-
Featured
The young apprentices at Hoovers in Merthyr Tydfil looked on in awe.
They had heard the phrase, ‘necessity was the Mother of all invention’ and this was in fact the ultimate Mother.
Sat in the now empty Pentrebach Factory, that had once employed thousands of local people, was a brand new car- the like of which the World had never seen before.
If the Sinclair C5 Electric trike produced in the 1980’s was to be the saviour of Hoovers- then this new invention was bound to clean up.
It was the brainchild of local man Ian Venter, who had used the discarded scrap parts of old washing machines, tumble driers and vacuum cleaners to create the ultimate ‘Hoovercar’.
The apprentices could not believe their teenage eyes- it was like something from an episode of Futurama.
A vehicle that could hover above ground – just like the vehicle driven by Luke Skywalker on the planet Tatooine in the first Star Wars film – it really was a ‘New Hope’.
A new hope alright to employment in the small but historic, South Wales Valley Town that had been in recession for over two hundred years.
“I don’t believe it!” said local lad Vic Meldrew.
“There is something in the Air!’ expressed open-mouthed Aled Jones Junior- singing out in his dulcet Valley tones.
The car was not surprisingly made up of metal from white goods and had two vacuum hosepipes as the exhaust to filter out the gases.
To limit the effect on the environment, the patent holder, Ian Venter had it linked to a tank of Lenor, which gave it a softness and a freshness that people just couldn’t ignore.
It had a twin tub engine, which was fuelled by a new secret biofuel which Ian Venter didn’t want revealed to the World, unless he was to mysteriously Die Son.
“Does it really float of its own accord?” asked Vic- doubting even more than his mate Thomas standing next to him.
Ian produced to the apprentice a skipping hoop acquired from the local Afon Taf school.
Just like a magician’s assistant, he passed the hoop over the car to show that it was not being held up by invisible wires attached to the Factory ceiling.
“Unbelievable!” said Chris Kamara Junior.
“There is a lot less Bovver with a Hoover!” said Ian proud of his creation.
“When are you going to reveal it to the general public?” asked Thomas sceptically.
“I plan on a big publicity splash soon and seek to recreate the original bet between Ironmaster Crawshay and Richard Trevethick but this time have a sponsored race with an Tesla electric car retracing the original route from the Tramroad at Penydarren to Abercynon- but using the existing road network- I will of course stick to the Taff Trail- so it is a Musk Win for me!” Ian continued.
“Sounds great!” the wide-eyed teenagers felt like they were witnessing an important event in human history.
A vehicle that was not only eco-friendly but might offer one or two of the acne brigade a chance to impress teenage Scandinavian green Viking warrior Greta Thunberg.
“How did you come across the formula for your bio-fuel?” asked Victor.
“My Grandfather was a soldier in the British Army that liberated Berlin in 1945- he came across a famous German Physicist, Otto Von Jizzmark, who had unfortunately just taken a cyanide capsule rather be taken alive by the Red Army- in his laboratory coat pocket was a series of algebraic equations that Gramps had not seen before and which the dead scientist had been testing on a metal bell which apparently floated in the air unsupported- only the Nazi Swastika symbols could he recognise- but when he came home he gave it to Grandmother who kept it safe- it had weird alien spray writing on it too!” continued Ian.
“Do you think it has extra-terrestial origins?” questioned Victor further.
“Either that or my Grandfather found the original ‘Banksy’… Ian replied.
“But first, I need a volunteer pilot to test drive the car!”
“Any takers?”
All three teenagers shouted ‘Me’ at once.
None of them had full driving licences but both Chris and Vic both had passed their theory driving tests on Glebeland Street and held provisional licences.
Chris had the advantage though, as he was much lighter than Vic and had driven his Father’s milk float around Galon Uchaf on more than one occasion- as his Father needed someone to ride shotgun.
Not to just sit on the front passenger’s seat but also to ward off ‘the Humphries’ or milk thieves that lived near the Frontier Town’s Wild West Trading Post.
The ‘last straw’ for him was watching the Humphries ‘cream’ off all his weekly profits by pinching his ‘white goods and cheeses’ from the back whilst distracting him at the front of the vehicle.
