Previous Memoirs of a bar steward enteries :
http://www.writewords.org.uk/archive/23074.asp
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Friday 18th August 2000

1730 Hrs


I wanted to be down in the office by ten this morning, sorting out my new government cabinet and laying out all of our new policies but instead I ended up getting sidetracked by one of my cousins (Koopa), who bombarded me with dozens of emails. Terribly jealous he is, but of course I don’t blame him. I know I don’t have a high opinion of my Irish connections, and when I become an actual politician in the future, I am fully aware that I am going to have to bribe an awful lot of reporters to make sure that the connection is kept out of the public domain in order to preserve my majestic reputation, but I must secretly admit that Koopa is the only O’Shea cousin that I kinda like. Actually tolerate is a more appropriate and accurate word in fact. Why?

When Miller and I were in school, it is with regret that I have to admit that we weren’t entirely popular. To be more frank, we were as popular as a lollipop man wearing a sign saying I’m a big fucking paedophile. Reason? Well peers will always feel jealous of greatness and as you will already be aware, I possess a natural wealth of it. However, you may also be surprised to learn that before one particular school incident, Miller seemed to too.

My twin and I were just small lads for our ages. However, our teachers said that we were the best, most dynamic hall monitors that ever patrolled the corridors during break times. Back in the day, Miller and I were magnificent law enforcers. Oh you should have seen us! If one cheeky publess spack face dared have the balls to step into our hallway without permission from a dinnerlady, we would run straight to our teacher's classroom as fast as our tiny legs would carry us and tell on them straight away. Law and order was the rule of our play ground!

Over the course of our first year in secondary school, we reigned supreme. From the halls we were promoted to playground assistant supervisors and we governed with a merciless, iron fist, until one cold and wet winter’s afternoon when the peasants revolted! The revolutionaries came for us! We were chased through our corridors by a mob positively oozing with venom and hatred. That last occurrence where we managed to get football banned for the rest of the term was the straw that broke the camel's back. The proles had taken their time to hatch their vindictive plan and we were as fecked as a schoolboy alone with a P.E teacher. We ran to our teacher’s room but it was empty. We then ran to the next room but there was no teacher in there either. Fighting the urge to piss ourselves, as we were bombarded with pencils, rubbers and rulers, we made a last dash to the Headmaster's office but to our horror we found that his abode was vacant as well. We later found out that a group of boys in our year had made some weedier kids take laxatives and then forced them to unleash their spluttery mud chunks all over each and every school teacher’s car. Once they raised the alarm and saw all of the teachers running out to inspect their chocolate dipped vehicles, they came for us and they got us.

I fought hard against our attackers but there were hundreds of them. I took down as many as I could. They knew if they took me on one at a time they had no chance, but instead the sheer number of bodies toppled me. As I lay squashed at the bottom of a colossal pile-on, Miller managed to somehow break free, and in the mayhem of the moment he escaped. I hoped that he had run to find help, but instead he ran all the way home like the bastard little piggy he was.

The mob eventually stripped me of my uniform and dirty underpants and tied me naked to a tree at the bottom of the Playground. Almost every boy and girl who was a pupil of St Margaret Mary’s R.C School gathered around to watch the vigilante punishment being sadistically doled out to me. Numerous chants about my ‘tiny Cox’ rung loud and proud in the chilly air and just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. The ring leaders of this revolt stood forward. John Harding, Shane Tufnell and Mickey Hillier. As I stood in my wet, cold birthday suit, the three boys produced a big white bag that was full of…bird seed. It didn’t take long for the sky rats to begin throwing themselves at me, especially at my one eye monster, since my persecutors took careful effort to make sure that most of the seeds nested in my newly sprouted curly mane. As the flock of birds grew in numbers, the crowds eventually fell away as the Heaven opened with even more fury. Not one teacher noticed I was missing from subsequent classes and so I was still tied to the tree for last break when everyone came out to have one final laugh and poke.

