Sorry, for copyright reasons, this bit can't be printed but this can be gotten around by changing the Scrooge character to Rambo, Bob Cratchit can be Bob Geldof and Baby can be Falco. That should clear any problem.

It was a very dark and cold winters night but Jonny 'Rambo' Scrooge was in his flimsy bit of leather. Across the room from him was the rough mannered and figured shape of a man in the form of a Mr. Bob Cratchit who wasn't going to say anything as there was a large bazooka pointing at his head, which, would he to talk or even breathe too hard, blow his head off. Suddenly the clock chimed 5pm. This startled Bob, but what startled him even more was the sudden demise of the clock as a rocket shell had just demolished it. Bob's dry throat started to moisten and finally some words formed at his lips which seemed to hang there until their weight was too much and they fell out.

"Erm, Mr Scrooge?"
"Yo"
"Can I, sort of like go?. It is 5pm and Christmas Eve."
"Yo"

Then to one side, Scrooge muttered "Christmas?. Bah! ICBM's!". Bob was collecting his very rough looking denim jacket and was about to leave when Jonny said something which sounded vaguely ledgeable. Bob couldn't believe his ears, 'Rambo' Scrooge was talking to him, well maybe not directly to him but near enough, after all, Jonny's eyes were a bit old which seemed only logical as Jonny was himself getting on a bit. Never the less, Jonny was speaking to him.

"Yo, Barbbi"

Bob wished he wouldn't call him Barbbi as it made him sound like a small piece of moulded plastic which was sold at an extortionate price.

"Yes Mr. Scrooge?"
"How's young Cratchit's leg?"
"Much better. The surgeons just managed to save it." Bob said happily.
"Good. Well tell him that he won't get away so lightly next time he pinches apples from my garden."
"Okay sir."
"By the way, I've decided to cancel your holidays this year as I'm a sadistic sod."
"You mean......"
"Yes 9am 26th December."

Bob muttered something under his breath which was promptly met by a knife scalping him. As, for a momentary lapse of the mind on Bob's part, he had forgotten that whispering wasn't allowed and if he wanted to whisper, he'd have to tell Scrooge it in complete confidence. What Bob didn't realise was that Jonny only told Mrs Meg down the tavern in absolute confidence. Then, somehow, the news spread through the town which totally baffled Jonny as he'd only told Mrs Meg. But that is history as Scrooge found out that Mrs Meg had told nearly every one she'd slept with and promptly blew her head and lower half off in quick succession with a large gun. The coroner estimated it to be at least a 25mm American Grenade Launcher.

Scrooge left the office in a huff. He had to use this as his Metro had broken down. On the way down the main high street, Jonny noticed an old lady bouncing off his bonnet then rattling under the under-carriage. He open his window as yelled back that if she'd damaged his underside then he'd kill her dead but the old lady didn't seem to pay much attention as she had appeared to have kicked the bucket.

Bob arrived back with baby Cratchit to their humble ramshackled house which was not much more that a wooden back door with an upstairs. As Bob and Baby arrived back, they were met with a sad faced wife. Bob asked her what was up.

"Oh, it's just our daughter Jill won't be able to make it. You remember she went to Manchester, well, no-one has seen her for weeks. Hold on, what's this our baby has?"

Youngest Cratchit held up the latest edition of Razzle magazine. Simon came down red faced (and rather sweaty) and made a grab for the mag before he got into really deep trouble. But it was too late. Instead he just booted baby in the back of his legs which had been blown off by Mr. J.R. Scrooge then restitched back on. Baby didn't notice. He just went on about someone called Jeanny and in a foreign language.

Bob had ever wondered why this was. He looked in his diary at when the baby was conceived. "Hold on," thought Bob, "Mr. Schmitt, the stereo-typed German had come for a business conference with his illustrious boss. But he was bent as a seven pound note!". Only his wife knew differently, but that is a different story.

Mr Scrooge reached home only too see his door being repaired which was strange as it wasn't actually broken. Jon approached the man and smiled as the work man's face splattered all over the wall with bits of brain and blood added for extra colour. Jonny considered what he had just done and opened the door, making first sure that there were no Communist subversives waiting to be kerbang splattered around the corner. Later that night, while Scrooge was working at his desk, an apparition came to him. Jonny thought it was a figment of his imagination then remembered that he didn't have one. The apparition spoke in a weird and almost unknown language. It was English.

"Michael Angelo?" started the apparition.
"No."
"Sorry to disturb you then."
"No problem."

The apparition was about to leave when he turned around, and went a bit red then said :

"Erm, could you tell me were Mike Angelo lives then?"
"Ye. About 200 years thata way."
"Thanks.", said the apparition on its way out through the nearest wall.
"Weirdo!", concluded Scrooge only to restart his voice box seconds latter with the words "What the hecks that noise?"

