Sock Test

Sock Test ©

By Michael Casey

Now I’ve decided to start recording al my shorts, all 500 of them. I write 2 or 3 a week so the total increases all the time.  I have recorded about 20 or so already, but some of those were spoken only and not down on paper, if you like spontaneous. I did get asked by a Radio station to provide audio and even a bit of video, the quality was not perfect, but I did sent PDFs of my material too. So I was hoping that they would open the door for me. I’m beginning to think that one has escaped me.

So I’ve decided to make better recordings and to record the lot, 500 or so. I have put some recordings on Tumblr, so check out michaelgcasey there. I had thought that my microphone was too hissy, so I’ve been looking at mikes on the internet. There is a great site in Germany where you can actually hear the sound quality  of the mike before you buy it, you get a snatch of somebody singing using the different mikes. So this is great.

I’ve also looked at different sites here in the UK and on Amazon of course. I was recommended a good mike by the German site and they give 3 years guarantee. I decided to do a bit more research, the recommended mike had great reviews on Amazon. However I decided to follow my brother’s advice, always look for the negative when buying a house, so ditto when buying a mike. So I looked at the worst reviews.

When you read reviews you are trusting a stranger, and bad reviewers could have an axe to grind. The bad reviewer just said google “hiss on the XYZ” and there I found more “evidence”. I could have bought the wrong mike. However what you have to remember is that audiophiles have a much much much higher standard. They will use specially speaker wire and have amps and preamps galore, and remember the kind of mike I hope to use is what professional musicians use. Obviously the cheaper version, but musicians do have a better ear.

So in a way it left me uncertain what to do, as money is scarce, IF and when Radio people DO use my stuff all my opportunities will arrive together, like dominoes all falling down. Or as my Irish cousins said when my dad survived a “fatal” heart attack and then I met my wife at the old people’s home, I had all my luck in one go. I’m hoping that a film producer picks up a script of mine too, but I just have to keep on waiting, I read somewhere that preproduction can take months.

I also googled “best usb microphone” and got a list of the top ten. So I looked on Amazon again and by accident I was on USA Amazon, and there I stumbled over the 6 minute filmed review of the best usb micro. It was one of the cheapest ones. But I watched and listened, and after 6 minutes I thought I should get that one. Its 40dollars on Amazon USA.  Sound quality really good.

The next thing I thought about was how could I improve my mike. Which leads me to the title of tonight’s short, Sock Test.  All profession mikes have a cover, or a piece of fluffy stuff on the end of the mike to prevent wind noise and hiss, sounds like noises from toilets. So I thought what if I put the cover from my unused mobile phone over the end of my stick mike. Once I did that I recorded a few sample words and listened back to the result.

It did improve the sound of my voice, or rather took away some of the hiss. Actually I don’t like the way I sound , I sound like a teenager, or like a drunk to my own ears. So I then thought how can I make it better. So I found some old work fluffy socks, and used one of them wrapped around my mike, with the mobile sock holding it in place. Sound quality improved and the mike looking more ridiculous. I then had to go out shopping.

I had a brainwave on my way home, what if I used some mini rollers for painting as a microphone sock. I had to tear away the core of the roller just so I could get the foam off. Once done I tested my sound again. The mike looked silly, see photo below, it was like a corn dog on a stick or something. But more importantly the sound quality was getting so much better, I then tweaked it by pulling the foam up about ½ an inch, hey presto I was a BBC sound man. I’d get an Oscar next.

I’ll do a few more tests in the morning, once the screams from the horror film in the living room subside, ½ the wife and ½ the film. I’m pleased with my endeavours, if you go to Tumblr  you can listen to me reading this short out, using my corn dog microphone. Just tell your local radio to put my 500 shorts on their play list, and on their websites. Or tell me to put a sock on it.

Vanity

Vanity ©

By Michael Casey

I was walking down the road I’d just seen my pharmacist, no not a guy in a car handing out stuff from his window in exchange for 20quid. I was at the Pharmacy getting ear drops, and no living with 3 girls hasn’t made me deaf. It will be the death of me, but not make me deaf, yet, they are all much younger than me after all. I hope that explains the context, as writers are told to explain things.

No what I saw was an example of Vanity.  There was a small van with two blokes in it, one was on the phone, which was good for he was NOT driving, I’ve had enough of drivers trying to kill me while they are on the phone while driving. The driver, was leaning out the window so he could see himself in the wing mirror, then he was doing his hair. It made me smile, at least they were stopped in traffic for the moment. But hanging out the window to preen himself.

