its too hot for me
have to visit my GP
I'll be back
but read this while I'm away
book 21
the story so far after 4 years
TRUMP STILL LYING
get out and VOTE USA
and save the rest of Us from
Tyranny
especially from within with Criminal Trump
now read this
while I give a sample
Fresh Fields(c)
By
Michael Casey
Post Trump Words 3rd Nov 2020
By Michael Casey
This is everything after Trump
Fresh Fields (c)
By Michael Casey
The Morning Afterwards ©
By Michael Casey
Well it’s a few days after the USA Election, and I start a new container file for my words, as Word cannot handle 1,640,000 words or so, which means the dustbin of my words with now be two dustbins. I did tell Microsoft before when 1,000,000 words seemed to be too much. So here and now I’m telling them I’ve hit the roof again. Feel free to give me free Word for life on multiple devices. Though I won’t hold my breath, it’s more likely Jeff Bezo gives my daughters free books for life, or the Pope, Trump and Putin really were in a band with Theresa May. Though I did write a story about a band with all 4 in.
Reality can really be stranger than fiction, hang on a second, a Yul Bremner, Kojak look alike is at my door, who ordered pizza?
So I want to amuse you all, and cheer us all up, the USA Election has been so draining, through the swamp still remains, and I’m over here in Birmingham England. The view from afar seems no better. But thank God multiple vaccines are arriving, and Warp speed did NOT fund it. Let’s be honest about it. So the day my Angel Gabriel arrived from Greece was the same day the vaccine news arrived, yesterday 9th Nov 2020.
So everybody has a sore head, and a huge sigh of relief goes up the world over. So how many morning afterwards have you had? My Kdrama about shoes, I do I do revolved around a one night stand, as usual it was very funny, and did remind us a woman does not need a man to depend on. She can decide for herself. Though in Kdrama land there are many many twists and turns, which are very funny, as well as being touched with pathos. An older woman, with a whimp of a man, what should she do, and did love grow afterwards, instead of first. I really do recommend Kdramas, I watch in Korean with subtitles, but you could change the settings.
There are other morning afterwards, alcohol and celebrations can cause regrets, but sometimes you really do need to do things, My Way, and have no regrets. You can spend your life putting up with rubbish, a bad boss, or another kind of bully. You bite your lip or say nothing, so the bully gets bigger. I’m more assertive now than when I was younger, they say you mellow with age, for me “rage” is bigger now compared to when I was younger. Before I had a target, saving to get a house, then working hard for my young kids, working long shifts galore, 14 years of nights included, up to 12 hours on a night shift too.
But you do what you have to do for your target and for your family, as you watch others drink, smoke and more while you do the chores. Now I’m just the penniless Writer sitting here talking to you all, I’m at home, all I can do is write, as my pained life edges forward to what? More pain, and lots and lots of words. Though I do want to make you smile and laugh, so I’ll mine my memories and put pictures in your head. I do look more like Santa now if I don’t shave, like in yesterday’s photo with Gabriel my new Angel from Greece. So when I go to the shops dressed in red, passing children wonder is that Santa, mommy? Still wearing my shades, like a bad Santa. And the quick-thinking mothers tell their kids to behave or Santa won’t come.
Quick thinking cats, attack the turkey at Christmas, my own mum had to hide our turkey in the pantry, and cut out a piece where Jean our black cat had gotten to it, or else throw it all away. That same cat always knew when it was Sunday because she got the giblets from the chicken for 20 years, starting nearly 60 years ago. Jean also climbed our tiny box Christmas tree and it came tumbling down, otherwise she sat on the old box tv, as all the valves made it hot, cat not on a hot tin roof, but on a switched off tv, an early tv critic. And when she poohed indoors when used the same corner of the living room. Totoro my cat, is cleverer and poohs in the bath, she is self-taught, because she is bright, a bilingual cat.
I could go on about cats, instead I’ll direct you to The Bad Cat that Wasn’t which is a nice story, touched with sadness, but still a good read. As well as my Lech Boris and Gregorgi stories, my Slav friends really do make me laugh, and any Russian readers should hit Translate and try the stories with Polish/Ukrainian/Russian first cousins from Popaloffoff. One day a cartoon or even live action film could be made, so Putin make it so.
Also look at the Queens Gambit a series on tv, where the finale is so great, playing chess in the park with old Russian men, was truly wonderful. We are blessed nowadays with so much choice, so Covid times have been a curse, but the silver lining has been the tv. Yes, I know what you are all saying, but you have to be positive, otherwise our Spirits will stay in the dumps. We must all rise again, the morning after Covid, there is Sunshine again. From the flowers in the dirt we will look to the stars again.
The Nobel Art of Advertising ©
By Michael Casey
I had a strange email yesterday from a real proper company, they know who they are, and it was in Chinese. Then today I had a retraction from the same company, saying not to worry. I get loads of rubbish in many languages, it’s my own fault because I have loads of Translations of my books and stories on my Wordpress https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/ so I can annoy the world. Korea is looking at me bigtime at the moment, whether that’ll lead to anything only time will tell. So the world assumes I’m multilingual, ok the hackers and jokers send me rubbish in many languages. It does say English only on my site, if I can Google translate then so can they. I do write everything in English, my mother tongue after all. Anyway because of that stray email yesterday I am talking about this today. But before I forget, I just delete any email stating people are dying, or they work in a bank. I just click phishing and hopefully they lose their email account and/or the police come and take them and their $100,000,000 dollars away, along with their monopoly set.
Which brings me back to Advertising, but first I have to close the windows it’s cold, my daughter came back from 6th form college and burnt her dinner in the kitchen, and the stink has spread to here, the “study” I opened then window and the stink got stronger, my daughter said it was better than my B.O. or my aftershave, but I digress. So why do we Advertise? To promote and sell. Obviously I’m no good at selling, otherwise I’d be living in Harborne the posh zone in Birmingham. I’ll stay here till I die, which some days feels very close, but my back is healing now after 2 weeks, but I’m walking around like Groucho Marx at the moment, and I can only stand for a minute or so before the pain is too much. I hurt my back 10 years ago and it clicks out randomly, the appointment for the back hospital arrived the day I got out of the heart hospital after my heart bypass, so much for Ying and Yang. Maybe if I have more children, me and my imaginary Korean Kpop wife, we’ll call our daughters Ying Casey and Yang Casey.
Advertising is for selling and sharing. Churches have signs, give us our daily bread, as do bakers for jam donuts. By advertising you make money, and then you can live your life of luxury. Though as I’d said before I’d donate away money, if I earnt any, all you need is enough, then share the rest. But let’s get back to advertising. How you dress is a form of advertising, the selfie is the ultimate advert. Look at me I’m so great, are you jealous. As girls pout and stick out their bum, but my bum is bigger and tighter and firmer, no cellulite on mine. Though mine is hairier, perhaps I should advertise for Harry’s the perfect bum shave, though they do say their razor is not suitable for heads, what about bums? Should I send them and email and ask. Or is there a whole new career path ahead.
What else could I advertise? Toilet paper, I use enough, so I am an expert. Look at the sheets, sheets I said, count the sheets, as some offers are not as good as others. And if you want my expert bum opinion Kirkland paper is the best, sheet per sheet, it goes a long long way, and is better value than Andrex the leader here in UK. You’ll all be looking at Amazon right now. And don’t forget Baby Wipes don’t flush away, they just block and flood, as a friend had a flood because somebody used Baby Wipes, and then blocked and flooded. Yes there was a big stink about that.
Here in UK, humour is used more to sell stuff, it is claimed some of our adverts are better than imported TV programmes. Yes, I would love to write for adverts and I am available for a four figure sum. And here’s and example, so if you want me to write for you. Michael Casey is the FAT silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham, that’s BirmingUM as in England. What can we say about him, he’s so adorable, and you chose him he’ll keep you laughing, and you’ll have beautiful children with soft silvery hair. He’s such a catch, with scars everywhere like a pirate, a chest scar that is ever so long, with a delicious balloon like hernia poking through his bypass scar, which fills with air like a balloon, and if you make Michael Casey laugh he’ll cry, in pain, as it hurts when he laughs. Such fun to see. And when he takes off his trousers you’ll see his scars on his legs, where veins were harvested to go into his heart. See a fine figure of a man, scared to save his life, from ankles to his naughty bits. But his legs are so strong, topped off, topped off, not Topol, by a firm and large derriere. Beyonce was sent a silhouette and she was so envious, she hid hers with a Jersey, or was it JayZee. Then moving up his frame a very hairy left shoulder, an A3 size brown birthmark covered in hair. Are you getting palpitations ladies, or even men reading this. Could you control your lust, would you, could you, must you, you just had too. The 9 months later, small Michaels arrive. Or is this advertising so bad and terrible you’d just use it to wipe your bum with. Have I no hope, no future of being a father to more? What’s that knock at the door, is it a suitor, or just Amazon delivering more toilet paper.
K-dramas and Me ©
By Michael Casey
Well as promised, my bad back healing and a shaved face, I now have my bum in place, here on my chair, so if you are sitting comfortably then I’ll begin. What is a K-drama, it’s a Korean soap, a kind of 16 hour long mini-series. It’s not a hot and steamy thing on the Internet. It’s a family orientated soap, like Coronation Street here in UK. Though K-dramas are shot like James Bond, with lots of high-end stuff, and plenty of product placing, though as I’m poor I wouldn’t know what product had been placed. The standard of living is so much higher over in Korea too. Such as folding phones from Samsung, 2000 quid, I googled and nearly fell off the toilet. No I’m not Trump I never use a phone when I’m dumping or pumping. I am watching Go Ara in the piano series at the moment and those fancy phones are being used, so I googled. So you can see the high-end qualities of what’s in the series. Korea is a land of hills too, as there are always people walking up and down hills.
The fashion is great too, it’s like people from a James Bond, all in a mini- series. When I was in Shanghai once we did see a scene being filmed in the street, obviously they waited till I walked out of shot before they continued filming. And yes K-dramas are better than the Chinese series we use to watch, so these past 2 years, since we moved to the new house I have discovered and enjoyed my K-dramas.
Now the girls are really pretty in K-drama land, the boys look like male models too. They study for up to 5 years before the debut, that’s why the singing and acting is so good. The format is love, and loss and love again, waiting for the first kiss, it might take 8 episodes, before the couple kiss, there’s no coupling, just kissing. So the anticipation grows, until with a rush of music and a background song, the kissing starts. Its different to Bollywood, you’d have to ask your Indian friends to explain the difference for you.