It was infact a bunch of carol singers outside his window. Jonny unhitched the time bombs, unrigged the electro-super zappers, broke the trip wire which set off the chain of short range bazookas in succession. Then came the hardest part - OPENING THE WINDOW!. Jonny reached for the piece of paper which was supplied with the window. It read :

"How to open the AX6481-181b654qw Mk III Super Security Window. Unhitch the latch, push frame and the window should now be open. If it fails, try again."

The instructions obeyed, Jonny promptly put his head through the pane of glass. By the time he had gone through all of this melee, the singer's had finished and now were waiting. Unfortunately they'd picked on the most sadistic man in the whole world to ask for money from on this Christmas Eve.

"'ello Mista.", one of the youths said in a falsetto Cockney accent.
"Go away"
"Aww, come on. Giz some money for the old uns"
"Either you go, or I'll blow you away."
"Wiv wa?". The children didn't know what they'd let themselves in for. They just laughed.
"This." yelled Jonny as he lobbed a hand grenade at the rabble which promptly failed to go off.

At this failure to detonate, the children started to jeer even further. That is until the delay fuse expired and the children became greasy stains on the walls.

Back at the Cratchit's home cum hovel, Bob and his loving wife, Fifi Trixabelle, were just looking at the presents they had managed to purchase and to say the least, it was small. Infact, the total amount of pressies amounted to 4. Bob stared down at the pile, but couldn't find them for the dust.

Meanwhile, back at Jonny's place, his brain had set to work on what to upset his nephew with this year. His last presents included a subscription to What Bazooka? and a great book by Peregrin Worsthawn called Killing Commies without anyone finding out. Nice presents for your run of the mill soldier and commie killer but not for Neil.

Neil, much to Jonny's embarresment, is his nephew. Much to his embarresment as Neil was an active member of CND, anti blood sporter, commie yellow pinko and to top it all, a vegetarian!. But, he was due his annual visit from him, so there was nothing for it. The twenty two mile journey lie ahead of Jon and so it must be done. But, hope springs eternal for Jon and this year he attempted to convince himself that this genetic reject of a nephew would start to act more like a Scrooge and not like some fanatic lefty who has about as much right on his good clean Earth as a weasel.

He may fail.

The car was going to be a bitch that night. You see, although Jon had only bought it a matter of months before, he had already had sixteen insurance claims made against him. The list of offences made against him ranged from trying to slipstreem a JCB on a one way system - going the wrong way, driving too closely ("What the hell do you mean 'to closely'" - "You were in my boot!") and causing a multiple pile up as he decided to do a U Turn - in the middle of the M1. And so being such a tight git, decided to repair it himself and in the meantime, make a few alterations which he felt "neccesary" such as installing twin 16mm cannons on the driver side, a rocket launcher system from out of the sunroof and a turbo which would make a Ferrari F4 look crap. The only problem with this was that the car did take up a bit of petrol - but what did Jonny 'Rambo' Scrooge care, it was only the bloody atmosphere and he wasn't going to be alive for much longer, so what should he care?

After manageing to get the car started with a bit of persuassion using a baseball bat, Jon jumped in and promptly fell through the floor.

"Bummer." thought Jon, "I'm gonna have to catch the Bus."

For two hours Jonny waited. Nothing. Well I say nothing, but really there had been quite a number of buses going past, but what with Scrooge's camoflage being what it was, he had been mistaken for a cunningly disguised pillock who was either drunk or clinically insane - or both. Eventually he did get on the bus.

"Where d'ya want to go, Guv?" asked the inspector
"What's it to you?" replied Scrooge as he pulled out his twin barreled, auto repeating, self loading (and frequently firing) twelve bore shot gun.
"I'm the Ticket Inspector. Now tell me were your goin' or get off my bus" retorted the inspector, totally unruffled.
"Well look, I can't tell you where I'm going, but I can tell you where you'll be going if you don't push off"
"Alright, off the bus."

There was a click. The inspector gave a small gulp as the red laser aim beam arrived between his eyes.

"Off the (GULP!) bus?"
"No"

The bell rang, automatically, Jonny pulled the trigger and as he realised that it was for someone to alight, noticed the remains of the inspector strewn across the isle.

"Whoops!", thought Jonny as he gave a little laugh, "sorry mate."

Eventually, however, the bus arrived in the town of Niel's home and Jon disembarked to start his fifteen minute trek through unkown terrain which could be filled with slant eyed, yellow bellied, rice sucking scumballs who were so low that to even fire one round into them to put them out of their misery, would make Jonny think that he had wasted a good round which could have been embedded in some Commie heathen or Jock (which ever was nearer at the time).

It wasn't, so the thought didn't even cross Jonny 'Rambo' Scrooge's mind - not that it would have had far to travel!!!!