No of course I’m not vain at all, judging by the way I look as I go up the road to the shops. Well, I do comb my hair before I leave the house, and check my zipper too, but other than that I’m not vain at all. My mum used to shout after my brother “comb your hair, tuck your shirt in, you’ll shame me the neighbours will think I have a Tinker for a son!” Which gave me the idea for Mrs Murphy in my 1^st book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Are you vain? Well do you look at your own reflection as you walk up the road to the shops, pretending to be John Travolta, but looking more like the fat Secret Service guy, the one they call the body guy. Do you adjust your shades and triple check that zipper as you go past the butcher’s shop?

In Snow White it was “Mirror mirror on the Wall” and for all her scheming the wicked stepmother was NOT the fairest in the land, no the Donkey from Shrek was far prettier. Why does mutton dress up as lamb, and I’m not talking about the butcher’s wife either. Why do women try to look far younger when they should grow old gracefully. Though  to be balanced men are just as bad nowadays.

Footballers will ditch their WAGs because they can, because they earn in one week what most of us will earn in 10 years or even 20 years. And yes  if MU are still looking I am available, though I’m older than the manager and weight twice as much, but just let me play for one week, then I can retire happy.

In days of old a glimpse of stocking was shocking, now anything goes. With skirts up to their ar ars , archipelago, WAGs and even the girls down the chip shop preen themselves to catch the boy with the perfect black hair. Just for men, includes hair dye, so boys can and will dye their hair, preening and vanity hand in hand. Yes she may smell of chips, but she’s like Every Ready batteries, lasts longer and she is ever ready.

Beauty products keep us all looking perfect, and if they don’t there is surgery, plastic  plastic plastic   what-evers, to keep your footballer on side, and away from the penalty zone. In the old days the bathroom shelf had one bottle of Vosene, that was  green in colour if memory serves.

Now, now you need seven shelves, lotions and potions, for him, for her, and for the kids. You used to have one brand and one family shampoo that everybody used. Now there is pre shampoo, shampoo, after shampoo, and conditioner and that’s just for the men. Since being married and having two daughters my bathroom is under siege, it’s like invasion of the plastic bottles, I’m sure they are aliens in disguise. And the plastic bottles are reproducing too, I’m sure of it.

All of this is for our Vanity, didn’t there used to be bags called vanity bags that girls took away with them when they went away somewhere. Now we have manbags for men’s vanity too. It’s all so confusing or am I just getting old and greyer/whiter. A spit on the hand and a dab on the head was all you needed to keep your hair down, now its styling gel. Looks more like pigeon dumped on your head, and 8 year olds use it already.

I’m all in favour of beauty, I mean I pull my nasal hair out when it’s too long, I’m  sophisticated like that, a real new man. And why do you sneeze when you pull nasal hair out? I’m not vain either I keep my bushy eyebrows, despite my girls asking when the caterpillars will turn into butterflies and fly away.

So why are we all so vain? Does it date back to cavemen days? You can share my catch and sleep on my hide if only  you comb your hair with that fish bone, and splash a little buffalo blood behind your ears. And then you can spend the night platting the hair on my back.

Over and Over Again

Over and Over Again ©

By Michael Casey

Some things we like to do over and over again, it gives us pleasure, bowling perhaps if you are Obama. Or we like them though we are rubbish but we enjoy doing it, pick your own thing. Now the obvious question is why do we like doing things over and over again?

We may suck our thumb when nobody is watching, it gives us reassurance it makes us feel safe, it reminds us of our mother’s nipple, or lover’s. It’s the comfort and repetition that sooths us, just like Status Quo music, down down dederum down, if I can remember it right. I can actually remember 1973 and hearing Caroline for the first time.

I listen to a lot of music, it was my companion when my brother left home and I was alone in the homework room, 1974. I’m listening to Peter Gabriel right  now, Steam. The beat repeats and the audience claps along to it. I suppose the drums that Native man started with continue with drums and beat in modern music. Though cannibals probably started by bashing a skull with an arm bone after dinner, which was  the slowest and oldest man in the tribe.

We whistle in the dark to comfort ourselves, we are not alone if we can keep a tune going, and why can’t girls whistle. Is it because girls never feel alone, creation is inside them, so they are never alone in a way.

Cricket players rub the ball, they have their routine as they run up to the crease. The batter has his routine too, the touching of this and the touching of that. Golf players have their pretend swing before they do the real thing. Why do they need to have to do things twice or with a certain order?

