StoriesThe camera pans to the grey-haired Welshman sat behind his desk. “Good Evening and welcome to this special BBC edition of Celebrity ‘Evil’ Mastermind!” said presenter John Humphreys. “On tonight’s edition – my last ever for reasons that will become apparent later – we have a special show lined-up for you and in order to show balance we have three Right Wing narcissists and one Commie here to answer a series of questions in the allotted time of two minutes!” “Let’s meet them!” continued the former newsreader. “From the USA- President Donald Trump!” The POTUS turns and...
Read MoreDai Commando looked just like any normal person. Average height, average weight even average shoe size. But underneath he was no ordinary G.I. Joe. You would never hear it from Dai’s own lips, but the regulars in his local public house in Dowlais- the T.A.’s (The Tredegar Arms) would tell you- whilst he may have served in the Royal Marines – ‘He was Made in Merthyr’. Mainly because he was conceived on top of a wheelie bin behind Wetherspoon’s in Post Office Lane. Dai Commando turned his I-pad on ready for his 11.00am Zoom Meeting. It was top secret and confidential...
Read More... Robert Godber was the last Punk left in the South Wales Valleys. It was nearly 43 years since the Sex Pistols had shocked the Rock N Roll Community with their slogans of Never Mind the Bollocks and God save the Queen. How times had changed. So had the slogans too. Never Mind the Botox and God shave the Queen was more relevant to 2020. However, strangely enough he was still Public Enemy No 1 in the little valley Town of Merthyr Tydfil, as despite the health warnings of Covid-19, the dirty bastard still insisted on spitting on the pavement everywhere he went....
Read MoreAnimal Rights activist A.L.F. Egan lay completely still in the long grass, high above the Welsh Valley of Cwm Twp. He motioned to his 15- year old accomplice, ‘Popeye’ Doyle, to lie still until the factory searchlight had passed overhead. Once it had done so, the pair all dressed in black and camouflage gear used the wire cutters to snip the perimeter fence. In the distance was a grey metallic building called Abbot’s Trois, owned according to Companies House by a French Company based in the Tax Haven of Jersey, called Vaches Mort R-US. A.L.F. & Popeye didn’t call it...
Read MoreThe queue from the main tent was six deep and stretched for nearly two miles back to the little Powys town of Hay-on-Wye. The reason was the release of Howard Marks new book at the Hay Book festival.The former Oxford Graduate and Welsh mastermind of a European Cannabis Ring sat ‘smug’ly. Who said crime doesn’t pay. The best selling author had released his latest in a series of books with a view to helping his former fellow prisoners bide away their time in jail. Like the author himself, the release date had kept going forward, as the US backed Drugs Enforcement Agency had objected...
Read More“ What do you think of the wheels then?” asked Astra the professional car thief from the Gurnos. “ Nice…!” nodded his hoodie friend Elvi$, as he climbed into the front seat of the mini-ambulance. The vehicle sped away at breakneck speed on the Gurnos Ring Road heading towards Galon Uchaf. “ Where did you get it?” asked Elvi$. “ He stole it from outside the Gurnos Home for the elderly!” said a voice from the back of the vehicle. Astra broke suddenly and a lady with whiter hair than Philip Schofield shot forward in her wheelchair to join the pair in the front. “ Who the...
Read MoreHis luck had finally run out. Reynaldo the Red Fox was suspended, hanging on a barbed wire fence by his stomach. The more he twisted, the more the barbs sunk their teeth into his pink soft underbelly. He was trapped and he knew it. He was literally kicking himself that he should get caught this way- in such a simple fashion – as he a very intelligent creature. He had misjudged the take-off, slipping on some sheep-shit. Reynaldo had for over a decade, survived the harsh Winter temperatures, and rainy Summers that Gwynedd in North Wales had to offer its native fauna....
Read MoreLittle Daniel Boyd was lost. The seven year old thought he was clever, when he ignored his teacher’s command to hold the hand of his classmate on a trip to Dan-yr Ogof caves in the Glyn-Neath Valley. True, it was an act of revenge by his teacher, Mr Don Oxbridge for his recent behaviour in class at Gwaun Dowlais Primary School in Merthyr Tydfil. Dan had sulked because he didn’t want to be paired with gypsy, Gustavo Worrell from the local travelling community that lived close to the Slip Road in the former mining Town, as he more ‘bugs’ than a spy from GCHQ in Cheltenham....
Read More“ Alright Mun!” said the young lawyer. “ Keep your hair on will you!” It was somewhat ironic really, as Welsh Barrister Leo Felix was only 23 but his fair hair was already receding more than a Norfolk beach at High tide. “What are you doing in there… you nonce?” shouted an angry commuter, as he repeated banged on the lower half of the train WC cubicle door. He thought about warning the angry man that what he had just said in front of his fellow passengers was actionable as a slander, but sight unseen he suspected that the individual wouldn’t have cared less nor had the...
Read MoreBy Screenshot from "Internet Archive" of the movie The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) - https://archive.org/details/RevengeOfFrankenstein-Trailer , Public Domain, Link “Igor…. I’ve cracked it!” said the Professor. His hunched- back laboratory assistant looked up at his Master and let his tongue loll out of the corner of his mouth. He stared back with the same look of loyalty on his lop-sided face, that a Pit Bull Terrier would give to its owner whilst sitting on a Vet’s Death Row. “I’ve dedicated my entire working life of 60 years as a research scientist at this...
Read More“Is there is any p-p-person here with a j-j-ust impediment then let him s-speak now or forever hold his p-p-peace” said the stuttering Priest. The Roman Catholic Holy Man, Ollie Water, didn’t normally have a stutter, but when he had been given the task of marrying the daughter of one of the Heads of the Five Taffia Families to one of the those with links to the Provisional IRA- it was understandable. The Priest looked around him at the congregation of St Illtyd’s Roman Catholic Church in Dowlais, Merthyr Tydfil and noticed on the right side of the church the number of men...
Read MoreCouncillor Phil Bent was in a jam. He was in a right hole. He had been given a wedgie on many occasions as Chairman of the Planning Sub-Committee but this was a first. Buried up to his waist in an old Air-Shaft in Mountain Hare meant he couldn't move a muscle. Below him a 30 foot drop and above him only sky. His search for the 500 metre buffet zone at East Merthyr Land Reclamation scheme had proved fruitless. He checked the Council Minutes.yes there supposed to be a buffet zone. There was no such thing as a free lunch he moaned as he hung suspended in the air by his three spare...
Read More‘The North wind did blow and Merthyr had snow and what did poor Farrah do next?” sang Dean ‘Belle’ End as he sat on the vandal proof metal bench alongside the Merthyr Railway Station. The sound caused Farrah to turn around sharply, exposing his nether regions to the bleak March air. His coat, made entirely of Bar towels ,acquired from the many pubs he had visited on his personal tour of the Rugby Six Nation Countries and beyond, offered little protection from the elements. His roman sandals acquired from a trip to Rome in 2009 , were further evidence of his total disregard for...
Read More“ Hot Dog Sir?” asked the pimply faced burger vendor. Council official Job Swurth didn’t look happy...but then again he never did. “ What the Hell are you doing?” he moaned at the bemused van owner, Rann Cydd. “ Selling burgers from a lay-by...everyone does it in Wales!” he laughed merrily. “ But this is the Galon Uchaf acceleration lane to get on the A465 (T) Heads of the Valleys Road!” barked Job shaking his head. “ That’s what’s clever about my pitch....everyone has to stop!” said Rann. “ It’s all about location...location...location!” he said boastfully. “...
Read MoreThe cars engine spluttered and coughed for the last time as he parked his ‘Popemobile’ outside the house of one of his parishioners in Crabapple Close Gurnos Merthyr Tydfil. He hoped that the first time this call was genuine. He really wanted to do battle with the Devil face to face . He looked up at the bedroom window and could see a luminous eerie glow inside. His bumper sticker ‘Honk if you love the Lord’ was the only sign that he was a Man of God ….that and the small silver image of a fish attached to the back. Silverfishes were common in that part of the world. This was the only...