He had got one of them back by reversing over his head whilst he ‘supposedly’ reached under the milk float for his football.
It didn’t kill the young soccer thief but it was very ‘Messi’ and his new triangular shaped head had earned him the nickname ‘Dairy Lee’ locally.
Chris didn’t know it at that juncture but being appointed the first ever test pilot of the Hoover Car would secure his place in history and of course the Guinness Book of Records.
Ian lowered the car to the ground and switched the engine off.
Chris moved quicker than an England Football Fan without a Euro 2020 ticket at Wembley.
As he clambered aboard, Chris was reminded that unlike Princess Diana, he must wear his seatbelt.
Chris looked at the series of dials on the dashboard.
There were red buttons, green ones and amber ones too- but was more scary than the ‘Squid Games’.
“Whatever you don’t press that button with the ‘Red Arrows logo’- or the one emblazoned with the faded words ‘Spin Cycle’….as it turns the car upside-down’ and is only to be used on an official fly past above the Queen of England!”
“Press the circular one to start the engine!” instructed Ian.
“The one marked ‘Up’ is what you press very slowly…if you press it too hard you would shoot up like a Harrier Jump Jet and will be crushed by the asbestos ceiling tiles!” the creator explained.
Chris did as he was told and raised the car three feet up off the factory floor.
All he could manage to utter was the word ‘cool’.
He hovered there suspended in mid-air like a fart in a vacuum.
Whereas he was in fact a fart in a different kind of vacuum.
His pals looked jealously on at the chosen one.
“What is its top speed? Shouted Chris from mid-air of the designer.
“Don’t know yet!” Ian replied.. but I have the ideal test track on the former Hoover’s cricket pitch..I should be able to discover its ‘run rate’ then easily!” he continued.
Schrodinger’s Chris was encouraged to return to Earth and landed like an expert.
“When is the test scheduled for?” he asked excitedly.
“Saturday, so be there promptly for 7am, I don’t want too many of the HGV lorry drivers to see my invention as they should all be stuck in Dover post-Brexit by then!” Ian declared laughing.
The students went home each fantasising about joining the Mile High Club with the young Thunberg for ‘Swede Dreams’.
When Saturday came, Chris was dressed to impress his Teacher.
Dressed in a Second World War jump suit obtained from the Army & Navy Stores bearing the word ‘Stig’ written in Sharpie Black pen on the top he stood with his Uncle’s Helmet ‘borrowed’ from his Vespa Scooter.
In his eyes he felt he was wearing ‘Top Gear’, whereas in fact to all and sundry he looked like a complete pillock, as he ambled down Pentrebach Road past the long red-brick building.
Ian was waiting for him as he entered the ‘Field of Dreams’.
As a child Chris had not been breast-fed but raised on Formula One and felt that this race was his destiny.
His shot to be the new Lewis Hamilton and move all his assets and domicile to Switzerland- where he would live the good life in the land of milk and honey surviving on Milka bars & Toblerones to keep his big race energy up between Groupies.
Chris climbed into the cockpit feeling just like Tom Cruise in Days of Thunder or Steve McQueen in Le Mans.
He was familiar with the controls and upon the lowering of the chequered flag by Ian, he set off in a clockwise circular direction around the field.
His trusty steed handled like a dream.
He felt cocksure with the arrogance that comes with youth that he could beat any mortal in a fair race.
Even a Tesla.
The Morning of the promotional race came around and Chris was sat in his prototype whilst he had learned that his rival was Malcolm Campbell Junior, Junior, from Pendine Sands Carmathenshire- a very religious driver who had christened his Tesla ‘Sunbeam’ in the hope of getting approval from his big boss upstairs.
As everyone knows Jesus loves a Sunbeam.
He genuflected before putting on his helmet, clutching the steering wheel theatrically and revving his silent engine, just like Marcel Marceau would have done.
Chris started to get nervous- looking at the model of Trevithick’s Engine in Pontmorlais he said a silent prayer of his own but given his green credentials to the Greek Earth Goddess Gaia.