When my dad came home from the pub on a weekend one of the men always used to say bye three times before he went up the road to his own house. Nobody ever says bye and goes away without ever looking back. Why exactly is that?

Could it be because our heart beat is a rhythm, boom  boom, boom boom, so a rhythm is in us, is part of us. Nature is a cycle, the sun sets and rises in a rhythm, the moon sets and appears again in a rhythm too. The tide by force of the moon rises and falls, falls and rises. So we all have got this music in us. So anything that replicates the forces of nature is soothing to us.

We sing when we are happy, we sing to our new born  as he is at the breast, we are one, mother and babe, in harmony. We sing stirring songs as we march to war, we are trying to create the rhythm of war. We are trying to up the tempo in our hearts, we are trying to make warriors of ourselves, so we can kill each other.

And when we are dead the beat ends, slow songs sad songs are sung as we are carried to our graves. And after death, does the beat go on, I hope so, but each of us will find out that for ourselves.

Checking out the Checkout (c) by Michael Casey

Checking out the Checkout ©

By Michael Casey

Maybe I’m old fashioned, or maybe it’s a form of sport for me, but I enjoy the checkout process, it’s fun. I believe in having a chat as you buy your stuff. Self- service tills are evil, they lead to unemployment, I speak as somebody who had family work in shops. I also speak as the writer of Shoplife a comic play of mine, it nearly made me famous over twenty years ago. I also did 3 years front of house at the 4star CPNEC.

So why do I think the checkout is fun? Well as I watch the staff two or three of them if I’m in a supermarket, or just one if I’m elsewhere I observe them and see who is good who is bad and who is sad. Occasionally I say I’m the mystery shopper, just for fun. Just to see their reaction. They probably think I a boring old fart, but perhaps he IS the mystery shopper.

They are all taught to make eye contact, which is hard as I wear shades most of the time, not as a pose, I really need them, 20plus years in dark computer rooms means that I squint in tiny amounts of sun. So they look up and see their own reflection in my shades. But they are nice as a rule. Some will have dead eyes, too much time spent on the pop the night before. Some are clockwatching, they want to go home. Some need to go home, they have the school run to do.

While in the queue I think which joke shall I rehearse with the checkout girl/boy. You can test your material while you have your 40 seconds at the till. Perhaps stand ups should be forced to test their material at the checkout before boring us at the club, he should have tested it at Lidl first would be the whisper.

There is banter too from checkout to checkout, so you can watch and enjoy the free show. Sometimes the checkout crew can hand you a line on a plate, and you just forehand smash it. Laughter reins. I remember Andy on the switchboard from my hotel days. When things were quiet I’d say something and he would ace it with his reply. Sometimes deliberately I fed the line, other times he was just quick. But the ambience was great. Andy would wrinkle up his face and purse his lips before SMASH, we were laughing. CPNEC was known as a very friendly  hotel, the recruitment process chose smiling faces. Andy would go to his lunch and I’d cover on his switchboard while he relaxed for 30mins. I really admire Andy, his disability meant he had to use two sticks, but he’d hold them up like two fingers, nothing would get him down.  

Little old ladies and the lonely get comfort as well as shopping when they go shopping. That’s why I admire checkout folk, they really do make a difference. That little bit of human contact can and does make the difference. I like to have fun with the manager too. There is some hand held computer thingy which they use to count stock. So I always ask the manager has she Tazered any staff or shoplifters today. Or you can ask the checkout girl how fast can they run, then you add you won’t bother doing any shoplifting that day.

So that’s my view on checkouts, and I can hear you all asking how often does the Checkout Closed  suddenly appear when I approach the till?

Tidy Up

Tidy Up ©

By Michael Casey

Today was tidy up day in our house, when its best to hide and keep out of the way, lest you be tidied up and find yourself in the recycle bin. Or in my case left in the entry for the scrap metal guys to take away.

The wife started while I was trying to get milk from the fridge, she was in her combat gear, her bright red Korea pinny and her rubber gloves, looking very menacing indeed. As I took things out of the fridge she ducked and dived and removed shelves, and contents. The shelves needed cleaning and she was on a mission. I just wanted the marg for my toast, I had to duck and dive in our galley kitchen.

Then I went into the garden to eat my toast so that I would not be run over by our Shanghai kamikaze, as she dived and spun back and forth from the fridge to the sink. If you think cleaning women, or your old mum was a Force of Nature then you would not believe or possibly imagine what a Shanghai girl is like when in cleaning mode.

I then went and hid in the front room and checked my email to see if anybody had bitten the idea of broadcasting my shorts. Not yet was the answer. I had to hide again as the vacuum cleaner came out, I’m not good enough to be allowed to clean. I do have a very dodgy back and hip at the moment, but I’m not trusted enough to be allowed to clean. I did once remind her that I did take care of the house very well before her shadow darkened my door, no she’s not a vampire, vampire’s don’t caste shadows. If they did she would vacuum it up in double quick time.

So the day progressed and she talked to the world on her toy, while I tried to think of ways of getting the world to read my words. No it wasn’t me hacking the world’s computers today and making everybody go to my author page on Amazon. If only, if only.

The girls decided to get in on the act, they would tidy up their bedroom, which happens to be above my head. So the sound of laughter and small feet running backward and forward was like a metronome as I sat here typing/writing. Then the sound of plastic bags full of rubbish bouncing down the stairs.

Then I was invited upstairs to view their restyling of the bedroom. Wasn’t that a frame full of photos, wasn’t it at the top of the stairs before? Now the place of honour had one of their painting hanging  proudly there. As for the frame of photos, the photos had fallen off like autumn leaves. To reveal a notice board which they hung on the wall with glue tack, as no more nails are allowed in their room.

They came down for refreshment, then upstairs I could hear a noise like somebody breaking in. When I went upstairs to investigate all I could see was a dolls house shattered as if after an avalanche, the notice board had fallen off. However apart from that their room was all neat and tidy and looking bigger, a Tardis effect.

As for me, I was wondering what to write in the hope that a new story might swing it for me, and that some radio station somewhere will like to hear my shorts. My Tidy Up short.

the wife and fearsome cleaner

Casey Film School by Michael Casey

Casey Film School ©

By Michael Casey

Now in our house we watch loads of films, 5 a week and more maybe, and with Sky+ box you can record many more. I watched loads as a child too, in black and white in them days. I think I was 25 before I bought a colour  tv for the family. Children nowadays won’t watch anything not in colour.

I saw a documentary on tv with Keanu Reeves, the programme was all about Film, as in the physical piece of material that goes through the camera. It was comparing film to digital. There always is a “look” to a film, I used to say you can tell if a film is rubbish just by the credits.

The old fashioned Technicolor as in Robin Hood, had colours so rich it was as if a child had used wax crayons. Then there are washed out colours for effect, to give a feel and a meaning to a film. Some films are so dark you can hardly see a thing. Alien the first one seemed so especially dark.

Most films I’ve seen on tv, we do have a good tv, I spoilt myself 20 years ago and got a good tv, I was earning good money then and I had interest free credit for a year. Toshiba is all I will say, just go to John Lewis, get free 5 year guarantee and get a Toshiba. Our current Toshiba replaced the old one a few years ago.

Now does the average person notice all the nuances of the cinematography? I’ll say no, though I’m still on a learning curve myself. I’ve watched a ton of films and as my girls grow up we  talk about Film in the advert breaks, 3 mins on satellite, but if we have recorded the film we zap through the ads.

Do  you like the way the actor does this or does that, could you see where the scary bit was going to happen. Could you see how something was telegraphed? Telegraphed things are probably the most we’ve talked about. I hope I don’t spoil the joy of the thing with all this “Casey film school” material.

When you have seen Maltila, or Willy Winka or The Mummy, all versions, then you too will become a little film buff. We really hate it when ITV4 cuts the bit from the Mummy where they haggle for O’Connor’s life, just before he joins them.

Getting back to the documentary, can modern digital technology be trusted to give a good look? Technology gets better and better and will be good enough for everybody in 10 to 15 years time. This is what I’m guessing after listening to the experts. You also have to save some of the machinery so that in the future you can actually read the film in whatever technological format it has been shot.

Modern cameras, digital cameras are so light that you can go anywhere with them, Danny Boyle was talking about one of his films and he had 10 cameras for one section of one of his films. I didn’t know that normally film cameras only have enough film in them for 10mins of acting normally. Then they have to cut.

So imagine the actor has to get himself all worked up and in the zone then the film camera has to be reloaded. How can the actor get back to where he was emotionally after being stopped in mid flow.  It’s like having a streaker in the middle of an event, it would certainly put the vicar off his matins. So how can an actor be expected to get back to where he was.