Read MoreThe father and son made their way through the underground car park of the Civic Centre in Merthyr Tydfil. They were in luck. They didn’t have to walk through the crowds of people that were stood in the forecourt outside the main entrance. Pressing the lift call button repeatedly, little Thomas was happy. At the age of seven , everything was a game….no money worries…it was like being on his own Civil List . His father , Richard tried to fake a smile, he knew he was at the Civic Centre for more serious business. He was there to see the Council Social Services...
Read More.. “ The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful...let it snow, let it snow let it snow!...Nos Da!” declared camp weatherman, Derek Brockway live to the nation from the BBC studios in Cardiff. “ Since when have you been interested in the weather Charlie?” asked Tommy ‘Hilfiger’ Silverback to the leader member of the Lavender Road Mob. “ Duh!....since I learned that the boss man Mr Bigg gets coded messages over the BBC about his delivery times for his drug shipments!” laughed Charlie Kong. “ Mr Bigg...who’s dat den?” asked Alan ‘Tit-che’ Guevara. “ He...
Read More"The North wind did blow and Merthyr had snow and what did poor Farrah do next?” sang Dean ‘Belle’ End as he sat on the vandal proof metal bench alongside the Merthyr Railway Station. The sound caused Farrah to turn around sharply, exposing his nether regions to the bleak March air. His coat, made entirely of Bar towels ,acquired from the many pubs he had visited on his personal tour of the Rugby Six Nation Countries and beyond, offered little protection from the elements. His roman sandals acquired from a trip to Rome in 2009 , were further evidence of his total disregard for Valleys...
Read More“Good night and good luck!” said the Curator Derek Dunny as he locked the huge wooden front door of the Cyfarthfa Castle Museum. The only Grade 1 Listed Structure in the whole of the Merthyr Tydfil Borough was imposing looking at the best of times, but on a dark wet Winter’s evening it was downright scary. Safer Merthyr employee Dicky Knight looked around nervously. It was his first night as a security guard and he didn’t feel very safe. “Everything looks so much more scary in the dark!” he said to his shadow, who was his only companion for the night. Merthyr Council too had...
Read MoreThe sound of a helicopter buzzed overhead as the terrified Welshman cowered in his impromptu sand dune bunker.The soldier dressed in green khaki combat gear stood out like a pork pie in a Jewish buffet against the yellow sanded backdrop of Helmond region in Afghanistan. The war on terror wasn't working as far as Harry R. S. Crack was concerned. The sound of explosions all around him sent him deeper down the steep sides of the bunker as he began to suck his thumb for comfort. He suddenly realised that he was not alone, as a ginger haired soldier dressed in a German Africa Korps...
Read MoreRead more 'Boz' tales here “ What’s their pool team like then boyz?” questioned Fast Eddie Felson dressed in his white hat and black and white brogues as he sat in the back of the minibus. “ Not bad- they have a few Welsh players but nothing we can’t handle on and off the table!” said Bobby Mogzy cricking his knuckles. The boys in the team minibus, had set out from the Iron Horse Public house in Galon Uchaf Road ,Merthyr Tydfil at 6.00pm to arrive for 8.00pm. They knew if they arrived late, they would be docked a frame every twenty minutes. It was a...
Read MoreRead more 'Boz' tales here Her long hair flowed all down her back, as should stood next to a fruit machine in Victoria Street, Merthyr Tydfil. Her doctor had advised her to change her diet and change her habits if she wanted to live past 40. As the reels on the machine, whirred electronically and stopped with a red cherry icon, two bananas and an orange. She had lost her money again, even if she had nearly had her medically recommended five fruits a day. It was Wednesday and teenager Amber Punt was skint. She had had her state ‘benefit’ and wasted...
