The story that started the Boz Humour and pseudonym

A tale I was asked by my former employer of three decades ago to cheer people up.

The stopper cannot now be put back in the bottle.


Here’s the first ever Boz tale from 1992:


A Christmas Carol

It was Christmas Eve in 1992, and the Capital of the Valleys was covered in a white carpet. Six inches of snow lay about, and in the distance across the Blackmore Car Park could be heard the gritting machines returning to the Vulcan Yard.

“ Snow bah humbug!” said Ebeneezer, as he parked his limousine in the privileged Chief Officer‟s parking space. Leaving his car he glanced down fondly at his personalised licence plate “ A1 GIT” and started for the warmth of the Civic Centre.

Opening the door, his nose catching the familiar aroma of burning toast, he fumbled through his overflowing wallet, and pulled out his flexi card. Glancing down at his photo, he pondered that he seemed much younger than his idol , actor Cela Yorlig....Time had not caught up with this pillar of manhood.

Nodding politely to Faith, one of his secretaries, he inserted his card into the machine. Suddenly he was struck with horror- 21 hours down “ Bloody Gienny still hasn‟t adjusted me properly!” cried Ebeneezer.

Faith, a little bemused by the utterance gave him one look and then scurried off to the Typing Pool with the latest scandal.

Unable to react, Ebeneezer was frozen to the spot- Had he seen the haunting face of his old partner Bob “ snowy” Marley in the machine?

Climbing the stairs to the top floor he reached his office, Scrooge paused. “ A trick of the light!” perhaps he had been working too hard...No he thought to himself, couldn‟t be that!

Scrooge was a strange man, a lonely figure (not surprising considering he suffered from a terrible wind problem) with no wife or children, no family and very few friends. His work WAS his life.

He sank into his leather chair and buzzed his secretary. “Hope, will you bring me coffee, biscuits and the Sport please!.....oh and see I am not disturbed till 11.00 or else!”

Swinging his feet onto the desk he began to feel a little more relaxed “ Who shall I hassle today...” A knock on the door halted his thoughts.

It was like his coffee, exactly as he liked it, sweet, black and thick-just like his women!

“ Shall I do my Appel Roll call?” he murmured , “ No, first a short nap I think...” Newspaper on face he slept soundly for about an hour.

A tap-tap noise at the door awoke him. There was someone there, had he forgotten an important meeting? Can‟t be the Avon lady at this time of day!

Throwing the newspaper onto the empty desk he failed to spot the date , 24th December 1987. He suddenly realised that the décor of the room had altered-“ Good Lord-I‟m back in the Old Town Hall” he exclaimed opening the door.

Before him stood a Gargantuan Spirit. “ but I‟ve paid my Poll Tax!” said Scrooge. “ Hello Honky Tonks, I am Eric , the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I am your Town Hall Superintendent, take the bull by the hands and follow me!”.

“ Humbug!” said Scrooge. “ You‟ve been at the Mayor‟s sherry!”.

No sooner had those words left Scrooge‟s lips than they were floating around the rafters of the Keir Hardie room. “ This is a good place for a nightclub, what‟s going on here Spirit?” said Scrooge.

“ This is a Christmas party, don‟t you recognise anyone?” asked the Spirit. “ “ I know the disc jockey, erastus, he‟s a Solicitor isn‟t he? Can you understand what he is saying?..I also recognise Don Johnson, Yul Brynner, Nigel Havers and Mr Holstein, they all work in Planning don‟t they? “ replied Scrooge.

“ Can you see the High Tollah scrooge?” said Eric. “Is he standing over by the bar?...Good Lord, his centre parting used to be a lot smaller then...they all seem so happy, dancing and enjoying themselves...I can‟t be a works do surely?” Scrooge replied.

“ No point in us standing here like wet lemons, look at the date on the Rotaprint calendar...no ignore the bristols...the date is 1987!” said Eric

“ Nobody seems to be paying attention to us, can they see me, am I invisible?” questioned Scrooge. “ No, they‟re just so drunk they‟ll be singing backwards soon, especially Angela and Ceri, the Sue Ellen sisters!”.

“ But where am I spirit?” asked Scrooge.

