Time on your hands?....send an idea to Draogns Pen?

Tapping her satellite navigation , the Yellow Dragon , Vanessa Eden looked frustrated , as she looked vainly for the whereabouts of a Castle Hostel.

Stuck in the Avenue De Clichy traffic lights, with her red Masarati Convertible purring , she wondered why the BBC producers had sent her to this God-forsaken backwoods Town that didn’t even register on her Sat Nav.

‘ Murder Tydfil or Merde de Tydfil’ she screamed looking around frantically.

‘These bloody roads and red lights....no filter arrows.... do they use chewing gum as tarmac around here....!” she muttered under her fiery dragon breath...

“...And that A465 (T) should be renamed the Dead’s of the Valley Road....it’s like that Clive Anderson show....” Whose Lane is it anyway!”

“ Did I hear you say the magic word.... Clive.....? “ asked the bald lawyer pulling up alongside her in his Black Saab....

She winced , as she realised that the car that had tailed-gated her since the Black Rock , had once again caught her up.

At one point, he had driven so close that his Saab logo had in fact entered her exhaust pipe.

Reaching across to her handbag for her mace spray, she suddenly stopped at the tone of the stranger’s voice.

“ Well hello.... !” said the babe magnet...in his best Crickhowell Leslie Phillips- voice.

Even the dragon- lady couldn’t resist the charm of Silver Streak Fox.

“ Been following you since Crick....you know admiring your body work” he continued.

“ Do you go all the way.....he asked ......to the Castle Hostel.....?” asked the white Errol Brown.

“ How did you know.....?” asked the dragon seductively....melting further at every inflection.

“ There is only one three star hostel in Merthyr..... unless you count the ones with roof slates missing!” replied the Chrome dome Love machine.

“ Best turn into the college car park luv....!”

*******

Clive ‘Wallace’ Caddy pointed with his golf putter towards the car park and allowed her to change lanes and squeeze past the front of his car slowly.

That sent a shiver down his spine.

Almost as good as being in a crowded lunchtime in Woolworth, he moaned as his 2.5 litre engine began to throb rhythmically.

As they passed the Toytown coloured Fire Station and the child-proof river railings installed at great Euro Lottery expense, they turned into the College car park and parked up close to the River Taff.

Caddy once again boasted that ‘he could fit into any tight space’ and parked ‘East of Eden’

Gentleman Caddy offered to cover her bag over the St Tydfil’s Footbridge.

Looking up at the ‘Sword of Damocles’ Logo and the broken boarded up panes of glass.... Eden wondered if this was a bad omen.

“ It’s perfectly safe.... trust me....he smiled... I putt across it every day!” .

“ What exactly is that contraption alongside the weir?” asked Eden.

“ Typical woman....doesn’t know anything about technology or inventions....!” chuckled Caddy.....that my girl is a Fish ladder....(looking at her bending over the railing) and it’s nothing to do with a hole in your fish net stockings...”

“ What does it do exactly?” asked the dragon impatiently.

“ Some say it is to catch migratory shopping trollies, but mainly it catches ‘Greyhounds in sacks’..... replied Caddy

“ Ballyregan Bob?” asked the Dragon.

“ I thought you’d never ask ...but we will have to be quick ....I’m golfing later”

“ Oh cheeky....I love a high profile lawyer ....and you must have lots of testosterone with that haircut!” smirked the dragon at the approach.

As they steeped onto the ‘Schindler’s Lift’ escalator together they headed towards the yellow Merthyr Tydfil Bus Terminal sign.

Terminal- that’s what Eden thought of Merthyr ...it WAS the end of the line.

As the passed through the narrow alleyway the pair looked a miss-match.

Eden in her ‘mutton dressed as lamb’ short skirt , fish net stockings and anti- Germaine Greer high-heel shoes and ‘Wallace- Caddy’ in the ‘wrong trousers’ - his plus fours, spiked shoes and briefcase.

“ This is it....what room number are we in?” asked the slick-tongued sportsman.

“ Room 1308...” she replied....” See you later!”

“ What time later?” he asked seductively.

“ What time do you finish work?” she enquired.

“ I start at 9.00am....say ....9.10am.....?”

“ But I thought you were golfing...... she replied dejectedly.

