The One Reader

The One Reader ©

By Michael Casey

First of all before I begin can I thank the Polish guy who stumbled over me, he should watch where he is going in future or I’ll slap the back of his legs with a wet lettuce. I hope that translates well, or my Polish readers will be annoying all their English friends for an explanation, the simple answer is Larry Grayson they can google him and watch his videos.

It’s 14.05 and let’s see how long this piece takes to write, and if you read yesterday’s note I’ve just had an exterior look at a house we can afford, but will it be nice inside, I’ll find out tomorrow. We’ll need space for all my daughter’s books as she starts the path to being a Dr. assuming the GCSEs go well.

So I’ve decided to speculate on who is my lone USA reader, whenever I post a new piece USA pop’s up immediately, just one reader, later there can be more it’s as if a piece of string is attached to my keyboard and when I hit post it pulls a bell on my reader’s USA desk.

So who could it possibly be? Could it be the Donald or Barron his son, he is supposed to like his computers. Donald keeps strange hours so it could be him, with the time difference and so on, he may have been reading up on Birmingham and Sessions, and stumbled into the First Birmingham, the one in England where I am.

Or Barron may have clicked on really stupid people in photos, all my snaps are stupid deliberately, I have cornered that market. I detest all these posted photos of writers and actors and politicians for that matter. Let the politicians clean the toilets for a day, or any other kind of work. One day a month in real work, not observing but doing the actual job.

Hey Donald mover your fat arse and clean those tables, I did work in a hotel for 3 years, doing everything, which made it real fun, but very hard work, CPNEC Birmingham. So that’s the idea, Donald you can have that one for free, though I have a friend who is a good golfer so you could give him a free golfing holiday. Before we move on, Donald the true mark of a man is his humanity, and being able to say SORRY. You lose more face by not saying SORRY, and I’m married to a Shanghai girl, so…

Who else could it possibly be reading me stuff straight off the Press with the ink still wet in cyber space? Rupert Murdoch, yes the man himself, the guy in the brown shoes, I have that at least in common with him, brown shoes used to be cheaper than black. That’s how he financed his Fox business, brown shoes. Go work it out for yourself, if you buy brown shoes and save 10 dollars a time then you multiply it up on a scale of millions, you soon have billions in your war chest.

It helps too if you wrote Blue Suede Shoes, Rupert Murdoch used to love Blue Suede Shoes, he switched to brown as they showed the dirt less. Anyways Rupert wrote the song for Elvis and every time it’s played he gets Royalties, he bought a Juke Box company too, so every time a dime goes in the slot to play his song he gets more money for his mergers and acquisitions. Shepherd Smith can verify this as Rupert told him when he has his 3 monthly appraisal, Shepherd’s appraisal not Rupert’s. Rupert doesn’t get appraised by anybody, except Gerry and she’s very happy.

Who else in USA is there, probably all scammers and junk email people, they are trying to analyse me and my writing in a vain hope of selling me stuff or hijacking my accounts. They should not bother, the only person I am in credit with is the undertaker, we have tin in the shape of a coffin on the mantelpiece and that’s for daddy’s vacation the family joke. We empty it out and pay the undertaker on a 3 monthly basis, so he’s ready with his shovel when I’m ready for my Heavenly vacation.

It could be that an English teacher at the local Jail reads my stuff and prints it out, then he comes in super cool everyday to amuse or is it bemuse his captive audience. Half of the inmates like it, the other half have fights so that they can be put in isolation and avoid the English teacher’s stories. Obviously he pretends he is a writing talent, and that its all his own work, when really he is a piece of work himself. On Death Row the inmates are tormented by the jailers who read my words aloud to them, really bad inmates are played tapes of my stories from www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 2 hours of torture in an English accent.

Or maybe it’s a sad and lonely spinster who reads my words on a daily basis, she missed her chance to marry George Clooney and Bruce Willis now she lives alone with her just regrets for company. As I look like these two A listers she sighs and reads my words and kisses my image on the computer screen or on her tablet. So if she keeps taking the tablets she’ll be better, my words are better than any pills to banish your ills.

But really who is it that reads my words first in the USA if it’s you, then an email to me with no links or tricks would be nice. Or better still just send money to the Police and they can deliver it to me. Or if it is you Rupert I’m one of your customers so you know where I live.

Can I ask what do you do with all the extra time you have now that you don’t Twitter any more, are your recording your Life to a Tape, as I suggested before I left Twitter? Or just wasting your time reading my rubbish, when you could be knitting scarfs with Gerry, stay happy whoever you are, I’ll never find out will I? 

One hour Exactly to write this.