The Chinese Batman should be charged with tonight’s offering- Mass Murder

Rushing through the dark mass of trees, actor Gregor Fisher’s heart was beating faster than it had done for years.

He was sweating more than a paedophile in a school playground.

Cyfarthfa Park, Merthyr Tydfil, was a vast expanse of pathways and in the twilight they all looked the same in his heightened state of panic.

He was sorry that he strayed from the pathway to the rear of the Castle and sorrier still that he had volunteered for inclusion on that television show.

Pushing away the overgrown branches of the trees , he stumbled headlong in terror into the shallow reeds of the Goetre Pond .

Landing with a splash in the darkness , his Rab C Nesbitt string- vest and headband became entwined in the underground vines and reeds which had sucked many an unsuspecting swimmer to their death.

The reeds like invisible hands clutched at his wine-stained trousers and dragged him down to the dark bottom of the pond.

As he struggled against the evil forces of nature, he forgot momentarily about his pursuer.

Then suddenly he saw him.

The evil eyes glowing red in the darkness, white collar shining brilliantly in the remaining light.

Gregor reached out in desperation towards the figure , literally a drowning man clutching at straws.

The last thing that Gregor felt , before he succumbed to the cold of the stagnant water, was a sharp pain of a hypodermic needle in the back of his hand.

The rest was numbness , blackness ....then silence as his lifeless body floated to the top of the pond surface.

*******

“Where have you been at this time of night?” asked Mrs Mass-Bates, sat with her back to the door looking out at the rear garden, to her son Norman.

“ Just been out for a tramp in the woods....that’s all mother!” said Norman limply from the bedroomn of his Cromwell Street house that they shared together, just off the Walk, in Merthyr Tydfil.

“ It’s cold out there ...its September now and you’ll catch your death in that thin priest outfit!” declared his hectoring old lady.

“ Now ...there’s no need to worry about me mam....I am 73 years of age...a 90 year old woman shouldn’t be worried about her son ...I am doing the Good Lord’s work...he will protect me.....now go and watch that JVC shopping channel you like...and call me if that set of hunting knives for cutting up ‘animals’ comes on again!”.

****

“ Well he’s dead you know!” declared David Yip, the Chinese detective to his sidekick Charles Chan...watching the tramp floating on the surface of the Goetre Pond.

“ Who found the body?” asked the detective to the group of Cyfartha School kids gathered round with morbid fascination.

“ Well... I did...!” declared Rhys’ jetpack’ Walker ...”but Flye was the first to hit him with a skimming stone...and Curtis dragged him out...!” continued the schoolboy.

“ He does rookie lifeguard, he’s the one who knows how to drag bodies from ponds safely...we call CPR Evans” continued Jetpack.

“ Aye...us props do all the donkey work...and the backs get all the glory!” moaned Curtis standing on his own smelling of pond life.

“ Shit happens!” said Yip to the children.

“ And on this occasion shit floats....!” commented Charlie Chan.....that’s the third vagrant we’ve found dead this month.....!”said Chan eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“ Phew....this vagrant is very fragrant....!” retched Yip as the smell of the dead man hit him.

“ Any witnesses, or information ...?” asked Yip to Chan.

“ Only the parkie , over there who shut the gates at 9.30am last night ...he reckons that the tramps around here have paired up ....worried that there is a serial killer on the loose!”

“ Take a statement and get this one off to the Police morgue.. there’s more life in his vest......I want to see what killed him.!” Said Yip.


******

“ We begin our service with the Hymn...”Joy to the World, the Lord has come!” declared the catholic priest , as he stood in the pulpit , at the front of St Jude’s Roman Catholic Church.

“ That’s a bit unusual for a funeral service ....?” remarked Allan ‘Pepper’ Jones , ex- mayor and professional dirge singer to his friend Ken ‘ El CID’ Davies.

Priest Norman Mass-Bates looked angrily at the pair ,the only two mourners left, daring to whisper in the House of God.

“ If looks could Kill!” replied Jones without moving his lips with all the skill of a chapel-farter.

“ Dearly beloved...we are gathered here today to commit our brother Freddy Bramble to the earth...if anyone knows of any reason or just impediment why he should not be laid to rest for eternity, please state it now or forever hold you peace.” boomed out the voice of the Priest.

