Back in the early 1800s, in old London Town, lived a lady called Carol. I say lady in the loosest possible sense. For Carol you see, was a lady of the night. And day actually, she wasn’t really that fussy. She was happy to give her body to any man, or woman for that matter, with a penny to spare. Yes my friends, Carol, for all her good looks and shapely figure, decided to ply her trade in the bargain basement end of the market. As soon as she had accrued sufficient funds to purchase a bottle of gin, she did so.

As soon as she finished the bottle, she was back out on the streets. To say she was unpopular with the other ladies of her profession would be an understatement. In fact, most despised her. To be fair, it was mostly out of jealousy. For Carol you see was a natural beauty, a tall slender lady with slim waist, golden locks and fine bosom. This made her the first choice of any discerning customers. As you can imagine, this was much to the dismay of her fellow street workers. When Carol was about they didn’t get a look in.

It was now the night before Christmas. Carol was working alone on the streets. The other ladies used to save a bit each week. With their money, they would have a ladies-only Christmas party at Rumps Tavern. It was the only place that allowed such debauched clientele on the premises. It was a party to which Carol had never been invited. She never celebrated Christmas herself. To her it was just another day, a day of slim pickings. All her usual customers would be at home playing happy families. After working all day and most of the night, she had acquired sufficient funds to purchase her gin and a bag of humbugs.

She returned home, weary, cold and tired from her work. Putting a single lump of coal on the fire, she slumped back in her chair with her trusty gin. It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep, a sleep that she was abruptly woken from. There was a stranger in her room. A ghostly figure of a man, dressed all in grey and rattling chains. “What are you doing in my house?” Carol cried out with an air of indignation. “And what’s with the chains? I charge double for any of that kinky stuff you know.”

The ghostly figure moved towards her, rattling his chains as he did. In a hollow voice, he said. “You must pay heed to what I have to say. You have to change your ways. You have been selfish all these years, always taking and never giving. Look at me; look at what I have become. An eternity of misery is all that awaits me. I have forged these chains, link by link all my life, this burden is for me alone to bear. I look at you and see you are forging your own chains. With that, the ghost gave a huge rattle of his miserable chains.

Carol was unimpressed by this. “What do you mean I’m forging chains? I tell you mister; I’ve forged many things in my life, but never chains. Look at these hands, do they look like they forge chains. Be off with you before I call a bobby.” With that, the ghost moved towards the window and slowly faded away with the words. “You will be visited again tonight, before the stroke of midnight, three more ghosts will appear. Listen carefully to what they have to say. You have but one chance to save yourself.”

Before Carol could say a single word, he’d gone. Sitting back in her chair she uttered to herself. “Bleeding cheek, that bloke from the brewery spiked my gin again more like, ghost indeed. I’ll have him I tell you, I’ll bloody have him.” Moments later, she was fast asleep. But this sleep didn’t last very long. To the chimes of the local church ringing through her head, she woke. Standing before her was a young woman all dressed in white, like a bride on her wedding day. “Don’t be frightened, child.” She said in an angel-like voice. “I am the ghost of Christmas past. I have come to take you on your first of three journeys. I will show you the shadows from your past, the bad decision that made you who you are today.”

Reaching out a hand, the ghost said. “Come with me my sweet child.”  But before she could say any more, Carol showed her the palm of her hand saying. “I can’t guarantee I’ll cum with you lady, but stick a penny in my hand and I’ll make sure you do. As for the sweet child bit, if you want me to dress up in my schoolgirl's outfit it will cost you double.”  The ghost just smiled, took Carol by the hand, and before she realised what was going on, she found herself floating up into the night sky over London.

Moments later they landed outside Carol’s old orphanage. Immediately, Carol recognised some boys she used to know and called out to them. In a soft voice, the ghost said. “They cannot see you, they cannot hear you. This is just a vision of the past. You were sixteen at the time. You lived here with your sister. She went on to make something of her life. You however, turned into the person you are today. Look my child, look-- that was the moment you changed.”  Carol could see herself as a sixteen-year-old going behind the bicycle sheds with a boy.

Carol smiled and said. “Oh yes, I remember it well. That was Bob Scratchit. He bet me a penny I wouldn’t let him have a feel of my boobs. I’ll tell you what. That was the easiest penny I ever made. His friends were just as stupid. By the end of the week I had enough to buy a bottle of gin.” The ghost frowned as she said. “Do you not see Carol, he took advantage of you. He paid you money to feel your boobs.” Carol looked a bit puzzled. Taking a moment to think, she said. “I don’t see what you mean, it didn’t hurt me, and after I still had my boobs, plus his penny.”

This saddened the ghost. Try as she might she couldn’t get through to Carol. “Come with me.” Said the ghost. “Let me show you something else.” With that, Carol found herself inside the orphanage. Sitting at a desk was her sister, Rose, learning how to darn a sock. “Look at your sister. She is learning the necessary skills in life so she can look after a man.” Carol quickly responded. “Well, that’s a waste of time.” She said. “How much does Rose get for mending a man’s socks? Nothing, that’s how much she gets, absolutely nothing. I can get a penny just for letting a man fondle my lady bits.”