The swell of music and the kiss, the heart breaks and the breakups and finally the return to true love. Kind of Soppy but not. It’s all so very funny, like the gang of ladies in the hairdressers in La La Land in the piano K-drama I’m watching right now. There are also car crashes and action too, watch K2, that was great as well, Yoona was in it, and yes she was my first K-drama love. Then there was the one about the Ghost catchers, the Pop star who came from the past to the future. The Robot girl, the man who was too sensitive, not forgetting the Shoe soap and many many more. The girls are so pretty and the boys so tough. The stories are so full of twists and turns, all with a loud soundtrack and motifs. The accent can be very strong and loud, almost like a comic book, but generally it’s normal but in Korean, so I watch with subtitles, you could change the settings for your own tastes. And when the girls cry, and there’s always tears, it breaks your heart, and even the male actors cry sometimes too. Those tears will wash any doubts away, it just has got to be K-drama.
So that’s why I dream of a speed typist from Korea, who’ll type up Tears for a Butcher for me, though I’d probably need back expert too. Then we marry and have 4 kids and form our very own Kpop band. Though all this is just in my head, and in Never Never Land, so Go Ara will never arrive, as we lost the piano when we moved house….
When Santa’s Angels Came to the Rescue ©
By Michael Casey
Santa was sad, even he had caught Covid 19, he thought he was safe at the North Pole, but no, he caught Covid 19. So how could he get on his slay and deliver presents, besides which, what about all those grandparents who were sheltering and may not see their grandkids this Christmas. It was all so sad, Santa just wanted to cry and ask for a cuddle from his mom. He sniffled and Rudolf pushed his fleece back to cover him more, Rudolf was worried too, nobody had a clue what to do. Rudolf sneaked out of the giant igloo and would have cried, he had to hide his tears from Santa, a reindeer must always be strong. Rudolf looked to the skies, overhead a shooting star passed by. But it was not a shooting star, it was the Space Station.
Rudolf was inspired, the Dragon Capsule had filled the space station with men, so they could take turns to help him. Rudolf flew skyward, his red nose flashing, SOS, SOS, SOS, which as you know means Save Our Santa, Save Our Santa, Save Our Santa. The spacemen thought they were seeing things, but the Monk was reading a Christmas Carol to them from the comfort of his study. And as they excitedly said Rudolf was flashing them, he took the photos of Santa from beneath his 1st Edition a Christmas Carol. In an instant, he knew what had to be done, the three cousins from Papaloffoff would have to go to the North Pole and help Save Santa.
Now how could a retired USA general get Russia to help. The Monk rang a number and then did not speak, he just tapped his thumb on the phone, in Morse Code he asked a friend for a favour. Could Vladimir get the three cousins to the North Pole. Now Vladimir was just a janitor, or so he claimed, but he had fingers in many pies. So when he heard morse, of course he’d help. No words had been spoken, nothing had been said, just tap tap tapping, on his special phone that his friend had given him years before. One day we’ll save the world with this phone the monk had whispered. The phone was stuck to the back of a icon of Mary, a gift from one super power to another, from brother to brother.
The Monk smiled, he had the exact same icon on the wall in his private office, you see icons have power, because they are painted with love and prayer. The Monk went back to bedtime stories for spacemen. Meanwhile, a helicopter descended on Popaloff, and with little discussion the three cousins were away. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were given Artic weather kit and told to dress quick. Alexi Goodenoff whispered, these orders are from on high, you have to Save Santa, he saved you now its your turn to save him. All dressed in white with googles on, a bottle of vodka each they transferred to a plane. You can drink the vodka now explained Alexi Goodenoff, for what they were about to do was insane, and only a madman a fool or a man from Popaloffoff would dare do it. James Bond himself would say I should cocoa if asked to do such a dangerous thing. The 3 cousins would jump from a plane straight onto the North Pole ice shelf, they would have skis on and only Rudolf’s flashing nose would be their beacon. Santa needed help, and only they would do.
Now back in Papaloff, the icons glowed, the love, the power the prayer was there with the boys. You can take a man out of Papaloffoff, but Papaloffoff is always in the man. So the power was pulsing through them, as was the 2 litres of vodka they had each downed in one. It can be very cold at the North Pole after all. With that Alexi Goodenoff pushed them out of the plane as it slowed and came in low. Rudolf flashed and with his mates they dragged the slay behind the. It was close, but Rudolf was a pro, they caught the three cousins as they fell from the sky. With a belch, and a bump and a fart, Lech, Boris, and Gregorgi were safe in the slay. Two litres of vodka each, was a great way of relaxing, so they instantly fell asleep. They awoke to find themselves in front of Santa, they hugged. Santa was wearing a space suit, to make sure he did not spead Covid 19 to them.
So you see boys I just don’t have the energy, what with all Covid 19 and all that. So Rudolf thought you could help, and because the Elves caught Covid 19 too, I don’t have any presents either. But Love is all you need, slurred the 3 cousins, who had not yet sobered up after the 2 litres of vodka each. We should just give everybody Angels this Christmas, that’s enough, Angels we have heard on high. As they said this a mother cried, and her tears spilled all over the floor like pearls, so it was decided by the King. This Christmas everybody the world over would be a special angel from Santa, or rather Lech, Boris and Gregorgi.
The cousins were told all they had to do was stick the Angels to the windows, no climbing down chimneys as they were all too big, besize Santa has magic powers that allowed him to get down chimneys, and sadly with Covid 19, it might be best not to enter the world’s houses. Again a mother cried, and on high stars shot by. This evil pest, Covid 19 was doing it’s very best to hurt everybody. But the boys from Papaloffoff were on a mission, and as they flew through the sky, icons in the East began to glow, in the North, in the South and in the West. In Churches and in book stores, and in private collections hidden in bank vaults, the Icons, the Holy Icons were coming alive. You see this was no tale like A Christmas Carol. Tonight Prayer and Hope and Love would descend from Heaven above, and Covid 19 could go to Hell.
Norad tracks Santa every Christmas, but this Christmas Santa seemed to be very erratic, popping up or is it Popaloffoffing up here there and everywhere, until finally Santa seemed to split into three. Norad did not understand, but the Monk and Vladimir the janitor knew, and as they each drunk their cocoa, with vodka in, they smiled and the icons in their rooms glowed. You see, a mother’s tears this Christmas time had all her prayers answered.
At each house an Angel was stuck to a window, Angels we have heard on high, singing gloria in excelsis deo. Andrew Graham Dixon the greatest British art expert was in the bathroom shaving when there was a knock at the window, he opened it so see Lech throw an Angel at him. Then a few minutes later Boris was there with another Angel, then a few minutes more Andrew Graham Dixon had a third knock, it was Gregorgi with a third Angel, Gregorgi did steal a stay can of Guinness that was sat on the window ledge. Andrew Graham Dixon looked like Santa with shaving foam all over his face. He laughed, it must have been the pudding.
So on, the boys from Papaloffoff flew, 3 parts drunk still, but still delivering Angels everwhere. Now you won’t believe what happened next. Yes, they fell asleep, and 3 became one, or rather all three of them were back in the slay. In the morning the world over people delighted in seeing angels at their windows. Perfect angels, icon like angels. Now the thing is, as Mary looked at her angel, she began to cry, if only grandpa was here. And grandpa looked at his angel, if only I could see my granddaughter Mary, she’d love this angel. And so she did, and so grandpa did. As they both said it simultaneously a hologram, or perhaps a Holygram appeared. Grandpa was really there with Mary, and Mary was really there with grandpa. You see the power of love, and pray, icon style. Mary really was with her grandpa in his house, and grandpa was with Mary in her house.
Now this happened the world over, just think of me and I’ll be there, reach out and say my name with a prayer and I’ll be there. So by the power of Angels everybody was together, even though they were apart. That’s what icons do. Now maybe I was wrong about the 2 litres of vodka each, perhaps it was not vodka after all. Maybe just maybe it was Holy Water, so the three cousins had breathed Holy Water everywhere, and it was a Blessing so Families could be together.
There is one footnote. When Andrew Graham Dixon checked his three Angels, because he was a friend of Popaloffoff that’s why he got three, he discovered they were in fact long lost treasure. Three Angels, a set that belonged back in Saint Petersburg, so after he cried with delight he returned them to Vladimir the janitor in Moscow. Who gave him permission to film anywhere and everywhere he liked, because if you know the janitor, any door can open.
Hello, hello ©
By
Michael Casey
This will be the last piece to go into 2020 Words, which will have me in a “mask” on the cover, we are in Year of The Covid after all. Trump hopefully will exit stage right, far right. And we will never see him again. He has corrupted everything he has touched, and now we have Georgia on my Mind.
I always have a title and then away I go, so I had a title for this and I knew the spots to join and where it would take me, and you. However I get loads of ideas, so this will be a 3rd idea, and we’ll see together where I go. I’ve been in pain from my back for a month now, but at least I can walk about the house. I have not been down the hill or out of the house for a month. Yes, I have to avoid Covid 19, what with my health record, but I just would not have been able to go anywhere such is/was the pain. Anyway I discovered an old “Flasher Mac” in my wardrobe, and I’m using it as a walking duvet, and it’s really warm, though I would not wear the “Flasher Mac” outside. I recycle everything, always have done for 50 years and more, so it makes me smile when folks lecture, have they new been poor? Do they have no imagination? Don’t throw-away, use again, or give away, or the mean sell you their S*&%, to paraphrase my dad, or to be exact, people are so mean they wouldn’t sell you their S*&%.
What’s that got to do with anything? Well I’m forming an idea as I write, make it up as I go along, but I do have an enormous reservoir, so I just tap it. My dad I remember used to say Hello Dear, how are you? Only a father of six can say that, without it being misconstrued, one uncle a farmer user to say, Hello Michael my darling young man as he slapped my knee in a bar, he was a father of five by the way. So a Hello, really does make a difference. I myself in my hotel days, Crowne Plaza Birmingham NEC, 2002 to 2005, I used to boom hello at everybody. I was like a puppy dog welcoming everybody. And I was told by the guests I was the best thing in the hotel, I’ll allow myself to reveal the truth, no flasher mac included, now that it’s so long ago. And yes it was the most Welcoming of Hotels.
Down the hill, I enjoy saying hello when I do go to the shops, and old Annie up the road from our house says she goes down for the company, she is 80 plus now. It is all these little social interactions which form the chattering cement of our society, and yes I coined that phrase in 1987 when I first wrote The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, just in case anybody wants to call me a thief of words. Chattering cement binds us, and in the old days in the butcher’s there as a chair to sit on for any weary customer, and that too is in my comic novel. Maybe it’s because of the style, the ordinary people that it’s read in translation, up to 10 different languages on the same day, and I have readers in 80 countries now. It is the universality of things that make them popular, though I may be dead before any recognition comes. So long as my daughters read all my files, then they have part of me with them forever.