The church congregation in the Parish had dwindled significantly .

In modern times marriage was no longer the way of the young , nor were children Christened anymore.

The number of goats was on the increase , whilst the number of ‘ good sheep’ flocking to church was down.

It had ‘fallen’ still further when Father Mass-Bates had started mixing up his wedding and funeral services.

Death was the only friend of the church , which was also subject to market forces and massive repair and heating bills.

As they left the church , both mourners concluded , when they were at a safe distance, that the onceproud church was the best supported in Merthyr but now the situation at St Jude’s beggared belief.

****

Lying face up on the mortuary slab in ‘Old Big Ears’ Hospital, the two detectives watched, while the coroner carried out an examination of the deceased tramp.

“ Did you find any means of identification on the body ?” asked coroner Viv E Section.

“ No...but we know who he is...er... who he WAS!” declared Chan checking his South Wales Police issue notebook.

“ Gregor Fisher.... of BBC Scotland Rab C Nesbitt fame......!” he continued.

“ Was he filming an episode in Cyfarthfa Park of that comedy series?” asked Yip.

“ No...that was cut years ago....so why would a millionaire Scotsman masquerade as a tramp in a Merthyr Tydfil Park?...it just doesn’t make sense!” announced the detective out loud.

“ He obviously had good taste....!” announced the coroner....sawing through his swollen stomach and emptying the contents like the scene from ‘Jaws’.

“ Oysters, caviar....haggis and prime beef steak!” he continued probing further into the distended stomach bag.

“ You don’t get those things floating around in Merthyr ponds....any used condoms or dead greyhounds?” asked Chan interestedly.

“ The stomach can contain difficult to digest items from over a week ago...!” said the coroner still rummaging around.

“ I believe that he ate his last meal in Pontmorlais and went to see a lap dancing show in the upstairs of the Vulcan Pub the night before he died.....!”

“ Ruddy Hell....” said a surprised Yip.... medical science is brilliant ...how the Hell could you deduce that ?”

“ The man must have been so hammered or entranced...he ate the table napkin by mistake during the performance!” continued doctor Viv.

“ I can see the Merthyr Depress headlines now.... Murder in Park ....’String vest fellow’ actor Gregor Fisher visits Merthyr on the ‘Secret Millionaire programme’ frequents Merthyr’s equivalent to Stringfellows and gets Pole-axed.!” declared Yip feeling the media spotlight beginning to turn on him.

The spotlight on the head-band of the coroner turned on the greasy red- headband of the corpse searching for clues and evidence of a struggle.

“ Any sign of the cause of death yet....? “ asked Chan

“Too early to say....given that he was found in a pond ....my bet is drowning!” laughed the coroner....pulling out a small guppy from his nose.....the coroner declared “ what do you know –“ A Fish called Wanda!”...... “ besides I knew he wasn’t a real tramp straightaway...!” lifting out a chunk of gristle, said Viv

“ How come ?” asked Yip excitedly.

“ No toe –jam...all tramps have toe jam...sometimes I can’t get the toe tag on there’s too much ooze.!”

As Yip picked up some brown rice left over on the body surface....he moved to discover a partially digested cockroach....

“ I think he went to Honk Kupps Chinese Restaurant too!”

“ Hang on ...this is unusual.... he said examining the lower part of the corpse....a small prick......!” said the Coroner triumphantly.

“ I am not into comparing notes!” replied Chan

“ On his index finger...right hand....continued the Coroner speaking into his Dictaphone.......a small red prick....like a syringe mark....!”

“ Big deal....everywhere in Cyfarthfa Park has discarded needles !” said Yip

“ Yes...but the angle of entry and the force used suggests that it was not accidental injection...but a deliberate stab wound...I am going to test the body for foreign fluids!” continued the Coroner ...like they do on CSI New York!” said Viv dramatically.

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

Staggering along the lanes to the rear of Cromwell Street, the two hobos looked for their next street buffet.

Lifting the lid on the wheelie bin of number 5 , the Eastern European itinerant,

Varga Bond , stared into the bin hopefully, in search of the remnants of some food which wasn’t quite passed the smell-by date.

The bin belonged to Truck Driver HGV Lawrie, who shook his head at the sad sight of human beings resorting to searching for scraps to survive.

