BOB Dylan has often been described as a wizard when it comes to songwriting and the things he can do with a few guitar chords and a harmonica are quite magical. Still, no one has actually accused him of being a caster of spells and practicing sorcerer before!

However, an Abergavenny man has not only accused Dylan of being quite handy with a wand but insists he is a high-ranking arch-mage and his occult name is Bodiahh.

“Who would have thought it?” Explained semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

“Bob Dylan is actually an enchanter masquerading as a musician. Can’t say I’ve ever been a fan but he does seem to have a hypnotic effect on people, so it kind of makes sense when you consider most wizards and necromancers I’ve been familiar with have the same irresistible silver tongue and elusive charm as old Mr Tambourine Man.”

Turnip explained that he first learned that Bob Dylan was an accomplished magi while sharing a few drinks with the ghost of Dylan Thomas in The White Horse Tavern in NYC.

“Fair play to the dead poet, he wasn’t as much of a fun sponge as I’d been led to believe. Mind you, he was well oiled and proper into his cups when we met him, so that could have been a contributing factor,” said Turnip.

“When the life-sized portrait of Dylan Thomas they have by the bar there came to life, and he invited us to step inside his world for a session, I was about to leave this dimension when Puerto Rico Paul grabbed my arm and warned,'Steady JT! That fat Swansea lad died a long time ago and belongs in the afterlife. If you step beyond the veil now you could be condemned to wander in limbo for eternity with no way back to the land of the living!’

“Musing on Paul’s advice for a second, I turned back to the animated painting of Dylan Thomas that was beginning to look all feisty like he was about to have a pop, and said, ‘If you want to drink with us, poet. Then come ahead. But if we’re to sup with dead people, we’ll do it on our own terms and on this mortal coil, not in some faraway kingdom of shadows and decay by the sea.’”

Turnip added, “I could tell the old lush was impressed by the way he smiled and said, 'I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and I know a fellow countryman when I see one. Let’s get wasted boys and forget we’re in this godforsaken new world of broken dreams and empty eyes!’

“And with that, he stepped out of the painting and let out a loud burp before tripping up spectacularly and landing on the bar-room floor with an almighty thud.

“Big Tony, who as a lifelong Cardiff City fan has an instinctive dislike of anything connected with Swansea, eyeballed the prostrate form of Dylan with disdain, before snarling, ‘Typical behaviour for a boy from the ugly, lovely town. Can’t hold his drink.’”

Turnip added, “As Dylan clambered ungainly to his feet, he held out his arms as if to embrace everyone in the bar and the wider world and said with a grin, ‘Light breaks where no sun shines. It’s good to be back boys. Now get the drinks in. Mine’s a triple.’”

Turnip told the Chronicle, that as the whiskey flowed and Dylan Thomas got used to not being a wraith in the shadowlands anymore, Tom Cruise made his excuses and said he had to dash because there was a film premiere in London, “or some such nonsense” that he had to attend.

“Say what you want about Hollywood A-listers!” Explained Turnip. “But Tyke wasn’t phased by talking to a famous dead person in a bar. I suppose when you’ve lived in Hollywood long enough you get used to that sort of thing.

“Anyhow, before he left, he handed me the battered suitcase full of half a million in used dollars we thought we’d lost in the plane. So at least we had plenty of money for drinks and probably a bit left over to get a decent hotel for the night as well.”

Turnip explained that when they revealed to Dylan Thomas that they were in America on a mission to locate the fabled pot of fairy gold his ancestor Potato Creek Johnny has buried somewhere, the poet's eyes misted over, and he sighed, ‘I was on the exact same quest, lads before the pneumonia did me in.’

“‘I thought it was the booze that killed you?’ Said Puerto Rico Paul earnestly.

“Dylan just snorted at this before knocking back his whiskey and growling, ‘It would take a lot more than the watered-down radiator juice they serve in this crap house to down a bull like me boys! No! It was a combination of the old man’s friend and poor doctors that took me before my four square and ten. But let me tell you this. I was that close to finding the gold and healing the world, but what can you do, the luck of the Welsh and all that.’

“‘Don’t you mean the luck of the Irish?’ Said Big Tony.

“‘Don’t be a dullard you witless imbecile!’ Snapped Dylan. ‘If you’ve ever been to Neath you’ll know all about the luck, or lack of it, that the Welsh have in spades!’

“’Fair point!’ I mused. Before adding, ‘The only trouble is poet! You’re dead and come the midnight hour you’ll have to return to the sunless lands. Us boys on the other hand have a job to do and that’s to save the world from the leprechauns. The thing is, we’re just three good-looking Welshmen in New York City and don’t know where to start. Any advice?’”

Turnip told the Chronicle, “Dylan just leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and whispered, ‘There is one. A sorcerer of the old ways who has a power like no other in the modern age. They say he taught at the knee of John Dee himself and if anyone has the knowledge and means to unearth the legendary pot, it will be him.’

“‘Who is this shaper of realities and conjurer of visions?” I asked, getting into the spirit of things.

“‘Bob Dylan!’ Said the dead poet. ‘Or to give him his real name, Bodiahh!’

“After Puerto Rico Paul had finished spitting out his lager and giggling like a girl, I mused, ‘Seems a bit odd, but then it would be odder still if it was Paul McCartney.’

“‘Trust me!’ Said the drunk Swansea bard, ‘My namesake is the chosen magi of the seventh age. They say dead men don’t tell any tales, but in my experience, they never shut up! They gossip more than bored housewives! The true identity of Bob Dylan is an open secret on the other side. My advice to you would be to seek an audience with him and hope for the best.’

“And as I closed my eyes and saw a sky of diamonds, and one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea, I heard a jingle jangle and the sound of a simple twist of fate rearranging itself.

"Someone had put a Dylan track on the jukebox. How odd!"

The Manifest Trials And Tribulations Of Johnny Turnip is now available on Amazon.