People say hello, and fat farty Frank is missed because his echo was not there one day. I didn’t reach for the air freshener today, why’s that? Has anybody seen Frank, you mean fat farty Frank. No, I was wondering why I did not have to open a window. Now that was option 2 of a story I could have written, but instead you are getting option 3, as a test you can write a one page story for yourselves, then translate it into English for Queens, not that Marg, ever reads my stuff, Marg stands for butter, or is it Majesty. I’d tell anybody to kiss my a*&^ if they wanted to be called Majesty. You can make a stink about that, and yes fat farty Frank had fallen downstairs, but the shopkeepers came and found him. Just as in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker the shopkeepers save the day, and the life of a child, you can read the book for yourselves via my wordpress https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/
or even buy my original English on Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
So why is a hello so important? It means we recognise each other, we notice each other, we are not a company of strangers. StatMR where in 1978 I started in computers, market research into alcohol sales, yes really. It was renown as a company of friends, people did not want to go home, and such was nature of the work it involved long long hours. I could list all the names, but they know who they are, I’ll just say hello to Gill with a G, because I liked what she said about my writing, I lead people up the garden path.
So this Covid 19, 2020 year, has brought some of us to our knees, but on your knees can be a very interesting position. I could list what I mean, but some of you are ahead of me, so I’ll just leave it there as Gill slaps me. I was talking about tying up my shoelaces, it’s all in your mind, on y soit qui mal y pense. Now make way at the bar, StatsMR are here to do their after work, market research into alcohol. So you say hello to them as I say good bye to Covid 19.
Old Clothes for New ©
By Michael Casey
I haven’t written a story story in a while, so here goes. This will in fact be going into my 21st full book, 21 Door Keys, I’ve just named it, so come back in a year and I’ll have 200 pages or so for you, or 100,000 words, but only God knows. And how did I get the idea, I had nothing seconds ago, well my small daughter sat at her desk next to mine remarked on my old Flasher Mac, that I’m wearing to keep warm. And that was a spark which will become a story, so if you are sitting comfortably then I’m begin.
Gerry worked in the Charity shop, he sorted and hung all the clothes up on hangers, and tidied up after the rush. The rush mainly being Old Folks looking for a bargain, it was not like Primark with knickers discarded everywhere, or the back of the Old Hens Nest bar, where knickers also used to get discarded, but that’s another story. No Gerry was no Pacemaker, though he did have a pacemaker inside of him, so he avoided standing too close to the radio. All in all though he liked his job, 3 days a week in the warm of the shop, so he saved on heating where he lived in a Tower Block.
There were benefits working in the Charity shop, when old old stock was dirty he could buy it even cheaper. So all shades and fashions became his passion, he had a washing machine and knew how to use it, so he ended up, a very dedicated follower of Fashion. There was a 6th Form nearby, and a retirement village too, so a whole variety of clothes landed at the Charity shop, Gerry mixed and matched and became not an Englishman in New York, more like a dandy from Birmingham. George Melly, but without the belly, though he did know how to have his hat at an angle. He watched Jools Holland on tv, and learnt all the tricks, to stand with attitude and make clothes sing, it was a music show after all.
So all this meant turned up at the shop looking different every day, almost gay but happier. Gay means happy by the way if you are younger that 50 you may not even know that. Trevor was Gay, he was a gay Gay, always with a smile on his face, he also did a day at Charity shop, obviously he and Gerry hit it off. Trevor was studying Fashion at the Uni down the road, and he could ponder the world while he worked in the Charity shop, it also gave him ideas for his fashion. He could also buy up the old old stock and transform it into something new. So two and two makes four, and don’t shut that door, because they liked the air to flow through the Charity shop. Trevor needed a model, and Garry was roped in. I should also say people thought Gerry and Trevor were an odd couple, or father and son, and that’s how it begun.
Gerry could pose, he was a very good old poser, too much Later with Jools Holland ensured that. He even started to wear black eyeliner so he’d look better in the snaps and videos for Trevor’s Book of Clothes. And yes Trevor was a great designer too, and with Gerry he was a pacemaker, but the Fashion crew at Uni were a great big family so Gerry felt so happy there. He appeared in more and students Books of Clothes.
Things went swimmingly and he even met Miss Himmingly, who wore juicy red lipstick and fishnet tights and a beret, the beret rotated in different colours of the rainbow. But otherwise she was Oh La La French, with a pencil tight skirt and a red leather jacket. That was her look and she didn’t give a hoot what other people thought, she was Miss Oh La La, in fact that’s what everybody called her, through her dark sunglasses.
Gerry’s life had blossomed, he was as happy as Larry, maybe even as happy as Larry Grayson, now he never had a grey day, just a gay “son”, so it was Fashion week and he was asked to join the catwalk. This meant lots of quick changes, but Miss Himmingly said it would go swimmingly, she’d stand behind the curtains and tear off his clothes to help him get ready. Almost like a scene from White Chicks. So that’s what she did, he walked the walk, and she tore the clothes off his back. But in the excitement and confusion, he lost his own clothes. So Miss Himmingly said he could wear he French mac and she’d give his a drive home in her 2CV. So that’s what they did.
On the 13th floor, and it was a Friday, Gerry let Miss Oh La La in, and he gave her back her mac. Now if you spend an evening ripping the clothes off a man it can be very arousing. So Miss Oh La La suggested as she had ripped his clothes off repeatedly in the name of Fashion, then he should do the same. Gerry thought it as a bit of a joke, but he complied with her wishes, until she was naked before him. The she removed his long johns. The urge was out, she had known him as a model, now she’s know him as a man. Was it wrong, on Friday 13th to give away to gay abandon. Oh La La Miss Himmingly, she wore sunglasses to hide her heartbreak from a past love, now she’d throw them away and always be happy and gay. You see, Garry may have a pacemaker, but he knew all about rhythm, too much Jools Holland and Later no doubt.
Miss Himmingly asked, do you think I’m a tart? NO, said Gerry the Urge will out, and now it’s Time for both of us. Besides our kids can all have little berets and I could grow a pencil moustache. Oh La La, and the 13th became the 14th and the 15th. For three days they were at it, until Gill from StatsMR who lived next door, banged on the door and threw a bucket of ice cold water on them, steam rose.
And that’s how Gerry and his pacemaker, became a pacemaker and got a wife, yes she was 30 years younger, but Love is Love. The Charity shop closed down, but Miss Himmingly took over the lease and sold her Fashion students’ clothes in the store. They did design a nursing bra for her, in kinky red latex, they were Fashion students after all, and actually that design was a big hit. So that’s a true love story, and you never know when Love will comes acalling, you an shut that door now, it’s a bit chilly.
Finding a Wife for my Son ©
By Michael Casey
Now as you all know Esther is a friend of Mrs Murphy, a dear friend now, if you remember they met by accident. Mrs Murphy’s daughter in law’s dad was at Rotary thing and an astronaut came to give a speech and help raise money. He mentioned space blankets and Mr Kemp wondered where he could get one for his daughter’s Irish mother in law. The astronaut had laughed, but when he heard about Mrs Murphy praying so much and catching a chill his radar had come on. So on leaving he went back to Mr Kemp and shook his hand, he palmed him a name card and on the back he had written, tell Mrs Murphy to call this number. The number was Esther’s, she was a woman who lacked nothing, her son was a space zillionaire, making satellites and so forth. Esther collected friends, true real friends who she could share gossip with, who weren’t brown nosing to get close to son. So astronauts and everybody were unofficially friend hunters. If you have all the money in the world, friends, true friends were pearls of great price. So Mrs Murphy had rung the number thinking it was a discount store or something, Esther had played along, as she brought up a satellite feed and told Mrs Murphy she has a few slates missing, on the back of her back chimney. This later led to Esther and Tiny arriving for the miracle birth of triplets, which in turn led to Malta, but you can find those stories, as well as well as When the Sergeant Major kissed the General, which only happened because Esther has found not one but two coding geniuses, while she was on the way to Malta after the miraculous triplet birth. Simple really, maybe this writer is destined for Korea, as it all sounds like Kdrama, but I digress.
Esther’s son was a maths wiz, and Esther herself loved poker, and still does, but to find the seed money for her son’s first idea Esther had played poker and beaten everybody including the local Mafia bosses. Being beaten by a little Jewish lady was a shame, so they kept inviting her back, and she kept beating them, but Mafia never know when to call it a day. Esther has looked at the statue of the Madonna in the back room where they played cards, and said to herself, listen Mary as one Jew to another, you help me and I’ll help you.
Esther never lost a game to the Mafia, so she soon had enough seed money for her teenage son’s first idea. Her son became a millionaire, and after that he didn’t need anybody else, as money begats money. Esther was true to her promise, so Saint Jude’s got an anonymous benefactor, appeal after appeal was answered. As for the Mafia, they begged her to continue playing poker, so she did, it was a bit of fun after all. Until they all got busted, and went to Sing Sing, they thought their families would suffer, but Esther sent them each a postcard. A friend in need is a friend in deed, love Esther and Saint Jude. You can guess the rest.
So the years past, and her son went from millionaire to billionaire, always so busy, he never had time for a wife. Italian girls were nice, Esther knew many, thanks to her poker playing, and connections with Saint Jude’s. She knew lots of Jews too, down the Temple they all wanted to meet her son, but none seemed good enough. When there was a girl who could be daughter in law material Esther had them followed by satellite and on foot by ghosts. There would be no gold diggers trapping her son. There were several really nice girls, and she was about to introduce them to her son, but there always was a but. One was about to be mugged, but the ghost intervened and broke bones of all 4 of them. I should explain, special forces were the level of ghost Esther used. A bit like, James Bond, or Jason Bourne, or Rambo and Terminator, they were Esther’s boys. So on this occasion it was James Bond who intervened, and then the lady feel for him instantly, so he ended up marrying her. And yes History does repeat itself, so her ghosts got the girl, rather than her own son. But the Ghosts and their wives loved Esther the more.
Esther was at a Bar mitzvah for one of the Ghosts’ children and she had dragged her son along, the Temple had been double booked, but Fr. Michael had offered Saint Jude’s church hall, so there the Bar mitzvah was held. Her son was playing on his phone while Esther buzzed around like a bee, hearing all the news from her Ghosts’ families. As she buzzed around, Esther sighed, my family gets bigger, but not my own flesh and blood family. Esther sighed, she saw the statue of the Madonna in a corner. Maybe I’ve not done enough good works, Mary as one Jew to another, if only I could find a good wife for my son I could die happy, did you used to nag your son the same way?