Now with digital the actor, male or female or both, can keep on performing without fear, it’s not as if mom is knocking at the bedroom door demanding entrance, while sonny is with Cher doing the same. So digital allows uninterrupted performance.

The look and feel of the film is almost the same as Film, because digital is improving so much. As an audience we may hate the look however filmed because the film may look too trashy, or too slick, and so on. The director and the cinematographer must have loads of discussions on how to get it right, but when it IS right it really IS right.

But this now brings me on to the most important thing of all, THE WRITING, speaking as a writer, awaiting news on my 1^st screenplay for a film, I think it’s the writing which is the most important thing. If the story is weak or badly told then no amount of pretty looks will save it.

It will look like a commercial, a bad commercial. Film scripts as such are very bare, mine isn’t it gives plenty of direction. I’m hoping its idiot proof and that the director and cinematographer can just tell the actors “say the words” and if they follow their nose WE will have a success.

Perhaps I’m a little naïve, a virgin on the bed of cinema. However a writer is taking a chance that the film of his book &/or script matches what was in his head and was put on paper. In a way the writer writes the score and the director then has it in his head. And just like a conductor the director is getting actors and cinematographers and everybody else to play their instruments, their bodies if you like, so that the result is Mozart.

When it works it really works, just as Amadeus really worked, the look, the style, the music, the words, the everything. A director has to be like a general, a prostitute or a pimp, just to squeeze out the right performance.

It all starts with words on a page, then with pictures and together you have FILM.

Big Business Small Beginnings

Big Business Small Beginnings ©

By  Michael Casey

Just before I finished with ACNielsen my friend did the tarot for a bit of fun, we had just eaten fish and chips in the rest room next to my computer room. Yes we were in England, Birmingham to be exact, overlooking the Chinese Quarter.

So not putting chippy fingers on her cards I pick some out. Every card had money on it.  My next jobs over the next ten years all had money connections, but sadly none went in my pocket.

ACNielsen is of course business analysis, I then went to Insurance, Finance office, CPNEC business hotel, Life Insurance, Law Firm, Esol English. All of which make money, lots of money for the company.

The guests at CPNEC were really nice people, all self-made, the Law firm was really nice too. Esol English made money for the company, I enjoyed my chance as a teacher.

So how about making some money for myself, or rather for my own family. When the tarot was done I hadn’t met my Shanghai  wife. Marriage means spending money, but in return I live with 3 girls, all of whom speak Chinese, me I’m the token male and English speaker in the house.

So how can I provide for my growing family? Well I am a writer, I do indeed have 6 books on Amazon Kindle, follow links at bottom of page. However writing is a strange product, nobody ever makes any money out of it, not unless you are JKR or JRRK.

So you have to plug at it, the selling not the writing, writing is easy, making a living or money out of it is hard. I read the news and see how Billionaires made their first buck. The guy with the photo website was in the newspaper today, his idea was so simple, take “boring” photos and sell them.

I once applied for a job where I’d be looking at boring photos of  advertising billboards, why, to make sure the paid adverts had gone up in the right place, to prove the job was done. I did not get that job, so hello to them if they stumble over this.

I once applied for a greetings card writer job, I did not get that either, so hello to them too. AS you can all see I’m not brief enough, for that job. My shorts can be short and they can be longer, but I hope always worth a read.

At the moment I’m waiting to see if a script of mine is going to be made into a film, and to see if my shorts are going to be used on the radio as a 90seconds with Michael Casey segment.

Some radio stations, the majority, are very linear,  the listeners won’t understand the concept, if you wean them away from the breast milk of pop the listeners will switch off or change over. 

You can have both, “she can’t sing, she can’t dance, but she walks like Riana” then hit the button and hear my voice reading one of my shorts. Trust the listener, Richard Allison and Bob Harris are great broadcasters for a reason.

Making money is what the Americans are always good it, England has the ideas and then America buys the idea cheap and gets rich from it. Always seems to be the case.

So what is you have a great book, full of incident and action, but getting a push behind the book is so hard. You rebrand it, as Rupert Murdoch does with his film channels over his empire.

So what can you do with your book? You do things in reverse, you sell it or part of it as a film. Then as the games market is a billion dollar industry, you sell the concept of your book as a game. You will have to persuade the games people to make the book into a game, that can be hard but if you say if it’s good enough for a film it should fly as a game. Then at least they will pause for thought. I should add that friends from my computer room days did in fact  create a game and got £10,000 for it 20 years ago.

