YOU might think fairies are very much the stuff of myth and legend, but an Abergavenny man has warned that they are as real as you or I and that we underestimate them at our peril.

“Although I’ve never met one of the fair folk, I’ve come close on many an occasion and I know in my guts they’re out there,” claims semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

The Abergavenny man added, “I have met leprechauns though and on occasion even had to fight the little bastards, but those unsightly half-wits are not even in the same league as the Tylwyth Teg.”

He added, “Many people make the mistake that leprechauns and fairies are one and the same. “They’re not!

“In fact, leprechauns are fairies gone bad. Leprechauns are into whiskey and scraping, whereas your average fairy is into matters of a more metaphysical level.

“What I didn’t know, though, until I met the ghost of F. Scott Fitzgerald in New York, was just what a role they’ve played in the history of the world. It was certainly an eye-opener hearing him tell us all about it over a few Gin Rickeys.”

Turnip alleges he met the ghost of the literary icon when staying in the famous Plaza Hotel.

He told the Chronicle, “Thanks to the small fortune in soiled bank notes that my mate Tom Cruise had left us, we could afford the six grand asking price for two nights in the Great Gatsby Suite.

“We were about to head up to our room when we got chatting to a drag queen in the foyer called Angel Eyes.

“As she chain-smoked Cuban cigars and we told her about our mission to find my ancestor’s pot of fairy gold and heal the world, she didn’t seem phased, unlike many, when exposed to the true nature of our dabbling in the supernatural.

“She just raised one eyebrow and said, ‘Interesting!’

“She didn’t even seem shocked when I told her that the Oracle on the Island of No Return had told us to ‘Head to the Plaza in Central Park South and ask for Angel Eyes if you want to find Potato Creek Johnny’s pot of fairy gold.’

“She just said in her broad Brooklyn brogue, ‘What can I say. I get a lot of gentleman callers asking for various favours.’

“And then she made a point of looking directly at Big Tony, before winking and saying in a breathless voice, ‘So how exactly can I help, handsome?’

“Turning a bright shade of red, Tone was lost for words as he looked around uncomfortably. Puerto Rico Paul was lapping it up, though. Probably remembering all the times in the 1990s that Tone got drunk and started going on obsessively how Lilly Savage was actually a really good-looking woman.

“Sensing Tone’s discomfort, I stepped into the path of the gaze that was lingering indecently on Big Tony and asked, ‘So Angel Eyes. What exact advice to you have to aid us in our quest?’

“‘It’s quite simple, dears. Head to the Great Gatsby suite, order some Gin Rickeys, and wait for the writer fella to come calling. He’s already dead, so he keeps irregular hours. But he knows a lot about fairies, and the word on the grapevine is, he once owned the pot of gold you seek and used it to write his books. But that could just be nasty gossip put around by Hemingway. The man was such a vicious and jealous slut.’

“’Okey dokey!’ Said Puerto Rico Paul butting in. ‘If that’s the plan, let’s retire to our quarters and order some gin. The sooner we get this session started, the sooner the dead guy will turn up and we can get some answers!’

“Sensing Paul was in the mood to get wasted, and fancying a tipple myself. We left Angel Eyes in the foyer, but not before she had given Big Tony a business card and mouthed ‘Call me!’ Much to his discomfort and our amusement.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that upon entering the Great Gatsby suite, they were overcome by its opulence.

“It was very grand!” He explained. “Very jazz age! There was even a chandelier above the bed. The only thing that put me off was all the black and white pictures scattered around the place of this weird-looking dude with crap hair.

“At first we felt a bit out of place in our leisure wear, but I suppose in a way we were dressed like the dandies of the modern era, and we soon got into the swing of things when we started knocking back the gin and I put some weird jazz crap on the gramophone.”

Turnip added, “Puerto Rico Paul got so excited at his first, and probably last taste of the high life, he tried to crawl out of the window with a champagne bottle at one point, but realising there was no balcony, he settled for shouting at a nearby pigeon, ‘Look at me now ma! I’m the king of the world!’

“Big Tony fondly dragged him back in as if Paul was a high-spirited terrier. And as the music stepped up a gear, we all started doing the Charleston like a bunch of coked-up flappers.

“We were having a great time and giggling like a bunch of breathless girls when all of a sudden someone lifted the needle from the record, and we turned around to find this immaculately dressed guy, holding a gin and idly rattling the ice cubes around in his glass. He was looking at us strangely with his head cocked to one side and squinting.

“At first we thought it was the head bell boy, but even though he was suited and booted, he looked a bit too weird for that. Besides which he wasn’t carrying a tray. He also gave off the effect that he’d just stepped from the reels of an old school black and white movie into a technicolour world. He was definitely out of step with this reality, that’s for sure.

“’Welcome, stranger!’ I roared. What brings you to our little party?’ In my experience, it’s always best to deal with potential nutters with a hearty welcome.

“The stranger looked at us with eyes where both melancholy and amusement were waging a perpetual war and said in the sing-song voice of the sophisticated drunkard, ‘What brings anyone to any party but to seek solace from the strangeness and sorrow that stalk this side of paradise?’

“‘Nice one!’ Said Puerto Rico Paul. ‘Pull up a pew and have a Gin Rickey.’

“Realising that he had stumbled into a room of men who liked a proper drink, the stranger could barely disguise his glee.

“‘I certainly shall take you up on your kind offer. I’m as cold as the grave and crave the warmth and company of fellow spirits. Besides which, I drink to make other people more interesting.’

“’Hear! Hear!’ Said Big Tony as he poured us all another generous round of gin.”

Turnip explained, “As we all retired to sit at a nearby table, the stranger raised his glass and said, ‘First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.’

“As we all roared our approval at his positive attitude to getting drunk, I noticed that the fella was exactly the same as the one in the old photographs.

“I don’t mind admitting that I had a bit of a Jack Nicholson in The Shining moment, but when he started talking about fairies and their role in the history of the world, things began to make a lot more sense.”

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