Now God works in mysterious ways, at that very moment a serving girl, had fallen over Esther’s son’s stretched out legs. Crockery everywhere, her son’s phone smashed to the floor. Everybody looked up, Fr. Michael was going to intervene, but a hand held him back, Esther knew, she just knew, as any Jewish mother knows. Her son helped the serving girl up, he apologized. Sorry, what’s your name? Mary, of course it was Mary. Esther looked the statue and winked, little did she know, they’d meet again in Malta.
It was thunder, Esther had searched high and low for a suitable wife for her son, then one had fallen for him, or fallen over his feet. Mary was perfect in every way, no need for satellites or ghosts. Esther wrote a cheque for a million dollars and put it in the poor box under the statue of Mary. She’s post one for 5 million to the Temple too, her son was the 6 million dollar man after all, what with all his technology.
Now I could go on with the courting and so on, but what people do in private it’s up to them, though the ghosts and their families did go on multiple holidays, as Esther wanted to make sure they used protection. As for Esther she went to Vegas, she’s fleece them, as her charity knew no bounds, she just had to keep on making money to give it all away.
Music Power ©
By Michael Casey
I was going to talk about Ariana Grande but I thought she might not understand the British sense of humour. As you know Taylor Swift does a bit of high dusting for me, she is so very tall after all. Then last night Ariana’s concert was on tv so I thought, as Ariana is the bee’s knees, and likes jumping about, maybe she could help Taylor out. So swing low, dust high, the perfect combination. I mean Ariana has such very long hair, so as she practices her routines she could sweep my floor with her hair, and her nice hairdresser could get any chewing gum out later. My own daughter once got bangles or something stuck in her hair, so my lawyer sister-in-law had to use chop sticks to untangle her hair, this was after we landed at my brother’s house for Christmas dinner, if I look I may even have a photo of it somewhere. We are a Shanghai/Birmingham family after all, so we had plenty of chopsticks, and I don’t mean on our old piano either. Anyway that was the idea, but Arians might not approve, so I won’t bother.
Taylor was just down the chip shop getting salt shaken at her, and not for a tap dancing routine in front of the frier. The Friars do live next door in a church, they like chips too, that’s why they are so fat. No Taylor had her head turned, the boy, still spotty despite his years, the boy said I’d just do a bit of battering and dip your fish on both sides, before letting it bubble away, to get crispy and so very very tasty. Then when it’s ready I’ll whip it out and sprinkle salt ever so lightly all over it, then I’ll add a scoop or two of freshly minted chips, shaken not stirred. And just for you, a dollop of mayo too. You can see why Taylor swooned, he gave her a free bottle of Irn Bru too, oh so very Scottish, so Taylor skipped away happily up the hill to my door. All I could hear was the heavy breathing, I thought old Mrs Aktar from next door was having an asthma attack, or Juicy Lucy my neighbour on the other side was practicing mouth to mouth on Annie, no she’s not a Lesbian, Annie is the dummy they use to teach first aid. But no, it was Taylor not so Swifty bringing my dinner home, and I was very very hungry. She did have a sneaky saveloy on the side, and you think butter would not melt in her mouth. So that is the real reason she does my high dusting, just so she can be near the boy from the Chippy. Her head has been turned, and those marks on her back, from where she leant on the counter where the cooked roe are keep in the warmer. The things you do for LOVE, leaning on the chip frier, the boy and the deep fat frier. But it does mean I get cheaper lunches, as Taylor has a smile on face, vinegar down shirt, and a dash of mayo in her hair. Maybe she should ask Ariana can she borrow her hair dresser.
Now what has this got to do with anything? Well I’m going to talk more about Music, and Celine has had the Courage to sing for me, and I’ve thrown a fish, non-battered, at Seal so I’ll Carry On, and God is in for a treat, Dame Babs in Heaven, God help him, but God Helps those who Help themselves, and Self Help is right up God’s street, just past the Coronation pub. Taylor can explain that on her notice board, the boy from the chip show allows her to use his chalk, and put the price of his fish there on display.
Music has power, this Christmas we’ll think of mum stuffing the turkey for 13, the eight of us plus our 5 lodgers, and Celine’s song reminds us of our mum, it was playing the night she died, Because you Loved Me. And so she did, so emotions flow as we hear that song, especially at Christmas. My own favourite song is The Windmills of Your Mind, the Thomas Crown Affair theme song, and if you’d followed my writing that’s self-explanatory. Though Fr. Brain who decades later became Bishop Brain, used to call me Sancho Panza as I followed my very tall brother. And Don Quixote did tilt at windmills, so there is the circle.
Music revolves around our lives, Seal is singing If I Could, and if I could I’d be a Musician too, not the guy in the corner of the bar drinking and grooving from afar. Certain words and phrases have such power, Aux Armes Citoyens as the French sing, words are uplifting, and we’ve all seen Musicals galore where a theme is repeated and it beats your breast, and makes you tingle. This is the power of music, Politicians have music at rallies too, until they get a cease and desist notice from lawyers. Even Hitler had an association with music, but let’s leave him to burn in Hell.
Seal is still singing, Music takes you round and around, and it does I’m old enough to remember when records were just that, with groves in, you didn’t have CDs, I can actually remember when CDs appeared, it was on Tomorrow’s World, a science programme on the BBC. James Burke is still alive, he went on to do Space programs, but back then that’s how we heard about the Future via Tomorrow’s World. Now we stream everything, and down load to phones. We had a plastic white trannie and my eldest brother got a dedication on the radio, our dad heard it, this is 50 plus years ago. So Music moves us, it is a laxative that stops us from being sad, and makes us move and groove about the house. We have music everywhere, no need to carry the one tranny with us, we have smart speakers in nearly every room. So music follows us and lead us, it is are permanent plus one. We are so lucky, in the past it was a Long Way to Tipperary, soldiers sung as the went off to war. No Good Morning Vietnam for decades, no music on every channel.
Music does channel us, it channels our love our passions, especially the English Channel, or la Manche as the French call it. Which brings us back to fish and chips, the British haut cuisine as the French may mock, but weren’t French sauces invented to cover the taste of eating rats, in the 1870 siege of Paris in the Franco Prussian war? But I won’t duck these hard questions, which reminds me we are having Peking Duck tonight, Ratatouille one of Taylor’s friends provided the duck, from the bargain basement. As for Taylor she is scribbling away all over the tablecloth, before she has to go and visit the boy in the chip shop. He’ll just shake salt all over her, little wonder she’s glowing when she returns with a free kebab for me. It’s the only reason I keep her on, as my high duster. I’ve got the Music in Me, I let it take over, as I wipe kebab sauce from my chin. Do you think if I ask nicely, Ariana might assist with the cleaning, Taylor leaves a trail of salt everywhere. And Totoro our cat licks it up, leaving cat spit all over my floor. And Totoro will be on a hot tin roof again tonight, it’s all the salt in her system, it makes her want to dance the night away….
The Last Cheer for 2020 ©
By Michael Casey
Is he mad I can hear you all call
2020 was the worst year of all
Well for me too, as opposed to Me Too
It was a bad year, even without Covid 19
One sister died, though if ever you read
Shoplife, she is the Born Again shopworker, so she’ll live on
And my body has got weaker
In a few days time it’s 6 years since my unplanned
Quadruple Heart Bypass
The nurse, and just the nurse at my former GP Practice
She saved my life, as she insisted on sending me for tests
So when I went into hospital, I said have you checked my tests
70% 70% and 50% blocked, I’d gone in with major hip pains
My arthritis gone mad, and the family were in London
Meeting Shanghai relatives, so I was all home alone
The rest you all already know
So that’s why you’ve had six more years of my rubbish
Though Totoro our cat arrived too, as I had said they could
Have a dog if I died or a cat if ever I had a heart attack
Yes really, so be careful what you promise
But back to 2020 we’ve all had a rubbish year the world over
But what have we learnt or discovered?
Well folks still voted for Trump
Maybe because they wanted to stick with the Devil they knew
And avoid any ISMs
History will decide, and History is written by the winners
If we all just stayed home for 3 weeks, then Covid 19 would die
Instead we must all Mask, Wash Hands, and Stay Apart
I’ve been hiding up on our hill, and with my arthritis very distanced from all
So what is the Meaning of Life, and no not Monty Python
What is the thing you treasure
Is it free deliveries of all your stuff on the Internet
Is it Bubble Tea? Which is now Trendy.
Though being in a Shanghai/Birmingham household we were years ahead
Is it food galore?
My Muslim delivery drivers must think I’m Mulla
Wishing them As-Salaam-Alaikum as they deliver our stuff
In Birmingham delivery drivers and taxis are very Muslim
So they risk Covid as they drive and deliver
What else can I say about 2020
Yes the tv, was great, everybody binge watched and there were
Some really really great shows
I could list mine, but I also watch a ton of Korean shows, Kdrama
So I would say, have a look at Korean shows, you will not be disappointed
Also if you listen to Music constantly then invest in a Smart speaker or two
I could name the best, and you’d be surprized, but to each their ears alone
You can get Bluetooth headphones too, which can work off your phone
So technology is really good to keep us all sane in these maddening time
A cheap and cheerful android phone, can keep families alive
And yes Jeff Bezo has got busier, but one day he’ll deliver pizza to my house
That’ll put the fear of God into him, but Taylor Swift who dusts for me will
Be here, to take the pizza from him, so she may sing a ditty for him
What else, yes going to church became an Internet thing, so I’d review Mass
And send an email or two to priests, obvious Saint Judes is my favourite
Though I do travel all over the place for Mass
I don’t know do other Faiths do the same thing
But I’ll accept prayers from Anybody, as we all should
We all prayed for tv stars who were sick, I prayed for
Kate Garraway’s husband, because I saw a photo on the news
And they looked so much in love, I had never heard of them because
I do not watch daytime TV, it was a news item that invoked my prayers
So what else can I talk about, maybe Tinnitus does all the talking
My own has been terrible in the night, but I rediscovered the Rosary
So has the roar of the sea in my ears at night made my more prayerful
God, alone knows the answer to that
I think I always knew what real values were
I made provisions just in case Covid got me
The real things that matter really are so simple
The goodnight kiss from my small daughter before she goes to bed
That is priceless, so when Politicians roar and swear and lie to us
Just remember that soft gentle kiss
Even if she says dad you need a wash and shave
The simple love of a child, as she evolves into a woman
That is what I’ll remember most from 2020
And it is the only thing worth remembering
Soul 2021 ©
By Michael Casey
Well it’s 17.31 on 6th January, feast of the Epiphany, or when the Kings turned up late with nappy rash soother for baby Jesus. You can Google for yourselves the meanings of the Three gifts. I’ll see if I can put some ideas down in an hour, that’s how long it normally takes to write a new piece from a standing start, with just a blank space in my head. Though I hope all this reads like me sat on the sofa besides you just talking to you, that is my intention after all, talking to you. No Letter from America, more like a Postcard from Birmingham, the one in England. Harry and Megs, I’ve available to be the Roland Rat on your podcast, I am very cheap too, just ask Duncan and Sandy, or ask your dad Harry if you’re never heard of them, but I digress.
