dad he could close up because I have had enough for today. There is no reasoning with the man! Come the weekend, when we are enjoying the fruits of my master plan, he will be praising me to high Heaven, worshipping me like the business God that I am. Until then I do not wanna hear another word from his stupid mouth!
You know you’re having a bad day when the rest of the family are acting worse than Miller!
I was sitting in the office earlier, working out how I should best liberate customers from the Queen’s legs on Friday, when I noticed a little hoody raiding the till. I didn’t go out and unleash hell unto the fiend because the thief was none other than my baby sister Marie. By the time I dashed out of the office, she was stood on a chair, playing the fruit machine. I told the little brat to get off at once and return whatever money she had left to the till. I won’t repeat what she said back to me. Had anyone been witness to it, they would have thought that she was the vile mouthed girl out of the Exorcist, but they would have been wrong. She is not possessed by the Devil, but possessed by my Mother’s nature. Of all of us, little Marie is truly an O’Shea child. After she had stopped shouting, and accusing me of getting in the way of her winning the jackpot, I told her once more to get off the chair and get out of the bar. She then slapped me and told me to f-off or she’d do me.
I had no choice but to go and tell on her. I couldn’t find Mom as she was out walking her demon dog, but Curly told me that he had seen Dad go down into the cellar.
As I made my way down the deadly loose stairs that descend into our pit of a cellar, I saw my Father crouched over one of our beer barrels, with a large tube in his hand. It didn’t take me too long to realize that he was putting liquids back into the barrel. Watering the beer down would have been bad enough, but Dad was actually putting old beer, from the slope bucket behind the bar, back into the barrel.
‘DAD!’ I shouted, immediately displaying my utter contempt for what he was doing ‘what do you think you are playing at?’
You would have thought that he would be all coy and embarrassed at being caught doing something so deceitful and disgusting, but then I suppose you don’t know my Dad. Of course he wasn’t remorseful. He tried to pass it off as normal pub practice and then rounded on me for shouting at him.
‘If you get caught doing this, we would be fined massively. I could lose my license!’
‘Everyone does it J. I can’t afford to pay the breweries prices. They’re way over the top. I need to keep the costs down some way or another.’
‘I don’t care Dad. You’ll get caught. You AWLAYS get caught!’
‘I’ve got worse things to worry about that the brewery finding out’
‘What?’
‘Look, never you fucking mind what! I’m doing what is needed to be done to keep this place going! What are you doing, how are you helping? All you do is moan, moan, moan. I bet you’ve come down here to moan about something or someone’
‘No I haven’t’
‘So what do you want?’
‘I came down to ask if you wanted a cup of tea actually’
‘You lying little bastard. I can tell when you’re lying. Stop worrying about what I’m, or anyone else is doing, and be more concerned about yourself! What are you doing useful at the moment?’
‘I’ve been looking over the books’
‘How’s that going to help us’
‘Well it’s what managers do. They look at the books’
‘Managers get people in. Managers get money in! What are you doing to promote Clint’s karaoke competition? It’s the first heat on Sunday and so far I’ve only seen your brother running around putting posters up.’
‘Well I’m doing something much better than that. I’m doing something on Friday that will have this place heaving’
‘What’s that then?’
‘You’ll see’
‘So you’re doing nothing then’
‘I fecking well am! So get back to sticking the old fag ashed beer back into the barrels, and leave me to act like the only professional person working in this place!’
So after putting my father well and truly in his place I stomped back upstairs, just in time to see Marie collect her 150.00 jackpot out of the fruit machine and celebrate by giving me a one finger salute.
A couple of hours later I thought I had a reason to be happy. I should have learnt by now however that fate conspires against me.
At about three o’clock this afternoon we had quite a few people come in for food. The weather had been glorious this morning and so Babbacombe was busy with tourists, but when it started to rain we benefited from some of those people coming into here for shelter. So once again Kung Fu Phil was running around the kitchen like a headless chicken when the food orders started coming in fast. A particular couple, an old pair in their 50’s, ordered sausages in buns. I was busy serving drinks while Clint took orders, Curly brought out the food and Miller slept in bed. I imagine Dad was still in the cellar fiddling the drinks. Anyway, I had to go into the kitchen to get some glasses out of the washer where I was confronted by Kung Fu Phil’s bare ass. Not only was I staring directly as Phil’s saggy, battered love cushions, but I was shocked to find him mincing around the kitchen with a large sausage wedged up his bum like a tail, wagging side to side.
‘What the HELL are you doing Phil?’
Phil dropped the meat and turned around in surprise. Now you would think that he would be all coy and embarrassed at being caught doing something so disgraceful and disgusting, but then I suppose you don’t know our chef. Of course he wasn’t remorseful. He tried to pass it off as normal kitchen practice and then rounded on me for shouting at him.
‘This is what you should expect if you insult a chef’ he shouted, whilst wedging the sausage back between his bottom in defiance.
‘How have you been insulted Phil?’
‘The bitch sent her meal back’
‘Why?’
‘She said it was ‘too cold’ he answered in a mock feminine voice.
‘Well that sounds fair enough’
‘Well if she’d had eaten it when Pubic head brought it out to her, instead of chatting away to lover boy, it would have been warm enough! Well if she’s gonna talk shit, she can fucking eat it too!’
At this point Phil yanked the sausage from his arse and rubbed his tiny knob on it for good measure. He then slapped it back into the bun it had originally came from and shouted for Curly, who promptly appeared.