The race was on.
Whilst the Tesla sped away silently like a chapel fart, it soon becoming entrenched in Merthyr Town Centre’s demonic one-way traffic system which must have designed by Chris Rea.
Malcolm Campbell didn’t like having to stop at the Pontmorlais ‘Circus’ zebra crossing as high above his head was the red-and yellow brick former Young Man’s Christian Association building once listed now just listing and looking like it could collapse at any moment.
Even the pigeons that roosted there would confirm that it was no longer ‘fun to stay at the YMCA’.
On the other hand, being much narrower and more flexible, the Hoovercar could use all the escape lanes known only to local taxi drivers and car thieves to get ahead as it sped down the Tramroad behind the Red House, Old Town Hall, whilst the Tesla was still log-jammed at the top of Town.
As it sped along, Chris suddenly realised what the environmental benefits the Hoovercar could bring to South Wales.
As it went along it sucked up all the discarded fly-tipped plastic bottles and containers and used them to burn away the air miles.
It was a real shame that Erin Brockovich wasn’t present, as the plastic fumes from the twin tub exhaust filtered upwards and started the fill the hole in the ozone layer as it solidified.
Used discarded syringes were no trouble for the Hoovercar, in fact they gave Chris’ vehicle an ‘injection’ of pace and left the Sunbeam ‘Chasing the Dragon-Park Silver Machine’
Sweeping and cleaning as it went, it would have saved the Council a fortune in street cleansing- if only they hadn’t stopped street cleansing due to austerity measures five years before.
Flying across the junction markings without stopping, just like the average Audi driver, Chris sailed on passed the temporary car park at Tesco that has been up for over two decades.
Using the pavements and side alleys he flew on without impediment as he made much swifter progress than the conventional cars gridlocked and frustrated by streets and lanes designed for horses and carts.
Being faithful to the route taken a few centuries back in Victorian Times, he was cheered on by a time-travelling member of the Conservative Party replete in Top Hat, tails and pin stripe trousers all laid out for the Right Honourable Member for Somerset North by his Nanny that Morning.
He made good time whilst his race rival was trapped in the Wacky Races behind the Merthyr Tydfil version of Penelope Pitstop, busy putting on her make-up in the rear-view mirror.
Sounding his steering wheel horn, Campbell received a dirty look that would have put Medusa the Gorgon to shame.
Chris had now reached the Rhydycar zebra crossing and floated across the road, narrowly dodging myopic pensioners who only passed their tests when accompanied by a leading man with a white flag and cyclists from the Taff Trail who refuse to dismount or slow down.
Complete cycle paths the lot of them.
As he passed over the River Taff, he admired the number of migratory supermarket trollies caught up in the torrent, that hadn’t yet reached the Merthyr salvage yards in Penygarnddu.
Now on the Taff Trail behind the Rhydycar Leisure & Swimming Pool which sadly had built too small to host Olympic Competition, he began to become worried that he would run low on fuel but fortunately there was plenty of nitrogen and methane available thanks to irresponsible dog owners in the form of discarded dog-shit.
Chris had once thought that dogs were dumb animals but realised that he had never ever witnessed a dog stepping in human shit.
His machine, originally modelled on the Sinclair Trike, had a top speed of 20mph and floating above the tarmac he didn’t need to worry about lumps or bumps unlike the Tesla, who had to negotiate the surface roads with less tarmac than the ones in Kiev during the Russian Invasion.
Malcolm Campbell loved a challenge but driving on these Valley roads left him shaking more than Billy Connolly coming back from a wanking contest.
Unfortunately, his progress was also hampered by the knock- on effect of roadworks on the A465(T), the A4060 slip road, the A4102 at Jackson’s Bridge in Georgetown and the A470 (T).
He couldn’t understand why all works were scheduled for the same date- especially on the day of the exhibition race.
The effect was total gridlock on streets designed for horses and carts with only fools and horses driving them.
Even the speed camera van had given up the ghost – there would be no soft motorist targets with cars moving less than 10MPH.
Malcolm Campbell was however, very competitive and even more resourceful.
