Jacob Cox is 18 and finds himself running his family's new business, a dilapidated bar in a forgotten seaside town. Jacob longs to escape his family of villains, liars and psychopaths. Could the bar be his last chance to make money and get away from everyone he despises? Is his family really that bad or is he actually worse than all of them put together?
To make the business a success he needs help from his dangerous twin brother Miller, his disastrous best friend Curly and his annoyingly cool younger brother Clint. It's a perilous undertaking with monstrous foes and maybe even love (or just deadly s-e-x).
I’m really excited about tomorrow because I will be getting my A level results and then I can at last escape from my repugnant family. That might sound a bit harsh, maybe nasty and you can be forgiven for asking what terrible actions they might be guilty of. Do they beat me, abuse me, ignore me? No. They do however fecking annoy me.
Until recently my tiny wild haired Irish mother (along with her raggy prehistoric side of the family) was in the business of beating the living pootang out of people and sticking their pet’s heads up where the sun doesn’t shine. Why? Because if you were unfortunate enough to run a pub, club, shop or even a paper round on the west side of Birmingham, you paid the O’Shea’s clan not to do these lovely things to you basically. A family to be proud of. Not!
My ratty face Father is in the business of running up debt and then running away. I have many fond memories as a child of listening to him answering the phone in a woman’s voice, proclaiming never to have heard of a Mr. J. Cox. He once took to wearing women’s clothes around the house. He wasn’t a cross dresser, really, it was just in case the bailiffs came unexpectedly. We expected their unexpected visits almost weekly.
Whenever you see a newspaper article reporting about today’s sh*t eating, fat bag, silly clothed, state sponging, abuse hurling, fuzzy face, scruffy haired yoofs, you are reading about my (allegedly) identical twin brother Miller. (There is, however, nothing portly nor dishevelled about my appearance. I am well tailored and down with fashion.)
There is also my brother Clint who is a bit of a slick Frank Sinatra wannabe, the cuckoo in the nest because he towers over the rest of his short arse family, looking down on us with his deep blue eyes and bastard good looks. Last of all is my sister Marie who is very quiet, in a disconcerting kind of way. She has lots of friends around her at most times but not one of the miserable ickle boggy nose munchkins look like they like her.
I feel that I have been trapped on an island of savages. I’m sure there has been a horrible mistake, I couldn’t possibly belong here. Perhaps a plane crashed or I was washed ashore, where I was unfortunate enough to be adopted by the local tribe. Now though I have become a man and I have built myself a boat. Tomorrow I will leave this god forsaken island. I will row away and leave the lords to their flies. Goodbye all. Return I shall not.
Ye,s tomorrow at 1400 hrs I will go to my old school for the last time to collect my exam results and then I can begin my journey to university. I need nothing less than C’s in English, Math’s and History (though I’m expecting B’s at least). My family is moving to Torquay at the end of the week to take over a public house that my Father has ‘somehow’ managed to acquire. He asked me the other day to be its licensee. HA! Noooooooo fookin way! I will be staying with Curly once my family has moved, and then I’ll hopefully be going to Oxford to study law.