Now today is a great day, the Feast of the Epiphany, especially in Georgia, named after a mad king I believe. It made me so happy once I finally got out of bed. My church bells ring tone awoke me, and then the Tinnitus got me, some Belarusian competition, The Golden Phone, had woken me up to say I’d won 20,000 Euros. Obvious, a hoax and a scam, so I forwarded the call to Trump. Anyway Soul or Seoul if you are Korean, is the name of a fantastic Pixar film, 10/10 and I will watch it again. And Soul is the thing inside us, our heart, our love, our mind our ego, or our Id, though not ID. All you clever people can work it all out. And Biden did say he was fighting for the Soul of USA.
So a Soul is a big big thing, as big as Seoul, but within our head, or wherever it might be. Somebody once weighed a body to try and work out how many grams a Soul weighed. In The Good Detective the lead proves he has a soul, just watch it for yourselves. I’ve just stopped in mid-stream for to talk to my big daughter, so take 30 mins plus away, from my boast of writing a piece in a hour. We were talking about courses and the value v effort, and is it worth stressing for 95% + when you were getting 85% +. I said just do what makes you happy and quoted my own dad in his deep deep voice, “Michael, I have no Education, do what you like but do your best” and that’s all the advice I can give to anybody, not just my daughter. Do your best, and let the grades take care of themselves. My brothers went to Queens Oxford, and Downing Cambridge by the way. As you all know I’m just the dunce with 20 books to my name, which I share via my websites, so everybody can suffer everywhere.
As I got distracted by my big daughter the flow of the piece will change, but I will say this, it’s good for your Soul to talk to your kids, and good for theirs too. Giving them things is not as important as giving Time and Talking, love is a hug, not a Play Station. Perhaps Love is being sung as I talk to you, and that reminds all of us, that Love is the best thing for a soul. A smile can save a life, just as a hug, when hugs are allowed again, post Covid, makes all the difference. A shared joke, no matter how obscene does make all the difference, how do you think Security people and shift workers survive. It’s the humour or the brotherhood or sisterhood that keeps people going in the dark of the night, I did do 14 years of nights after all. I did loads of Noon till 8pm shifts too, it made me more employable. Perhaps it’s my sense of humour that keeps me going now that a gang of conditions have hobbled my body, my sense of the ridiculous that keeps me smiling. Though pain attacks can be really really bad, and it would be very very easy to give, but no, I just bore you all about them instead. Make you all suffer, Ha.
Our soul is shaped by our Prayer, whatever Faith or none you may have. It is a great safety net when things are bad we remember what our mothers taught us, and we do learn our faith on our mothers’ lap. Some say God is Abba, not the band, but Daddy, so we have a childlike connection to our God. This means it is very close, for as we grow older we are more self-important, and forget daddy carrying us on his shoulders or in his arms. We should try and stay childlike in our closeness to our God.
18.47 now
The Birmingham K-Drama Story ©
By Michael Casey
Now Park worked in her dad’s store, she was Korean of course, every Korean is called Park. As every Indian is Singh, and Pakistani is Khan, and every English person is Smith, and yes Greeks earn a lot because they work so long and hard. Ok, I’m being simplistic, but I am a Simple Man, or is it simpleton? Park worked hard, she did have a Christian name and she was a Catholic, so her name was Mary, what else, just as every Irishman is Patrick.
Park, had friends, they were all daughters of all the take-aways, they met at Birmingham wholesale market buying onions in bulk. The “sisters” were always bulked up against the cold. So a nod from Park to Singh and Khan and a look at Smith. Their dads wanted to marry them off and expand the business by marrying into bigger families. But the “sisters” said they could not marry till their “sisters” were married first, so this ploy kept them all safe and single.
Now Slim Simon was one of their best customers, he’d turn up as regular as clockwork, after he’d been to a bar to see some music. Jazz, Folk, or Blues. No he didn’t travel everywhere, The Waterworks was Jazz, renamed to Bell and Pump for Folk, and Blue Notes for the Blues. It was stuck by the reservoir in a dodgy part of town, but Slim Simon was safe, because he was built like a safe, though he kept his cash in his socks just in case of muggers. Not that anybody dared try, he has a Judo badge on his lapel, and it’s not just a decoration. Slim Simon was always on a mat, he ran a Judo school, Black belt 4th Dan, and he wore braces too, to keep his trousers from sliding down his belly, he was a cuddly Winnie the Pooh, but deadlier.
So Mary would hear all about the music as she served the last customer, why you no married, she asked. Slim Simon explained, his wife had ran away with the double glazing salesman, so he took up Judo to manage his anger, and try not to think of Derek the salesman who was all front. Mary sighed, she’s a bitch, so that brought them closer. Singh her friend was getting pressurised to get married, so Khan and Mary suggested she pretended that Slim Simon was her boyfriend. Mary persuaded Slim Simon with the offer of more spring rolls, so the deed was done.
Slim Simon went to Singh’s place and played the part, and Singh would stroke his big strong hands over the cash register. Her parents were disgusted at first, but he seemed like a nice boy, so if she was happy they were happy. Now Slim Simon said to his best student, Pal, that he was saving a Indian girl, so Pal said could he come and take a look. So after a Jazz night Pal was taken in toe to Singh’s place. Now Indian girls have the best eyes ever, just look and you will see. So when Pal saw Singh he sighed. And then when she smiled at he could not be denied. You see Pal was an Optician with 14 shops in the family. Later Singh confided, Pal is the one for me.
But her parents were convinced Slim Simon would be the one for the family. So a plan was hatched. Mary and Khan would hide their identities and arrive at Singh’s and slap Slim Simon’s face hard. He’d be a cad, and a lowlife, not good enough for an Indian wife. Then Pal would arrive and save the day. Pal was a mere Black belt, no Dans yet. So he’s stage fight Slim Simon, and save the day. Then he’d reveal he was an Optician, and it would be love at first sight.
So Slim Simon was swooning over the cash register at Singh, then first Mary Park arrived and slapped his right cheek, and just like in the Bible, he turned the other cheek only for Khan to arrive and slap that one even harder. Then on Q Pal would arrive to dispense with the bounder, never trust a white guy, yes stereotypical. So Pal and Slim Simon threw each other about, before Slim Simon was left in a rubbish bin, appropriate enough.
Singh’s family applauded, Pal was in, and Slim was out. And when they heard he had 14 Optician shops, they soon persuaded their daughter to see sense. As for Slim Simon, he crawled out of the way, and made a mental note to get Pal to take a grading, first Dan coming soon. And if I race to the conclusion, Singh and Pal’s first child just had to be called Dan. But for the moment Mary sneaked Slim Simon away in her car, Khan waved them good night as she jogged home chuckling.
Now Mary could see that Slim Simon was a great man, well he was literally, and yes he was divorced, but he didn’t marry in a church, so maybe an annulment and she’d have him as her man. Mary Parked her car and stroked his face, then kissed it better in slow motion for half an hour, it is a Kdrama in Birmingham after all. Slim Simon couldn’t visit Singh’s any more, he’d been thrown out the door, so he went to Park’s twice as much. He taught her a few throws and more, but he always caught her, before she hit the floor, again in slow motion, it is Kdrama in Birmingham like I said before.
Singh soon got engaged and the wedding would be quite a spectacle, so Mary took Slim Simon around to the shop to explain. So it was all a trick, yes they confessed. But now not one bride, but two, two for the price of one, like any take-away special, or the Abba song. But what of Khan? Well she fell for the Uber delivery driver, take me away take away. I did mention Smith at the market, what about him, he was Gay, but he loved dressing up for Weddings, so he was delighted to be invited, not once, or twice but thrice. Like three coins in a fountain, and if ever you’ve been to the Trevi Fountain, if you throw a coin you can make a wish. Smith did, and now at the 3rd time of asking, at the third wedding, he met the man for him, a contractor, a drainage contractor. So the pair of them were forever gushing and laughing like drains, you see True Love Conquers All.
But what of Mary Park? Yes, she married Slim Simon and had 4 kids and formed a Kpop band, Faith, Hope and Charity were their names, the 4th was an extra surprize, a boy they called Julian. Just as this writer’s mother always said name a boy after her, Julia becomes Julian if ever Mary had a boy child. Just like the song, by Boney M, Mary’s Boy Child, Julian.
Cup of tea Diner ©
By Michael Casey
Now as you may remember Grannie Smith saved a Seal, no she wasn’t a conservationist like Sir David Attenborough, the military kind of seal. So when she announced she was taking a trip to see Oklahoma in Oklahoma, Howard Keel was such a great singer in the film, a couple of real Seals said they’d tag along to make sure she’d be safe. She was very old by now. Grannie Smith was proud so they went along with her, but not by her side, just a knife throw away, she was still an independent lady.
Grannie Smith still enjoyed English tea, so she was pleased when she saw it advertised as a novelty in the Diner. So she climbed the steps gingerly and sat ready for her tea. Now obviously MayLi in the dinner got a kick out of serving English tea to an English lady, and yes as Grannie Smith grew even older she looked more and more like the Queen of England. MayLi looked on as Grannie Smith tasted her brew, but it wasn’t quiet right. Don’t worry we can fix it said Grannie Smith, so she went behind the counter and warmed the pot, and do what she did herself instinctively.
MayLi recorded everything on her iPhone, she didn’t want to miss a trick. And then the two of them sat down and had tea. Two Seal shadows stepped forward and shared the pot, pot of tea that is, nothing naughty. And it was perfect. Now MayLi put this on her social media, TicToc, Weibo and even Facebook. The next day there was a crowd 100 strong. You see in Oklahoma, it always is a beautiful morning, and to have the Queen of England too, it really was their cup of tea.
Grannie Smith went to the theatre to see Oklahoma in Oklahoma, and when she arrived the crowd hushed, the Queen of England was there to see the show. Afterwards she went to the diner, MayLi was speaking excitedly, one of the Seals had so much sex appeal, and she was still single and so was he. She had read it all in the tea leaves, something big was gonna happen. And the Seal was big, very big. Only she had read the leaves wrong. A developer had sent her a notice, he was going to build a sky scraper and the diner was in the way, that was the big thing, not the Seal.