“ Only on days with Y in it!” chuckled Caddy....besides I like to get a couple of holes in before I start work....!”

“ Back in a Jiffy!”

“ Make sure you do!” declared the dragon as he disappeared through the front door of the Hostel.

******************************************************************

Up on the first floor the other dragons were becoming impatient.

“ Where is she....!”asked Theo the Greek.

“ Yes.... she is always late ....probably putting her make up with a trowel!” said Jones.

“ Och aye....old Nessie is good at keeping us waiting!” declared Ballatyne.

As he looked out the window of the Hostel , Jones was becoming anxious about his car.

“ Are you sure that those disabled parking spaces behind the Law Courts, are reserved for posh cars?” asked Jones ...“ It seems that only OUR Porsches are parked there...there doesn’t appear to be anyone else in this town with one!”

“ There’s she is... said Theo the Greek.....talking to that bald geezer....looks like my cousin Tele Savalas.....that’s twelve strangers now in two weeks....talk about a ‘dirty dozen’....lucky bugger.!”

“ Talk about Eden saw Play!” cried Ballantyne in a Cat Stevens- voice.

“ Well hello boys.... ! “ cried the Wonderbra pioneer as Eden entered the room.

“ Their cueing up in the foyer down stairs.....” she exclaimed.

“ I’ve heard that one somewhere before!” ....sneered Jones as a passing shot at his late arriving colleague.

“ Send in the Clowns!” announced Theo as Dragons Den entrant number 1 entered the room.

“ Good Morning !” declared the first entrepreneurial victim, as he strolled to the centre of the room with clip board and lap top in hand.

“ My name is Dell ‘Fidel’ Price and I’m a college tutor in computer studies ....and I want to show you a new invention of mine , which will revolutionise Merthyr Tydfil College and change my students for ever....its a combination of coal tar , ambergris and perfume....which I affectionately call ‘ Lovely Bubbly’....

Theo the dragon.....interrupted suddenly.... “You know that this product is not unique .......it was invented over 150 years ago.......it has another name........ Soap!!!!”

“ Are you sure...... cos none of my students know it exists!”

“ Next !” roared the collective dragons.

The next person enters the room.

“ Good Morning ....my name is William Sticks....and I used to be big in newspaper distribution.....my company was taken over by Maxwell, in the 1980’s ...and I have remained close to the streets ever since.....!”

Eden began to put a perfumed handkerchief next to her nose in true Marie -Antoinette Style.

“ So what you really mean.....is you used to make a living selling the Echo on Burton’s Corner....lost your patch when it was pedestrianised and became a tramp!” announced Bannatyne.

“ Your g-g-g-g-good....!” said Sticks impressed by the Scot.

“ Well ...what’s your invention and contribution to mankind?” joked Theo.

“ It’s a devise from my time on the street....it is a computerised location device built into the front of a motability scooter attached to the Sky Network....to assist a pensioner to find the closest public toilet that is open....it works by a wire attached to the rider’s colostomy bag.... which tells the pensioner when they need to go and how far!”

“ And what’s it called.... then Street man....?”asked Eden from behind her hankie.

“ SHAT NAV!”

“ NEXT.....” cried Eden “.....and I think you need to adjust some wiring yourself!”

The third entrant was much more of the Dragon’s likening.

He was sharply dressed , had a Theo-like Goatee beard, smelled good and looked professional.

“ Morning, the name’s Des Res....and I already run my own successful business from across the street......I’m an Estate Agent....and I’d like to show you my latest idea for a board game”

So far so good.... thought all the dragons collectively.

“ It’s a game based on the Real Estate market in Merthyr Tydfil....which some might argue is in a real-a- state...... it’s called Conopoly.......and it is like a ‘Negative equity version of the board game Monopoly...... basically the rules of the game are ......people use different make-believe wage slips and phoney sets of accounts to vastly inflate what they actual earn....they take these to the banks who accept them without question...I call these ‘Tokens’.....the players....then have to borrow more money from the Banker...until he is lucky enough to land on the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street ...in which case his token becomes nationalised....... If you land on say Regent Street Dowlais, you have to lose a small amount money to the bank...but if you land on Park Lane Treharris or worse still Badley Gurnos ...you end up paying extortionate interest , Stamp Duty and inflated Council Tax..... are catching my drift......!”

“ What happens when you land on the Chance Square.... marked there...?” enquired Bannatyne interested in the idea...

“Oh that’s when you take a chance card......it could be bad or it could be good fortune.... This particular one reads---Have to get a HIP replacement... Property remains unsold for three months – worthless inaccurate searches now out-of date...... “

“ Here’s another.... Chain Estate Agent overvalues sale price to get you on their books.... no viewings in six months – drop sale price and lose £25K instantly!” replied Des.

“ I like the concept....but it would never happen in real life!” ...snapped Jones thinking of his own Welsh Property Portfolio .....” I’m out!”

“ Has anyone told you that look like Bruce Willis?.....said Eden.....” I am quite taken with you....I have a ‘sixth sense’ about you...you seem in touch with the market....here’s my card ...call me later to discuss this matter in private!!!!”

However , one by one the other dragons made some excuse not to invest in the project .

As Des Res passed through the door dreams shattered, the next budding entrepreneur entered the den.

“ Hello Butties and Crumpet......my names Andy Rex....and my idea is simple...a bit like me actually......!”

“ A question for hew....?” asked Andy to a shocked audience.

“ What does hew have to do in this life?” he continued.

“ Make millions in business, own property world-wide and waste our time interviewing idiots like you, so we can be famous as well as rich!” replied THEO.

“ No...try again!” replied Andy

“ Eat , drink and be merry!” chuckled Bannatyne at the cheek of the stranger dressed in a scruffy jeans and ‘Bob Geldof’ hair.

“ Nearly there!” said Andy...excited at the prospect of his audience reaction.

“ There are only three things we MUST do in this life and I have them all covered......EAT , SHIT & DIE!” cried Andy jubilantly.

“ Judging by your breath...you have combined one and two....!” snapped Eden reaching for her hankie again.

“ Recycled food.....is point one...have you ever walked the streets of Merthyr Tydfil on a Sunday Morning ....the Town is littered with ‘Pavement Pizzas’, Third hand Chinese food and yellow reusable chips, with traces of discarded chewing gum for good effect.....the Third World is starving ...all we need to do is to employ a team of Collectors....repackage them and ship them to Africa....The Green Party are delighted with my ‘Green Food idea’ ... packaged under the title “ Gromit”..... Man...it is coming up from the streets.....

On the second more Shittier item..... we have the greatest most successful football league in the world..... and a lot of foreign bums entering the Premiership on extortionate wages....

My second idea is for toilet paper for rival fans to use.

“ Man United are .......(space provided) ........, wipe out the Arsenal.... Swansea Shitty.......’

“ Do you catch my drift....with an idea like that we could clean up.....!.... I call the product ....the Premiershit League!”

“ and not to fall foul of the politically correct brigade and not to discriminate against the gaylords like....I have Tottenham Hotsperm paper!”

“Which brings neatly on to the subject of death !”

“ As Bill Shankly once said, whilst wiping his own arse on a Man Utd scarf (cos Premiershit paper wasn’t invented then) ......‘Football is not just a matter of life and death....it is more important than that”

“ Tada....announced Rex like a magician.....producing from his sleeve, a rolled up silken object.....this dragons ....is the future of death......a prototype coffin designed in Football colours for football hooligans..... Claret and Blue for Hammer victims.... Red and White- emblazoned with ‘ Kop that....You’ll never Walk again...’ and ‘ Dial M for Martyr’ for Merthyr Town fans.... Whacha think?” asked Rex to a stunned audience.

“ I’m speechless...for once ....!”announced Eden.

“ There is some merit in the toilet paper concept.... but I have concerns over the use of copyright’ said Jones.

“ What the club trade marks....?” asked Theo

“ No ....Liverpool...they hold a monopoly on shit....!” laughed Jones at his first ever joke.

Bannatyne interjected ...” I think that all three ideas have potential merit and the idea is ‘groundbreaking’...but I have to declare ...that I’m out!”

“ But why ....?” stuttered Rex

“ No reason ....I never invest in anything ...I just make up the numbers at the BBC , so I can get on Strictly Come Dancing one day!”

As one by one, the dragons dropped out , Rex left the room...coffin draped at half-mast.