From that day onwards Miller never again strove to follow the rules. He saw law and order as something that was despised. I however fought to reclaim my crown but I was menaced at every turn by my three nemeses! The teachers quickly tired of my new zest for tale telling and I found that I was a sheriff without power. These were dark days where I was constantly harassed and ultimately bullied. Miller slunk into the background, only to re-emerge and completely reinvent himself as the class clown with a new scruffy appearance. Basically a rule breaker. I suspect it was a case of ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ but that just wasn’t an option for me. Visionaries often stand alone, isolated, revered and targeted by those who do not understand their higher purpose. Look at Jesus, they crucified him!

At that time Miller wasn’t the only member of family I had at St Margaret Mary’s. I also had six cousins from my mother’s side of the family. The O’Shea clan. Virtually all of them turned their backs on me. I was an embarrassment and they did not want anyone to know that the fearsome O’Shea family had anything to do with a Cox. That was except for one. Koopa. Koopa was in the year above and he must have watched for some time as I was targeted daily. It was not unusual to see me being verbally abused or physically attacked. Without football to occupy my bullies' time, they focused their attentions on me. Then one day they suddenly stopped. The terrible trio pulled me into an empty classroom and I waited for a smack that didn’t come. Instead they gingerly offered me their sincerest apologies and said that they would make sure no one else harassed me again. I thought that they had finally decided that enough was enough and that they respected that I never once cowered from them or hid in lonely cupboards or empty classrooms for weeks at a time while everyone else played happily outside. But just as they were leaving the room we were in, Tuffy turned back and asked if I could make sure that Koopa knew about what had just happened.

I would like to say that my older, so surely more mature cousin, had approached my bullies and through a reasonable discussion he had quelled the negativity that was being forced on me every day by them. However, he quite simply borrowed my uncle's sawn-off shotgun and brought it into school with him in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles rucksack. He then cornered Hard, Tuffy and Hitler and told them that if they went near me again he would sneak into their houses in the middle of the night and blow their fucking heads off. I must admit that Koopa did show some restraint. Had I told my mother what was happening, she wouldn’t of snuck into anyone house but kicked in their fecking front doors and blasted every last mother fucker in the house. Their puppy included.

Koopa looked out for me and from that day I have tried to do the same for him. My mother might be as ruthless as her family and I’m sure I don’t know half a percent of what she has gotten up to in her life but she has always tried to keep her children away from the ‘business’. When Miller started to get sucked in by our Uncle Connor, Mom decided that the family had to get away for good, and somehow my Father got us the pub we’re in now. Koopa has never had this support. His father, my uncle Danny, is just one of Uncle Connors little bitches who will gladly push all of his sons to the front line of Connor’s mad battles. I hope that I can one day show Koopa that there is more to life than the O’Shea Empire.

I know I keep mentioning a lot of uncles and cousins but that’s because there are a lot of 'em. Here is a brief family tree of the immediate O’Shea clan:

O’Shea Family Free

Place of origin:
Limerick, Ireland

Granddad Mickey
Deceased 1998. Heart attack.
Buried in Grandma's garden.

Grandma Marion (66)

Uncle Connor (52)
Not married and no children.
New Head of the family business

Uncle Joseph (50) ?

Mother Ivy Beryl(48)
Married to Johnny Paul Cox
Children: Jacob (me, 18), Miller (18), Clint (17) and Marie (10)

Uncle Danny (45)
Married to Anne
Children: John (29), Billy (27) Anthony (25) and Koopa (19)

Uncle Jimmy (41)
Married to Sue
Children: Danny Jr (25), Mackey Jr (22), Joe Jr (19), Luke (15) Suzy (10)

Uncle Finnegan (39)
Married to Linda
Children: Peter and Paul (Twins, 22), Kelly (18), Lisa (16), Catherine (11) Annie (8), Poppy (4)

Uncle Rocky (36)
Not married
Children: Spike (15)


Uncle Mackey (34)
Deceased 2000. Murdered.
Buried with Granddad in Grandma's garden
Children: Robert (16)

Uncle Bernard (20)
Not married. No children.
Currently in hospital, minus one leg.


Anyway…

My first day in OFFICE