Neighbours wage 'Scrooge-like' vendetta against father's Christmas light show

 

By DAVID WILKES - More by this author » Last updated at 19:00pm on 19th November 2007 Comments (3)

One thing was certain: the man in the hat with a bulbous nose seen walking up the driveway at 4am wasn't Santa Claus.

After all, Christmas was still nine months away.

And what he left behind was a message distinctly lacking in seasonal goodwill: black paint daubed over three suburban homes causing £600 worth of damage.

The finger of suspicion did, however, point towards the victims' neighbour Vic Moszczynski, a 51 year old former firefighter, who was embroiled in a long-running feud with them over the 22,000 fairy lights with which he festooned his mansion in upmarket Sonning-on-Thames, Berkshire.

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The festive scene at Mr Moszczynski's house draws in coachloads of visitors every year

 

His Yuletide extravaganza had so annoyed them that, after enduring 18 years of his yo-ho-ho antics, they could take no more and protested to the council and police about the disruption it caused to their lives when coachloads of visitors turned up to admire it.

They complained their lives were being made a misery by people shouting, and that petty crime in the road had soared because of the influx of visitors.

Some even claimed they were forced to take sleeping pills to blank out the disturbances.

As a result, Mr Moszczynski, whose lights have raised £55,000 for charity, had a court injunction served on him last year forcing him to scale down his decorations to 300 lights, four 7ft tall inflatable cartoon characters, eight 30-ft strips of rope lighting and two light moulds in the ground in his front garden.

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Vic Moszczynski loves Christmas so much he covers his house with 22,000 lights each year

 

After the paint was daubed on three of his neighbour's homes, Mr Moszczynski was charged with causing criminal damage, the motive supposedly being retaliation for their part in pulling the plug on his lavish Christmas lights display.

A central raft of the prosecution was grainy CCTV footage taken from the home of one of the victims, Gordon Jones, who suffered £400 worth of damage to a garage and wall during the attack on April 9 last year.

On the same night, it was alleged that Mr Moszczynski also caused £50 pounds worth of damage to a garage owned by Alan Williams and £150 pounds damage to Richard Daly's gate post.

But today Mr Moszczynski walked free from court after District Judge Terry English said there was not enough evidence to convict him, despite two policemen saying they were '100 per cent' sure it was him.

The CCTV footage, which was shown to the court, showed a shadowy figure dressed in a hat and coat on the driveway. PC David Thomas said he was certain it was the defendant.

"I have known Mr Moszczynski for approximately three years due to the Christmas lights that have been shown every year in West Drive," he said.

"When I have seen Mr Moszczynski in the past he has come out wearing a similar hat as that this person his wearing."

He added that the manner in which the defendant walks also mirrored that of the mystery vandal.

"Mr Moszczynski walks in a way where he leans forward slightly, the way he walks stands him out from a lot of other people," PC Thomas said.

"I can say that is Mr Moszczynski, everything fits. I believe it 100 per cent that is Mr Moszczynski."

Sergeant Tim Woolford, who was in charge of operations to maintain order at the Christmas lights display for the last four years, said the defendant's bulbous nose also linked him to the CCTV footage.

"He [figure in the CCTV] has got a rounded nose similar or the same as Mr Moszczynski," he told Reading Magistrates Court.

"But it is all to do with the whole picture. When you put it all together I am 100 per cent convinced that is Vic Moszczynski."

But, Ruth Paley, representing Mr Moszczynski, said that the only evidence the prosecution had was the footage, the quality of which she described as being 'outrageously bad."

She said it was impossible to tell the ethnicity, height, build and age of the man in the video and said: "It is absolutely ridiculous to suggest someone was 100 per cent sure it is Mr Moszczynski."

After retiring to review the CCTV again, Judge English then acquitted the defendant saying: "I do not think in any way, in any court, anyone could consider convicting you. The charges against you are dismissed, you are free to go."