His truck bearing the sticker ‘ Lost your cat ?....see under for details!” should have given the tramp a clue as to what he would find in that particular bin.

As he lifted the emaciated ‘fallen’ feline from the ‘lifetime’ Asda green carrier bag, he wiped the flies and dried blood from the pussy and began to eat at the corpse hungrily.

“ KFC” he laughed as he gnawed at the fatty bits around the tiny bones.

His fellow tramp, an Arab nicknamed...Osama Bin Lid-in stood watch waiting for his friend to finish.

There was a code ‘down amongst the dossers’ that finders were keepers.

He had been lucky that morning to find a brand new pair of trousers in the bin of a District Judge.

Rotten fruit, week old bread and pasties containing more penicillin than a VD shot were also on the menu , as Varga dined al fresco.

All the while Osama followed his mate swigging away at his bottle of Brut aftershave- an unwanted Christmas box –set from Boots.

“ Have you Shit!” slurred Varga as they staggered in search of their own version of ‘meals on wheels’

“ No...!” came the reply from Henry Cooper breath.

The smell was overpowering...even masked in Brut.

“ Are you sure...you haven’t shit?” asked Varga even more suspiciously , beginning to heave.

“ No...I haven’t shit...!” said Osama somewhat offended by the accusation he was lying but not that he stank.

Varga suddenly pulled down Osama’s new ‘Man at C & A’ acrylic slacks to discover an enormous turd nestling there .

“ You lying Sod...I thought you said you hadn’t shit!” moaned Varga recoiling at the discovery .

“ I didn’t shit ........it was there when I put the trousers on!” he protested.

As Varga discharged his stomach contents into the wheelie bin of number ‘the Ritz ‘ on Brecon Road his partner in crime was heard to say...” Yummy... hot lunch for a change!”

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

Lying in amongst the dog shit and the daisies next to the Lakeside gates entrance to Cyfarthfa , the WC brothers sat stripped to the waist enjoying the last rays of the Autumn sun.

Dai Toilet and his younger sibling , Nickie were wasted .

On a rare return to his home town from his camp in Tepee Valley , the eco-warrior lay enjoy the fruit of his pickings.

They both had devoured huge quantities of ‘magic mushrooms’ which grew wild in the fields behind the Castle and their high levels of LSD meant they were in fact literally seeing stars.

“ Whoa...I can see Hendrix calling me... up in the clouds ...!” said the former St Tydfil square busker to his brother.

“ Where by ?” asked his hairy sibling.

“ By that purple haze man...!” he said reaching for his guitar lazily.

Toilet , was the ultimate festival man and was known all over Britain as ‘Mr Glastonbury’

He had acquired the name , due partly to the initials of his grandfather , WC Cuthbert Boggs, a famous bare knuckle boxer and partly down to the fact that his party trick was that he ‘ break wind’ on demand...like Merthyr’s equivalent of Le Petomaine. His brother, who was a little ‘potty’ for a number reasons too, was a wild child , who had little time for authority, regularly disrupting Gas Pipe line and by-pass building through the breadth of the land.

The pair were a couple of throw backs to the swinging sixties laughing and joking throwing their ‘Donovan sweatshirts’ in the air , free as nature intended.

Unfortunately, the dark side of nature is never far away and the doped up duo had not noticed the silent figure of a Priest, creeping closer, hiding behind each tree trunk successively , which lined the approach to the western side of the castle.

“ Hey man , lets go and throw some stones again at that Solicitors’ Playboy mansion’ in Pandy Close!” cried Nickie.

“ Hi boys...it’s hippy hour...two tramps for the price of one...!” declared the psychotic Priest as he lethally injected both of the brothers in one ‘genuflect’ movement.

Moving quickly, he arranged the bodies into the shape of a crucifix , producing his hammer and nailing the pair to the grass bank through the centre of the palms and just above their ankles.

He then took a snapshot on his instant camera of the scene, before running off into the woods.

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

“ Well I didn’t do it....!” said the high profile Solicitor, Armani Suits shaking his head and sweating in the interview room of the Swan Street Police station.

“ Your neighbour....one ....Peter Rabbett....has stated on oath , that he distinctly heard you say you would , and I quote...” Kill the next one who threw a stone at the Blue Grotto Pool and ‘Tiffany’ plastic palm tree ‘Hills’ in your garden” quizzed Bad Cop Peter ‘Wolf’ Blass.

