Posts Tagged ‘Ghosts’



To make sense of this story please read Part 1 here and Part 2 here!

The journey is nearing its end………..

 A teenage girl, wearing rouge, eye liner and a clown’s nose stood on the platform. She was holding a dog lead. With no dog attached. The lead busied itself around the ghoul’s plinth.

She greeted the elderly couple as they left the train. The man was still red faced from his dalliance with a breast and a potential satan whilst the woman bent down and petted the lead saying, “Hello Bobby, you do look well!” They walked toward the station exit with  Invisible Bobby dragging its owner along.

The train guard appeared shortly after departing Widdle. He was a tall powerfully built man, his hams in particular were a sight, dressed in an ill-fitting liveried suit. He checked the imaginary ticket of my neighbour and handed it back with a smile.

I decided to hold out an imaginary ticket for inspection.

“Sorry sir, this ticket is no good.”

“Why not?” I asked. I  had a real ticket in my pocket and wished I had not been so cocky now. My neighbour rattled his translucent newspaper with purposeful indignation at my fare dodging antics.

“This takes you only as far as Piddle, two stops back. I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay a penalty fare.”

“How much?”

“Thirty pounds.”

I thought this a bit steep but looking at his stern features and enormous hams I knew there was little point in arguing. But I had an idea………

“Thanks very much sir, here’s your ticket.” The Guard handed me an invisible ticket along with a crisp real ten pound note as change for the two imaginary twenty pound notes I had handed him.

One born every minute I mused.

The Guard moved on and stopped to talk to the knitting woman, still furiously casting off. They spent a few moments in conversation before she held her design up against The Guard’s thick set arms. Perhaps her bogus knitting was for him? The colour certainly suited him. But alas I never found out. It still rankles.

A voice, Ghostly, almost ghastly to the human ear then filled the Carriage. We all turned our heads to see the evil being that uttered these sounds. The voice was accompanied by the sound of heavy chains rattling their miserable tone. A smell of rotting flesh pervaded. The wraith’s voice grew louder as it neared and spelled out its doom laden message,  “Hot drinks…….snacks…….. beverages……….peanuts?”

It was the headless Ghoul from Widdle station, mimicking the act of pushing a heavy  trolley. The Ghoul had donned a vivid red waistcoat which bore the title “Andy – Customer Service Assistant.”

My neighbour stopped him, “Tea please Andy, Everything OK?”

“Fine thanks, El Mystico. Running around like a headless chicken this morning.” He went about his business with relish,  pouring imaginary liquid into a nonexistent cup, although how he saw, being headless was beyond me.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Yes please.”

“Be careful it is very hot.”

El Mystico blew into his tea to cool it before taking a sip.

On the Ghoul trundled on, calling out in that beastly voice if anyone else wanted comestibles, the heavy chains scuffing the floor.

My bladder nearly gave out with the excitement, so I traipsed to the toilet in the adjoining carriage. A Charlie Chaplin lookalike doffed his tattered bowler and waddled up to me in that famous comic gait. He offered a cheeky grin before tripping over some invisible object only to be saved by hooking the armrest of a nearby seat with his walking cane. He repeated this several times until it became a tad tiresome.

The toilet was being vacated by a man painted silver, sporting a Tricorn hat and wearing Eighteenth Century costume. I had no idea who he was depicting, but the cubicle reeked of cigarette smoke and he had not flushed his ablutions. I gave him a beady stare as I stepped over the prone Charlie Chaplin and returned to my seat.

The train rumbled through the stations of Tinkledrop, Bladderton and Tapper, where the mother and Invisible, possibly satan, Baby Geoffrey alighted.  Andy, the Headless Ghoul Customer Service Assistant adopted a pose on each station platform presumably hoping he could earn a bob or two from passers by.

It was in the Tapper tunnel, now less than five minutes from home  that I caught my reflection in the carriage window. My face had rouge and eyeliner roughly applied and cabbage had become stuck between my teeth. Feeling liberated from the strictures of the Oral  World, I stood and pretended to climb a rope and then, despite my back injury, aped shuffling along a wall, towards the woman to enquire if she needed help with her luggage again.

“Thank you, most kind,” She said. We smiled at each other revealing the trapped vegetable matter between our teeth. I watched her stow her invisible knitting away.

“That’s coming along nicely.”

“Thank you, most kind.” She failed to tell me for whom the finished garment was intended. It still rankles.

The train pulled into our destination. Mimehead Station.

I walked to the Station car park. I don’t own a car, but in the world of The Mimico all that matters is imagination and a reasonably believable body position.

So, I fired up the Lamborghini and sped off to buy an ice cream from the van, humming Greensleeves as I drove.

There is a reason Mimehead is a silent town. But that tale will be for another day…………………………

I Hope You Enjoyed The Story – here is a musical interlude

Read Full Post »

What Is It Saying Barry?


I am Barry Belcher. I am a Milkman. I am Psychic. I have been predicting predictions, with various degrees of accuracy for a number of years now.

Before my Psychic self was revealed to me, I was happy going about my everyday business. Up with the Lark, delivering milk in my hometown of Devizes. I also deliver eggs, orange juice, potatoes, bread (wholemeal mostly but the occasional white sliced) and yoghurt.

Almost all of my customers buy low fat milk with only a handful still pouring full fat over their Cornflakes in the morning!

I have foretold the future through my Milk Bottle of Mystery for several years now.

Recently I predicted the following predictions; Christmas Day in 1987 would fall on Christmas Day, Police Academy 6 would be made and the 1968 Mexico Olympics would occur in Mexico in 1968.

I met Mr Fightback outside Devizes Assizes last week. He was pinching a sack of King Edwards from my Float, stuffing the tubas down his trousers as I approached. I told him I would not press charges if he would give me a chance to share my predictions and messages from “the other side” (and I don’t mean Swindon!)

My Psychic powers foretold me that he would agree.

So, without further ado…….Milk Bottle of Mystery…….what does the future foretell for 2012?

1. WMD to be discovered in Iraq

2. Man to walk on the Moon for the first time

3. Princess Diana to marry her long term Beau, Dodi Al-Fayed

4. Queen Victoria to celebrate 187 years as Monarch.

5. A tuna fish to win the men’s 100 metre final at the Olympics

Will these prove accurate readers? Only time will tell………

Now it is time for messages from “THE OTHER SIDE” –

Elsie in Grimsby,

“Patricia says that Granddad’s top set is in the wardrobe.”

Yannick in Saratoga

“Maureen thought you knew she had a nut allergy.”

Jason in Sydney

“Nicola says the fruit bowl is under the sofa. The oranges have gone a bit mouldy.”

Connie in Cape Town

“Daryl wants you to know he loved the cardigan really.”

Yvette in Toronto

“Dad says he won’t use the Chainsaw again.”


Well folks, the Milk Bottle of Mystery is being returned to the Crate of Destiny.

Until next time…..why not order an extra pint or two and gladden the heart of your local Milko!

Read Full Post »