The Final appointment was that with brewer Steve Rhymney of Heavens Brewery.

The dragons loved the sales pitch, that the Beer was made only from Springwater ‘divined ‘from God’s own little acre’ in Dowlais and the Ffynon Dwn Spring at Pontsarn was reputed to have been drunk from by St David himself , on his way to get the stone tablets from Mount Trecatti...they all agreed having tasted it that Bevan Beer should be available on the NHS, but wouldn’t invest in the venture, unless both the brewery and their silent partner ,the Merthyr Express (who formerly owned the Merthyr Tydfil Industrial Estate at Dowlais ) match-funded the deal.

They couldn’t get the ‘Pennies from Heavens’ and so he left angrily telling the dragons they couldn’t organise a ‘Press –up in a Brewery’.

“ That’s it for today....it’s 3.00pm and I want an early night...!” yawned Eden remembering her earlier appointment.

As the dragons began to shuffle their chairs, they were suddenly surprised by a late-comer, who burst into the room wearing Gurnos- mucka issue Baseball Cap, counterfeit ‘red’ diesel jacket and George from Asda one-size jeans.

“ I want to break free....I want to break free....!” he sang to his captive dragon audience in true Freddie Mercury tradition....after two minutes the youth suddenly stopped and looked squarely at Bannatyne.

“ Well Simon .... have I got the X factor or what?”

“What’s your name son.....?” asked Bannatyne in his native Scottish brogue.

“ Jay ‘Ryder’ Simpson !” declared the singer

“ Three questions son.... Is Simon Cowell Scottish?”....does ‘Danii here (pointing at Eden ...have the wrinkle-less skin of a three- year old dead baby’s arse -grafted to her face ......or do you think you’re in the wrong place?” roared the Jock Ness Monster.

“ Simon ....you look taller in real life !” continued the idiot.

“ Look sonnie.....do I have to spelt it out for you ....this is the Dragon’s Den....and unless you have the brains to invent a product that the people of Merthyr can use ....get out....!” announced Theo the Greek.

“ But I have invented something.... stuttered the Mucka....and I’ll prove to you lot that I do have the x- factor.....meet STIG.....!” announced Jay Ryder reaching into his Jacket Pocket.

“ It’s 3.05pm now ...if you let me talk to you for 60 seconds....I’ll be gone...I promise?....okay do we have a business deal?....60 seconds of your very important , sharp business minds to concentrate on my Stig....” declared Jay glancing out of the window nonchalantly.

“ Okay...let’s here it ....?” declared Jones.

“ This is my Dragon’s pen or.....STIG..... as it is locally known by my friends, or the ‘Gurnos Army knife’... it has as many names and a multitude of purposes.....

STIG.... can be used as a graffiti pen for marking drop points for wraps...with one flick of my hand it turns into an extended flail or cosh, with a reach of some ten feet...perfect for mugging grannies on pension day...or clubbing bank staff...it has a three inch blade knife for cutting up ‘Top Gear’ and a scoop/weighing scale for measuring an exact gram...it has a laser pen built into it, for blinding footballers....and here is the pieced résistance ...it has ‘something for the ladies’ a ‘Rabbit Vibrator’ – an original prototype of mine- stolen by those Tarts in ‘Sex in the City’...it also comes with a handy camera attachment to clip to cashpoints.

Looking at the second hand on his watch, Jay Ryder realised he had talked for 45 seconds only...and glanced once again, over the shoulders of the dragons and out of the window.

“ Where are you going to market...such a blatantly criminal device?” asked Theo – mouth open wide.

“ As always ......on the internet...innit!” laughed Jay ‘Ryder’ Simpson at the dragon’s reaction.

“ Besides ...I have no intention of marketing it...there are only three of my device in the world.... I have two....and my mates have the other one of them!” sneered Jay triumphantly.

“ Your mates?” asked Bannatyne...sensing the conversation had taken a more sinister turn.

“ Behind you ....by the handicapped bay, near the Law Courts...those three waving at you...away from the CCT camera , with no film in it... standing next to your three open porsche’s....” chuckled Jay.

“ Meet my mates, Nick Cage and the Lewis Twins from Swansea......’ he declared.

“ Are you a film buff....Mr Cowell....are you ....with your Masters in Business Degree ...familiar with the film ‘Gone in 60 Seconds’.....

