NORTH POLE SECURITY

 

At the North Pole at Christmas

Security is exceptionally high

And when they searched the bakery

They discovered a mince spy!

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (007) The Christmas Surprise

 

It was Christmas 1975 and we had just returned to work after having had our Christmas lunch at the pub, although in truth calling it Christmas Lunch was perhaps a bit of a stretch and makes it sound much grander that it actually was.

In the 1970s pub grub wasn’t very unsophisticated fare and invariably consisted of Chicken in a Basket or a Ploughman’s.

The more up market establishments might well offer Scampi in a Basket and a selection of Ploughman’s including a variety of cheeses as alternatives to the normal cheddar.

The Pig and Whistle however was not an up-market establishment in any way shape or form and offered Chicken in a Basket or cheddar cheese Ploughman’s, however in addition to that, as it was Christmas you got a Mince Pie as well.

So, after our “Christmas Lunch” we all arrived back at work with some of our number much the worse for drink.

I myself had perhaps overindulged to a small degree with an unspecified number of Light and Bitters, so as a consequence I was wearing beer goggles and even scabby Carole was looking passable.

So was Wonky Wendy, so called because she had a wonky eye, she had one eye that looked at you while the other one was looking for you. 

Ok I admit “Wonky” wasn't a very imaginative nickname but there you have it, it was the 70s and we were simple folk, well anyway through beer goggles even she looked quite appetising.

Another of the girls I wouldn’t normally have looked at twice was Pat Warner.

Although she had nice eyes and a pretty smile, other than that she was a plain looking girl about a year younger than me, and over the previous year Pat had made no secret of the fact that she fancied me.

I on the other hand did not fancy her and not because she was plain or because she was stick thin and featureless or even because she was ginger the truth was, she just didn’t do it for me.

However, that was without the benefit of alcohol fuelled lust.

 

On returning to the factory, we continued the party in the canteen, my tipple of choice from what was available was Light Ale while for Pat it was Port and Lemon and that day, we both necked a few, and with every bottle of beer I drank Pat was getting prettier and prettier.

It reached a point that when she went off to the loo, I followed a few minutes later and intercepted her as she returned and took her in the rubber room, no not that kind of rubber, it was the room where the rubber bands were sorted and counted.

It was a small room about 20’ square with glass on two sides but with the lights off it was dark enough in the shadows for what I had in mind.

As soon as the door closed behind us though she was all over me like a rash and her tongue was in my mouth like an Excocet, and her hand went straight to my fly.

“Blimey you're keen” I thought to myself

I thought I had better join in quick and yanked her blouse from the waist band of her skirt and partly unbuttoned it before going in search of her tits.

It was when I found them, such as they were, I made a startling discovery.

When I got my hand on her breast, I found something I wasn’t expecting, and no, it wasn’t anything to do with Scaramanga.

What I found was something altogether different.

Now I was just a callow youth and I wasn’t hugely experienced in the ways of the world, but I had had sufficient experience of breasts to know that nipples shouldn’t be hairy.

“This needs further investigation” I thought and proceeded to complete the unbuttoning of the blouse.

, and then I steered her gently around, so the meagre light fell across her equally meagre and exposed breast.

I broke away from her mouth and let her tongue my ear instead while I looked down at her tiny breast surmounted with a perfectly formed swollen nipple surrounded by two-inch-long curly ginger hairs.

“That can’t be right” I thought

But a moment later Pat wrestled my old chap from my jeans and began tugging on it, this distracted me from the hairy nipple as with my penis in her hand she got my full attention, so my hand abandoned her hairy tit and headed south.

I got my hand up her skirt easy enough and was attempting to get it into her knickers when she said

“No” and pushed my hand away

I kissed her again and after a few moments I tried once more to invade her pants, I even managed to get my fingertips beneath the elastic of her knicker leg that time before she stopped me again.

“I said no” she reaffirmed

“Why not?” I asked

“Because you have a girlfriend” she replied

Well, I don’t mind telling you I thought it was a bit indelicate of her to mention that I had a girlfriend as she was in a semi darkened room with me and she had my old chap in her hand.

I was about to point out the hypocrisy of her position when the door flew open.