“ That’s just a figure of speech...just like all coppers are bast...!” replied the interviewee, receiving a clip around the head for his flippancy.

“ I’ve been looking at your police file...and its getting quite thick....!” said Good Cop Isaac Haynes.

“ Coppers...thick...I am not following you!” replied Armani.

“ Rolled a car on the Heads of the Valleys 1997....caught with swimming trunks on back to front in Aberdare pool 1998....arrested in Garw Nant lay-by 2006 with Tina Turner and Roseanne Barr lookalikes...and now this.....it doesn’t look good for you!”

“ Tell us why you killed the brothers...was it a crime of passion....everyone hates hippies...we could understand it...we policed Glastonbury once...we had to throw people out ...and the Status Quo concert in Cyfarthfa Park....we threw people in!” continued Wolf Blass...just sign this little piece of paper to say you did it and we can all go home and watch the Lions Tour of South Africa...what do you say?”

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

Hollywood actress Jamie Lee Curtis smiled, as she looked up at the self-portrait of Rolf Harris hanging in the foyer of Cyfarthfa Castle .

Swigging from her Rhymney Brewery Hobby Horse bottle...she said one word.

“ Marvellous!”

She turned to the excited blonde museum assistant , who was anxious to get her to sign the visitor book.

“ Do you know Carolyn ...at what point did Rolf Harris...work out what exactly he was painting...?” she laughed making an aboriginal guttural sound with her mouth.

“ I did expect his didgeridoo to be bigger though!” she continued.

“ Well, its been a wonderful day ...and I am delighted that you managed to trace my family tree back to my relatives Rolf Harris , Donny Osmond and William Crawshay...I will make sure I will tell all my American cousins where their ‘Pilgrim Fathers’ set off from in the Glamorganshire Canal before they discovered America.!” she said.

“ Oh ...one last thing is there a Catholic Church around here...?”

“Do you want to light a candle for your late mother Janet Leigh ?!” asked Carolyn sympathetically.

“ No ...I want to say a few prayers for my father’s behaviour in his latter years!” she replied.

As she stood on the concrete steps, like all Americans she was impressed with the concept of children going to school in a castle.

“ Genuine Dylan Thomas sweat ...Miss, £5.00 a bottle.... last bottle left” asked little angelic schoolboy James Soames.

“ Oh yes please...did Dylan Thomas really...keep his sweat in a Rhymney Brewery ‘Hobby Horse bottle?” she asked the school-boy sensing that she was being ripped off.

“ Both my History teacher and English Teacher told me ....he was brought up by the bottle...and died by the bottle!” he said Oliver-Twist like as he pocketed the fiver.

As she drove off towards the Walk , Soamesy shouted to his rugby mate Ralphy, hiding in the bushes...fresh from a cross country run with the girls in his class...” another bottle and more sweat this time...there’s some-more tourists coming!”


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


Norman Mass-Bates had what he called a ‘reverse Hugh Grant’ day.

Four Funerals and a Wedding.

He had also been busy laying a ‘paper trail’ to his church.

To the untrained eye there was nothing, but he had set up a series of chalk arrows leading from the Salvation Army building, up the British Tip at Abermorlais, to the front of St Jude’s Roman Catholic Church at the bottom of the Walk.

He had sprinkled intermittently, half empty bottles of whisky and others spirits, leading to larger bottles and cans within the grounds and steps to the church.

His plan had worked .

Shuffling nervously up the church pathway was the destitute figure of Varga Bond , like some nocturnal badger smelling food.

Spotting a trail down the aisle of miniatures, culminating in the last temptation of Varga Bond - a box of Rhymney Brewery Hobby Horse with a God-like light shining through the stained glass window at the Holy Crate-, at the entrance to the public side of the confession box.

As the tramp reached his goal , he sat on the seat in the confession box , placing the bottle cap inside the cheeks of his arse and twisting, then drinking deeply.

He pulled the curtain out of respect for the Lords House.

After much slurping , and later more grunting was heard from the tramps compartment.

Through the open flap of the confession box...the Tramp could just make out the shape of a man’s head hidden in the shadows, behind the wooden partition.

“ Can I help you my son?” asked the priest maniacally- eyes glowing hellish red in the dark.