So MayLi cried into her leaves, Grannie Smith said don’t worry, it’s an ill wind that blows no good, and then one of the Seals farted. So they all laughed. They opened the door to let the breeze in, and who show breeze in through the door. Only 2 Englishmen not in New York, but in Oklahoma, they had seen the sign and wanted a cuppa. They sat and had tea, why the glum faces. MayLi showed the notice, it had a picture on it of the new building planned. The two Englishmen laughed and threw back their heads, at this point the Seals moved forward fast, they knew who they were. Were they English assassins after Grannie Smith. No they knew them, you see the Englishmen were Bona Architects from Pinner, Julian and Sandy. And in fact they had saved those two Seal’s lives.
They hadn’t recognised them for a moment but blow me timbers, Julian and Sandy were also mountain climbers, they had met up the Eiger, they had all saved each other as they were climbing up the mountain. Anything Clint Eastwood can do, we can do better. So in a moment old friends were so happy, only MayLi was not. Grannie Smith looked on, Julian and Sandy looked at the picture. You know we could knock up a building quick, and it would look so much better, and you know Jules, if we did it our way the diner could stay.
So borrowing MayLi’s lipstick, Julian and Sandy drew a picture of what they could build and better, and the diner would stay. Again MayLi filmed it, Grannie Smith spoke directly to the iPhone, it was like the real Queen’s Christmas broadcast. And here is Julian and Sandy’s counter proposal, literally drawn in lipstick, in war paint on the counter. And when Julian and Sandy spoke in such posh posh English how could the developer refuse. And yes it was a question not of Three coins in a Fountain, but Three Queens in a diner, with Seals applauding. Bona Architects from Pinner were Gay, and they could climb any mountain, you go ask the Seals if you don’t believe.
This design was again put online, it was a hit, a very big hit, Julian said to Sandy, it’s huge, very huge, you just look at the ratings. And what exactly was the design. It was a feather, like a Red Indian’s feather, with the diner at the base, in fact there would be 4 diners, so MayLi would have to expand, but she had her eyes on a Seal, so expand away she would. As for the construction workers, well they are Red Indians anyway, so they’d all flock, flock a lot, to come and build a feather.
Now it takes a while for drafts, ask any soldier, to be ready so Julian and Sandy drafted away. And protective glass was placed around the diner, as for Jules and Sandy they had new jumpers knitted. The jumpers they wore when they went climbing, but also the design of the building was woven on the front, on the back 1 for Julian and 2 for Sandy. This is my building, was on display, and 1 and 2 because it takes two to tango.
Once the steelwork was to begin, Julian and Sandy joined the Indians, they were mountain climbers after all, the Red Indians had misgivings. But when Julian and Sandy were way up high they danced and pranced like ballet dancers, with1 and 2 on their backs. The Red Indians were impressed, they may be English but the way they worked the iron, was so impressive. They did iron all their own clothes too, but that’s another matter. All this Joy, all this Sorrow, John Denver sung at 300 feet, the Red Indians did like a bit of music while they worked. But as the words All this Sorrow rung out, a Red Indian fell, and he would not have seen tomorrow. But Julian dived and grabbed him by the ankle, and Sandy dived too getting the other ankle. Their reactions were like lightning, just as they were on the Eiger, nobody dies, nobody dies. Besides as Julian said to Sandy afterwards when the excitement was over. I have special surprize for our Red Indians. You see he had Indian curry from a curry house owned by a stray Birmingham England man bused in from 40 miles away. Vindaloo will do, and pork scratchings, and a barrel of Banks bitter.
The Red Indians loved the Vindaloo, and MayLi gave them tea too. As for the curry house 40 miles away, he was swamped with Red Indians, Red Indians eating Indian too. When the building was finished Granny Smith opened it, along with the 3 new replica diners, all the way from China. Julia looked at Sandy and Sandy looked at Julian, they were wearing matching jumpers with the design on. Let’s lose our virginity, the Oklahoma crowd was confused. Then the pair of Bona Architects from Pinner sprinted towards the building, they were going to free climb it, why because it was there as any mountain climber will tell you.
Normally when they get to the top, well they, well they, but this was Oklahoma not Pinner, so waiting Seals strapped parachutes to them. Then they jumped and Julian and Sandy landed on the diner, they needed a cuppa after all their efforts, they are English after all.
Teaching You All That I Know ©
By
Michael Casey
Well first of all, I don’t know how to use Word, my copy seems to have gone funny, but I don’t exactly know how to fix it. So while you mock me I’ll teach you all that I know. It’ll take an hour maybe to write this, and 5 mins for you to read it. Though as I always say, I talk I don’t write, that’s why there is spit on the paper or rather the screen. So gather your friends around and then you can skip all those classes and get to my level, of stupidity. Yes I know what my level is, and Education does not stop when you leave school, even if it is Medical school, and yes I can hear the card at the back of the class say I’m a specimen.
Yes, I’m a self-taught writer, I’ll even go as far as to say it cannot be taught, not unless you are an American and you want to waste 4 years, and then are exactly the same as the other 200 Liberal Arts students, who just cannot write. See I’ve butchered you all before I even start. If you’ve Googled me, I did spend 20 years Listening to BBC Radio 4, the best speech radio station in the world. And this was before I picked up a pen, I did read by the yard too, and watch films galore. Being in a large family with lodgers making it larger too, helped the process. Environment does motive and makes you remember, not unless you are a dullard, if I quote Kim who runs the Korean takeaway, it’s his cousin Ku, who guards President Biden now by the way. Then it still took me a year to learn how to do it. I knew I was good enough when my 1988 play Shoplife was accepted for the stage, and yes it wasn’t finally produced. Would you invest £2,000,000 in today’s money in a new piece, or a Standard? So I’ve been writing for over 33 years now.
Which brings me to the first thing to “teach” you. The Five Ps as presenters call them. Practice Prevents Piss Poor Performance. As simple and as easy as that. I was sent on a Presenting course just before Easter 1998. It took 2 days and my company paid, to help prepare me for the future, being made redundant. Here’s all I learnt. Just empty your pockets on a table. Then speak for 1 minute on whatever you pick up first. Simple easy. Now if you have a few friends around to mock you, and try it for themselves that is called a learning situation. Take turns, pick a different object and gieve it a try. You then expand to 2 minutes talk on whatever object has been removed from your pocket or anybody else’s pocket. Repeat with a lunch break and beer.Then 5 mins talk, you’ll give 15 minutes sniggering time to prepare.
The next day I had to talk for 15mins, which was optimum time if you remember what JFK was supposed to have said. Anything should be explainable in 15 mins. Ok, so you all get it? Me, when it was my 15 minutes of fame, I had everybody laughing, I did want to learn for comic reasons after all. I told everybody about my Paris misadventure, which involved food poisoning, and avec vous des asparin de bas prix, and I ended up with asparin tampone, which means in a tube, but my French was not up to it, so I was expection string.
So I had mastered Speaking, Presenting, Teaching. To prove it I then went on holiday to Pilsner Czech the home of lager. There I presented for 90 mins off the cuff, to 20 English students. So the training worked. When I got back to StatsMR I wrote it all up as my Czech Story, and the whole company realised Michael can Write. So there you go, as Jon the Hippy would say. By the way StatsMR did Market Research into alcohol sales, and I was born in the shadow of a brewery.
Later in my life I spent 3 years at Crown Plaza Nec a 4 star deluxe business hotel, I nuts have had 100,000 min conversations. So I polished my speaking skills and making people laugh, or stand up skills. Later still in my life I was an Esol English Teacher in an Islamic School. Did I mention Excellent, Excellent and Exemplary on my external assessment. So there you go. But the thing is if I can do it then so can you.
Now I’m going to teach you Logic next. Ok, if you are in a big family what is it like? Overwhelming? We let my small sister push Jean the cat out the way and eat kittycat. We opened the corner cupboard where the jumpers lived and put every single on her. She could put her arms down as she had too many jumpers on, she was 6 of 6 after all. She was bright red with10 jumpers on when mum came home from shopping and told us off. You’ll kill the child she screamed in her Kerry accent, though we could only hear it on the phone, that’s 20 years later when we actually had a phone. Though this misadventure did not stop us from folding the sister up and putting on a shelf in a wardrobe and clicking close the door, and struggling to open the door up again. I did something similar to Neil at work maybe 30 years later, the temptation was just too much, if I hide here then jump out. So I locked him in.
I’ve digressed but I’ve just taught you that if you REMEMBER then you have material for stories later on, maybe nearly 60 years later on. It just depends do you have a memory, or have you tried to blot out everything. I seem to have total recall for stories, anything that does not interest me justy won’t go in. Otherwise with my 42 years exposure to computers I should have been more than I was. So shall I finally give you that nougat or is it nugget, whichever is more palatable, this is all you need to know, save that £40,000 in University fees, and start a business instead.
Here it is, the 5 Ws Who What Where When Why. If you apply that to every situation, then you’ll be a Detective, or you’ve grown up in a big family, with your eyes wide open. If you take me, Michael Casey as an example, ok a very battered ,cheap and tacky, left over from the pound store example. Then you can ask Who is Michael Casey, What is Michael Casey, Where is Michael Casey, When is Michael Casey, and Why is Michael Casey. You have just Spocked me, and everything is revealed, a bit like opening a box of chocolates, or undressing me, either to whip me, or to cover me in ice cream and lick it off, prior to breeding with me.
Ok, did you just puke, just put your head between your legs and breath deeply, was that a shock? Have you screamed and locked yourself in the bathroom. Or are you laughing, and do you want to know me, but not biblically? I hope you are laughing, Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham, is how you Google me, or Blacklist me. If you use the tools the 5Ps and the 5Ws, that will make your life a box of chocolates. Or maybe you want to undress me, please don’t whip me, not unless it’s whipped cream ice cream.
End of January 2021 Story ©
By Michael Casey
Well we’ve reached the end of January 2021, tomorrow is 31st, I’m fighting Tinnitus a lot recently. As I do it gives me ideas for a story, everything gives me an idea, they are endless. In the dark of the Tinnitus night, with the sea roaring in my ears I have loads of ideas. If Tinnitus were a servant I’d strangle him and push him in the canal, though if Tinnitus was Tinnita, a female, I might indulge in The Servant behaviour, which was a film with Dirk Bogarde, which I saw a long time ago. Or am I thinking of the Night Porter. Go Google. Or at least read his books, he was a great writer, no mistake about that.
