you can google it for yourselves
The pain monster really attacked me yesterday afternoon the 4th
It's after midnight now, I took paracetamol and went to bed for 4 hours
I cannot take other pain killers as they don't mix, or/and they would turn me
into a zombie a la USA, so I take the pain to save my brain
Hence I have dark nights of the soul etc
Though sadly most people don't even know they have a soul, discuss
I spotted I haven't finished The Priest and The Playboy though I did in my head, so I may put it on paper soon, the other story needs to be finished too
I have no teacher slapping my knuckles so my time is my own, though I forever say "i'll be dead soon" when the pain really hits home. Yes it's that bad at times, totally random Sine Curve of Pain, on my body and at a time and place of its choosing. If God gave me my Health back for 40 years then I could reach my childhood target of reaching 100. Though I'd want a young wife and more children, and I'd write bestsellers and donate to Pain Relief charities.
YES THIS PROBABLY WILL NEVER HAPPEN
I'll just wake up dead, just like in my latest Kdrama, Bring it On Ghost.
so here's my "obit" in advance like Nobel:-
Who is this Michael Casey Anyway? ©
By
Michael Casey
If you have seen Carry On Up the Khyber from 1968 maybe then you may understand me better. So find the film on Utube and then come back to me. My writing has lots of influences and variants all mixed in, as well as just plain old daftness. Google Ken Dodd and The Two Ronnies, and Around the Horne and Kenny Everett, Tom Sharpe books too, with Don Camillo as well. Add salt and shake well and have a few pints of Stella Artois too and then you’ll begin to understand. Though some people in my local stores just think it’s that fat fool again, and ever so glad he’s left the shop again. They don’t want to listen and don’t know which tangent I’m referring to.
So I was wondering how do my 60 Nationalities understand me, or tolerate me, and when they are reading The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker in 7 different languages on the same day, or my stuff in English, what are they thinking? Or do they wish I’d go back to where I came from and play a round of golf with Donald Trump instead, instead of polluting their minds in their countries with my rubbish.
Why I this Michael Casey always wearing women’s clothing, should we send him an email offering clothes at a discount from Aunty Sally’s shop in Saudi, or maybe give him a discount from Mighty Mary’s clothing store in Morocco? Why does he boast that he is a bigger bum than Trump, or is there a hidden meaning in what he is saying?
Why is he always looking for a Korean Kpop girl to come and type for him, is he so poor he cannot afford a speed typist or a legal secretary. 48 hours over 12 weeks to write Tears for a Butcher sequel? Or is he just addicted to Kdrama, is he some form of TV addict. Should his mother throw a bucket of ice cold water over him and tell him to Go Outside this Fine Day and play.
But instead what does he do? This Michael Casey just removes his clothes and streaks all around his neighbourhood, frightening the neighbours, or maybe they just laugh at his lack of accomplishments, and grown men are jealous or is it worried. How would I know I’m just a reader, and thank God this is Radio not TV, or I’d have to borrow that bucket that the ice cold water was thrown from by his mother. But I’d be puking into it, the sight of his tight fat fair bum would overwhelm me, I’d just puke.
Though I would have to lock up my daughters of marriageable age, Mad Dogs and Englishmen showing their bum in the Midday Sun, would turn their heads, and I’d never want Michael Casey as part of my family. Though I do know a Korean Kpop girl who might be interested, I’m joking now, it would be like Beauty and the Beast, which would be an even more improbable Kdrama in itself.
Improbable that sums up Michael Casey, think of a number, add the number of brothers and sisters you have, divide by 4 and add 3 and then you have the number you first thought of. And if Michael Casey could remember that puzzle from 50 years ago, then you really would be impressed. But you are not, because he always disappoints, a bit like a boyfriend who’s being talking in Metric and like any English girl you want feet and inches. And I’m talking about the size of his extension.
This Michael Casey, and you should all be speaking in a fake Indian accent like in Carry On Up the Khyber throughout as you read this, this Mr Michael Casey he leads you this way but takes you that way, rather like a very bad or drunk dancer. You expect this from him, but you get that from him, when really you wanted the udder, yes you are so very thirsty so you wanted a bit of the udder, goats milk is so very refreshing after all. He misdirects, like a badly trained Policeman, points this way but sends you up the garden path, where you meet Gill with a G from StatsMR, who is this Lady anyway? She is a friend of this Michael Casey, she lays paths and plants roses, she hangs out with workmen bringing them tea, English tea in cups, not mugs, because Gill is a Lady. And Roses do grow on You.
Now wherever you are in the world reading this I hope it gives you an idea of what to expect. I do also write A to B stories too, which do go via Z as well, but blame the taxi driver who cannot read, but in his head he does have 1000 routes. I have 2000+stories down on paper and more in my head, variety is the spice of life and I hope when you stumble over me and my stories you decide to come back. I also hope you approve that I support the little guy and the far from perfect people, because I do believe that the Person is not the Package their body is held in. The Laughter and Mind and level of Kindness is what matter, not how cruel people see them. We all belong where we are, and there is no going back.
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