“ Not unless you have any paper on your side!” came the reply..” .the pages of this mini-bible are soft but I have used the whole of the Old Testament already... if you WILL pop some through from your stall!” came the reply.

The Tramp was not to know that would be his last will and testament, as through the confession box curtain , came a shiny jagged hunting knife (bearing a tag JVC shopping channel) ripping both the curtain and the tramps jugular vein in one movement .

The peel of the Church Bells, set on automatic repeat to save money , drowned out his screams, as it was curtains for Varga Bond.

Meeting his maker in the most violent of fashions.

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

“ Those marks on the hands of the dead hippies....and the position of the bodies ...it’s very strange indeed!” declared Chan rubbing his chin and looking puzzled.

His assistant Chin too, wasn’t happy about being rubbed in public, but he was his superior officer after all.

“ We have got to get to the ‘Crux’ of the matter!” said Chan.

“ Of course....said Chin....the nails ...the body position...it’s of religious significance...they have been laid out in a Cruciform position....!” declared Chin and his assistant at once...Double Chin.

“ It’s sad but there are gnaw marks on the centre of his hands...it seems the one hippy used to bite his nails or that’s the worst case of stigmata I have ever seen!” said Chan observantly.

“That first tramp ....the one that fell of the Cefn viaduct....he had landed in the same position...true he pop back up to the viaduct on three occasions because he landed on the children’s bouncy castle....but after he had finished ‘Tramp’oline-ing , he had been found in that very same position” declared Chan.

“ We need to check on the religious nuts in the area!”

“ Sir, we have had two strokes of luck in the case!” announced his third assistant a bit unsteady having run from the Police Panda Car at the Lakeside entrance he arrived out of breath.

“ You seem a bit wobbly Chin....what news from the Swan Street Police collator?” asked Chan.

“ A breakthrough Sir.... I had a chinwag with one of our old police colleagues Ken ‘El CID’ Davies who reported that the Priest at St Jude’s was behaving strangely.....and even better someone matching the Priest’s description, had photos of the dead hippies developed in Walters Photoshop today!”

“ Have we caught him yet?” asked Chan

“ The answer is in the negative!” said Chin .

“ We have sent officers Wolf Blass and Isaac Haynes to his house in Cromwell Street to check him out.!”

******************************************************************** Detectives Wolf Blass and Isaac Haynes stood outside the house in Cromwell Street.

“ I don’t like the look of this place....who has Jesus Christ on a brass door knocker?” said Wolf Blass nervously...” can’t we pull that Solicitor in again for questioning.

“ Give us your credit card again!” said Haynes.

As the credit card slid up, it popped the yale lock and they were in .

The house was very dark at this time of night , as they headed through the living room noticing that the place was in a real mess.

“ Definitely, a bachelor!” whispered Wolf Blass.

“ Norman...what .....was the perp’s name again...?” asked Haynes.

“ Master Norman Mass-Bates!” declared Wolf Blass.

“ Master Bates....definitely a single man’s name...the name rings a bell too!” said Wolf Blass.,

Eerily, just as he said the name the campanile of St Jude’s began to sound its peals.

“ This place gives me the creeps....said Haynes....lets search it and get out of here.

“You take upstairs....I’ll take downstairs and the garden....” offered Wolf Blass thinking about his dodgy knees.

As DC Haynes climbed the stairs, he noticed another load of crosses, crucifixes and rosary beads , hung everywhere.

Either this guy’s frightened of vampires or he’s a religious nut thought Haynesy, edging his way up the stairs towards a room buzzing with flies.

In the room overlooking the rear garden, sat in a rocking chair with her back to him,r was the figure of an old emaciated woman with the old style – Welsh patchwork crotchet quilt around her shoulders.

An uneaten pie sat in a dish alongside her , with a glass of milk that had curdled to yoghurt.

The smell was unbelievable and flies were everywhere.

Picking up the pie, Haynsey ate it in one gulp.

Waste not want not...he thought.

Spotting Wolf Blass in the garden below, he slid down the rotten sash window , releasing some flies shouting to his partner.

“ Any luck....got one dead granny up here....what about you?”

“ I have never seen a footpath like this one...its worse than that one in the Gurnos...real feet....!” shouted Wolf Blass.

As the pair met in the living- room , they did not yet know, there was an even more chilling discovery.

In the kitchen, behind the fridge, eagle-eye Wolf Blass had spotted a space without a crucifix on the wall or other Holy relic.

Their Police training told them to moved the fridge and they revealed a huge black space with some steps, leading down to a basement.

“ Now that’s what I call a priest hole!” declared Haynsey peering into the blackness.

As suddenly, as they had started St Jude’s bells stopped ringing.

The alarm bells in the head of the two Policemen , suddenly started ringing.

“ You stay up top – I’ll investigate the cellar!” said Wolf Blass.

“ Hope there’s no Austrian family down there....the Von Trapp-Doors!” laughed Haynsey, gallows humour in evidence.

Shining his police issue torch into the pitch blackness ,Wolf Blass was as scared as he had ever been in his life- and he had been in a Police Panda Car driven by some right nutters.

Creaking down the ancient wooden stairs, one step at a time, he watched for any sign of movement in the darkness.

Every hair on his body was on high alert , as he trod the boards expecting to be pounced on at any step.

Reaching the solid concrete cellar floor, his mind and imagination played tricks on him, expecting zombie fingers to clutch at him, dragging his soul off to Hell.

In the middle of the Cellar floor , was a giant high sided pit about eight feet in depth with a rope ladder curled up tantalisingly near the edge of the pit.

As he shown the torch down , Wolf Blass was stunned to see, that there was a man alive in the pit bound from head to toe in a thick Roman Catholic altar rope , and the victim’s mouth was full of pages torn from the Book of Revelation.

Further examination revealed him to be the tramp now locally as Osama Bin Lid-in.

“ Good Lord ...its the Silence of Islams!” shrieked Wolf Blass.

Unknown to Wolf Blass , Officer Haynes had crept down behind him in the blackness and was watching his every move.

Haynsey placed his torch under his last chin and suddenly flicked on the Police Flashlight in a Halloween style prank.

Wolf Blass in shock, dodgy knees giving way , tumbled headlong into the pit landing full ‘force’ on the poor tramp below.

Osama, in the blackness could see what was happening but could not move away to avoid the impact.

“ Officer Down....and Out” came the reply from the pit , as he crushed the tramp dead.

Wolf Blass was not amused as he looked up at Haynsey – ‘the laughing policeman’.

“ Ho Ho Ho –Ha Ha Ha!” came the sound from the top of the pit as Haynsey collapsed like his colleague only this time with laughter.

Rolling about with glee on the floor , his barrel shape eventually took on its own momentum as he unwittingly toppled into the eight foot pit onto the pair below.

Luckily, he mostly impacted on the dead tramp.

“ That’s another fine mess you got me into!” ranted Wolf Blass.

“Talk about the Keystone Cops ...look at this Charlie Chaplin video ...it’s got a serrated JVC hunting knife through it....I don’t think this particular ‘Chaplain’ likes Tramps too much!” declared Wolf Blass examining the evidence .

“ He must be Hobo-phobic!” agreed Haynsey.

Straightening his South Wales Police issue tie, Wolf Blass tried to smarten himself up....and declared to Haynsey....”You scruffy Bastard ...you’ve had it mate!!!”

The bells of St Judes began to toll once more as the two policemen looked at each other and gulped in unison realising their predicament.

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

Detectives Chin and Chan moved at 5 miles per hour up the steep gradient of the Cyfarthfa Park main road in their electric car.

“ If you ask me this Global Warming business has got out of hand...how can the cuts in front line policing be justified when we have to catch murderers using a Sinclair C5....!” moaned Chan

“ Watch it....Barbara Windsor will have you...10 MPH speed limit on this road....you don’t want a speeding fine do you and three points on your provisional licence ...now do you?” asked Chin as they past the eerie Park Row Gardens ‘ Cuesta House.

The scene of one of Merthyr’s saddest and notorious murders.

“ You know Chin considering Merthyr Tydfil was named after a murder...they haven’t had that many murders reported.!” said Chin looking at the crime figures massaged by South Wales Police...”100 a year is quite good when you consider all things in and the Gurnos catchment area!”.

“ Here we go ....!” as the pair stopped pedalling , hitting the gradient at the top of Park Row Gardens and began to freewheel down at the speed of sound....scattering school-kids and dog walkers without poop- scoops as they went.