The scene changes to the Typing pool, where scrooge, Bob “ Snowy” Marley and a senior Typist are busy at work.

“ Well, Mr Scrooge, I‟ve taken done everything you wanted.....what do you think?” said the typist. “ Yes, that‟s the lot for me!” declared Marley. “ I suppose you‟ll want the WHOLE day off tomorrow Mrs Chunk?” asked Scrooge.

“ Christmas comes but once a year Mr Scrooge besides I‟ve got a hunch...”

“ I can see that!” interrupted Scrooge...”

“ No!!! I mean there‟s a party going on upstairs” said the typist sending a glaring look at Scrooge

. “ Can I go now Sir?”

Scrooge nods his assent and she leaves hurriedly to join the party. “ Well Scrooge, see you on January 2nd 1988. Oh!.... and Merry Christmas!” said Marley.

“ Bah Humbug!” was the muttered reply.

A sharp buzzing noise snaps Scrooge back into 1992.

It was Charity, his secretary, who said “ I‟ve got three calls on the line for you Mr Scrooge. One is from a Mr Ian Maxwell, who would like to talk to you about pension schemes, the second is a Mr Robin Banks from the newly reformed BCCI Bank who have got a special offer on for local authorities at the moment, and a Member on line three for you, I can‟t remember his name, but he has a problem with his R‟s”.

“ That narrows it down to two then!” he laughed out loud. “ Tell them I‟m in a meeting!” he replied “ Yes Sir!” she said obediently.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he shrugged the whole thing off as a dream. His lids felt heavy. Soon, darkness ruled again.

Tap, tap, it came...tap tap once more.

Semi-conscious he got up and opened the door. Before him stood another colossus, a handsome young man in the prime of manhood.

“ I am Dai Narcotics, the ghost of Christmas present!” said the apparition.

“ I don‟t care who you are, you can take that bloody earring out for a start!” replied Scrooge.

“ I don‟t think much of your customer care, come with me Don Estelle!” he said whilst grabbing Scrooge by the hand and transporting him to the centre of a U-shaped room.

“ Where am I spirit?” asked Scrooge.

“ Watch and learn !” came the reply.

The room was full of people drinking and partying and it was decorated in all the trappings of Christmas.

Suddenly, someone shouted “ Quick, Scrooge is coming!” and the staff ran for cover.

In through the door came Scrooge and like the child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, sweeps to and fro from desk to desk cuffing Tiny Tim around the ear in the process.

“ These carpet tiles are wet!”...of course, I‟m on the second floor!” declared Scrooge.

The child-catcher figure continues to harass the staff. “ What do we have here Simpson?” he said, pressing the recall button on the handset. “ Ladbrokes again....£50.00 less in your wage packet boy!”

“ What about you Bob Scratchitt Crotty?” he continued, again pressing the recall button.

“ I want you in a bath with a loofah and oysters....0898 again. “ Weekend duty Boy!”

“ Let me see your morning‟s work Crabtree-Mason, !2 what is this letter to Clichy you‟ve typed....Deer Sir, God Moaning, eye will say this only wonce, have you got ello „ello on those earphones!....and you Glenda, I won‟t tell you again, it‟s Roger and not Rover Morris, or he will be barking mad!!!!”

“ You Housing girls are just as bad. When I find out which one of you photocopied your breasts and faxed them to Cardiff for Children in Need....I‟ll suspend the Job Share Scheme...that‟s it...Christmas is cancelled!”

A blood curdling scream came from the real Scrooge. “ Oh my Lord, what a nightmare!”

“ Are you okay Mr Scrooge, or are you just interviewing again?” said Faith.

Scrooge had been disturbed and that called for drastic measures. Reaching into his bottom drawer, he pulled out a bottle of whisky. Pouring himself a drastic measure, he gulped it down. The alcohol helped calm him down from his nightmare. His eyes were taken by a movement outside his window...” Was that Harman‟s car being stolen again, or just another Crimewatch reconstruction “ he pondered to himself. “ Bugger Sue Cook” he said aloud. “ I wish I could” he thought.

He checked his Rolex. It was still only 10.30 half an hour left to his early morning call.

“ Just forty winks more!” he muttered , as he dozed off once more.