“Aye, aye” Shaft said

Shaft was the foreman, his real name was Ted, but his nickname was Shaft not because he was black but because he was shafting Beryl from picking. 

I did the gentlemanly thing and positioned myself between Ted and Pat so she could redress herself.

It also enabled me to force my stubborn erection back into my jeans which it seemed reluctant to do, he had come out to party and didn’t want to go home early before he had popped his cork.

“I’ve just come for my coat” Ted said with a chuckle as he took his coat off the peg

“Carry on” he said and closed the door.

I would have liked to carry on, but Pat wasn’t going to let me carry on as far as I wanted to, so we went back to the party and that was that.

 

I never had another close encounter with Pat and in the light of the hairy nipples I had no desire to as in the sober light of day I didn’t fancy her.

I should also state that I never ever encountered any other hairy breasted women over the following years.

 

It was many years after the Christmas grope in the Rubber Room that doubts entered my mind that it was anything other than what it appeared, and these doubts first surfaced after I watched a documentary about Ladyboy’s, which I found quite shocking.

You have to remember we were very naïve back in 1970s Stevenage, and we had never heard of Ladyboy’s, we weren’t complete yokels though, we had heard of homosexuals, though no one I knew admitted to ever meeting one.

I always assumed that Pat was short for Patricia but after the documentary I wasn’t so sure, maybe she was really a Patrick.

We tended to take things at face value back then but if I had managed to gain entry into Pat’s knickers I would have known for sure if she was either fish or fowl.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS # 37

 

Twas the night before Christmas

And all along the Avenue

The Christmas lights are twinkling

For everyone to view

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (006) The Silver Tinsel Tree

 

Being born in the late fifties I have few recollections of that austere decade, almost all of my earliest memories are from the brasher, brighter and less restrained sixties.

As a result my early memories of Christmas are of a bright and sparkly time when paper chains and the watery colours of paper stars, bells and balls were being replaced by foil and tinsel.

Hence the Silver Tinsel Christmas Tree, looking back it was a quite unspectacular specimen of a tree compared to what’s on offer nowadays, but we loved it.

It stood less than 5 feet tall with its fold down tinsel covered wire branches tipped with red beads to symbolise berries.

However by the time Dad had worked his not inconsiderable magic and covered it with every size, shape and shade of bauble, glass birds with feathered tails, lantern lights, strands of brightly coloured tinsel, chocolate treats and tiny crackers lain on the branches it was transformed and was absolutely stunning,

It was the only Christmas tree I ever knew until my teenage years came to an end when in the mid-seventies I suggested we have a real tree just for a change.

I would never have suggested it if I had realised that it would signal the death knell of the Silver Tinsel Tree as the following year it was replaced by a green plastic tree more akin to those of today.

After my Dad died a few years later the task of decorating the tree fell to me and I realised sadly that I hadn’t inherited his tree dressing skill and was never able to equal him.

I came close one year, in 1983 but I think in the end I merely flattered to deceive.

Thankfully the task has fallen to my wife for the past 29 years, she makes a far better fist of it than I ever could, whether she possesses the necessary skill to transform a Silver Tinsel Tree however we will never know.

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (005) My First Working Christmas

I was living in a Stevenage with my parents in the early seventies, in a block of Warden run flats, which were sheltered accommodation for the elderly, and my mother was the Warden.

I attended the School nearby, but I was never what you might call academic, so I left school when I was fifteen, and I left at the end of May and I started my first job three days later, as a trainee groundsman.

However in the November of that same year the family house from one side of town to the other, and the significance of this will become clear later in the story.

The house move didn’t affect my getting to and from work though as the town had a good bus service, operating a flat fare service on circular routes, so I still got the same bus as I did from the old address but from a different stop, and the price was the same, this will also prove significant later on.

As I said this was my first year at work and as a result I also had my first works Christmas party to look forward to, which was on the last day before we broke for the Christmas holiday and we had a little works party in the yard, where a little Christmas cheer was imbibed and a drink or two were consumed.

Now I was only sixteen when Christmas came around and I had only had very limited experience of alcohol and I got well and truly bladdered on Whisky Mac, cider and something unpronounceable from Yugoslavia.