Now Hasbro makes games galore and they have just tied up with a video games company. Now Hasbro makes board games and my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker can be a board game, to stop people getting bored on wet summers days. You have to have faith in yourself and your product. My product being my writing.

Yesterday on the Dragon’s Den, which is where people ask millionaire backers to support them, we saw a variety of people pitch their idea. Pitching your idea is key, I had to write a one page pitch for this film. Perhaps I can use the same pitch for video and board games. Merchandising is very profitable, look at Disney, need I saw more. Now read the following poem of mine.

Let There Be Light ©

By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children’s laughter be my hope

Let widows’ sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

Now this is a beautiful poem, result of 3 years daily visits to Saint Phillip’s cathedral, on my lunch break from a Law Firm. Now I feel this is good enough for radio, but is the breast milk of pop the only thing The Hits should feature?

I think the poem could be on Tee Shirts, on tea towels and so on, or should it only be read in church? It is of course my copyright. So how do I pitch that idea, how will I ever get a chance? Perhaps if the lift breaks down and the Dragons from the Dragons Den have to spend a fruitful hour with me.

What about words, my 3 books of shorts or blogs if you like. Can they only be sold as a coffee table book for dentists’ and doctors’ waiting rooms. Or can I record them to a data base and people can dip in and hear them, then buy them on iTunes and so on. And then it’ll be “he can’t sing, he can’t dance, but he walks like a concierge.”  And then all radio will clamour for my shorts.

So all of this is about marketing, it’s about how you can sell what you have written. They say the first million is the hardest to earn, then after that the money flows in.

I have yet to find this out, I have yet to earn the first penny, I just hope it happens in this life. Then me and my 3 girls can have a big house and a cat for the girls and a dog called Subway for me.

www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

 http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

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Sleepover(c) by Michael Casey

Sleepover©

By

Michael Casey

Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2^nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.

Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters in your house.

Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad? Especially mine.

Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.

Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the chips. So a compromise is achieved.

You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even for suggesting it.

So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.

After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on  their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the big screen.

Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.

So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half waking up and forgetting where she was.

So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.

The Secret Admirer

The Secret Admirer ©

By

Michael Casey

I have been using FaceBook in an attempt to interest people in my writing. A bit of self-publicity, Americans are so much better at it than us here in England.

At one of my jobs I did indeed have a secret admirer, I only found out when one of the lads told me, just as I was leaving the company. It’s a strange experience, the girl in question was a very nice person, however not the kind of girl I’d want as an admirer.

Personality is strange,  some may like you whereas others can’t bear to be in the same room as you. I think I was perfect in my concierge days because I could entertain while people were waiting for their business partner. Then I’d disappear like morning Scot’s mist.

The best guests were Northerners, “Hello Michael, give us a kiss, show us the photos” one regular used to say and I’d show her the latest snaps of my infant daughters. Yes I was a dotting dad. The best professional compliment was “You’re as good as the Concierge at the Dorchester.”

So that’s getting on with guests at CPNEC, it was a great place to work at. So I had a few admirers, for my work, for my professionalism.

Imagine though somebody is watching you, now that’s a bit creepy. Can somebody be stalking me.  Imagine somebody has pictures of me on their wall. It may be with targets on so they can punch me   because they hate my writing. Or they are fed up of their girlfriend saying “he’s a lovely writer.”

Actually this happened once, Claire was laughing in her bedroom. Her dad asked from outside the door, “what’s so funny?” “Oh its Michael dad he’s making me laugh, he really tickles my fancy.” “What?” asks her shocked dad reaching for his baseball bat. “It’s Michael Casey from work.” “What?” asks her dad as he tightens his grip on the baseball bat. “I’m reading Michael’s book, The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker” Dad is relieved and goes to bed.

So you could say Claire was an admirer, now she was a really nice girl, she admired my writing. Now she works at the big W.

In USA admirers will go to the barbers and pay for your hair from the barbers. So would my soft white dandruff hair be a relic. Yuck.

It must be nice to have fans who get what you are writing, who understand the insider jokes, who get the parallel lines of the story. Though I would not want Kathy Bates as a fan as in that film with James Caan. That kind of fan would be really scary.

Another fan would correct all your “mistakes” telling you/me how such and such should be spelt. How it wasn’t then but then, your dates are wrong. So what would I say.  “ITS FICTION” there are no facts to check, its fiction after all.

Imagine long long letters correcting you, then attacking you. I’d just reply “Go write your own book” Writing is a very personal thing, I write for myself and hope readers like my world view. It’s not compulsory to like the story or the style of writing. But it’s great when people like both.

Fans think they are friends, real friends, or family even. They can send presents to you. If anybody wants to send me a Cartier diamond bleu watch, feel free. Sadly you cannot send a house in the post…

So would it be nice to have millions of secret admirers? I’d love to have 1% of the readers Jeffery Archer has. Being recognised for a skill is a great thing, be it as a carpenter, or a plumber,  or a musician. When you achieve this all of your admirers come out of the shadows and buy your books, or recommend you as a plumber or a carpenter. Remember  Harrison Ford was a carpenter.

I just saw Wall Street:Money Never Sleeps, on Film4, its a really good film. Michael Douglass is very good. The Love of Money is the Root of All Evil. The film is also a love story between his daughter and the boy wonder so to speak. Its also about the realisation by Gordon Geko that Family is all. It is indeed Priceless. We have Bill Gates using his wealth to keep the Human Family free from Polio, this is a wonderful thing, and I know is heaping up rewards in Heaven. Now Cancer is a terrible thing, it takes away those we love with all our heart. Let me die, but save them is often said in this terrible terrible situation. So I think the next big act of Humanity is to nail Cancer, we all take Cancer personally, it kills OUR love ones. So if there are any Billionaires out there why not invest £10,000,000,000 , thats ten billion pounds into Cancer research. You could create a world centre, even here in the UK and then with satelite centres world wide. £10,000,000,000 can do a lot of damage to Cancer, we can start stabbing Cancer in the heart, just as it does when it takes our loved ones away. So let somebody somewhere follow Bill Gates example, and donate to Cancer research. If only we could get a billion  pound club going. 10 billionaires giving a billion pounds each. They say its harder to get a camel through the eye of a needle than to get a rich man into Heaven. Well I disagree, use wealth to save lives and kill Cancer. Then when these billionaires die, as we all do, then my mum will be waiting for them in Heaven with a cup of tea waiting for them. Now that's all I can offer in exchange for ten billion pounds invested into Cancer research.

Role Play(c) by Michael Casey

Role Play ©

By Michael Casey

I was just talking to a FB friend and as ever I had an idea after I was talking to him. So I’m going to share it with you. Now how many of you have done Role Play while on training courses?

It can be very daunting, embarrassing even, like being asked to strip in the class room, or in the middle of the sports field. I hurry to say that’s NOT what I want any of you to do.

I’ve done a bit of role play on training courses, and remember as a writer I’ve written a play or two. But there through  my words others are doing the stripping in public. They are the actors, I’m the writer/director.

I’ve been on training courses to help company moral by binding the staff together. To teach customer service, to teach my students a few lessons in life, even to learn how to be a bookie.

So when I became an Esol teacher I had a variety of experience, I’d done all kinds of everything. I boasted I’d written a book, now I have 6 to my name. So how do you use words?

Well I’m a firm believer in making lessons fun, though I do have to say you have to balance it so the students don’t think that learning is a joke, or that you are just a clown. You have to get the balance right. It’s like pushing a swing, gentle pushes at first then gradually you get the big swing. You do have to make sure you don’t push so hard that your wife/girlfriend/children go flying into space or get wrapped around the swing structure.

You need a lesson play, well you should have one, if you are very clever a flow chart will do. Now say for 15 mins you tell the students they are going to pretend to be Harry, William and Kate, with the class pretending to be baby George gurgling in the background. So the students put on their best posh accents and talk about babies, and car seats and all kind of everything.

During this you the teacher write any vocabulary on the white board. So the students have fun learning to speak clear English. Then the class can discuss the role play, and any associated vocabulary. Now I’ve chosen the Royals as they are very topical at the moment.

Wayne Rooney would make a great role play, him and the Special One, the Chelsea manager with the Man U manager too. So the role play would be the 3 of them having a coffee in StarBucks to decide Wayne’s future. This would be a fun activity, with vocabulary being added to the white board, you could also suggest vocabulary as the role play continues. I imagine, numbers very  high numbers would be involved. £35,000,000 would be one of the numbers.

Role play for the girls in class could revolve around picking a Wedding dress, and/or organising a full celebration. Everything down to the cake and disco and whatever. Word appropriate language would be learnt.

Remember they are learning English as a 2^nd language. Hopefully once they have learnt English they’ll visit and come and spend some money in England. Certainly Chinese students will go to Bister Village and buy 4 LV bags each, I am told they are too expensive in Shanghai.

