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“What time is he coming?” questioned retired nurse, Hannah Philatic.
“For the third time this Morning… 11.00 am!” replied her Partner-in-Crime, Joe Boxer.
“ I am the one that suffered multiple blows to my head not you!” he said hands shaking violently.
“Sorry, but it’s this Long-Covid…it’s a bugger with your memory!” said Hannah.
“ And I am nervous too!” she continued.
Hannah checked the letter headed by a green Westminster Portcullis.
“I never thought that I would get to meet the Health Secretary, Mr Handjob, in person!” she squealed excitedly.
“It’s not Hand-job -It’s HanCOCK !” scolded Joe “And don’t call him that for F***’s sake or he will definitely stop our funding!”
Following his retirement from the ring, due to the early onset of Parkinson’s disease, Joe and his business partner, Delroy Boyd from the house clearance business, they had turned into a pair of entrepreneurs.
Movers AND shakers if you like.
Their latest venture had been to turn the former Green Boxing Hall at Eighth Avenue into a vaccination centre for the local population on the Galon Uchaf Estate.
It was known locally as Jabber the Hut.
The Secretary of State for Health was so impressed with their reported performance levels in administering the vaccine shots that he wanted to see the place for himself.
Wales was ahead of England yet again and not just in terms of Six Nations Rugby and he wanted to understand why.
It was also an opportunity to turn yet another traditional Labour heartland into a Tory Blue voting area.
After all, Merthyr Tydfil had voted on a majority basis for Brexit – principally because they believed the Conservative lie that they would be able to stop immigration.
If there was one thing the residents of the Estate did not want, it was Foreigners coming over here and taking THEIR benefits.
Considering there were only a thousand residents within Motability scooter battery distance, they had done very well in their returns to the Department of Health.
Especially as there was only 500 people actually living on the Estate.
To ensure they were AL L inoculated within a week was extremely impressive and worthy of praise from Central Government.
After all, large swathes of the Country were misled into believing that the vaccine was made up from a combination of dead baby stem cells, Bill Gates Spunk, Arsenic and a tracking device.
Certain sections of the great unwashed didn’t believe that there was in fact an invisible germ that was killing them just because they were all obese.
Besides who wanted to live to the age of 35 anyway?
These people didn’t want any microchips, unless of course they were from McCain that is.
Nor did they want anyone checking on their every movement, whilst they were on Facebook or their Mobile Phone.
How else could they moonlight as a window cleaner, painter, hairdresser or nail beautician otherwise?
Their employee-Hannah was a large lady indeed.
Like most ex-nurses that had actually survived the pandemic, she was grossly overweight.
Her arse was so big that you could balance a cup of coffee on it without her knowing.
In contrast, Joe being an ex-pugilist was built like a split-pin.
His body was his temple and his claim to fame was that he had once had a part as body double for World Champion Merthyr boxer Johnny Owen – in the film ‘Snitches get Stitches’.
Both Joe and Delroy had been forced to live by their wits.
Dodging and weaving in the Business World just as they had in the ring.
It was strange how close the two former boxing rivals had become after retiring from taking low blows, and had both come up with joint ventures that had kept them one step ahead of the local rent collector.
After throwing in the towel, they had become designers of men’s underwear- and marketed a brand of men’s underpants that stretched automatically as they bent over.
It was named after a ‘left/right combination’ of famous people.
A Labour politician and a millionaire boxer.
It was goodbye to Builder’s cleavage when you owned a pair of ‘Wedgie Benn’s’.
Facebook had afforded them the business opportunity their parents and grandparents never had.
But the pair never rested on their laurels.
They were always looking to their next big venture and they realised that the time was right, just like everyone in the Government to cash in on the Tax-Payer during the pandemic.
They saw it as a way of getting some tax money back from Central Government -even if they hadn’t actually paid any themselves.
It was surprising what a bout of hysteria in the media could do to drum up business.
They had tried their hand at creating PPE out of old boxing head guards and gloves, but found that no-one in the local Queen Camilla hospital wanted to go into work looking like Muhammed Ali.
Not even Doctor Muhammed Ali.