Read MoreHe was nervous at the best of times but tonight he was positively bricking it. The lights went down on a hushed audience at the Aberdare Coliseum and the adrenaline rush of the young fledgling comedian intensified. He waited for the nod from the stage manager before he went out into the Cynon Valley Snake Pit. He wasn’t being paid he was just volunteering…a YTS trainee comedian …as there were precious few jobs in the Valleys he thought he would give it a go…and his tour of the South Wales clubs was starting to take off. After all if Rhod Gilbert could make it on television...
Read More“It is the year of our Lord 1644 and we are gathered at this Hamlet of Gyrnos, to witness a trial to determine the guilt or innocence of Margaret, the straw roofer’s daughter, who is accused of being in league with the Devil!” declared the Puritan dramatically. The man was dressed all in black from his stovepipe hat down to his cape and trousers, with only a square white frilled ‘ruff’ , adorning the area around his collarbone. He held a silver-tipped cane in one hand and use it somewhat belligerently to command respect from the assembled crowd. “ This wretch is accused of...
Read MoreDipping Your Wick by Phil 'Boz' Evans The student rugby player looked around nervously. He was regretting his bet with his mates already. Manfred Quinn had never told anyone but he was frightened of the dark. It was one of the more common phobias that humans suffered from and dated back to the dawn of mankind and the dulling of man’s principal defence of the sense of sight making them more susceptible to attack from a predator. Standing on a plinth in Madame Tussaud’s wax museum in Baker Street, London, he felt like a fish out of water, but knew that his beloved...
Read More1 CommentsThe man lay silently in the savannah grass of the Ngorongord valley in Tanzania. He didn't dare breathe or move for startling the Thompson's gazelle that he had tethered to a small Acacia tree. From his clothing, you would never have guessed that he was Welsh- only his WRU rubber wrist band on his right 'trigger' hand gave it away. The Blackwood Dentist, Major Orion Jekyll- Hyde-Hunt, was the veteran predator of the Serengeti, as he approached his 75th Birthday intent on giving himself an early birthday present. He wasn't using the little antelope for target practice- he was after much...
Read MoreNewly expectant Father Declan Anthony Pod paced nervously in the corridor of the Maternity Wing of Llanelli Hospital. The Year was 1972 and like every Rugby Union Fan in Wales, he secretly wanted a son to follow in his on-field footsteps and play rugby first for the Scarlets and then for Wales. The timing of his Wife’s labour couldn’t be any worse, as on this very day, Llanelli were playing host to the International Touring Team New Zealand. The Grand Stand ticket in his shirt pocket was burning a hole in his heart, as he was caught in the horns of a dilemma. Did he sneak off to the big...
Read MoreBack to Welsh Literature page > Ewe Tube “C’mon Mun….it will be an internet sensation!” said 16- year old Brecon Farmer Kane Boddy. His older brother Abel wasn’t so sure. He preferred to trust his own judgement rather than his brothers. The pair sat astride their skidoos on the peak of Pen Y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons National Park. Kane had his mobile phone out ready to film the stunt- if only he could persuade his brother to do it. “It’s only 886 metres Mun…straight down from the ‘Col’ to Cribyn…it will be Hell of a ride!” said Kane...
Read MoreHe replied that he was protecting her from mosquitos in the absence of a net. Gertie slept with one eye open for the rest of the night. As did Myles, although it was on his Cialis enhanced knob which eventually tickled him under the chin to wake up to a glorious Venetian Morning. They both dressed for breakfast and went down to the Breakfast Room in an uneasy silence. The room was quite full with most of the seats and tables taken. There was a full Sky TV film crew and several well- known actors buzzing back and fore for the continental breakfast. Myles recognised the one off the...