As new laws had been brought in banning the use of handheld mobile phone devices in moving vehicles- he realised that there was still a loophole in the law, sat in his log-jammed car he googled the sound of an ambulance siren and set his phone to the loudest noise setting.
He knew in a lawless Town like Merthyr Tydfil it was no good calling up a Police Siren, as it was an everyday sound and no-one would voluntarily pullover to assist the Cuntstabulary in the lawful execution of their duty.
He would now drive like he did on Gran Turismo, forcing vehicles off the road in a fraudulent ‘Dai- version’
Using this technique, he soon reached the ‘A470’ at the Trago Mills roundabout glancing up at the grey towers of Merthyr’s version of Cinderella’s Palace.
He was now able to start making ground on the Hoovercar, which was now speeding down the Taff Trail, passed Upper Abercanaid- with hums and arias, as it nodded in the direction of its birth place and the land of its Father.
The Hoovercar was now low on fuel as a local charity ‘Bags under your Ayes’ had been busy clearing the illegally dumped plastic containers, beer cans and soft drink cans tipped merrily down the side of the embankments of the Taff Trail by a local publican enraged at the cost of commercial waste collection by the Local Authority.
The Gethin Woods now looked like it was sponsored by Pepsi to the Max and of course Red Bull.
The Charity collection organised by a group of local politicians to assist with a donation to the MP’s ‘Commoners’ bar at Westminster.
After all, the cost of living crisis meant that the price of alcohol had risen, together with sharp fuel cost rises and with a mere 15% increase on their salaries some MP’s were struggling to heat their stables effectively.
The Hoovercar began to chug and splutter like Boris Johnson at the dispatch box, as the rubbish began to run out.
Chris scanned the immediate location and suddenly struck gold as a local fly by night removal company had tipped a load of unwanted items previously destined for the Antiques Roadshow which had been looted years ago from Cyfarthfa Castle archives.
A signed first edition copy of Charles Darwin’s book the Origin of the Species – previously thought to be a study on the finches of the Galapagos Islands- but was actually about the building of the houses in the Gurnos and the Council policy about bringing up the standard of the poorest by rehousing gypsies and battered wives amongst the managers of the Imperial Chemical Institute (ICI) and their Stepford Wives.
Next came, Lord Nelson’s telescope and eyepatch last used in the 1805 Battle of Trafalgar.
Then to boost the fuel was fed the handwritten missing ending for Charles Dickens’ the Mystery of Edwin Drood together with the ostrich feather used to pen the same.
Dozens of stuffed animals-a taxidermists’ nightmare- ‘stuffed’ into the fuel tank as the Hoovercar regained the initiative on the Tesla.
The Taff Trail ended and the two vehicles came side to side on the Cynon Valley Road as the Mountain Ash Dash intensified.
Who would cross the finish line first?
Rounding the bend serving the Mountain Ash Rugby Club the rivals suddenly realised that there were pedestrians in the road ahead.
Joe Rassic-Park had a chip on his shoulder.
His Mother had in the 1960’s, whilst pregnant, taken a drug to ease her morning sickness and as a result he had been born with two tiny arms but oversized hands.
He looked like a cross between Kenny Everett character Brother Lee Love and a tyrannosaurus rex.
Today, he had a chip on his shoulder principally because that was the only way he could eat his food.
The environmentalist and green campaigner had tried to make a difference all his life raging against Big Pharma and the Multi-National Corporations that were destroying our Planet with their plastic pollution, car fumes and engineered wars.
This is why at the age of Sixty, he had joined the protest group Insulate Britain to become a cool cat.
Money was no longer of any concern to him following his early retirement – as he had just discovered that his occupational pension pot was empty after being looted by the Trustees, and who were now based in the Cayman Islands- so angry that he had just decided his moral crusade was justified for the next generations of children that regional and National Governments were failing.
Despite having a small amount of money, he was in fact insolvent.
Stuck to the tarmac road by his face, he refused to move as he lay right eyelid glued to the road surface of the A4059 Mountain Ash Road.
If only inventor Percy Shaw could see the alternative cat’s eye stuck in the middle of the highway.