The next best thing was to create their own supply of vaccine to the Third World – or Galon Uchaf- as it was known locally.
They had an insider in the hospital- a friend of Hannah, who was happy to smuggle a phial of the experimental Oxford Vaccine out and a Sixth- Former in the local Penydre School with a C at O Level in Chemistry to create their own knock-off version.
They could then undercut the competition by reducing manufacturing costs and jump the waiting list by purchasing directly from the pair under their Company name of Jabber the Hut Limited.
The advert on Facebook for their product boasted of a special ‘Happy Hour’ deal.
They had even added their own ingredients to help fight off the different variations of the germ that had developed in the former United Kingdom.
The Government recommended that a person be given a first shot of the vaccine which could provide up to 75% cover for six months and a further jab within twelve weeks to bring up immunity to 93%.
With the Jabber the Hut vaccine- which contained coffee and diet-coke and crystal meth- two shots was never enough.
Some people just coming back for more as they had become addicted.
Now in Galon Uchaf money had gone by the wayside.
They had reintroduced the barter system, as it didn’t affect their state benefits.
There was no Universal Credit level cut-off when it came to the number of chickens that you kept in the garden.
Outside the hut, queues were starting to form- all two metres apart that had been spray painted onto the pavement like a Premiership referee marking a wall from goal.
The fear of the Kent variant, meant that long queues just like that of the HGV lorry drivers near Dover were forming all the way down First Avenue.
A black limousine, now missing one of its wheel trims, arrived at the Hut and out stepped a weasel looking man surrounded by more bodyguards than Maria Carey.
He was ushered into the Hut to meet the owners but obviously to avoid shaking their hands.
‘Good Morning….said Hancock swiftly changing into a white lab coat for the photo opportunity before adopting the Tory Power stance which made him look a politician desperate to hold onto his deposit.
“Welcome Matt!” said Joe hands already shaking but not making contact.
Hannah curtsied and the sound of ripping of material could be heard in the street.
“I always wanted crotchless panties Mr Cock…!” she blurted out without thinking.
The glare from both Joe Boxer and Delroy Boyd was worse than the face-off at the Nigel Benn and Cwis Eubank fight.
Hancock then point up at the Price Tariff Board and enquired if it was a joke designed to raise spirits.
He read aloud:
‘One shot of Astra Zenaca for £3.00 or two for a Pfizer’.
He was surprised to also see a list of vegetables underneath and their vale on the Galon Uchaf equivalent of the FTSE index.
He then enquired as to where the vaccine was stored as it had to be below minus 80 and minus 60 degrees.
Joe opened the door and proudly displayed his storage area.
It was a former ice-cream van marked on the side as ‘Crony-Bell’.
“If you are a good boy you can have a ‘Moonshot Rocket Ice’ with it in exchange for one turnip- thanks to you we have lots of lolly!!!!” said Anna trying to be helpful.
“What about people who do not possess green fingers?” chuckled the Health Secretary.
“Then we have a watered-down version of Astra Zenaca for them…in Wales -we call it the ‘Poor Dab’!” replied Del.
“We do however warn them that there are some potential side effects- such as not being able to ever work again but strangely enough most people in this area are happy to accept such a risk!” interjected Joe.
“Who administers the vaccine?” asked Hancock.
Hannah stepped forward wearing a pair of Alan Titchmarsh gardening gloves and a phantom of the opera mask autographed by Michael Crawford covering her eyes only.
“Me!” she said proudly.
“I used to be a nurse and I had the pleasure of training under my good friends Baroness Munchausen Beverley Allitt and Dr Harold Shipman in Manchester!” Hannah continued.
“So that is how you got on the approved supply list….a Baroness!....of course!” said Hancock.
“Of course, I only put this gear on not to frighten the kids, as I tell they that I am really the ‘Masked Syringer’ off the Saturday Night Show of the same name!” continued Hannah.
“Although a lot of them already know how to find a vein, lots of them have seen their parents chasing the Welsh Dragon!” she continued in a matter of fact fashion.
“That was why we set up this Gym in the first place…interrupted Joe Boxer…to teach the females in the families how to dodge punches in the ring….otherwise it would be a bloodbath in this pandemic!”