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

As Jamie Lee Curtis approached the entrance to St Jude’s , a mysterious mist had descended on the Church.

As a Hollywood actress living in Los Angeles......she was used to both ‘THE FOG’ and ‘THE SMOG’.

As she pushed open the heavy door of the church, she felt a little sense of unease about visiting the Roman Catholic Church at this twilight hour.

However, being a devout follower of the faith , she felt the need to unload her sins before a priest.

As she walked tentatively down the aisle, she felt a little reassured , when she could see that the confession box had a little red light over the Priests compartment.

Clutching her bottle of Rhymney Brewery ‘Hobby Horse’ containing Dylan Thomas sweat, she gracefully made her way up to the empty box compartment.

As she drew the velvet curtain , she suddenly noticed that it was more holier than she thought.

Torn curtain.....that was a Hitchcock movie she thought...was that an omen?

Her mother had also stared in a Hitchcock movie , as her most famous character ever - Marion Crane.

Pop artist Andy Warhol had said that everybody had their ‘fifteen minutes of fame’ ...but her mother’s screen time was a lot less than that...but her character fame was life long.

The only downside to being her daughter , was that she was always ordered to use the bath and never the shower.

She began her confession by saying “ Bless me father for I have sinned....I repent for making that film ‘Fierce Creatures’, the follow –up to ‘A Fish called Wanda” and for being caught speeding on Sunset Boulevard when I wasn’t even driving, I wish to apologise too for the behaviour of my father in dating girls half MY own age..... I also have developed too much of a liking to this Rhymney Brewery Beer during my stay in Merthyr....!”

“ Say 10 Halle Berries and a Margarita Pizza and you will be forgiven my child!” announced the confused homicidal priest thinking outside the box.

“Don’t you mean Hail Mary’s.....and can you smell second hand dead cat in here?” asked Jamie-Lee somewhat bemused.

A flash of steel and a jagged edge of a blade was suddenly thrust violently through the curtain, attempting to slash at the actress.

“ Take that you Hollywood tramp!” screamed the priest.

“ My mother warned me...that this kind of thing happens..!” .declared Jamie Lee defending her self with a mini- bible.

The blade embedded itself in the remains of the New Testament, ironically stopping in the ‘Acts of the Apostles’.

The seasoned veteran of the ‘Halloween’ series , had plenty of practise fighting the fictitious slasher Michael Myers and kicked out at nut height like the ‘fierce creature’ she was .

Leaving the confession box in a forward roll, she clasped her bottle of ‘Hobby Horse’ defensively , as the demon priest and the horror movie actress moved in a deathly circle knowing that only one of the pair would outlive this scene.

Lunging at each periodically, occasionally ‘ Trading Places’ the knave entered the nave pursued by the actress intent on revenge.

Reaching the altar, the quick thinking Jamie played a masterstroke, drinking down the sweat from the bottle and spraying her attacker with ‘Dylan Sweat ‘ or ‘Ralph /Lauren’ sweat from the juvenile schoolboy’s earlier activities.

As the priest was blinded temporarily in the front row, like most of his Ralphie’s rugby opponents , Jamie Lee hit the monster with the monstrance.

The Golden chalice turned the baptismal font water into ‘Whines’ as the demon priest moaned in agony , skull fatally fractured, falling into the Holy water.

As the Chinese detectives arrived at the Church , just in the ‘Nip of time’ , the priest began to dead man’s float ...just like Rab C Nesbitt in the Goetre Pond.

‘ Halloween 15....Mass Murder’ - yes- that would make a good title for a movie!” laughed Chan with his Chin moving out of synch like a bad Kung Fu movie.

******************************************************************** As her limousine stopped opposite the disused former American Hoover factory in Pentrebach, a similar but more lavish Hollywood limousine was spotted coming in the other direction.

As the stars and stripes were evident on both cars , both celebrities greeted each other as Americans usually do abroad?

“ Any oil in them there hills? asked. Michelle Obama...because I heard that there was Black Gold found at Ffos Y Fran?” .

“ No Oil.....only an American refuse burning plant.....up there......and the people .....only PSYCHOS left!!!” replied Jamie Lee driver accelerating towards the A470....” Get me outta this Town!”.