Little did Joe realise that today like suffragette Emily Davison, he would literally die for his cause.
The glass of water perched next to him to ease his dehydration began to ripple.
Something big was coming his way- he couldn’t hear it but he could sense it.
Since the introduction of electric vehicles and their silent running, pensioner deaths had trebled.
The Government’s master plan of Covid Herd immunity had saved the Non-Dom Chancellor of the Exchequer at Westminster a fortune in pension pay- outs so much so he could afford tax cuts for the Times Newspaper ‘Richi’ List.
It was now onto the next phase of the cull of the surplus population, the roll-out of fully driverless cars and smart (no- hard shoulder) motorways.
The planned reduction of the number of cars on our roads by lethal but legal means.
Malcolm Campbell’s silent machine of death had already left a trail of dead hedgehogs in its wake.
The poor creatures had merely stepped out from their Chris Packham Springwatch nature-built apartments to meet with their friends for a short time but instead ended up visiting their ‘flat’ mates.
Now it was the turn of the ‘Swampy’ pensioner to fill the potholes.
The Tesla ploughed into the OAP shocking him than a monkey in a test laboratory experiment.
Never mind being tasered by the Met Police- being Tesla’d was much worse.
Chris in the Hoovercar just floated over the human roadblock and crossed the winning line to the sound of a loud cheer from his sponsor- Ian Ventor.
In triumph however, Chris made one fatal mistake.
Glancing back over his shoulder and giving his rival the bird, being a youngster he took his other hand off the wheel for a mobile phone selfie to upload to Instagram and just like 1970’s T-Rex frontman, Mark Bolan ploughed straight into a Mountain Ash tree the village was named after.
That too was to be his biggest ‘hit’.
His car burst into a ball of flame at the edge of the Taff Trail.
To the horror of Ian Ventor, the plastic prototype melted quicker than a Kardashian standing too close to an open fire.
Chris had become a Trail blazer indeed.
Posted in: Humor | 0 comments -
Stories
“Oh Harry.. you are so gullible!” Protested his Wife, Meghan lying alongside him in the purple Heather of the Balmoral Estate. “ I’m not meant to be a gull ….I am meant to be a chicken!” His Former Highness snapped back. The two were dressed in blue and white bird outfits that Meghan had borrowed from a Hollywood backdrop of the Gene Wilder film ‘Stir Crazy’. “Let me have a look at that invitation again!” she demanded. He handed her the expensive card with its emboldened heading. “ It’s not the RSPB ….it’s RSVP which means respondez s’il vous plait - you idiot-!”...
Read MoreThe young apprentices at Hoovers in Merthyr Tydfil looked on in awe. They had heard the phrase, ‘necessity was the Mother of all invention’ and this was in fact the ultimate Mother. Sat in the now empty Pentrebach Factory, that had once employed thousands of local people, was a brand new car- the like of which the World had never seen before. If the Sinclair C5 Electric trike produced in the 1980’s was to be the saviour of Hoovers- then this new invention was bound to clean up. It was the brainchild of local man Ian Venter, who had used the discarded scrap parts of old...
Read More“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...
Read MoreStatue of Eddie Thomas, Merthyr Tydfil cc-by-sa/2.0 - © Ian S - geograph.org.uk/p/4001542 “ When shall we three meet again?” asked Daniel Druff dramatically. The remaining two members of his drama group at Merthyr Tydfil Technical College stared back from their online Zoom meeting and shrugged their shoulders. “I think it best if the ‘Read Brigade’ meet in person to discuss our proposal, in order that no third party can infiltrate our Group or stop our plan…agreed?” continued Daniel. His fellow Brigade members of Grant Aide and Douglas Deep...
Read MoreRichard Hopkins , CC BY 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons There is a strange order of hatred on the motorways, highways and by-ways of England & Wales these days. HGV Lorry drivers hate white van drivers, white van drivers hate slow moving buses, buses hate tail- gating BMW and Audi drivers, BMW and Audi Drivers hate Citroen Picasso Mobility car drivers that hog the middle lane. But they only have one thing in common that unites them all. All road users hate cyclists. And today on a Sunny Autumn day of 2020, in the sleepy former Mining Town of Merthyr Tydfil there was to be...