“ A regular Quentin Quarantino!” if you like!” interrupted Del pleased at his comedic ad lib.
“Do people REALLY live like this in the 21 st Century?” asked Hancock of one of his aids horrified at the prospect.
“Never been to Merthyr before then Butt have u?” said an elderly woman sticking her head around the door.
“Who the Hell are you?” asked one of the Bodyguards from Serco.
“Mrs Paula Grady!” fired back the resident.
“Who wants to know?” she spat back with all the viciousness of a cat in the middle of a cat fight.
“Her Majesty’s Health Secretary” came the reply.
“Look…replied Paula….I queued up overnight to make sure that I was first in line for the jab…to give you an idea of what it was like - imagine the queue for Wimbledon or outside Harrods on Black Friday before Christmas….except with more Police sirens and Fire Fighters being pelted with stones!”
“Or in Merthyr the queue for the Dole Office!” she continued.
“Please let her in Officer….she has been outside since 5am in sub-zero temperatures…she will be our first guinea pig of the day!” said Hannah.
Joe tried to distract the Health Secretary from that comment.
“Before we inject them with the vaccine…we try to put the patient at ease by asking a few simple questions!” Joe said showing his authority.
“Name?” asked Joe shaking whilst holding the clipboard giving the appearance of the former football scores vidiprinter.
“Paula Grady!” replied the elderly woman.
“Address?” asked Joe.
“53 Thirteenth Avenue!” she replied.
Joe raised an eyebrow suspiciously as the Avenue count only went up to Twelve.
“Age?” Joe questioned further.
“Eighty years of age!” replied the old crone.
“Date of Birth!” he continued left eyebrow raised higher than Everton manager, Carlo Ancelotti.
“01/04/1991…sorry I meant 1941!” said Paula.
Joe reached across and snatched at the elderly woman’s beard sharply.
It revealed a much younger woman in her early thirties.
“Well Mrs Doubtfire…where do you think this is?..... America?” he said booting the woman up the arse out through the door of the hut.
“I thought it was suspicious….no-one has all their OWN teeth at that age on this Estate!” said Joe triumphantly.
“When can I have my vaccine? Because I am in category Ten!” moaned Paula (whose real name was Dani La Rue).
“Come back after Meghan Markle gets accepted back into the Royal Family with open arms!” said Joe.
“Come back any sooner and you will get a different jab!” shouted Delroy, as the attempted fraudster slunk down the street.
“So near…. so Spar!” Paula moaned shaking her head to the next imposter in the queue.
“I think we have seen enough!” said Hancock signalling to his lackies.
“What about our licence….will it be renewed?” asked Joe nervously.
“Can you make a donation to the Conservative Party?” asked the Health Secretary.
“Will a sack of turnips, some prizes from Castle Bingo and a chicken do?” asked Hannah.
“ I think we already have enough vegetables in the Cabinet already!” came the reply.
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Stories
“What time is he coming?” questioned retired nurse, Hannah Philatic. “For the third time this Morning… 11.00 am!” replied her Partner-in-Crime, Joe Boxer. “ I am the one that suffered multiple blows to my head not you!” he said hands shaking violently. “Sorry, but it’s this Long-Covid…it’s a bugger with your memory!” said Hannah. “ And I am nervous too!” she continued. Hannah checked the letter headed by a green Westminster Portcullis. “I never thought that I would get to meet the Health Secretary, Mr Handjob, in person!” she squealed excitedly. “It’s not Hand-job...
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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...
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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...
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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...
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Interview
AmeriCymru: Hi Philip, and many thanks for agreeing to this interview. When did you first start writing? What inspired you to write the many tales of 'everyday' life in Merthyr that have entertained and amused many visitors to this site over the years?
Philip: A) It was around 1967 and my first writing was like the Egyptian hieroglyphics at Tutankhamun’s tomb- unfortunately it was my parent’s new wallpaper in indelible marker pen-it didn’t make any sense to anyone, but I was aged 3 and I am now 54 but I am still not making much sense.
