The Plastic Christmas Card (eBook, ePUB)

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The Plastic Christmas Card is a quirky little 'wodzeon' Quick Flash story about creating Christmas happiness. But, what is happiness? This following 'history' took hours and hours of research in huge libraries and on the net. Wodzeon? That's what sometimes happens when someone reads my stuff, they say 'what's he on?'... fresh air actually. Happiness's root is an old Latin word 'Hopiness' meaning 'to feel good'. It hailed from the hop plantations of Evesham i.e. hops (as in malt and) meaning 'happy crop', planted and tended originally by Latins. That's because Latin people (originally French tin miners i.e. 'La-Tin') felt happy when they drank the liquid made with hops (and malt). That's why at Christmas, the hopiest time of year is when people are at their happiest (or hopiest). All the dancing at Christmas is due to these sacred flowers that grow on countless bushes in Evesham, the organic mothers and fathers of Eveshams favourite dance, invented by actor and dancer and buddy of William Shakespeare, William Kemp (Kempe) The Evesham Hop, full of quirky skips and jumps. Evesham was named after the church managed to convince the world that the serpent tempted Eve to eat an apple, when really it helped her discover the magic of the hop; yes you've guessed it was actually a hop plant/bush the serpent was on/in and not the church's apple tree which was a thought constructed Eve 'Sham'. The serpent was a bit fed up (although it is impossible to tell when a serpent is fed up due to limitation of facial expressions) because it was a very mild Christmas (hence the nudity) and it fancied a few drinks while chilling on the branch, but needed someone to make it first from hops (and malt); the serpent was very wise and knew how to have a good time by making hop juice so it spoke instructions to Eve; God had taken the serpents arms away to save its liver, not to mention the livers of several local hedgehogs that also liked a drink, especially after eating a sticky slug. Adam was therefore the first man to get drunk and hop around dancing. How would Adam have got home from the garden? Easy! Eve would have driven him, and that is why when a woman drives a bloke home from the pub it is seen as natural, simply because it is. Christmas is so good because of that serpent. Kane and Abel were both the results of hopiness and man's downfall was the hangover, making it hard to make a choice between bad and good ideas. Whisky is also good and the history of it could be called 'The magic of Bar LEY' a wine bar near a barley field where whisky was discovered. If the sign-writer had been rubbish and written Bar LEE, anybody called Lee would have felt honoured and gone for a discount, but whisky would have remained obscure.

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I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!
I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn't see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don't really want to hear about it, it's depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a 'job' quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob 'job'! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a 'job' (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that's called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I'd be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we'd have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.

I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can't remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I've always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that's all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy 'you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel'. The bus station management weren't pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.

The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that's an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by ...