Read MoreThe 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 More... PART III Scene 17 Rome sweet Rome. Try as he might Des Res couldn't keep up with the Porsche and gets lost in the Italian Countryside in doing so. Titch: ' How can you get lost when all roads lead to Rome?' Perrier: 'Why don’t you ask for directions in that Spartacus Pizza Hut?' They eventually arrive in the Roman capital with Mario announcing in Welsh and Italian to his Mother his arrival in her homeland. Mario: ' Mama Mia...Mam I' m here!' The streets are lined with beautiful dark haired girls with skimpy bra-less...
Read More... PART II Scene 9 The inside of the small seedy club has a small stage and a small bar. The room is dark, smokey and is full of dry ice vapour- as a prelude to the arrival of an artiste. The music starts up- it is a striptease song. The five tourists receive a round of five Stella's and a bill for 20 Francs which is passed around the table by the tighter members of the group- Titch- Pat until it ends up in front of Des Res who always gets stuck with the bill. Ruth Jones is once again dressed as the stripper only this time is younger...
Read More... PART I Scene One It is 5.30 pm ...it is already dark...it is a cold late February night in Glebeland Street, Merthyr Tydfil. The French baguette shop owner is closing up his cafe for the night. Perrier is dressed in a fake blue French beret , striped tee-shirt and red neckerchief with black trousers- he takes in his metal advertising sign Cafe De Glebeland written in Welsh, English, Polish and French. He greets his work neighbour Perrier: ’Bon Soir Des Res, everything organised for our Tour De France yet?'. He...
Read More... A message from author Philip Evans - "Here is the start of a four part play which whilst rejected by BBC Wales may amuse the readers of Americymru" The Italian Lob The basic premise is a one off special television hour and a half mini- film - as a homage to the legendary BBC programme ' Grand Slam'.It is a story to reflect the changing face of the Welsh Valleys and how cosmopolitan they have become and also how the sport of Rugby Union - the National Sport of Wales - just ahead of beer drinking- has changed since the 1970s some 45 years...
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...
Read More"I dont care what the ultrasound picture shows there is definitely more than one up there!" said the newly qualified Doctor. Jamie Roberts lowered his Davy Helmet so that the light didn't blind the expectant father , his Royal Highness the future Prince of Wales. "Look I dont tell you how to fly that RAF Valley helicopter now do I ?" reasoned the former Cardiff medic. From inside the womb the twin babies continued their foetal conversation. "Look I am not going out first into the land of the giants. Have you seen the size on that Doctors head?" said the male heir. "Why should I go first?"...
Read More -
Interview
AmeriCymru: Hi Phil and many thanks for agreeing to this interview. We last spoke to you a few years ago, before the pandemic. Care to fill us in on recent events, both in Merthyr and in the life of AmeriCymru's favorite comedy writer?
Phil: ‘Americymru’s favourite comedy writer’ - wow what a prestigious title- much more valuable to me than my ‘Jim fixed it for me badge’ ( see The End of the World is Nye- Volume 25 entitled Taffy Apples ) or any Knighthood or MBE.- Accepted as long I don’t become an OBE (Old Big Ead).
AmeriCymru: In our previous interview you indicated that the Ex-Files , Harry's Game and Stuck Up were amongst the stories that you are most proud of. Are there any amongst your more recent works that you would like to draw attention to?
Phil: Clap for the NHS is semi-autobiographical after my recent spine troubles and has a special place in my heart- (next to the pigs bladder replacement valve). Nurses in my opinion deserve the moniker ’Angels’ as this is what they really are. My new favourites are The Codfather ( Volume 45) and Dipping your Wick ( Volume 44) which once you read reply 9 to this interview will give a sense of where I suspect I will end up in the Afterlife.
AmeriCymru: Care to talk about the industrial background to your story Trail Blazing in which local entrepreneur 'Ian Venter' uses the "discarded scrap parts of old washing machines, tumble driers and vacuum cleaners to create the ultimate ‘Hoovercar’."?