B) The local newspaper – the Merthyr Express (the Depress)- in a backwoods Town (not backwards)- there is very little news worthy items for a reporter to produce- so I created aliases such as Lamby Davis Junior, Sue Ellen Eweing and Colt Seevers to liven up the letters page and parody the news items that were included. The first few got through but then they I was rumbled and my game was up. The local librarian, Carolyn Jacob spotted my ‘talent’ and asked me to write a story for a local book called ‘My Town’ in which professional writer Phil Caradice selected the story ‘Cliffhanger’ about Gerry Mander a disgraced MP, which I had to read out an extract in the Council Chamber- people were in stitches and the genie was out of the bottle . No matter how many times I wish he won’t go back in.
C) Inspiration is everywhere in the Valleys, Welsh people have a distinct black sense of humour- we can laugh at ourselves- something those across the bridge have extracted at birth-we have a we’ve lost until we have won-but once we have won- boy do we enjoy the moment!
AmeriCymru: A quote from one of your recent stories:- "In a recession there is only one growth industry and that is gambling and Merthyr Tydfil had been in recession for over 200 years now." Care to tell us a little more about Merthyr's recent history? Why do you think the town has fared so badly in economic and employment terms?
Philip: Alexander Cordell sums it up in one book title- ‘The Rape of the Fair Country’, Merthyr was exploited by the English Ironmasters and has been a ‘Rotten Borough’ ever since. It has been forgotten by successive Governments in Westminster – with the continual brain drain it has for the last 200 years been in perpetual recession and with capitalists preferring to take their factories and sweatshops to Asia and beyond- there is zero opportunity for the unskilled to find meaningful employment with the inevitable loss of the work ethic. Poor people chase the dream of becoming ‘scratch-card rich’ or idolise reality show ‘stars’ – it is so sad. Although conversely with the loss of heavy industry and the export of it’s unintentional by- product of pollution to China, there are echoes of Wales two Centuries ago- and a new question raises it’s head, How Green IS my Valley?
AmeriCymru: Do you write anything other than comedy? Are there any special difficulties when writing humorous stories? I guess it's essential to be funny at a bare minimum but how does the creative process differ?
Philip: A) Comedy is my bitch. I write for my own pleasure ( I laugh a lot of my own jokes) the purpose is a cathartic and once I have written the story and I have exorcised the demon of stress. Whilst my comedy shorts (not the Don Estelle ones) come and go, once I have written them they are forgotten. More recently (last 5 or so years) I write comedy football match reports on my local Non-League team, Merthyr Town, which I post on the Merthyr Town Fans Forum fortnightly, they rarely reflect the actual game but cheer people up. Opposing Teams have included my match reports in their programmes (the ultimate accolade) or retweet them to their fans- one match report was on a postponed match due to a frozen pitch but few people noticed such was their laughter.
B) Humour is very subjective- I would hate to offend any one person but I don’t agree with political correctness…for something to be funny it must be on the edge, celebrities put themselves in a position to be lampooned….but every celebrity that I have made laugh on Twitter which includes Ricky Gervais, Rob Schneider, Richard E Grant, Warwick Davis and the legendary Reg D Hunter are real good sports.
C) If I can make one person a day smile or forget their troubles then I have won. My readers in the past have complained that people think they are mad reading one of books poolside on holiday- for spontaneously bursting out in laughter- people have referred to my stories as ‘hilarious’ ‘hysterical’ , ‘zany’ and on occasion ‘pure genius’ and ‘criminal’ (Their words, not mine) - I have one even ruined one reader’s kitchen ceiling from her overweight husband reading a book in the bathtub, caused an injury off a sunbed and had a 90 year old Granny lock herself in the bedroom to finish a book in peace.
AmeriCymru: Where do you draw inspiration for the individual stories? Do they spring from overheard conversations, newspaper articles etc or are they simply inspired products of the authorial imagination?
Philip: Like my predecessor the late great Charles Dickens, I am a social commentator- I even pinched his pseudonym ‘Boz’ – he doesn’t need it as he is DEAD- just like Dickens I am a lawyer by profession- the same Dickensian characters exist today – albeit morphed into different people- inspiration comes from colourful characters- we all know them- in our minds eye, we see who we want to see in the leading role- the key is making the story almost believable – that it COULD happen – reading is the ultimate escapism and rich or poor can enjoy it in equal measures- I have been likened in style on more than occasion to Tom Sharpe (In Welsh-Dai Blunt?)- and of course a warped mind is essential.