Read More“ Can I take the blindfold off now?” protested his long suffering wife. “ Yes ..okay!” said Myles Soginist to his spouse Gertie. Blinking in the strong Italian sunlight, the 75 year old lady didn’t have a ‘scooby’ where she was. Her husband, not normally the romantic type, had booked a surprise ‘Golden Anniversary’ to celebrate their 50 years together married. “ What do you think then?” he said triumphantly as she faced the sign Veneto Aeropourto. “ Bit noisy isn’t it!” she complained but not for the first time ever. “ What did you expect…it’s a bloody airport for Christ’s sakes!” he...
By Philip evans, 2020-10-14
“Ello ‘Ello ‘Ello what’s all this then?” said Constable Grunt, as he arrived onto the Barry Island Seafront promenade.
Before him sat a group of mixed children and adults, all staring up at a fairground booth, beautifully painted in red n white stripes.
As the Policeman strode forward on his size twelve feet Dr Marten’s boots- the sound of a kazoo playing the theme from Laurel & Hardy was heard emanating from behind the curtain of the booth.
“Very funny!” said the Constable.
Contrary to popular belief, Constable Grunt had originally possessed a sense of humour but it had been extracted at birth together with his umbilical cord – besides, it had been a long day trying to enforce the unworkable rules on social distancing imposed due to the Covid-19 pandemic- so he was in no mood for humour.
Especially humour at his expense which undermined his authority.
The Punch n Judy booth was set up with it’s back to the railings on the promenade and was surrounded by the audience in a semi-circle, who had paid a small fee to the performer’s assistant- known as the Bottler- for the show.
The Bottler had lived up to his name and bottled it upon first sight of the long arm of the law.
The children and adults swung their attention from the booth to the Constable, who was accompanied by the latest version of a female Hobby Bobby- a Boris Johnson Covid- 19 Beadle.
Yet another attempt by the Conservative Government to return the former United Kingdom to Victorian values.
“Is there a pwoblem Officer?” asked the hidden puppeteer through a rasping kazoo.
His speech impediment didn’t help the intensity of the laughter from the crowd.
Nor did his strange accent.
“ We have had a complaint about suitability of the show that you are putting on for children and also a flagrant breach of Covid- 19 social distancing rules from a Member of the Public!” grunted Grunt.
There was no sign of any person in the booth.
“Can you tell who complained…eas it someone from Bawwy Island?” came the kazoo voice.
“No!” replied Grunt rocking on his size twelve heels.
“I bet it was Pwetti Patal again watting on her neighbours!” replied the invisible puppeteer.
The Policeman just smiled.
The Home Secretary was his boss – just like that other Nazi regime from 1945- he was just following orders.
It was a perk of the job and purely coincidental that he enjoyed making other people miserable.
Constable Grunt began to make contemporaneous notes in his South Wales Police Constabulary state of the art notebook.
The silence was broken by the reply from inside the Booth.
“Don’t you know that the Punch N Judy entertainment at the seaside has been around since the 1600’s – Comedie dell’Arte – even Samuel Pepys wrote about in HIS diary too!” complained the voice of the unseen puppeteer.
“Looks like someone has been studying British History!” said the non-laughing Policeman.
“Perhaps that may be a fact…but the complaint has come from a source high up in the Court system complaining that your actions are prejudicing a High Court case on libel proceedings!” said Grunt.
“How come?” said the vibrating kazoo voice- this time much higher pitched- almost female.
“Well your choice of the leading characters- being Hollywood A- & C-listers Johnny Depp and Amber Heard!” ordered Grunt.
At the mention of their names up popped the two characters who took a bow to the audience.
The children cheered loudly as the puppets appeared.
“I don’t understand -no-one complained when I used a puppet of Caroline Flack?” said the invisible man.
“Look it’s not acceptable to portray a Wife being beaten up at a seaside booth for children- it sends out the wrong message!” said the female Hobby Bobby.
“Who are you when you are at home?” asked the puppeteer hidden below the wooden stage.
“ Barry Island’s first appointed Covid- 19 Warden Stephanie Fiddler!” she boomed proudly.
There was silence from the booth and then came the ‘Punch-line’.
“Tell me children when you grow up… do you want to be a Fanny Fiddler just like her?” said the voice.