‘Take this back out to the ol’cow and tell her to enjoy’
I quickly snatched the plate off of Curly and told him he would do no such thing.
‘Get your stuff Phil, YOU’RE FIRED. Now fuck off you spotted arse weirdo’
‘You’re not the boss of me, you jumped up, spoilt little mummy boy’
It took every last restraint in my body not to ram the hotdog into his face.
‘You’re quite right, I am not your boss, because YOU’RE FUCKING FIRED. NOW PISS OFF!’
It looked like Phil was about to advance on me and try some of his moves, but luckily for him my Dad appeared.
‘What’s all this fucking noise about? All we can hear out there is fucking this, and fucking that. Watch your fucking language will you!’
‘You’re boy ere has just told me that I’m fired’
‘You’ve done what Jacob?’
‘That’s right Dad. I’ve just walked in here and found gay boy there with a customers sausage up his chocolate factory. Of course I’ve fecking sacked him!’
‘You did what Phil?’
‘That’s right. That stupid old bird out there was pulling my plonker, taking the piss and I was showing her what we do to people like her in the trade! So Johnny, is Jacob right? Am I fired?’
To my astonishment Dad yanked the plate out of my hands, handed it to Curly and told him to give it back to the silly old twat. He then apologized to Phil about me, and ordered me out of the kitchen. In case I didn’t make myself clear, he basically told Phil that he was not fired and made me look like a tit. I left with the image of Phil’s smug face violently burnt into my mind.
As I walked out of the kitchen I saw this silver haired lady delighted to have her meal back. I felt sick, but then I didn’t know whether to feel a little better when the dirty old cow started making crude oral sexual gestures with the hotdog, for the benefit of the old man. My stomach however couldn’t take anymore and I quickly took off after my Dad, leaving Clint to man the bar.
‘What the hell was that about Dad? You’ve just made me look like some sort of moron. You should have been as eager to drown the stupid fecker in the dish water as I was’
‘Oh Jacob, you are so inexperienced aren’t you. This is how the trade works. The beer fiddling, the sausage abuse, it’s all part of the trade. You just need to wise up’
‘That’s bullshit Dad. Fucking rubbish. You know what, I’ve had enough. You can stick this place up YOUR ARSE! I’m going’
I then turned my back on my Dad to storm off but he grabbed a tight hold of my shoulder
‘Look Jacob, if you go, we have no licensee. No licensee, no business. No business, no me!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean without the business the family is out of a home!’
‘You said ‘no me’
‘No me, no us, no nothing. That is what I meant! You’re not going to do that to your family are you?’
‘Why didn’t you back me up Dad’ I asked, and then came the truth. It appeared that King Fu Phil has been getting us all of the food on the cheap! From where, Dad doesn’t know, or wouldn’t admit to.
‘We’ve got the Barkers birthday party on Sunday and we wouldn’t find another chef in time for that, or food as cheap. So Jacob, forget the stupid woman out there, and worry about your family instead. We need Sunday to go well for us. I need that money. We’re losing dough left right and centre. I’ve got bills coming out of my ears and there’s hardly any money coming in to keep us above water. Please son, just help me out’
Dad looked so deflated, so downtrodden that I just nudged my head and we left it at that. Dad covered the rest of my shift so that I didn’t have to see the stupid sausage jockey in the kitchen again today.
Unfortunately that wasn’t the last falling out me and my Pappy had, because not an hour ago, we had our final bust up of the day. I found myself working again behind the bar because Miller was AWOL. He was last seen dressed in a suit, heading into town. Curly said he was on the pull and was playing the part of a jilted groom. I would call him utterly pathetic but I know the stupid gimp will con some stupid, legless old tart into sleeping with him, via his routine.
So I was stood behind the bar when a big gang of kids came in, looking all of 14 years old. One spotty face twonk came strutting up to the bar and ordered 20 pints for him and the rest of his classroom of friends. I gave him a hearty laugh and then told the lot of’em to piss off. As the mob of bad hair cuts and filthy ragged kids vacated the pub, my Dad appeared and asked where they were going. I laughed and told him how they had tried to order 20 pints for their first round. I momentarily thought my Dad might join in with my laughing, at the nerve of the children but then I should have remembered who I was talking to. He went mad.
‘DO YOU SEE? This is what I mean. You have absolutely no fucking idea how to run a pub do you!’
‘What now? Surly you can’t have expected me to serve them. If the old Bill came in they’d have shut us down in a heartbeat, possibly even arresting me!’
‘Arrest you. Fucking drama Queen. When was the last time a copper came in here? When was the last time any fucker has come in here for a drink on the night time? The Police would have thanked us! We’d be keeping’em off of the streets, keeping them away from annoying nice little old ladies. We’d be doing a fucking public service and making a few hundred quid. You’ve got a hell of a lot to learn. Kids are our best customers. All that money, but no bills to pay, no family to maintain, mortgage or anything. All that lovely money that they just wanna spend on getting pissed! Once they find somewhere that’ll serve them they will keep going every night like it’s Byker fucking Grove! You’ve just lost me a fortune you stupid moron!’
With that I dropped my dish cloth and told my Dad he could close up because I have had enough for today. There is no reasoning with the man! Come the weekend, when we are enjoying the fruits of my master plan, he will be praising me to high Heaven, worshipping me like the business God that I am. Until then I do not wanna hear another word from his stupid mouth!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)