So there you have one idea I could follow, instead I’m like a teacher pointing you in a direction, you have to do the spade work yourselves. Meanwhile my daughter has finished studying for the day so is watching Brave on tv, the Disney cartoon, I’ll go join her presently. I am very eclectic in all things. This might help you too should you ever want to write, or carry bags in a hotel, yes I’ve done both. Being nosey, and being interested in everything, might help too should you want to be a detective, or have children. Daddy you are my Google comes to mind, and yes my daughters used to say that to me when they were smaller. Now my job is to stay alive long enough to see then both graduate, and maybe even marry, and me become a granddad, as opposed to looking like a granddad, there is a difference. Besides I’m sure they’ll want money for something as long as I’m alive. And no, I don’t care what they do, so long as they are happy, and nobody tries to hurt them.
So where was I, in the kitchen looking for chewing gum, but all of it has gone, so I made do with a Royal Gala apple, they are great so buy some. I was offered the girls’ slops earlier, they had made carbonara if I got it right, slops are fine, so long as they are offered while still hot. This is your life as a dad, eating slops, so the bin doesn’t eat all my money. Though our binmen are on strike, so we have to make sure we squeeze everything into one bin, so it is better to have no slops, and leave space in the dustbin.
I did have an idea for a piece in the mode of CV and Linkedin Profile, a piece I wrote years ago, and it is 11 years on Wordpress now, a message told me so. The new piece might be called Two Faced, like in shops or hairdressers, or just regular Politicians. So you have, Hello Nice to See You, on the first line. Followed by I really hate the SOB, but she’s paying me. Then you go through a list, of Positive statements, followed by the Real Truth. Now I only need this idea, this title in my head then away I go. One hour to write, then 5 minutes for you all to read. Yes, that’s how it works.
I look out the window and get another idea, just by observing passers-by, just like in The Bicycle Removal Service, you can dig out that story on my Blogger. It’s quieter here at the new house, so not as many free ideas. I just need a title and the rest flows or follows, I’m just deciding which jug to pour from. You can try writing like that for yourself. You have to have ideas to start with, then you stitch them together. It did take my a year to learn to sew, and as I’ve said before 20 years of Quality Speech Radio, BBC Radio4 before that.
Now as I’m sat here I look like a scare crow, wearing an old Flasher Mac as a Smoking Jacket and a red scarf, since I cut my own hair off I feel the cold, so I’m layered up so I stay warm. Now the second I say that, I think I could write a piece about favourite tatty clothing, mind you nearly all of mine is like that. I’m not going anywhere, even without Covid 19. If the charity shop were open then the kids would throw everything away, what do you all think, you’ve seen the photos attached to my writing.
So these are some musings for the end of January, please God as all of us say, Let Covid 19 go away. With that I have to go watch Brave the Disney cartoon, you could all write about your favourite cartoons, that’s your homework. And if you hear any noise in the night, it’s me playing music, to drown Tinnitus with.
My Standard Reply ©
By Michael Casey
Hello Anon, DOUBLE EXCLAMATION MARKS, so this indicates you are
young and American and SALES.
I am right so far?
YES
BUT
NO MONEY
If you have done Research and are not just a random salesgirl, in both senses of the words, then you'll know
I have a ton of stuff. 33 years Writing, with 20 years of EARS, before that. No, I'm not 100, though on pain days
I look like Death Warmed Up. Yes, I've really had a Quadruple Heart Bypass now just over 6 years ago.
With the bonus of a "breast" now poking through my bypass scar, it's a hernia, 1% of bypass patients get them
So, I'm truly blessed, with Arthur my Arthritis for company. Not to mention Kidneys that should be cooked with
beans and lentils, whatever lentils are. Topped off with a side order of 3 years of Tinnitus.
Tinnitus is not a Roman slave by the way. So, I have a sea shore in my head 24/7 and it gets louder at night
This means I have Taylor Swift, Mylie Cyrus, Will Young and even a whole host of Soft Rock in my bed
every night, I'm SOOOO promiscuous . Their singing distracts me from Tinnitus, who is a noisy bugger, not literally.
Bet you wish you didn't bother sending me a circular, though emails are linear.
BUT YES
If you find me an Angel Investor
This is what could be done
Use my words to help teach English as a 2nd language, so 1/2 or USA for starters.
Because my Stories are Funny, and if you have done your research, 80 Countries read my rubbish
And on some days my book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
is read in TEN languages on the same day
So, my Words work everywhere, unlike Wordsworth, who is dead
Enough Said
It would be a Partnership, and I'd take my share
I have NO money, I do have two teenage daughters, so obviously I have no money
And one statistic, the average survival rate after Quadruple Heart Bypass, is 11 years
So, if I'm average, maybe 5 more years
Though as you read this, I hope you think he's far from average, a real SOB, but far from average
So, there you go, as Jon the Hippy used to say, if you reply I'll tell you who he is.
SO, in conclusion, and So is one of my favourite words, as well as a Peter Gabriel album
If you can find an Angel Investor, and not just a jester, though the Jester was a gay bar in Birmingham
Straight or Gay or Any which way, I'm happy with anybody, so long as they buy me a pint of Stella Artois
Then if your Angel Investor, or even your rich dad, am I right again, anyway
If they want to invest in Me, then please do reply.
Otherwise, you can print and laminate this and put it in the gents' toilet by the urinals
I know you're a lady, so get the janitor to do it.
Then google me again, for you can find 208 stories read by me.
As well as 2000 plus online, or 20 books in the car park of Amazon books
Just look for the really stupid photos, and if you are angry by now, then, that's what you are saying
Perhaps I should put this email online?
Why waste material
That's why Bernie had such silly mittens
Kittens rhythms next, so maybe I'll add a photo of my cat Totoro
I told my daughters they could have a dog if I died of a cat if I had a heart attack
A few weeks later I had an UNPLANNED Quadruple Heart Bypass
Ok, that's enough, you may be thinking what drugs am I on.
Just heart meds and pain killers, but not opioids because of my weak kidneys
The rest is PURE IMAGINATION
Well maybe not so pure, but Imagination
I'm attaching 2 books as a punishment
Bet you wish you did your homework
And your nights cold in Canada?
Maybe John Denver is your boyfriend...
Confused or Smiling
Michael Casey
p.s I just got out of bed, Totoro drinks Comfort instead of Milk, hence so white and fluffy
God's Rich Tapestry (c)
By Michael Casey
Well, I forced myself out of bed, I need more sleep but I thought I'd
try and get up. So here I am post toast and coffee, my normal
breakfast and I had an idea so this is what you are getting.
What use am I to you or anybody? Then I checked my readers list
today, over 10 countries reading my rubbish. So, do you all like to
use my rubbish as toilet paper? Print off a story then pick a stall and
away you go, and I thought only Donald Trump toilet paper was
popular. Though he'd probably added my email address to all kinds of
rubbish, Welsh in Welsh was a strange one I had yesterday. I can
remember Keith Jackson having an email from himself, 30 years ago
was it? That was before technology got really clever. So, what I get
now is even more annoying, and gets deleted unread. Hello to KJ by
the way, he must be 10 years older than me.
So where does this take us? Well, we all have our place in the
pecking order, obviously I was locked up in the computer room for
21 years at Stats, escaping and then marrying finally. Every person
has their place their worth, even if you didn't realise it till afterwards.
Why is it so quiet, where is that annoying person, Michael, I'll say it
before Mark H, says it and laughs at his own joke.
Where is Skid and his Marks, and so on and so forth. We all have a
value, even if we don't know it at the time. What use am I, I am an
Old Woman, is a story of mine, I can see Mark H, now pulling a
face as, he says yes that's Michael.
I hope I've surprized people from that old crew from long ago, but
never forgotten. A collection of people make a whole, any group of
people are a jigsaw, a mosaic, a tapestry. When the gossip goes, there
is a gap, gossip is the chattering cement that holds a society
together, a phrase from The Butcher, The Baker and The Undertaker.
Look around your street, your family, you friends, your team,
whatever game you play, or your knitting circle, or your prayer
group, even if the bar is your place of worship. Everybody has a
task, even if it is to lay out the chairs, or drop and bolt in the extra
place at the end of the pew in a church. Yes, churches used to be that
full, at Saint Patrick's we use to have extra drop seats down the
middle, I know because I got them ready while my brother always
got the altar servers list, which never changed.
Then there is the guy who miraculously survived something over
the road at Dudley Rd hospital, who runs the piety stall, little wonder
There are the unsung heroes, the cleaners in any place, I know as I
always used to work the late shift, so they were my friends. The
things they know, and the things they discover, such as half full
coffee cups in a bin. I could mention other discoveries in the middle
of the night, but I'll leave the dead rest.
The sandwich lady you fear, as she always needs a man to come and
fix a shelf for her, you'd starve without her. The crossings lady who
saved your life by knocking you over with her pole. Even the barber
whose "something for the weekend, sir?" also saved your life, and
health in many many ways, many many times. But not as many as
you boasted about. And when the barbers was closed, you took a
chance, so Chancy Gardinier was your first child, named after the
unexpected film and thereafterwards, no barber's something for the
weekend included.
Look around in any life, in any story, or History itself, which is all our lives. What do you see, this led to that, or just unknowingly. You married the cleaner, but she was really a rich heiress, I married a cleaner too, but she did have a degree, and the rest is History. Our lives, our loves, what we like, what we love, all of this is a tapestry. An accident, either of nature or of life itself, can lead to many many things. Your dad nearly died, you visited him for 3 straight years in the seniors home, and you married his nurse. Whatever happens in life, it forms us, it directs us, like a mudslide down a hill, it can be dangerous, it can be exciting, but it changes our internal landscape. So, look around and connect, little chats here, little looks and glances, read, watch, observe. Then your life will be heard, you’ll be the colourful bit in the tapestry, you might even be the centrepiece. You don’t need to battle in Hastings, nor an arrow in your eye, just look up, look around, look to the sky. Look at the birds flying, look at the patterns they weave in the sky. Then try to be a bird, and make your life heard, for a life is more than a twitter.
Taking your Mind off Things ©
By Michael Casey
As you all know me and George are in the same sewing circle, that’s me and George Clooney. He has my best thimble in his pocket, it’s his lucky charm, if you look carefully, you’ll see him use it in the next gangster film he’s in. A sequel called, Ocean’s 26, and you thought he was sleeping with the fishes, no he’s having a whale of a time, he’s a bit of a marine biologist, and that’s a metaphor. In the Ocean he uses the thimble, to count all the stolen money with, as the electronic money counter is bust. Which sets up a sequence where he counts $100K ever so fast, rather like Spike Milligan as the postman beating the sorting machine, though I doubt any of you will know that film, Ocean’s 26 I’m talking about, everybody knows Spike Milligan, you ask his butler Prince, or Charlie as everybody calls him down the Windsor pub.