After five minutes continual doubleing (which is supposed to be twice normal walking speed, but in Scrooges case was more like half normal), Scrooge arrived at Niel's front door and to try and confuse him, did something out of the ordinary - he knocked on the door instead of putting a few mortars into the lock, fireing off a number of high explosive rounds into what was the fine oak paneling of the door, and finally setting a time delay switch onto what ever was left so that as they were sitting down to meal of Soya Turkey with Soya Cabbage, Soya carrots and Soya gravy laced with Soya flavoured blood, what was left of the door shot across the room and straight through the plate glass windows.

Knock Knock

Nothing.

Knock Knock Knockety Knock

Nothing.

Knock Knock KNOCK

Nothing.

"NIEL. OPEN UP YOU GODDAMN HIPPY!" yelled Jon.

From the next door upstairs window, the face of Niels delectable wife, Martha, appeared.

"Who's that out there?"
"It's Scrooge."
"Why are you knocking at that derelict old house with no doors, windows or roof?"
"'Cos it looks like how I remember yours after last year!"
"So it does!" quipped back Martha, "Anyway, we live here."

Jon jumped over the fence. Well, when I say "jumped", he didn't so much jump as more run through the fence smashing it into a million pieces and killing most of Niels Ornamental Gold Fishes. Suddenly Jon knew what to give Niel for Christmas.

Knock Knock.

Martha answered. She was the sort of woman that woman that if she entered a room, all the heads would turn (not to mention a number of stomachs at the make up - yerk!). Her breath was like that of freshly mown grass - three months after the event and her complexion was that of silk - after being showered with car battery acid!.

"Jon, how lovely to see you." said Martha in a strained voice
"Yo!."
"Come in, do"
"Yo!." replied Jonny as they walked into the house. Halfway up the corridor, Jonny stopped to ask Martha a question.
"Martha?" asked Jon
"Jon?"
"Is Niel still a Commie Yella Belly?"
"If you mean is Niel still an Anti Blood Sports, CND member and Vegetarian, then the answer is yes."
"Great, then he'll love my pressy to him."
"Oh Christ, not another one."
"Not another one what?" replied Jon with an uncanny sence of deja vous which was still to happen to him
"Christmas Present. Your last ones have been well, not quite in the same style of his beliefs, to put it mildly!"
"Then he'll love this years one."
"What's that?"
"It's one of those, er, Ornamental Gold Fishes"
"GREAT!" squeeked Martha at the news of Jon's sudden change of heart

Scrooge handed over the fish and instantly Martha's face dropped.

"Bugger. It's one of his."

Why Martha should be so narked at that, Jonny could never understand, but he was bright enough and hungry enough having not ate for at least twelve hours.

"When's food?" asked Jon.
"Soon. Why don't you go into the study and have a sherry?"
"What just one glass full?" replied Jon as he was getting pushed into a small room consisting of a video, TV, sterio hifi and a small number of books on such diverse subjects as "The history of Soya", "Soya is fun", "Making food which doesn't taste like cat sick from Soya" and "Building houses with ..... Soya". Jeez, do these people ever think about anything else but Soya?

The next thing to hit Jon was the amount of technological gadgetary which was strewn from pillar to the post holding up the ceiling. Compact Disc players, Sterio Hi Fi's, D.A.T. machines, VHS Twin Supa Mega Dooshey Video and a 33 inch FST Television with twin NICAM sound including MegaBass and Electrozap - none of which had been made in the U.K. but Japan, China and Korea. So to cap it all, Niel was not only a Peace loving, vegan hippy but worse than that - a commie loving, peace vegan hippy. There was nothing for it except for Plan X.

"DINNER" yelled Martha.

Scrooge left the study and walked to the kitchen with a smug look on his face as if something like the door was going to fly across the room just as they were praying to their Guru - Mr J. Simpleton of 67 The Quarf, Eccles. Martha, terrified at this rushed out to check the front door for timed explosives thus leaving Jonny alone in the kitchen with the cat....

"Kitty want something to be ate?" coyly asked Jon to the cat.

Niel wasn't to be long and soon he was sitting at the table trying to "rap" to Scrooge. Why Neil couldn't just talk was beyong Jon and why Neil had to try to be so hip and cool that he would make a frozen bear with a pelvis the size of York look small was also beyond Jon, but Neil was relation so there was nothing to it. Martha presently returned, sat down then commenced serving the meal - a lovely Soya meat dish, with carrots, peas, broccoli and side order of soya beans. But first prayers...