Afterwards, married father of two Mr Moszczynski, the technical sales manager with Danish metal and rubber manufacturers KE-Burgmann, slammed the prosecution as a complete waste of time and money, and accused his neighbours of waging a Scrooge-like vendetta against him.

Mr Moszczynski, who had spent £5,000 pounds on flights to and from the Middle-East where he works 200 days a year, to attend court hearings, said:

"This is all part of the conspiracy of West Drive to get an ASBO enforced on me. An ASBO would have banned me walking in West Drive.

"It was not me on the CCTV and it took 18 months and thousands of pounds worth of costs, for what? It is a farce."

God that house is OTT

Ho-Ho-Dunnit - who would object to the house with 22,000 Christmas lights?

 

By JENNY JOHNSTON - More by this author » Last updated at 22:58pm on 25th November 2007

How many lights does it take to make a Happy Christmas? A lot more than 300 if you are former firefighter Vic Moszczynski — yet that is all his local council is allowing him.

He's horrified, and can't quite understand why anyone else wouldn't be horrified, too.

"I mean 300 — how pathetic!" he rants. "What on earth do they expect a man to do with 300 bulbs?"

He senses — rightly — that I haven't grasped the scale of his problem, and wants to know how many Christmas lights I will have at my disposal this year.

Er, no idea. 50? 100? 200? I mean, who actually counts the bulbs on their Christmas lights?

"You probably have 300, trust me. Any normal person would have 300 or so on their Christmas tree alone, more if it's bigger than 5ft. That's the amount you get for £2.99 in Woolies."

At the last (meticulous) count, Vic had amassed 22,000 bulbs — every single one of which is, come December 1, lovingly draped over his roof, porch, garage, trees, gate and rhododendron bushes.

 

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Blaze of colour: The Christmas lights display which many find offending

 

But this year if he exceeds his 300-bulb quota, he will face prosecution. He is, aptly, incandescent. And he's not going quietly into the darkness.

"I've got a good mind to slip in 301 — just to see if they notice," he says. "Of course they would. Last year they came and measured my inflatable Winnie the Pooh, and said it was three inches too tall. It was supposed to be 7ft, and they came with their tape measure and said: “Nope.” I said it was just the wind, but they weren't having any of it."

"So if they find 301 bulbs this time — well, I'll probably be in jail quicker than you can say Father Christmas."

He jests, of course, but not that much. This week, Vic's neighbours in Sonning-on-Thames, Berkshire, were hoping he would, indeed, end up in jail, preferably until at least January.

For 18 years the residents of West Drive have been rolling their eyes — then vociferously complaining — about his annual Christmas lights extravaganza.

 

 

You can understand why. West Drive is the sort of place you might aspire to live in after a Lottery win. It is — for 11 months of the year — a quietly elegant street where even the cars, mostly BMWs and Mercedes, purr gently.

Every December, though, Vic — himself a millionaire, though one who started out on a council estate — turns it into one great Blackpool illumination.

The fairylights are only the start. Once he has them in place, Vic gets to work on the real eye-catchers, the inflatable snowmen, the ho-ho-ho Santas, and — that most modern of festive symbols — the giant yellow Homer Simpson.

 

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Ho ho ho: Vic Moszczynski's obsession with Christmas decorations has snowballed

 

So tacky is the display that it became famous throughout Berkshire and dog-walking couples used to divert from their evening strolls to have a look. But then, like a burning timberyard, you don't need directions. Just follow the glow.

Then families started to pull up in their cars, cameras at the ready. The final straw seemed to be when coaches began arriving in the street, with hundreds disgorging to gawp. Often, they left their beer cans and burger wrappers behind, which really was too much.

Vic's neighbours' epic fight for a little peace and quiet — not to mention dignity — was rewarded. Two years ago, the police conceded the nightly lightshow had become a public gathering, leading them to deem it unacceptable.

Vic was forced by the local council to scale down his decorations.