The inevitable knock came again. This time it was much louder and less patient. Opening his eyes Scrooge again noticed that the room and the atmosphere had changed completely.

The handle turned and in came a Seven-Foot Tall negro dressed in ceremonial Mayoral garb (An Alan Davies/Laura Ashley original.)

“ Allo down der, I am Councillor Idi Amin Dada- The Ghost of Tings to Come!”

“ Where are we?” asked Scrooge.
“ You came under the control of RVDC (Rwanda Valley District Council) after the Declaration of UDI in 1995, and you are at the Civic Centre, Trecatti, Cwmbargoed!” said Amin.

“ Well that is a relief, I thought the methane was mine!” sighed scrooge.

Within the twinkling of an eye, the scene changed to a listless office. The staff were chained to their desks, with their pens on flexitime. There were no female staff, and each man had on a brown SS-type uniform , with short-cropped hair, no earrings and no personalities. The room was silent except the piped background music off the Dowlais Male Voice choir.

“ Tell me thaty I am in Heaven spirit...but hang on where is my Office?” asked Scrooge.

“ You tell him Town Clerk!” said the spirit.

The Town Clerk approached and Scrooge searched his memory banks – his face was familiar...but that Adidas bag....of course...” Is that you Andrew Trenchman Owen?” .....You are the new Town Clerk!..but how? Spluttered Scrooge.

“ I evoked a little known Council resolution under the diminutive and height impaired Town Clerk‟s Act 1974- in that no one over 5feet tall could become Town Clerk!”

“ So you are my new Boss?” choked Scrooge.

“ Wrong again, I sacked you on my first day for not licking my boots properly!” came the reply.

“ Spirit, where am I now then?”

The scene changes again to a dark , cold cemetery. Scrooge is alone and stands terrified.

“ Don‟t leave me spirit...” The spirit appears next to a recently completed burial mound. Scrooges approaches nervously.

“ Tell me it is not my grave, please spirit, tell me it‟s not true...Oh Lord, it is me!...I can see my money belt sticking out ...I must be in Cefn not Heaven!...Surely this is not how my life turns out....!”

“ This is one possible ending!” warned the spirit. “ Your future is in your own hands, change your ways (and your pants) , it‟s not too late!”

The voice fades into the darkness.

Scrooge wakes with a start, the telephone rings, he jumps again.

Normality has returned.

He is back in his office and the Chief Executive is inviting him to the Chief Officers Drink.

Scrooge is off down the corridor like a bullet, and declares to the gathered elite that he would like to invite them, and their wives, over for a Christmas drink. Hurriedly downing half a bottle of the Chief‟s vintage brandy, he rushes downstairs to the poll tax office, leaving a bemused meeting behind.

Opening the door, he noticed how quiet his staff were. No decorations, laughter or party. The majority of the men were gathered around the remains of Steve Williams‟ toaster.

Scrooge burst in smiling, and declared “ Parry...remember that bird you fancied stuffing in the kitchen, -Here it is!” Expecting to find Linda Lusardi, Parry looked up from his desk, only to find himself wrestling with a 24 lb turkey.

“ Drink all round, help yourselves , come and join us!...I found this in Christine‟s room in amongst the tambourines!” Scrooge declared dragging in enough drink to sink the Marchioness.

The staff were amazed , an impromptu „For he‟s a jolly good fellow broke out, and a rave ensued. Astounding things happened.....Barbara started break-dancing, Ben rolled a joint, Baldwin grabbed the karaoke off Woolley and the most astonishing thing of all Ceri sobered up!.

“ But where is my favourite cripple Tim?” asked Scrooge.

“ Tiny Tim...you mean?” said Prosser...” We can‟t go into that now” said Scrooge.

Overhearing the commotion, Tiny Tim came struggling along the corridor on his crutches. Reaching the entrance to the office, he declared “ Cor, its Christmassey in „ere innit.....Mr Scrooge ?”

“ Merry Christmas Tim, I have something for you!”

The punch took everyone by surprise, and the look on Tim‟s face said it all as he fell to the floor clutching his broken crutch.

“ After all!” said Scrooge...” It‟s my Christmas too!!!!”