"Oh Guru, Mr Simpleton of 67 The Quarf, Eccles. Please hear this small veneration to what you hold so gladly and to the organisation for which you stand and to which we donate to, that of the Community of Almighty Saviours and Healthiness. Sanctify this meal of purest Soya to which yourself will only commit to your body when the poison of vennison, veal and prime cut beef takes it's toll."
"Bandontherun, Bandontherun" chanted the family of three (except Jon who was quietly picking at something lodged in his ear).
The meal was started when a look of horror adorned Neils face.
"Darling?" started Neil
"Yes?" replied Martha who was happily tucking into what she thought was Soya

Niel, after all of this melee had died down, started to eat the small, but perfectly proportioned meal which would served to purify and also provide over 9/16ths of his bodies normal daily intakes of proteins, minerals and salts. He cut into the soya looking meat and placed it into his mouth. It tasted strange, but he ate it. The next piece was slightly larger and this time he wolfed it down like there was no tomorrow. However, he was not to know why he had started to eat the soya like this. Normally, he just ate the "food" and have done with it. But not this time.

"What is in this?" asked Niel
"Soya. Pure and whole"
"No meat then."
"Meat?" replied Martha, shocked at Neils statement
"Yes, you know, that red stuff which is on the living body of an animal"
"I know what it is, but why do you ask?"
"Cos I WANT SOME NOW WOMAN!" drooled Neil
"Pardon?" said Martha, quite shocked at the out burst.
"I want meat. I want to feel the sinues break as I pull apart the very fibres of it with my bare teeth. I want to feel the warm flow of the blood mixed with warm, running fats dribbling down my chin. I don't want this soddin' soya. It's bloody disgusting and if I eat another mouthful then I'm going to spew it all back up onto the table."

Martha was flabbergasted at what Neil had just said, it was quite out of character for him and so she instisted on the meal continuing. Neil placed another mouthful of "soya" into his mouth when suddenly there was a large brownish mess seen eminating from Neil's mouth.

"Any more for any more?" asked Jon with a bit of a laugh.

Little Freddy while all this was going on, started to wonder were Mr Tiddles had gotten to. That was until he started to choke.

"Neil?"
"Yes Martha?"
"Why has little Freddy just gone blue in the face?"
"Probably because he is choking" interjected Scrooge
"Oh."

Freddy, noticing that no one was going to lift a finger to help him regain his breathing, whacked himself on the chest and on examining the reminants of what he had coughed up, discovered what he had been eating. Oh well, it would save on cat food now!.

After the meal, Jon and Neil retired to the study to drink some of Neils home made lighter fluid mixed with water from the local river or wine as Neil liked it to be known. This little number was supposed to be Lentil and Pergonia, though it tasted like every other of Neil's many wines. Just like soya juice. There was just no getting away from it in this house. Soya this, soya that, soya the other. Soya everything.

"So you want meat?" asked Jon politely
"No, what ever gave you that idea?" replied Niel in a shocked manner
"Just that small outburst in the kitchen"
"I'm sorry, I just don't know what came over me then."
"Well, did you enjoy the meal?"
"Yes, Martha's Soya chunks took some beating"
"Tasted a bit like cat to me"
"Cat?"
"Mmmm. cat, or somethink similar like dog"
"God, you are disgusting" replied Neil, revolted at his suggestion.
"Nice though" continued Jon, trying to convince Neil.

Jon, leaned over to Neil and gave him a couple of magazines. One contained lots of sexist pictures depicting women in various positions using various objects to do various things to themselves, the other was about the threat from the East.

"Read them" commanded Jon.

Neil did. Two obvious effects from the sexist mag, notable as large buldge in the front of Neil's pants, followed by a large circle which smelt a bit, just at the end of the buldge. This was followed by a large smile!. The effect from the second magazine was different and amazing!.

"So you mean that these people do that to each other and all because of what one man says"
"Yup"
"God, that's disgusting."
"Yup, so what are you going to do?"
"I'm bally well going to boycott all products made in far eastern countries - that's what I'm going to do!"
"Does that include your TV and stuff, as they're all made over there?"
"Ppppprrrrr! I should say so!"
"But just think for a minute" said Jon
"Go on."
"This commie pinko, is just like any other commie pinko."
"Makes sense"
"Shurrup"
"Ok"
"Basically, he's a bully. But a bully with weapons"
"So"
"So you must protect yourself"
"What with"
"More powerful weapons"
"We don't need weapons according to our beloved Guru"
"Oh yes, Mr Simpleton, and who does he work for?"
"The Community of Almighty Saviours and Healthiness."
"And what do you normally donate to him?"
"Fifty quid or so per month"
"So you pay the Community of whatnot 50 a month?"
"Yes, but we don't write Community ecetera, just the initials"
"Which are?"
"C.A.S.H."
"Cash" replied Rambo
"Yes, C.A.S.H."
"One of the oldest con tricks in the book."
"What is?"
"Sending Mr Simpleton 50 to pay CASH, ever struck you as funny that?" came back Jon
"So what do you propose?"
"Nuking them"
"To death?"
"Just a little bit"
"Okay. MARTHA" yelled Niel
"What?" came back the reply from Martha in the kitchen
"Stop sending the money to Mr Simpleton"
"Okay"
"And I want meat four times a week. Steak fillets should do"
"WHAT!?"
"Also, cancel my subscription from CND"
"Have you gone barking mad?"
"And I'm giving Uncle Scrooge all the electrical equipment in this house made from a non friendly to Britain and the USA"
"You bloody well have"

