In early 1984 the year of the coal strike, Bob was commissioned by Washington Development Corporation to design an animated feature for the new shopping centre "The Galleries" in Washington New Town, near Sunderland.

He proposed that theme should be based on the local legend of The Lambton Worm.

The concept was accepted; drawings, costings and a model were produced.  The feature, to be suspended from the roof at the highest part of the complex would be a17ft high  fibre-glass castle weighing 1 ton, populated with life sized animated cartoon figures that would move and rotate around the castle when the clock struck the hour. At the top of the feature Lord Lambton, holding the severed head of the worm would rotate clock wise, four heralds would wave their trumpets from left to right, musicians were to play their instruments and around the moat six figures including Lord Lambton astride his charger would race anti-clock wise, the tongue of the worm would moved up and down on the fisherman's hook to the tune of the Lambton Worm played on the harpsichord. 

The castle was completed first and then the figures, which were to be taken to Norwich where Mr Peter Harward, a member of the Horological Society would install the mechanism consisting of dozens of pulleys, wires levers and springs.

Bob takes up the story,
By the time we were ready to take the figures to Norwich the coal strike was at its height, says Bob.  A law had been passed that banned flying pickets moving between collieries and the police were extremely vigorous in the enforcement of the new act.

I decided that if my large van was loaded the night before we could leave at three o'clock in the morning and get to Norwich and back in one day, the dozen or so figures were placed upright and covered with a couple of old bed sheets sheets.
My co-driver volunteered to do the first leg and I was soon asleep in the passenger seat.
As we approached the Selby fork I awoke to the dazzling light of a torch in my face followed by the curt instruction to remove my seat belt.  Still half asleep I was dragged out onto the grass verge, forced to my knees and with a truncheon firmly stuck in my back, escorted to the rear of the van. "What's in the back?" growled my uniformed aggressor, as other officers peered through the back windows.  "Lord Lambton and his men" I replied.  As the words left my lips I knew I was going to regret saying it.  The keys were thrown at me with instructions to open the van.
As the doors opened my innocent cargo suddenly looked like a team of pickets with their heads covered.  The sheets were pulled away to reveal my cartoon characters smiling at the squad of very un-amused, grim faced policemen.
After a tirade of expletives we were allowed to continue, driving off between the lines of glaring, disappointed flying picket catchers.

The clock was completed later that year and unveiled in a blaze of publicity.  But

minutes before the ceremony I was called upon by a panicking Corporation Official to paint out the hint of a nipple on one of the female figures (which could be only seen with the aid of binoculars) in case it offended the official entourage.
I flatly refused to do it and watched a council painter and decorator balancing on the hastily erected scaffolding dabbing pink paint over the offending feature.
The clock remained in place and was admired by lots of "The Galleries" visitors until it was decommissioned in 1990 and remains in storage today.