But the matter didn't end there. Just 18 months ago, the father of two was arrested after some of the homes in the street were daubed with paint.

Police claimed that Mr Christmas — irate at facing another year without his lights — had turned to crime in his anger. Two policemen who viewed CCTV footage said they were "100 per cent sure" the shadowy figure on the tape was him.

Yet on Monday, the case collapsed. Vic walked free when a judge said there wasn't enough evidence against him. 'It was madness,' he says.

"Of course it wasn't me. I mean, they said they were 100 per cent convinced it was me, but it was clear from the CCTV footage that you couldn't tell if it was a man, woman or cat in those pictures."

"It all just came about because my neighbours had a vendetta against me. It was a snobbery thing. They hated the fact that I, and thousands of others, got pleasure from a few Christmas lights. Well, I hope they are happy now. Season of goodwill and all that."

Vic looks forlorn. He may not be spending this weekend at Her Majesty's pleasure, but there are worse fates.

He has been invited to help turn on the official lights in Sonning-on- Thames, alongside 'some girl called Maria from Coronation Street'. But it's not quite the same as putting up your own set of lights.

"It'll be a sad Saturday, to be honest," he says. "It's the most important day of the year for me because the last Saturday of the month is when I usually get all the lights out. All year I look forward to it. I forgo holidays, just so I can spend the next five weeks putting up my decorations."

"Now, I've only got 300 lights to work with. That will hardly take me an hour. I can't believe it has come to this."

Who would have thought a few lights could bring such joy? Or such misery? You can understand Vic's bewilderment at the charges levied against him, even discounting that wretched paint daubing.

The fat file the local council holds on him beggars belief. The good people of West Drive, it seems, hold him and his lights responsible for everything from marriage break-ups to insomnia, such is the stress they face at Christmas.

"One family even said their son didn't do as well as he should have done in his A-levels because of all the noise and stress of living in this street," he says.

"Well, that's daft, to start with. As far as I'm aware you do A-levels in the summer."

"Then there were neighbours who said they couldn't sleep, can't breathe, suffer migranes. And all because of a few lights. Are we really that weak in this country? If so, it's a wonder people aren't keeling over every time they go near Harrods."

Talk to the neighbours, though, and the sniggers soon stop. They are, by and large, affluent professionals. Most say they — like Vic — have worked hard for their little slice of West Drive. Houses there cost more than £1million.

Several agreed to talk to us, but not a single resident would agree to be named, so unwilling are they to 'stir things up' as one put it, with Vic.

"He's making out that we are all snobs, but it is not about background or money, or anything else,' one portly gentleman told us."

"It's not even about those blasted lights — though they are hideous. It's about being able to look forward to Christmas and not dread the whole thing because you can't even get the car out of your driveway because of the crowds."

"That mess he puts up every year is a disgrace. It used to be that if you told people you lived in West Drive, they'd say: 'How lovely.' Now they say: 'Oh no, not that one with those awful Christmas displays!' It's like living in a freak show."

His neighbour, a well-heeled retired lady, who again politely refuses to give her name, is keen to expand.

"It wasn't the lights I had the problem with; it was all the people who came to see them. It used to take my daughterin- law 20 minutes to get out of the house, and the rubbish that people left was simply disgusting."

Another resident talks — over a considerable wooden fence — of the lights "attracting the wrong people."

"You'd get all sorts of hoodlums here, and the crime rate went way up because they were just breaking into cars. I was afraid to leave my wife on her own, to be honest."

"The fact that the police had to have a presence here surely says it all. It was completely nonsensical. We talked to the local officers and they said that they had to approach this whole thing like they would a football match — and there were days when the crowds seemed comparable."

But marriage break-ups and failed exams? Surely there's some rather outrageous exaggerating going on.

"Look, the fact is that people had got to the point where they hated living in this street, at least for that part of the year. It's scandalous that one person can bring that much distress. Thank God the local council agreed with us."