Jon satisfied at the outcome, left with rather a large amount of electrical goods on a wagon which would come in useful to replace his which had exploded when he used them for target practice whilst drunk! Wasn't he silly not to mention that Hong Kong and Japan are British and Yankie allies. Tut, tut.

And soon Jon was home and so to retire.

Jonny Scrooge snuggled down in his bed, looking forward to a nice kip. It started off pleasantly enough, but halfway through the night, Scrooge woke up with a start. It was another apparition. This time, Jonny was a bit scared, but not much as he was Jonny 'Rambo' Scrooge of the U.S. of A. There was a funny smell and Jonny squirmed uncomfortably in his bed. Could this mean he needed clean sheets?.

The apparition looked at Scrooge, then at his mansion. Singularly unimpressed by anything, the apparition started to speak. But not before Jonny had said a few words which have been omitted on the grounds of good taste.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"So, what of it?"
"Shurrup and listen pal!. Us ghosts are not pleased with you."
"So!"
"So, we're gonna teach you a lesson.". And in a bat of a ball, Jonny and the Ghost disappeared. The on call cleaning lady had a coronary and died.

Jonny and the Past Ghost stood in a stark, cold field. In the middle of the field was a small hut. The two approached. Inside were two children. One was screaming his guts out as the other seemed to take great pleasure in inflicting pain by the means of hot pins under the victims finger nails. Jonny rushed forward to help the assailant, but the apparition stuck out his arm which promptly broke in 5 places simultaneously and Scrooge halted. Just then, the head master walked in and started the lesson.

"Now you two obnoxious spots on the face of society, what is 2+2?"
"A goldfish!" piped up the kid who had the hot needles
"Waaaaaaaaaa!" said the other kid.
"Wrong, the answer is fourglurk". The 'glurk' came as a bullet came through the window and struck out the throats head.

But why was Jonny looking at all of this?. His brain couldn't remember any of it. A question on this very subject was asked by the Ghosty.

"Do you remember this?", it said in a gentle yet conceited manner
"Nope!"
"Well, if I was to say that we are in South America, 1965, what would you say?"
"Nothing."
"But you were born here!." exclaimed the surprised Ghost
"Wasn't. I was born in South Wales(0 +'HELL!. The flamin' computer's screwed up again. South Wales?"
"Yep"
"Not, South America."
"Nope."
"Right, South Wales here we come."

It was just as well that the conversation was short and they disappeared again very quickly as a large rocket shell landed on the school hut, instantly converting it into match tinder.

The Ghost and Jonny re-appeared outside of a coal mine.

"Wrong part" said Jonny
"Oh Knickers!" cried the Ghost, "Why me?"

After many a milli-second of travel, Jon and the Ghost re- appeared outside of an old school. It was the correct place, right year. Everything was correct about this place. In one of the classrooms was a young Rambo, waiting for his darling sister to come off the streets and collect him. It was 4:30 on the last day of term. Jon had passed his writing exam with 48.5% (he had written his name correctly). Up from the gate came a wagon with a blue flashing light on the top. On the front of the van were six letters. They were P-O-L-I-C-E - the cops. Jon hid under the table.

"So you remember this?" the Ghost enquired hopefully.
"Yes. What happens next?"
"Don't you remember?"
"No."
"Alright. Just watch. but remember you can't interfere."
"Shucks"

The police walked into the room holding up a large carving knife, one of the them yelled that if Jonny was in the room, for him to give himself up or get it.

Now Jonny even then was to say the least, THICK, so he wondered what he'll get if he remained in hiding so under the desk JRS remained. Eventually the inevitable occurred. A policeman spotted a small pair of legs which looked quite weedy when pulled. Out came Jon and he asked what will he get as one of the cops had said that he'd 'GET IT.'. In jest, a cop said "Life". Scrooge didn't know what that quite entailed but it was better that what would happen tomorrow as the school bully was 'going to kill me'.

Jon was taken away, sentenced and the released on the grounds of mental deficiency. And all this time, his sister had been waiting for her little Jon. For a semi-second, the ghost whisked forward to 1987, the school had shut down but a very old sister remained. What a thicko!