By now, the ghost was getting impatient. Barking at Carol she said. “I don’t understand how you can’t see that men are exploiting you.”  Carol just laughed as she said. “It is me who is exploiting them. They give me a penny; I let them feel my boobies. Then they get a boner. They now have two choices. Do it themselves, or give me another two pennies for some hand relief. I end up with money and all they have is a memory.” It was now clear to the ghost that she wasn’t getting through to Carol. Her words had fallen on deaf ears. Shaking her head, she told Carol that she hoped the next ghost would have more luck. With that, Carol once again found herself back at home on her chair.

Carol, still thinking her gin had been spiked, went back to sleep. Her sleep wouldn’t last very long though. She was again woken to the sound of church bells. Standing at the foot of her chair was a giant of a man. He had long black curly hair, rounded face and rosy red cheeks. In a deep voice, he said. “I am the ghost of Christmas present. I have come to...” Before he could finish, Carol said. “I know, I know. You’ve come to show me the error of my ways. Can you just cut the BS and get on with it; I’m tired and need my sleep.” Her attitude didn’t bode well with the ghost. He grabbed her hand, stamped his foot, and moments later she found herself standing outside a house in London.

“Why have you brought me here?” said Carol.

“This is the home of your Nephew. Your sister died giving birth to him twenty years since. Every year he has invited you to his home at Christmas, every year you have refused. He is your only blood relative and you never visit him. Not even at Christmas.”

“Look, I told the other ghost. I do not do vote-winning incest stories. Not even at Christmas.”

“You really don’t understand do you? This is not about sex; it’s about sharing the joys of Christmas with family. He is your only family; you should take the time to get to know him. Your sister would have wanted that.”

“All my sister wanted to do was learn how to mend socks and find a husband. What kind of boring life is that?”

“It’s a good and caring life, a life full of joy, especially at Christmas.”

“Humbug.”

“What do you mean, humbug. Have you no shame.”

“I was just being kind and offering you a humbug. Look, I only have two left and am offering you one. That’s kind isn’t it?”

“Come, let’s go inside, there you will see what real kindness is.”

With that, Carol found herself inside her nephew’s home. He was sitting down with his wife and children exchanging gifts. After, he started playing the piano as his wife and children danced the day away.

“You see how much fun they are having. You too could have fun if only you took up his offer to spend Christmas with them.”

“Well, I’m quite happy staying at home actually. It’s my one and only day off. Now, can you just give up and take me home, I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you home soon enough; first I have one more place for you to see.”

The ghost took hold of her hand, moments later Carol found herself inside Bob Scratchit’s house.

“Why have you brought me here? He’s just a customer now.”

“Yes my child, he’s just a customer now, but he was also the first person to pay you for sex. Look at him now, married with five children. He is poor, partly because of you tempting him once a week. His youngest child, Tiny Tom needs medical help but he can’t afford it because he pays you for sex.”

“I thought he was called Tiny Tim.”

“Clearly you have no idea about copyright law. Anyway, the point is he could get the medication he needs if he wasn’t paying you for sex every week.”

“It’s not my fault he likes a quickie once a week.”

“It is your fault that you stand outside the chemist when you know he’s just been paid. You are a wicked person with scant regard for anyone but yourself. I have no more time for you. I have failed and therefore will return you to your house. Take heed, you have one last visit tonight, the ghost of Christmas future. He alone will decide what comes of you.”

Just as before, Carol found herself back in her house, sitting in her chair. By now she was very tired and fell asleep. As predicted, this sleep didn’t last very long as she was awoken by a loud crash. Standing before her was a cloaked skeleton. He never said a word, just pointed at the window. Of all the ghosts who visited Carol that night, this one was the most frightening. Carol stood up and moved towards the window as instructed. As she did, the window and wall disappeared in a fog of smoke. She was now standing in a graveyard. For the first time, the ghost spoke.

“So far you have shown no sign that you want to change your ways. I have no time for you, repent now of face this.”

With that, the ghost pointed to a freshly dug grave.

Carol went over and brushed the snow from the gravestone. After reading the inscription she turned to the ghost.

“Why are you showing me the grave of Ebenezer Scrooge? I didn’t even know he was dead.”

“Are you saying that you are not Ebenezer Scrooge?”

“No, I‘m Carol Ebeneze. Scrooge lives next door to me.”

“Shit.” Said the ghost, as he pulled a small black book from his pocket and started reading. “Oh dear, my bad. I have you down for a visit next year.”

“You mean to say, you lot have kept me up all night for nothing.”

“Um, it looks that way I guess.”

“So I actually have a whole year to change my ways.”

“Well yes, I suppose you do.”

“I’ll tell you what. So as tonight hasn’t been a complete waste of my time, how about you give me some money and you can take me over a gravestone. I’ve never done it in a graveyard before, it might be fun. And besides, I’m sure you have a nice boner for me”

The ghost stood silently for a moment before saying. “Very well, I have four pennies on me. Will that be enough?”

Carol just smiled as she lifted her skirt and leaned over the gravestone. “Why not, it is Christmas after all.”

Happy Christmas to you all.