The children laughed as did most of the adults present.
The Covid Beadle blushed redder than Neil Kinnock after seeing the General Election result of 1992.
“It’s not just a complaint about the violence it is the content of the act!” continued Grunt.
“The way that the lead character handles the baby too!”
“That is as traditional as the appearance of the crocodile and the sausages!” protested the Puppeteer.
“Okay but why threaten to hand the baby over to Lost Profit’s singer Ian Watkins?” countered Fiddler regaining her confidence.
“How do you know?....you have never paid to watch the act?” queried the Puppeteer.
“I was standing on the rooftops…!” she said.
“What rooftops?” asked the hidden performer in a Turkish dialect, this time pronouncing his r’s immaculately.
“We are on the Barry seafront promenade!”
“The complaint was principally about the violent conduct which portrays Mr Depp as a wife beater!” said Grunt in the best assertive voice, that which his Bridgend Police Training had instilled in him.
“Violence?” protested the kazoo-man.
“At a Punch and Judy Show….haven’t you guys ever watched anything on Sky Atlantic or the internet….everything is much more graphic now- much more than two characters threatening each other with sticks….it’s not exactly as if it is the film Zombieland now is it?”
“Why don’t you pay 2.00 lira each and I’ll put on a show for you!” offered the Puppeteer.
“Can I claim it back on expenses?” asked Fiddler.
“The MP’s usually do when they watch the petty puerile childish squabbling …it must remind them of the House of Commons!” replied the invisible Hands.
Both Fascists looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders and sat on the promenade wall, helmets and stab proof vests unbuttoned.
With that the show began once again.
Up popped a new character in the place of the Hollywood A-Listers.
“Hi Sprogs, hope you are having a bonzer day in the light drizzle here at Barry Island Prom….it’s the last day of the Poms too….as you are soon to be invaded by that lot in the Channel from the Calais Jungle!” said the character in the worst Australian accent since Dame Edna Everage merged with Sir Les Patterson and became Barry Humphreys.
It was almost like he was from Afghanistan rather than Oz.
“Look Sprogs. I should know about my sea creatures because I took them all to my Heart!” replied the character clad in khaki shorts.
As he did so he opened his khaki shirt to reveal a massive hole where his heart should be.
“He could be a Tory MP!” said little Billy Booger, whilst picking his Covid-19 encrusted nose and then flicking it at his mate.
“Oi…I saw that!” said Fiddler the germ warden.
Back in the booth, up popped a crocodile and the Aussie promptly wrestled it down like it was his pet dog.
No sooner than they had disappeared than a string of sausages popped up from below the counter.
“Oops….give us my intestines back… you naughty boy !” came the same Aussie voice from Down Under in Istanbul.
As soon as the Crocodile Man disappeared the Hollywood Titans reappeared and continued their clash.
“Have you seen the mess down there is it ‘From Hell’ said Heard anger level on green.
“A bit like you before make-up on the set of our film Rum Diary (2011) in the morning!” taunted Depp.
“You can talk – ‘you monster’ you will be ‘Finding Neverland’ the next time you try and mount me for a ‘Late, Late, Show!” spat back the Spouse.
“Drop Dead Sexy!” replied Depp.
“Oh you are Sauvage….just like that awful Dior aftershave you advertise on telly…I gave it to the Down and Outs in Beverly Hills – they already smell like you after your Rum Diary entries!” said Heard turning Amber.
“I only took that advert to select where in the desert sand I am going to bury your body!” snapped back the Pirate of the Caribbean or Somalia.
“It’s not just dead men that tell no tales…..remember that!”
“Did you hear that children?.... Tonto Johnny here making threats ….it’s the last time he will have a bird on his head….it’s just like you witnessed at home during lockdown before you were forced to go back to school to catch Covid-19 to infect your parent’s with!” said Amber picking up a cut throat razor.
“Come here….I’ll show you Sweeney Todd for real!” said Heard turning in’candy’escent with rage.