Scrooge was a bit bemused by the proceedings. Why was this happening to him?. The ghost looked at its watch on his arm. Late as always. He grabbed Jonny and carted him off. In the secondary state, Jon asked the ghost why he had been there.

"To see what you were like then. You were a right berk."
"Thanks!!!" said Jon, thinking a BERK was something nice.

Back at home, everything was as before, Jonny shoved the dead cleaner under his bed, next to the fifteen others, then retired to bed. The ghost said something inaudible but which Jonny thought was 'SHURRUP AND SLEEP!".

Just as J.R. Scrooge was getting back to sleep, he was woken. This meant more clean sheets. Yuk!.

This time it was the Ghost of Christmas Future.

"Get lost." bawled Jon
"Come on Baldrick, time we were off.". The ghost sniffed the air then added, "And by the way this place smells, you haven't got far to go."

The two re-appeared in a future time in East Cheam, Middlesex, England

The two went in. Jon instinctively looked for the excessively sexy and violent movies which he immensely enjoyed. There were none. The shelves were staked high with such items as "The Sound of Music staring Julie Andrews" and filth like "The Wizard of Oz with Judy Garland" and perverted muck like "White Christmas with Bing Crosby". Jon was violently sick when he saw the 1995 best selling video nasty was "Aled Jones sings......".

Meanwhile the ghost was stood in the corner looking smarmy and smug. Infact on second thoughts, the future ghost was quite obnoxious!. This thing was the most disgusting thing ever created in this or any other story of its kind. But I digress.

Scrooge strode up to the counter and demanded to see the manager. A bloated Bob Cratchit came out, belched and asked what the stranger wanted. Jonny could not believe his eyes, why didn't Bob recognise him?!. Never the less, he asked if they had any of the 'First Blood' or 'Rocky' movies. Bob fell silent and pointed out a notice on the wall which read :

"The Video Law, Van 4, (c) The Govt 1992 (January - March edition)

Directive from Mrs Mary Whitehouse : Retailers, as from May 1994, all videos of Blue or excessive violence must be taken from the shelves and sent to me. My address is at the bottom of this notice. The term 'Blue' and 'Excessive violence' have been reformed under the 1993 reform of the English language bill. The new meanings are below along with the new certificates and meanings.

• 'Blue'. Too much kissing, cuddling or intimate acts. The new restrictions mean that films such as 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' have been officially banned.
• 'Excessive violence'. Hitting, punching, the blowing out of other peoples innards with tonnes of graphical detail such as chunky bits flying out with masses of blood spewing out in all possible directions, swearing or being called Ingrid, have also been banned.
• Cert. Children : Anyone can see this as it is good clean fun.
• Cert. Yng Adult: Some blasphemy may be include, but otherwise, it's fine.
• Cert. Old Adult: People over 21 only.

Send all of these banned videos to :-

Mrs M. Whitehouse
c/o The rough and tumble video company
Soho

Then under this, Jonny noticed that an advert for very uninhibited and very violent movies (1983 - 92) were also available from The rough and tumble video company, Soho.

The ghost meanwhile, had been picking at it's teeth. Boy! was he revolting, I mean REALLY revolting. He had a pierced ear, yellow teeth, awful black wirey hair and a rubbery face which had probably originally been made from Plasticine!. And when this excuse for a ghost had finished, he grabbed hold of Scrooge by the scruff of the neck and took him to the graveyard. There he saw Bob's wife, Fifi, tending a grave by spitting on it and giving the odd kick to the headstone, but of course, in the most respectful of manners!.

The grave was of one Mr Jonathon Scrooge Esq. Jon couldn't believe his eyes. His grave and it was only 1995. Then the awful ghost started up his droning sickening voice by hitting himself on the back of the head with something which resembled a small mallet.

"Jonathon Scrooge. Born 1958. Died 1990. Here lies a man, once so full of life, now so full of embalming fluid. Only he's not as his insurance cover couldn't quite stretch to it. Mean old sod!."

In that exact moment, Jonny had calculated that he had 42 years to live (though to me and you it was only 1. Jon never was very good at maths, that's why he became a merchant banker.), the grave opened and that very yukky ghost gave a slight push on Scrooge who quickly turned around, lost balance and fell into the pit.

Deeper and deeper he fell until WHACK!, he'd hit the ground. Jonny sat there, bemused by his new surroundings. Suddenly he felt something hitting his head. He looked up only to see the ghost gobbing onto him.