The look of realisation on Bannatyne’s face was priceless as he muttered collapsing to the floor....

“ STIG....TOP GEAR....GONE IN 60 SECONDS....I’M OUT!!!!!” “ The only problem with my invention...said Jay sidling towards the door, is that the extending hook for opening car windows on my device, leaves a bloody mark on the middle of the hand of the car thief...I call it ‘STIG- MARTYR’... oh and don’t try and stop me leaving the room ....can this thing has 101 uses including a samurai blade for ‘Chasing the Dragon’....he menaced, backing away to the door.

As the three male dragons...thought for a moment like every Briton, about becoming a ‘have a go hero’ and then thought about Norfolk Farmer Tony Martin languishing in jail and decided against it.

In his haste, the career criminal slipped on some ‘recycled food’ left by a reveller and dropped one of his prize inventions on the stairwell.

First out of the door was Eden, the female dragon, who eagerly scooped up her ‘compensation prize’ and headed for room 1308 to recuperate from her ordeal.

The other dragons could sort out their own car problems as her car was protected by Merthyr Council.

As she opened the hotel room door , she was pleasantly surprised to find that her ‘Love Tryst partner’ was already present.

Tied to the four-poster water bed by two Saab Fan belts ...he was suspended from the bed poles by his wrists , and had a noose of a ‘Cradoc’ Golf Club cravat around his neck and an orange golf ball in his mouth.

His eyes were crossed even worse than the late Judge Stephen Milligan.

With the INXS song ‘I need you tonight’ blaring from his mobile phone Eden sensed he was in a state of ‘AUTO’-erotic Asphyxiation .

The AA badge stapled through his ball- sack was also a dead giveaway.

As the ‘Suicide Blonde’ approached the water bed , she could see that Clive was in fact well hung.

Her dragon-heart was pumping frantically at the prospect of this extra curricular activity and she became even more excited thinking she had never slept with a Hare Krishna before.

Partly in excitement and partly out of fear, the knock at the hostel door caused her to dive towards her illicit soon-to be lover with Stig Pen in hand .

She missed her target , but landed on the bed sending a Tsunami of Malayasian proportions towards the stymied golfer.

“ Are you in .....asked the Bruce Willis sounding voice....I’d like to enter the Garden of Eden for some forbidden fruit....!”

The words were lost on the unfortunate Clive , as the Stig Pen was locked on ‘Rabbit- mode’ and ‘surfed’ its way into the hole of the startled Golfer, with the resulting recoil and the effect of his spiked golf shoes on a pressure mattress snapped both Saab fan-belts in one go ----sending the nude hairless Clive sailing out of the window into Castle Street below.

As he flew through the air, he clutched and grasped at anything to break his fall.

He luckily managed to connect with the ironically Welsh – Dragon emblazoned Flag-pole, which unlike Clive was hanging limply .

As he swung some 10 feet from the ground....Clive had escaped the frying pan but was now in the fire.

Trying to swear with a golf-ball in your mouth and a vibrating machine at the other end.....meant the ‘curse of the whererabbit’ for Wallace took on a whole new meaning.

Worse still, an evil looking hoody and his pal stood below him with strange looking devices pointing at him.

“ Isn’t that your missing ‘Stig’.... asked Nick Cage....wedged between the butt cheeks of that bald golfer......on rabbit mode?”

“ Well from this distance.... it doesn’t look like Hare.....” replied Jay Ryder.

They both took one look at each other and their bald victim , and decided instantly.....” The Laser!”

As two laser beams cut into his skin around his nuts, dislodging the AA badge...Clive felt a mixture of extreme pleasure and extreme pain.

The last thing to pass through Clive’s mind as he slipped in ‘Michael Hutchence mode’ was that Old Golfers never die....they just lose their balls. As the two Hoodies looked up at Clive’s empty ball-sack fluttering in the breeze...they didn’t spot the two Community Policemen- actually arriving on foot.

“ Your ‘Nick’ ed son.....and looking down at the pair’s swollen palms....and judging by the evidence - we’ve caught you pair red handed .....it’s off to the new American style jail on the Goatmill Road for you two.......

“Dragon’s Pen....for the next ten years!!!!”