At the end of the boozy afternoon one of my workmates gave me a lift into the town centre and in my drunken state I staggered to the bus station and caught my usual bus, and I managed to climb the stairs to the top deck and in due course the bus set off, filled with Christmas shoppers and a one drunken trainee groundsman.

Probably with the combination of alcohol and the motion of the bus I drifted off on the journey and I suddenly came to and on looking out the window I recognized a familiar sight and I promptly got off the bus.

As the bus drove off, I headed off up the road in the direction of home wishing all and sundries a merry Christmas as I went, not unlike George Bailey in “It’s a wonderful life”.

When I reached the flats I entered through the main doors, passing the Christmas tree in the foyer and headed straight for flat number one.

At the door I fumbled for my key and presented it to the lock, but it wouldn’t fit, so I peered closely at it and it was definitely my door key so I tried to put it in the lock again, but still it wouldn’t fit.

Suddenly the door opened and a stranger looked out at me

“Can I help?” she asked.

“Ah, my name is Paul, and I don’t live here, anymore do I?”

The lady, who was the new Warden, laughed and agreed with me that I no longer lived there.

So I wished her a happy Christmas and made my way back to the foyer were there was a public telephone with a large Perspex dome over it.

My intention was to phone for a taxi but rummaging in my pockets I discovered I had no money for the taxi or indeed a coin to make a phone call, and then as I tried to duck under the Perspex hood I tripped over my own feet and fell into the Christmas tree which ended up on top of me.

The lady, who now lived at no 1, heard the commotion and came to investigate and to my surprise thought it very amusing to find a drunken teenager wearing the Christmas tree.

“Oh dear” she said laughing.

Deeply apologetic, I explained the circumstances of my predicament and the new Warden phoned a taxi for me and even gave me the money for the fare.

That was real Christmas spirit, in the spirit of the Capra classic, and I have never forgotten her kindness and tolerance and try to keep that same spirit in my own heart at Christmas.

 

CROMWELLIAN (CLERIHEW)

 

The lord protector Oliver Cromwell

Killed thousands, the truth to tell

Beheaded the king and closed hostelries

And he cancelled the Christmas festivities

CYNTHIA’S NIGHT OUT

 

Cynthia was sweet sixteen and naive

And was going out on her first date

But mummy had some rules to impart

In the event that they may conjugate

 

Cynthia asked “what if on the way home

He stops his car in a dark lonely wood”

“That’s ok mummy won’t worry about that”

Mummy replied “that’s ok if he should”

 

Cynthia asked, “what if while were parked

He puts his arm around me and kisses me”

“That’s ok mummy won’t worry about that”

Mummy replied “that’s alright you’ll see”

 

Cynthia asked, “what if while were parked

He goes inside my blouse and undoes my bra”

“That’s ok mummy won’t worry about that”

Mummy replied “its ok if he goes that far”

 

Cynthia asked, “what if while were parked

He puts his hand in my pants and touches me”

“That’s ok mummy won’t worry about that”

Mummy replied “that’s alright you’ll see”

 

Cynthia asked, “what if while were parked

He lays me down and gets on top of me”

“Cynthia that’s not ok you mustn’t do that”

Mummy said, “because mummy would worry”

 

That night after Cynthia returned home

She was very excited after she had dated

And mummy wanted to know everything

In the event that they may have conjugated

 

Cynthia said, “as we were on the way home

He stopped his car in a dark lonely wood

I thought mummy won’t worry about this

Mummy said it was alright if he should”

 

Cynthia said “well mummy while were parked

He put his arm around me and kissed me

I thought mummy won’t worry about this

Mummy said it was alright and I would see”

 

Cynthia said “well mummy while were parked

He went inside my blouse and undid my bra

I thought mummy won’t worry about this

Mummy said it was alright if he went that far”

 

Cynthia said “well mummy while were parked

He put his hand in my pants and touched me

I thought mummy won’t worry about this

Mummy said it was alright and I would see”

 

Cynthia said “well mummy while were parked

He lay me down and to get on top of me

I thought that’s not ok I mustn’t do that

Because mummy said she would worry”

 

“That’s a very good girl Cynthia well done

I’m very proud that you listened to me

Now tell me what happened next my dear”

“I got on top of him and let his mummy worry”