Phil: Imagine thinking you could put a robot on Mars ( Pre-NASA)…the same happened in a bet between local Ironmaster Crawshay and Richard Trevithick (Pre-Industrial Revolution) or was it just a case of letting off steam?
AmeriCymru: In Clap For the NHS we find nurse Mel Gabriel disguising herself to visit a food bank because she is ashamed that she cannot get by on her nurses salary. Obviously the story is a humorous one but what can you tell us about the current condition of the NHS in Wales?
Phil: A serious answer for a change- Like Charles Dickens before him, this Welsh successor, ‘Boz’ is a social commentator and the background to this tale is a sad reflection on the current state of the NHS in the former ‘United Kingdom’- people who really care about others have been demoralised and disillusioned by over ten years of pay freezes, austerity measures and deliberate underfunding of the National Health Service by successive Conservative Governments- working people having to visit a food bank just to survive is scandalous and whilst it is a return to ‘Victorian Values’ so loved by the new Iron-masters…it shouldn’t happen to a so-called First World Country-it feels like the last days of Rome for the Capitalist greed loving ‘Great Britons’ who have their assets in offshore tax havens instead of helping those in Society that need it most. So disappointing to see Nurses going from being applauded as ‘key workers’ in the Pandemic to ‘greedy strikers’ for wanting a living wage for their efforts and not just a drudge existence.Sadly, the Conservative Government wants to destroy the NHS as it was a flagship Labour Party Creation giving ordinary people a safeguard from ‘cradle to the grave’- once again forgetting the lessons the Pandemic taught us in that we are all interdependent on one another. the answer is off course to prevent strike disruption by linking public sector pay to MP’s increases!
AmeriCymru: Are you still writing comedy football match reports? Any chance we'll ever get to read some of these?
Phil: Yes- they can be found on the Merthyr Town Fans Forum bi-weekly and cheer players and fellow fans of both teams up whatever the result.
AmeriCymru: Any further developments with your TV script - The Italian Lob ?
Phil: Sadly, the Italian Lob is not politically correct and potentially could be seen by some of the ‘Mary Whitehouse’ brigade as being offensive- for humour to be funny it must be on the edge- otherwise you will only get bland, grey programmes on TV and if we are not careful as a species we soon lose the ability to laugh- not something Victorian Charles Darwin ever considered.
AmeriCymru: Any predictions for the rest of 2023?
Phil: No-only predictive text on my mobile ( cell phone in US) which saves me a fortune on my swear box.
AmeriCymru: Where can readers go to read/buy your stories?
Phil: Exclusively on Americymru - there is no other place like it for people to visit in the cyber world- it is one of a kind and deserves more praise from both sides of the Pond.
AmeriCymru: Now that you have reached 50 collections of short stories what are your plans for the future? More shorts? A novel?
Phil: I used to write purely for my own pleasure and started to show them to friends- my young son encouraged me to get them out there in the wider world and the link with Americymru was born-I only produce five or so printed copies and have got some minor celebrities to sign them including Welsh comedy writer Boyd Clack, Footballers Ray Wilkins & Stan Collimore, Welsh Rugby prop Adam Jones, and of course NUM President Arthur Scargill ( Volume One- Are they taking the Pits ?) I just hope my comedy demon doesn’t leave me as I will need my imaginary friend to guide me across the Rivers Taff and Lethe to Hades where I belong (I am sure if you read Cheesed Off in Volume 39 ( Mushroom Town ) you will agree).
AmeriCymru: Any final message for the readers and members of AmeriCymru?
Phil: I hope the fans of Americymru enjoy reading the humour as much as I do writing it.- To me the sound of laughter is worth more than gold-in the words of that 21st Century philosopher ‘Ronan Keating ‘ of Westlife fame-life is a rollercoaster-you just have to ride it- just make sure if you go round the bend (like I am ) you keep hold of your hotdog and sanity in an otherwise insane World and don’t forget to tell your friends about Americymru so they too can enjoy it.
-
Gallery
-
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.)
-
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
-
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 -