“Bring it on baby!” said Johnny affixing his Edward Scissorhands.
“Let’s see if you really do have ‘Heard’ immunity!”
“Woah, Woah, Woah!” shrieked Constable Grunt- pointing his hands up and then pointing his index finger at the booth.
“Stop the show.. that’s an offence under the Offences against the Person Act of 1861!”
“In case you not know… dem not persons…day Puppets!” replied Kazoo- this time with a trace of Nigerian.
A collective gasp came from the adults in the audience.
They didn’t expect the ‘Fourth Wall’ to be breached.
The kids didn’t care as long- as there was a steady supply of Haribo sweets they were content.
The Puppet Master was correct but Constable Grunt couldn’t back down now not in front of the children and his sidekick.
Before he could react onto the stage came a third puppet.
“That’s clever….three puppets on the go at one time…he must be extremely talented in the trouser department!” said Fiddler.
It was a Hangman wearing both a wire and an F.B.I emblazoned jacket.
They were both followed by a ghost.
The ghost of Jeffrey Epstein.
The puppet of Johnny Depp opened his mouth to looked scared.
The puppet of Amber Heard looked even more scared as she misread the name on the back of the Savile Row shirt and thought from first glance it was disgraced Film Producer Harvey Weinstein.
“There must be two of them in that booth!” whispered Fiddler captivated by the show.
“I thought that!” whispered back Grunt.
“Me too!” said Heard listening in on the conversation.
“What shall we do now that Home Secretary Priti Patel has repealed the Human Rights Act children?” asked Kazoo- this time in a voice deeper than Brian Blessed’s bollocks.
“ Hang him again!” screamed the young crowd.
“That’s the way to do it!” said Constable Grunt getting carried away enjoying the spectacle.
“Oi…that’s MY line!” protested Johnny ‘the Punch’ Depp- this time sounding Kurdish.
“Dew…this Kazoo Puppet Guy is brilliant with those different voices – like Rory Bremner or a male version of Nina Conti!” said Constable Grunt approvingly to Fiddler.
Their fun was suddenly stopped by a millionaire professional sea-watcher from Kent.
“The Great British public is being fleeced every day by Health Tourists and you guys are too busy watching ‘ seaside special?” moaned the Frog Faced Toad.
“Look…behind the booth!” he continued his right arm raised like he was at Nuremberg, pointing towards the beach behind the booth.
Breaking on the waves were six empty small rubber dinghies bearing bumper stickers of Turkey, Italy, Germany, and Calais France.
“I suggest you check the booth!” continued the Kent Kermit.
Constable Grunt waded through the children and peered down into the booth.
It was completely empty.
No puppeteers or puppets at all.
“You Muppet!” said the Englishman.
As Constable Grunt slid the booth to one side- it became apparent that the booth was over a Welsh Water manhole surface water drain cover.
Placing his truncheon under the handle with a bit of ‘force’ he lifted the lid and peered into the darkness.
Just like the Black Hole of Calcutta peering back at him was around 20 pairs of eyes.
More eyes than a peacock’s back.
“Whilst you were distracted by the puppet show ‘ Johnny Foreigner here was busy helping that lot make tracks up the sand and into their bunker – awaiting the cover of the night to slip away to places like West Bromwich and Birmingham to add their numbers to the Black Country!” continued Dad’s Army’s latest recruit.
“If it was up to me with my Churchillian spirit I would fight them on the beaches and bite them on the features too!”
“But YOU are the one in Authority ….what are you going to do about them?” said the anti-amphibious amphibian.
Constable Grunt smiled knowingly, as he unclipped from his belt a cannister of CS Gas.
“Where did you get that- that’s not Police issue?” asked Fiddler.
“Extinction Rebellion!” said Constable Grunt removing the pin and casually tossing it into the stagnant surface water below.
“Deppth Charge!” he replied.
“Saves on the paperwork!”
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The Early Years
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Land of Poetry & Thongs
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Bred of Cefn
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Viagraville: The Alternative Merthyr Rising
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