Then, from out of no-where, a small figure approached. It was Jons old friend and ex-partner in crime, Frank 'Barley' Marly. Jonny didn't rush towards him but only said something along the lines of Frank owing him two million pounds and thirty two pence. Frank apologised and said,

"Well, I'm sorry. But, as you can see, I'm slightly dead!"
"That's no excuse, 'Pay up or be beat up' was our motto"
"Okay, I'll strike you a deal."
"I'm listening......"
"I'll get you out of this hell-hole, get you home, change your sheets, make the bed again, make you a nice hot cup of cocoa, read you your favourite story of the Sado-masochistic women of Birkenhead, give you a good night kiss, beat up that smarmy ghost and give you a free weekend in South Devon for the small fee of two million pounds and thirty two pence."
"But that two million pounds and 32p was before the 3% simple interest, and as you've been dead for a fair while, I make that another twenty two hundred."
"Alright, I'll put out the cat, mend the window, cook your meals and supply you with what ever provisions you want for the next two years. All that plus I'll make sure the video bill of 1992 doesn't get through."

Jonny warmed to the idea and accepted it without further word. Just then, something hit him on the head again. That ghost had just gobbed on his head again. Not to worry, soon he was to be home and the ghost no more. But the ghost had other thoughts like visiting the Cratchits hovel. Jonny couldn't be bothered with this so they went back home after a long argument which Scrooge won by threatening to disembowel the ghost with something resembling a large spanner.

Back at home, the bed had been made, clean sheets were on the bed and a piping hot cup of cocoa was ready for him. Jon jumped back into bed, drunk the cocoa and was about to fall into a trance like sleep when the third ghost arrived. Marly looked down from above the bed, knowing that another change of sheets were needed. Oh well!, a ghosts work is never done!.

The third ghost started of by saying that she was the Ghost of this Christmas and maybe the one next year. It was an indecisive ghost who couldn't quite decide about anything or could she?, she just couldn't remember or could she?, it wasn't sure it decided. The ghost was or at least thought it was, no it definitely was, or at least it maybe, the most indecisive ghost ever thought of, or was it?, I just can't decide.

Well anyway, this ghost was here. That is for sure, or at least as for sure as I can make out, so it mightn't of been but then again.....

"Mr Jon Scrooge?"
"Not another one!" Jon said completely bored with these ghosts
"Not another one what?"
"Ghost"
"So you aren't J.R. Scrooge, you're Not Another One Ghost. Funny name. Well Mr. N.A.O. Ghost, I am the Ghost of this Christmas"
"Hold it," interrupted Jonny, "Who's this N.A.O. Ghost?"
"You are."
"I'm Jonny 'Rambo' Scrooge."
"So, you're the elusive Mr. Scrooge. Well who's this N.A.O. Ghost?"
"No idea!"

While all of this had been going on, Jonny noticed that the ghost looked incredibly like the Cratchits most beautiful daughter, Jill. WOW!!!!!!. Jonny couldn't believe it. He was so amazed at her likeness to Jill, that he totally missed the spiel about her taking him away and showing him the drought stricken African continent, or that the Capital of England is Birmingham and not London as first thought. And that neither Ian Rush or Gary Lineacre doesn't exist. But this was of very little relevance as Jon was transfixed by the Ghost's likeness to Jill who he had fancied for ages!.

Finally, Scrooge's dream was shattered when he landed, with the ghost, on a small fire in Bob Cratchit's home. Jon sat there, not realising the burning smell was coming from his rear or the ghost had gotten off the fire after partial melting of it's ectofibres. After four or five minutes however, Jonny found his rear on fire and jumped up, ran to the sink and put out his burning botty. Meanwhile, the hum-drum of boring family life continued around them, totally oblivious Scrooge's 'misfortune'.

When we left the Cratchit's last, the Youngest Cratchit had his brothers copy of Razzle and was about to get his brother into serious trouble when.........

Simon jumped and caught hold of the magazine, ripping it in the process of an arduous struggle with his brother, the centre fold flew out exposing itself to the world. Bob looked down at it, and let out a long gasp as he realized who it was. The fact that the head was missing, had nothing to do with it. He couldn't forget a face like that!. It was his other daughter Georginsa. Georginsa wasn't her real name. No it was Enid, but Enid Cratchit wouldn't have got her very far.

Bob snatched up the pieces and took Simon over to another side of the room. Bob asked Simon in hushed tones whether he knew who it was or if he had anymore of her. The answer to Q1. was "No", the other, "Yes, about seven mags full.". Just then, Fifi called over for some assistance.

"Bob, would you put Tim, Simon, Jane, Lousia, Miranda, Canon, Hanimex, Joseph, Phil, Martin, Berindak and Pob to bed please?"
"Sure. Time, Simon, Jane, Lousia, Miranda, Canon, Hanimex. Joseph, Phil, Martin, Berindak - BED!"
"You didn't say me.", cried Pob.
"Didn't I?"
"No. Mum, Dad didn't tell me to go to bed"
"I did!"
"Didn't"
"Did"
"Didn't"
"Did, did, didn't, did"
"Okay". said Bob who had become bored by the whole affair, "I admit, I didn't, Pob,"
"Yes Dad?" said Pob smarmily
"Get to BED NOW!" screamed Bob.