As a teacher sometimes you need to teach something that can only be done via role play. I wrote a role play for our students about time keeping. I got the 3 other teachers to perform it. I pretended it would just be me teaching that session to the 120 students. Then one by one the other teachers arrived and started to disrupt the lesson. I have to admit I started to laugh like a nervous girl.

After a couple of minutes the students realised what was going on. We proceeded with the role play. Say twenty minutes later I stopped, then we divided into our groups then you talk about the role play. A simple thing but it works. As for the 10 people the lesson was really aimed at, they missed it, they had arrived late.

I also wrote a role play about interviews and interview technique, so the students would have an idea of how you do it in England. So I was the interviewer, and the 3 other teachers were the good, the bad and the ugly candidates. Now for some who have never had an interview in their life this is a great role play. It informs and they learn some vocabulary by watching it and during the discussion afterwards.

You have the perfect candidate, in a suit and on time. You have the average candidate, and then you have the guy who should have stayed in bed. The last guy looked like he has been in bed with his clothes on. The teacher had his shirt hanging out and was wearing a baseball cap. I could explain all this in detail, but I’ll leave that for another time.

Once the teachers had their interviews I interviewed a few of the students, while the 120 looked on. Now this is play learning if you like. My own play Shoplife as well as being a very funny play, could also be turned on its head to teach Customer Service on a Laugh and Learn basis. With English Language students you can teach through laughter. I am  available  if any training company wants to use my skills.

There is a balance that has to be maintained between all fun and no work, and all work and no fun. I think I got it right in my teaching days. Hopefully my playwright days are beckoning, for the role as writer is my best stage.

Wear and Tear by Michael Casey

Wear and Tear ©

By

Michael Casey

Its 2^nd August we’ve had a heat wave here in Birmingham and the rest of UK. So folks have being going around in  their Summer gear, sandals and shorts for men and women alike. Acres of flesh exposed, and lots of it you’d wish WAS covered up.

The thing about Summer is that as people try to look their best, the wear and tear on their bodies is exposed. The grey hairs announced to the world with shirts unbuttoned, 3 or even 4 buttons undone to feel the breeze on a hot Summer’s day. Silly sunglasses are everywhere, fake Ray-Bans multiplying in the sun.

Mum’s embarrassing their children as they wear sarongs in Aldi, it may be ok for Beckham, but why does mum have to show us up. Varicose veins on display, it’s too hot for tights, mum’s legs look like a map of rivers.

Grandpa is outside sitting on a bench, he hasn’t got the energy to walk around Aldi. He sits enjoying an ice cream, really loving it, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his toes sticking out of hippy style sandals . He is wearing belt and braces, half his shirt in and half his shirt out. He belches and farts as he finishes his ice cream. He shuffles up on the bench and tells you to sit beside him. You love him so you do, but making sure you hold your breath. Then he takes out his false teeth to suck them clean, before taking out a used hanky to wipe the sweat on his bald patch.

Children pretending to be girls pretending to be women strut past. Badly applied make-up smudged as they smoke a cigarette as they talk loudly about what they did with their boyfriend last night.

Traffic wardens sweat as they prowl about looking for victims, everybody is united in their hatred of traffic wardens. Summer, Winter or Fall as the Americans say, nobody loves a traffic warden.

People glow in the sun, too much sun worshipping, and not enough sun cream. Kids moan, why can’t they have some more sweets, “do you think, I’m made of money” snaps and slaps mums as they push a buggy loaded with shopping. Children sulk and curse under their breath, “wait till I get you home” threaten mums.

So a normal Summer’s day here in Birmingham and probably anyplace anywhere. So much wear and tear of mind and spirit. A house can be repainted, a new gutter here, a garden weeded there. It’s relatively easy, if you have a few quid to buy paint and a few odds and ends. Then your kids draw everywhere with chalk on the patio or should I say yard, and then kids chalk the walls too.

What about wear and tear on the soul? How can you erase that? Well you can start by being quiet, barricade the house so the kids cannot get in your room. Put your Barry Manilow on, other music is available too. Then lie on your bed and dream, dream what it would be like NOT to have kids or grandpa sitting in the street sucking his false teeth. Dream that you don’t have varicose veins, dream that your husband is 4 stones lighter.

Yes dreaming does take the edge off wear and tear of the spirit. I would say pray too, but in England I bet most people only pray when the lottery is being drawn. But if you play Barry Manilow loud enough you can  imagine you are on the Copa Cabana.