AmeriCymru: Do you have any favorites amongst your stories or any that you are particularly proud of? If so , which ones.
Philip: The Ex-Files (My Boss gets caught dogging), Mass Murder (A Catholic Priest goes nuts), Chariots on Fire (Millenium Edition) – the only time you are allowed to be legally racist in Wales- the Wales v England Rugby Match-I particularly loved this one as BBC Comedian and genius Boyd Clack of High Hopes & Satellite City Fame did me the honour of reading it aloud in a local Rhymney Brewery public house- the Winchester- just like the beer and the tale he is pure class, - Big Top ( A local disabled child runs away to the circus) , A Knight at the Museum (Rolf Harris’ painting comes alive at Cyfarthfa Castle Art Gallery) and the ‘Raj Quartet’- four stories about the Royal Family – Harry’s Game (Set in Afghanistan) , Stuck Up – a Prince is Born at the Queen Camilla Hospital- The Royal Wee (HM stuck in a lift) and How Very Troll (Twitter gets a Royal Assent)- unlike Sir Rolf or Sir Jimi I am not likely to get a knighthood.
AmeriCymru: How many stories have you written in total and where can the connoisseur go to read them all?
Philip: Last Count 223 complete – one in its embryonic stages- they are only a limited edition- I produce five of each volume purely for close friends- the only places to go will be the Americymru Website and occasionally on the Merthyr Town Fc Fans Forum.
AmeriCymru: Do you have any publications currently available? Do you plan to publish in the future?
Philip: No- I had a free venture with a book called ‘The Hills have Dai’s’ a few years ago – on a ‘vanity’ publishing company based in Austria- it outsold Mein Kampf but it struggled a bit. I plan to publish Volume 45 called ‘Obese City’ for my friends in Wales and the ex-pats across the Pond. Past volumes have reached Italy, Australia and Canada and Rheola market, Neath Car Boot Sale- one day I hope to emulate JRR Hartley – I wonder if Fly Fishing is still an offence.
AmeriCymru: Any final message for the readers and members of AmeriCymru?
Philip: In Merthyr, our perceived life expectancy is shorter than Sierra Leone (Source: the Sun newspaper) , if a Tydfilian reaches 50 years of age we get a telegram from the Queen- so the message is don’t buy the Sun ….oh and that life’s too short not to laugh- and thanks to Ceri Shaw and Gaabi on Americymru, the World can now laugh with you.
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Gallery
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Boz Books For Bucks
Buy Boz Here! Five stories for $3!
Each bundle contains five stories from the Annals of Boz. Click on the links below for further details and to purchase. Don't forget to check out the 'Bozbundles' tab for special offers.( You will need to be logged in to AmeriCymru to buy.)
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Bozbundles
Five for a Fiver! Save $10!
Now you too can own 'Bundles of Boz'! Each bundle contains five pdf collections of the Annals of Boz. 25 stories for a fiver!!! Click on the links below for further details and to purchase. ( You will need to be logged in to AmeriCymru to buy.)
The Early Years
item count: 5 Sex & Drugs & Lots of Coal
item count: 5 Nearly a Smoker
item count: 5 Cin City
item count: 5 El Dole Rado
item count: 5 Land of Poetry & Thongs
item count: 5 Nutty Slag Tips
item count: 5 Bred of Cefn
item count: 5 Viagraville: The Alternative Merthyr Rising
item count: 5
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The above group is for hardcore 'Boz' fans. Some of his 'spicier' material is contained therein. You will need to join AmeriCymru before applying to join this group. join here
Philip 'Boz' Evans is a Merthyr writer and humorist. -
"Inspiration is everywhere in the Valleys, Welsh people have a distinct black sense of humour- we can laugh at ourselves- something those across the bridge have extracted at birth."Read Philip 'Boz' Evans TV script for 'The Italian Lob' here -