Wednesday, December 22

A seasonal spoof ...


Long after everyone else had gone home on Christmas Eve, Ebenezer Austin – also known as Pa Humbug - blew out the candle that served as both light and heat in his Worst Street counting room, and set off for his home.
He walked the cold corridors that had once bustled with life before the staff cuts were introduced, and was startled to see a light beneath the door of his former deputy …. Jacob Jordan.
Gingerly, he opened the door and peered round.
Sure enough, the man who had once sat at Ebenezer’s right hand was standing there, wreathed in chains.
“I wear the chains I forged in life,” he said in answer to the unspoken question. “I forged them link by link.
“They go well with the ermine don’t you think?” And with that he gave a twirl and clattered off.
“I forgot,” he called back over his shoulder.” There are some ghosts coming to see you. So you’d better watch out.”
And with that he strolled across the River Witham and disappeared from sight.
Halfway down the Worst Street stairs, Ebenezer encountered a jolly red-faced man who introduced himself as the Ghost of Christmas past.
The spirit waved an arm and immediately the corridors all around them became bright with light, and warmth suffused them – just as it had in the days before the cuts.
The ghost took Ebenezer by the arm and led him to the council chamber.
A huge ash log fire blazed in the hearth, sending sparking light scintillating off the civic regalia.
Councillors and officers danced together, laughing gleefully.
One of them, and elderly white-haired woman was clearly the centre of attention.
Ebenezer was aghast.
“Why, it’s old Dobbiwig” he cried “I haven’t thought of her for years and years.
“Everyone seems so happy, yet I always though that the previous administration was an evil bunch of ne’er do wells who were responsible for every bad decision ever taken.”
“Only because that’s the impression you chose to give,” said the ghost haughtily, as they left the scenes of jollity behind them and returned to the stairs – which had once again become dark and cold.
Another ghost was waiting for them – the Ghost of Christmas Present.
He walked Ebenezer out into Boston Market Place, where a few tired residents struggled to find some last minute gifts for their families.
The council’s Christmas lights hung in rat’s tails as they had since they were put up in July. The footpaths were slathered with chewing gum, and the only real activity was from the litter, which bowled and bounced merrily on the breeze, wrapping itself around the legs of the shoppers.
“I am beginning to see the error of my ways,” moaned Ebenezer. “All those zero per-cent increases in council tax were a false economy. The town could have been so much nicer for the sake of a few pence on the taxes and the thousands that they would have brought in.”
The ghost glowered, and then vanished in a puff of smoke to be replaced by the third visitation – the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.
“You can see the future,” said Ebenezer.
“Yes.”
“That makes you something of a know-all.”
“Yes. But you can call me Ray.”
The spirit took Ebenezer by the arm, and showed him a vision of a Boston even worse than the one they had just seen.
People lay where they fell in the street, as the cost of cremation was now too expensive for most of them to afford. The path carved by the Into Town bus service had turned Strait Bargate into a track that more closely resembled the medieval Bar Ditch. What quality shops there had been had closed and replaced by even more mobile phone dealers and charity shops.
But of charity, there was little to be seen.
A ray of light suddenly struck Ebenezer.
“I understand the message you are sending me, “he said.
“If I repent the error of my ways, and rule fairly, openly and transparently, this vision can be erased, and Boston can once again be restored to the happy place it once was.”
“And, ” he added beneath his breath “I’ll get re-elected for another term.”
“Not a chance, mate” said the ghost. “I heard that last bit. That’s something you couldn’t do in a century of Christmases.
“Come May 5th next year you and your chums will be out on their ears. You had your chance and you blew it. That’s the future - and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”
And with that, he vanished, leaving Ebenezer sobbing with regret.
“Now I’ll never get a place on the Roll of Honour,” he cried.
“Oh yes you will,” the spirit’s voice boomed back from the future….
“But for all the wrong reasons.”

You can write to us at boston.eye@googlemail.com  Your e-mails will be treated in confidence and published anonymously if requested.

No comments: