THIS
IS MY ELEVATOR AD
For my One Million Words of laughter over 30 years of writing.
p.s.
I have readers in:- Canada, USA, UK, Ireland,
Australia,Russia,Poland,Czech,Germany, France,Portugal,Singapore,Nigeria and
China, Phillipines to name but a few places.
Hello, how about a Verbal Cartoon for
Radio and all other media
I grew up listening to the radio, we all
used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast
asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go
back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and
caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and
my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio.
That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and
improved my intellect.
I met my Shanghai wife in the old
people's home, she was cleaning my dad's room. I was positively vetted by a
Chinese Ballerina from the Birmingham
Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. Even Totoro our
cat is female and bilingual. I am the token male and English speaker in the
family.
Now here's a few samples, what I'd like
to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90
seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 19,208 views on Funny or Die
for a sample
1st chapter of Tears for a
Butcher which will be my 8th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book
of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 1000 shorts,
enough for over a year. I have recorded 207 of them so far, 11 hours plus of
audio. I have nearly
300,000 views on Google+ as well but I did not
believe it, so I left Google +, and I am not on Facebook either. Just on my
sites and on Amazon Kindle, one day people may buy some of my books.
I have started recording all my Shorts
and have put 50+ of them on www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com I have a new mike now too, so listen in
reverse order.
My
16 books are on Amazon Kindle
Here's the samples for radio or print.
LinkedIn Profile and CV
©
By
Michael Casey
We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn,
we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about
connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile,
my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are
these Profiles?
I am a born leader.
Means he was the firstborn boy in a
family of 11 girls.
I created the supply chain structure.
Means he decided to use a clipboard and
notepad instead of just his memory.
I optimised the sales among target
audiences.
He chatted up all the girls, he was kind
to seniors and went to church.
I was inventive and creative in gaining
new sales.
Means he designed a flyer and went
street to street delivering them.
I was never afraid of going the extra
mile for the business.
Means there was a street gang
chasing him after he was at the bank
I am great at communicating the business
message.
He just would not shut up, so the boss
got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.
I always try and improve myself.
Means he has no friends so he reads a
lot.
I created the new scheme to optimise the
business cash flow.
Means he took the store’s cash and put
the money on a horse.
I am now looking for new opportunities
to excel
Means he got fired, cops not called as
the owner married to his sister
I created a great new idea for
centralising purchasing delivery.
Means he was a guard for the money
delivery company, crash helmet and visor.
I created my own start-up company
Means he stole the money from the cash
delivery company and started his own company.
I am now on a learning sabbatical before
resuming my career
Means he is in jail, working in the
library.
So when you read those LinkedIn profiles
or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out
too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20
years old, and they are. Dig deeper.
Me, I google and check people out, as
far as you can on Google. Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for
yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have
plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes
and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you
laugh, as I Google everybody.
Sadly since I wrote my advert I need to
add unplanned quadruple heart bypass to my advert, but I have written 4 more
books these past few years, taking my
total to 12 on Amazon, and I have nearly reached 1,000,000 words written.
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
The Dead and The
Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine
years old, my father said not
to worry as the dead are the same as the
living, only the laughter
has left them, the sparkle has gone from
their eyes, the worry has
been lifted from their shoulders, and
their voice has vanished to
eternity.
In paradise the sparkle will return for
it is the twinkle of the
stars, the laughter will return too for
it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides
shaking with laughter.
I treat the deceased with the same
courtesy as I give to the living,
though I find the deceased are always
more polite. My father also
had a few words to say about the living.
He said that the living are only the
caretakers of the soul , yet
they think their existence is
everything, that they know everything
because they experience many things with
their senses.
What the living don't acknowledge is
that their time is short and
when I lay their bodies to rest then
their souls continue without
them, without their strong, without
their weak, without their
beautiful or even ugly temporary form,
to where I cannot say, only
that it is a better place.
Percy the undertaker placed the lid on
the coffin, the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
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 2nd 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.
How do Men Shop? ©
By Michael Casey
There is a difference between Men and
Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about
getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and
buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same
as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of
shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a
man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he
just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries
them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package
is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on
the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding
the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to
know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he
does.
If a man needs a shirt he checks the
neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he
buys 5 shirts exactly the same all in
plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he
wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet
his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens
Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s
have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.
This is basically the difference between
men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker
does, without any passion. A man gets
home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The
Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are
just a thing so they are all uniform.
As for women shopping s something
different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look
perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be
right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her
children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into
his ear and listens to the football
while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow
or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and
just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour
and its hews.
This brave man, or am I stupid, I just
give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a
smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided
years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my
watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the
wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to
make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to
watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room
asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you
sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you
miss seeing why your side was relegated.
Normal life in homes up and down the country.
The next day you watch the match again
in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone
back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her
shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again
so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.
All Things Bright and Beautiful ©
By
Michael Casey
I
haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain
and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls
have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their
bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance
about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s
a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent
her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the
beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.
Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three
girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye
brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3
stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton
Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown
Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I
win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one,
although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t
do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far
as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair
goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair.
As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.
I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it
“Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I
long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in
the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look
look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all
our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope
springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener
said “in the Spring there will be growth.”
Cheese and Chorizo ©
By Michael Casey
The
thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and
sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your
side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on
toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This
is how my girls treat me.
Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did
she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were the ones I really like, its always the ones
you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing.
JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a
biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I
am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me where the biscuits were, a new hiding place,
that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into
my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.
Shoes are a big thing, so our small
daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully
they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is
the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles
then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe
and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they
can cut them down to make a dress or
even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family,
DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife
just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and
yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.
Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall,
as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of
clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot
understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which
also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In
a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire
items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide
that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it disappears.
When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity
shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.
So if you want to keep the clothes on
your back, don’t have daughters. If you
want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side
of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies,
don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you
look before you sit.
From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked
Sink ©
By
Michael Casey
Well
I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues. In
the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his
dignity. He'd done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack
Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was
his real wife.
Delivery
drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in
their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days
growth of beard for good measure.
Bus
drivers know their route, so once they've done it a while its automatic, they
know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use
a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or
remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange
directions.
Door
to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door
had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember
one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years
ago.
So basically we all know what we want
and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six
block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and
then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only
Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea man, I
sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there
first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more
ago.
Which
brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot
heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a
car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat
Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is
that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay,
because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay
yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part.
Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the
computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still
working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down,
in English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s
compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly
generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%.
That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve,
she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take
the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my
shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the
sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat
Nav required.
My other idea is a book of shorts,
40 stories with 40 translations
on facing page plus 40 audio of me
reading my stories on usb stick.
Perfect to teach English as a 2nd
language, via humour.
I was an Esol English teacher and
gained
2 Excellents and an Exemplary on my
external Assessment
As I have written 890+ stories this
would be a series of 20 plus books
So we could have
Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc
This would be a world wide hit, angel
investors needed
Thanks
for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got
a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for
my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea,
with great words, mine if I can be boastful. I have already recorded 200 of my
890+ shorts, 11 hours plus of audio so
far recorded.
some can be heard at www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com
Cheerio, Michael Casey
to
hear 50+ stories
16
ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books
p.s.
I have readers in:- Canada,USA,UK,
Ireland,Australia,Russia,Poland,Czech,Germany, France,Portugal,Singapore,Nigeria
and China to name but a few places.
No comments:
Post a Comment