Pob wasn't expecting such a blast from his father and there was quite an unholy noise, not to mention smell, from Pob's trouser direction.

Fifi turned to Bob with a concerned look on her face. This was the one she kept spare in the back of her handbag in case of emergency, though the situation was about to occur most definitely wasn't. Her hurried words were distilled into one long word which sounded like one of Baby Cratchits songs.

"Bob, whatarewegoingtodo? It'salmostaquarterbeforemidnightandourdaughtersaren'thereyet."

Bob was totally bemused by this. On the other hand, Scrooge had understood everything Fifi had just said and was about to give a translation to the ghost who could have actually been mistaken for Cratchits daughter, she looked so much like her, when Bob piped up he couldn't understand a word of what his good lady wife was saying, an instant translation was given.

"Bob, what are we going to do?. It's almost a quarter before midnight and our daughters aren't here yet."
"That's the least of our problems. We should not be so concerned about them, they'll be here next year. What we should be worrying about is our littlest, Tim."

It was true that the girls would be here next year, but whether or not young Cratchit would be here was an entirely different matter. He was suffering from what doctors called "Lak of Cheart Sugsex". There was no medical cure for this and he would be dead in six months if the condition was relieved by a "Cheart Sugsex". This was highly unsure (except on the Network Chart where positions can be bought) as no-one could remember him. German/Austrian singers aren't exactly the most popular of things in the UK.

Fifi, took all of what Bob had said in her stride, then promptly ignored him. But Scrooge was concerned. This shock was just too much for him. It had been the first time in years that this had happened to him. The last time had been when he went to see "ET" instead of "Mutant Psychopathic Man Eating Zombies come down and Kill everything in sight then have a sound orgy II". This would also mean that there would be a tragic event happening to him. Bob would have to have the day off, and worse still, Scrooge would have to employ a temp for the day, costing him an entire 0.000000006% of his yearly turnover. He'd rather buy a load of records (and pay the Network charts for a number 1) for young Cratchit to have a "sugsex". This would cost approx. 2999.99p which is less than 0.000000006% of his gross yearly income, but that would be before the taxman cometh. Who knows what it would be after that!.

Just then, Enid and Jill walked through the door together. Fifi turned around, then smiled, saying hello and who's going to pay for the new door?. After a reply, Fifi then welcomed the two girls home. Bob, on the other hand was cursing. It was the girls turn to have the drum sticks and if they'd not arrived, he'd have gotten them. Scrooge, on the other hand, had become very excited. TWO JILL'S!!!. The ghost started to get jealous of the real Jill and whisked Jon back to bed.

The bed wasn't quite ready. Marly hadn't quite finished the bed as the last segment wasn't as long as the other two. The ghost bade Rambo a good night and left in a puff of green gas. Jon was a bit peeved at this to say the least. John Marly started to cower down. He knew how sadistic his ex-partner was to people who didn't keep their promises. But to his surprise, Jonny did something. Instead of hanging, drawing and quartering him, Jon only wished him a good night. Marly couldn't understand it. Could Jon 'Rambo' Scrooge be ...... bent?. The only course of action was to ask.

"Jon?" asked Marly
"What d'ya want?" said Jon sleepily, eyes half shut, brain full on.
"Are you turning?"

No answer.

"Are you turning?" came the question again

Again no answer.

The question came again. No answer in words. Only a large mortar hitting Marly plumb between the eyes, knocking him backwards. No, Jon was the same old loveable pig.

The next morning was Christmas day. And as opposed to 35 years of "Bah, ICBMS!" from Jon to his window and started taking pot shots at anyone who owed him money, then anyone he didn't like the look of and finally anyone suspected of breathing. What a cruel and rotten chap Rambo was.

Up in the ghost land, the three ghosts were being severely told off and as punishment the one who was eternally late was sent back to Earth as a Merseybus driver, another into a sit-com addict and the really ugly one stayed the same and ended up making a bomb out of various comedy shows.

Bob arrived at work on time so as not to have a minor flesh wound inflicted onto him by his boss only to find him not there. The only object in here was a letter for Bob which read,

"Thingy. I've gone to London to see a show. I'll be back next week. Be a good slave and lock up. After that, don't come back as for an extra special Christmas present this year, I've decided to sack you and save myself some cash. Stapled to the bottom of this should be 150, two months wages. See Ya Slave, Scrooge."

THE END. This has been a particulary daft product. It was originally started in 1987 and finished at 00:23 on the first day of 1988. The revisions, conversion to this word processor and additions were entered between the 19th and 22nd March 1989, with another bit added in 1991 for good measure!

Thank you for reading this and have a happy new whatever time of year it happens to be.