"It is anti-social behaviour, pure and simple, Christmas or not. Thankfully, he can put up only a few lights now. That's fine with me. All things in moderation."

In some ways, you have to feel sorry for Vic. The fact that the world and his sister wanted to see his lights is hardly his fault.

"There was a bit of a problem with people breaking into cars. But mostly folk were well behaved, and if it did get a bit boisterous sometimes, well, things do at Christmas, don't they?"

His obsession began innocently enough 18 years ago. The birth of his first child, Justine, coincided with the building of a new extension on the then family home — another property further down West Drive.

"We had scaffolding up, and one day I just thought: 'I'll string up a few lights.' So I did, and it looked just lovely."

"The next year, I had a few more, in the trees and that. It was in the days before people really went to town on their homes, and it would become a talking point with the neighbours. People would stop and say: 'Awwwh, aren't the lights wonderful?'"

And so it continued. Snowballed, one might say. To the lights were added twinkly Snowmen, sleighs and bells. Vic, who made his money in sales after retiring from the fire service, took to charging out in the January sales to see what bargains he could pick up.

Then — just as the rest of the country was waking up to the fact that lights could go on outside trees, too — he really got serious.

"I travel abroad for most of the year, as a sales manager, and I realised that in places like China I could pick up amazing stuff — well, actually tat mostly — for pennies. I'd come home with it and stick it in the loft."

"Every year, I'd be amazed at how much new stuff there was."

His children were naturally thrilled.

His wife? Less so, he admits. "Mandi never really got it in the first place," he says. "She thought it was tacky and pointless. I'd say: 'Come and see how amazing the garden looks,' and she'd just groan and say she was watching the telly."

"She always said I was mad, and she never wanted anything to do with it. Funnily enough, it is all this aggro with the neighbours that has brought her round. She's seen how awful people round here have been, and says it isn't on. So she supports me now, even if she doesn't like the lights."

Frankly, when it comes to tolerance, it is Mandi who deserves the sweet sherry and mince pie. Vic proudly tells me that he has installed 423 13-amp plug sockets in the family home, so that every last reindeer can be lit.

When "things are going full beam," his wife is banned from using the washing machine, dishwasher or even the toaster, so high is the risk of fuses blowing.

Doesn't she mind?

"I think she's got used to it," he says. "It sort of crept up on her."

Strangely, Vic never thought Christmas was that great a deal before he started collecting plastic Santas. His parents — his father was a Polish labourer; his mother worked in a factory — didn't have much money, so presents, and flashing lights, were scarce. He isn't even religious.

Nor is his motivation public fame. Every year there are an increasing number of 'best Christmas lights' competitions on the likes of GMTV. He has never entered one.

If he wanted to, Vic could mount a considerable defence of his annual antics. Every year, he collects money from those who come to see his lights and gives it to charity. To date, he has donated £55,000.

He tells me that he lost a sister to cancer when he was a boy, which does give the whole saga a slightly different feel. But he refuses to use the charity as an excuse. And he holds his hands up to the tacky accusation.

The simple answer about why he wants to light up his whole house like a particularly gaudy Christmas tree is that he likes to be able to see the fruits of his labours.

"To be perfectly honest, I would do the lights anyway, even if I didn't collect for charity. It's not about the money. It's about the thrill of it. Yes, it's tacky, but so what? Tacky is fun."

"When all the crowds are here, I like nothing better than to sneak away down the road, and walk back up, looking at the house as if I'm seeing it for the first time. It gets me every time. I look at it all, twinkling, and I think: 'Magic, pure magic, and I did it.'"

Ah, bless! But careful with the sympathy. Vic tells me that his recent experiences have soured the sweetness of living on such a lovely street as West Drive.

He is thinking of moving — and, be warned, where he goes, that plastic Homer goes too, whether the new neighbours like it or not.

I would not like to see that man's electric bill.