But, where was I, now that I’ve warmed up the toilet seat for you, it’s a specialist occupation, I began when Carry on at Screaming was filmed, but that’s History. Yes, I remember now, Taking your Mind of Things, I’ve inserted the title again, just so you won’t forget it, repetition aids memory, you ask any kids beaten by the teacher in the 1960s for not know their times tables. My own buttocks quiver every time I’m doing multiplication, or maybe that’s another metaphor, but I am very good at multiplication, maybe it’s my alluring Clooney like looks, Ok I really look like Hew Edwards the news reader, though I look far far younger. So, what has all this got to do with the price of lettuce? If you are not paying attention I’ll slap the back of your legs with a wet lettuce, and I may leave the snail on, and you never know where it will slither to.
Ok, the theme today is taking your mind off things, so can you remember what you were doing a few minutes ago? Have I distracted you, or am I so bad you have lost the will to live? I can hear all the heckles, and an echo from the past also just hit me, that’s the trouble with words they bring memories too, I’ve just awakened a ghost.
But I want to share something today. If you have a busy busy life, then mundane things, such as my writing, I’ll get in the jibe first, do relax. Mental chewing gum, or mental chocolate, does help to relax, then you can go back to your important job refreshed and relaxed. I was fiddling the other day, repairing my Rosary beads to be exact, first repaired with a ring of steel, a circle you have your keys on. Then I found some old plastic covered wire that I bent into shape, to relink my prayers. This repair was better, and is almost unseen, as prayers should be. Enough philosophy.
The point is though that occupational therapy as some might call it, does work, it distracts, so your mind has a rest from one thing, as you are absorbed by another. I suppose that’s what Play Time was originally invented for, make the kids run and jump about while the teachers have a coffee and cake. Mothers used to bribe teachers in the old days. Ted Heath the former British PM was a sailor, when you are in a force 10 in the Irish Sea, you’re not wasting your time on who is stabbing you in the back in Parliament. Your mind, heart and soul is dancing with the waves, Politics is forgotten.
I could give you more examples, but you have your own. You know Jack who is a reporter, but works in the soup kitchen on his day off, just to remind him to be humble, as his mother used to remind him, he’d never be as famous as Bob Hope. Bob Hope was the local rat catcher, who lived with Dorothy Lamore the girl with the big big smile. So, things distract us, we have our guilty pleasures, such as watching Kdramas with the sound so high, that flocks of geese take a detour. Anything that is a distraction is good, because we are not machines, we have to switch off and rest. We need oiling and resting, like a machine being serviced so that it can perform even better. Though oiling and resting does sound suspiciously like another metaphor.
I hope I’ve taken your mind off things, so you can get back to what you were doing before, and if you’re mind has gone a blank then I’ve really proved my point, yet another metaphor maybe. Because you are rested, and this writer has earnt his pay. Nothing.
No News Today ©
By Michael Casey
Hey Mark, you’re on the bus, pay your fare.
Hey Mark, you’re at the Cinema, go get a ticket.
Hey Mark, you have to pay for Groceries.
Hey Mark, you have to pay for your Netflix, your Amazon.
Hey Mark, you have to pay for How to Become President lessons
a new tutorial service with the Donald.
So, don’t you think you should pay something to read the papers?
Or are you a Queen, like in the Queen’s Gambit which you paid to see on Netflix, where the girl “borrowed” a Chess magazine.
Fake Reality is all we’ve got, because of Spam a Lot, Politicians
Now your Camelot, or is it Hamalot ambitions
One day you can be President
But Le President is a French soft cheese, as today is Bernadette’s feast in France
So instead of sharing Spiritual Water, what are you spreading?
Misinformation and Lies.
The Truth is Out There, as Mulder always said
So, shine a light, light a fire
Or is Truth a Liar
Well after 4 years of Trump, maybe we know the answer to that
So, Hey Mark, is MONEY all you are after?
The LOVE of Money is the root of all Evil
Do some good, share News, Give access to real News
Let people see what the world can be.
Don’t allow just a False Reality.
You can afford to Pay for a News Service
Be in Service of All Mankind, which sounds like somebody’s Motto
If you Believe, then you will Share
Let the People Know See and Judge
Or is it too much Money for Nothing?
We’ve seen 4 years of Pain and Ignorance
Do no Evil, do no Bad
Which is an Oath no doubt taken by your own wife
Harmless words, that should be Heard
But what of you?
You still want to be President, so long as it does not cut Profits
It’s Time to Grow up Mark
Don’t deny the Truth and Hide it under a Bucket
Truth and News is for all Societies, it’s not empty Pieties
So put your Money where your Mouth is
Free News, on Facebook, which is well worth paying for
Or do you want to help keep the poor ignorant
So, they still vote for the status quo, out of ignorance
Ignorance is not Bliss, it just holds back Society
As one light at a time goes out
Until all that is left if Mob Rule and Tyranny
Or are more and more zeros on a bank statement
Worth the price of your Soul.
News saves lives, so spread it and share it
And Pay for It.
It is the chattering cement of Society.
Which is a line of mine, but I’m sharing it.
Enough, it’s time for roast potatoes, I am Kerry Irish
In my blood.
I hope you listen, or am I too much of a hot potato
TEXAS SNOW
Texas Snow
Global Warming means hot weather
BUT you also get weird weather
Like down in Texas
So, WAKE UP Politicians
4 years wasted
Yes, you can flog the Donkey or is it Elephant
But in the end after a Shares Boom
You get the bang, all the animals die
This is so simple that a Simpleton could understand it
Yet for 4 years USA was in Official Denial
Then the Press was attacked
So, everything has been Poisoned
Covid will be beaten eventually
But When Common Sense is ignored
It takes longer
And now with Texas Snow, the Holiday is OVER
USA and Mankind must act immediately
Or they'll be no DOW
Just Devil's Own Weather
So, grow up Politicians, act now
It is a National Security Risk, as was you know who
If you don't fix Climate Change
There will be no Texas, no USA, and No world
How about a 10% redirection of Military Spending
Forget a Wall, as Weather goes through Everything
Kick start Save the USA today.
With Green Invention
If you don't start today, there will be NO tomorrow
When Story and Music Collide (c)
By Michael Casey
Now as usual I did not know I'd be writing this, but I was listening to Clapton, and one track brought forth a memory. Then I had a thought if ever I finish Tears for a Butcher, the sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, then they'll be a Prayer Scene, and if ever it came to be filmed then Clapton would be in the Pulpit playing as Life Saving prayers are said. And it probably won't be finished, another 600 pages of Old Forge and Singing Anvil, so you'll be spared, but you do know about my dream of a speed typist etc.
Now I'm going to STOP for a Kdrama right now, but I'll come back and finish writing this, so remember the title and meet me back here in 9 hours time, Midnight UK time and it'll be ready. I could have had a poncy title for the story but long words are hard to spell, and simpletons like me, might not understand what I'm on about.
Why are A level questions all poncified, as I'm discovering with my small daughter
studying beside me. Enough I have 2 new Kdramas in my sights. I love the comedy and tears in the stories.
to be finished later, now for lamb chops
Ok, it's tomorrow 14:20 Saturday
I did not return like MacArthur, but I'm here now
So the piece will run differently, as a new driver is in the seat. That's what it is like when if I resume instead of doing everything in the flow. I've just reminded myself too, In Tears for a Butcher one of the stories concerns Ike's driver and another hoard of whisky found. I'll have fun and games with that story if ever I finish it and the sequel. I did want Shep Smith to feature in the story too, as he is on holiday in UK, in Old Forge and Singing Anvil and happens to be in the bar when the new hoard appears, along with Ike's driver. But that's for the Future.
You see as I write I nearly always have background music, especially now with Tinnitus in the ascendancy, which means very often I type a word and the exact same word is sung simultaneously as I type. I also think just how neat, as you folks speak, if I had this music playing when the movie or tv show of my words is made. Ok. I'm deluded, but you have to dream and hope, otherwise you are dead as wood. Hence yesterday, if you can remember that far back, I do tend to distract. So yesterday I was thinking about the power of prayer. You spend most nights awake as you battle Tinnitus, your mind does wonder everywhere, the good, the bad, the ugly thoughts everywhere. Then sleep comes, well for 2 hours anyway.
Ok so you can see my life, and are glad you are not me. But to the point, music is so much better than words, so Taylor Swift et al will always be better than me. And taller too, which is good when she comes around to do the cleaning and high dusting at my house, but that's another story, haven't you caught up yet?
So in Tears for a Butcher at the Finale, maybe 500 pages in Big Sid will be shot while being a Raging Bull, and saving many lives, but shot three times at point blank range. So Mrs Murphy whose life was saved, and her grandchild's, and her daughter in law not to mention an unborn 2nd grandchild and the Post Office staff, well how is she going to react.
While Big Sid is on the operating table at Dudley Road hospital, because it was the closest, and a team of Texas surgeons happened to be in Birmingham for a conference, the lead surgeon is still wearing his cowboy boots and hat as he operates. Mrs Murphy is over the road in Saint Patricks. This was my own local church by the way.
So, do you think Mrs Murphy will allow the Devil get his way? Ok, so obviously there will be music, and that's where Clapton comes in. He's be playing as she's praying, he'll be playing as Texas does its best for Big Sid the Butcher. Blood and Prayer everywhere. Now what Clapton would play, how would I know, I'm just a boring writer, Clapton will be playing God. For Music is God's breath. Just a little challenge for Eric if ever my story gets written, and then made into a film.
How would you play God, Eric. What notes would you be, Tears in Heaven, and Mrs Murphy gone past madness, it was all my fault, it was all my fault racing through her mind. Over and over again. Only music can speak those words, only bolts of lightning, as the rain comes down as the rain comes down, on Saint Patricks and on Texas's best operating in Dudley Rd Hospital.
Now that's the scene. Mrs Murphy always sits in the 2nd bench on the left by the radiator. But not now, but not today. She storms to the altar rail, as if receiving Communion. But the Pain, the Despair, the Guilt is too much.,
Jesus, she screams. She sighs, she screams Jesus again.
The Press are at the church door. The butcher's dog is clawing at Jesus' feet on the cross outside the church door. The dog is pining.
Jesus, screams Mrs Murphy again from her spot in front of the altar.
Doreen a black nurse from over the road enters
and kneels to left of Mrs Murphy
Asha an Indian nurse enters and kneels to the right beside Mrs Murphy
Jesus
Mary
Joseph
And Saint Patrick the porters scream too
The journalists can feel it
Now it begins
The engine of prayer revs up. Like Lewis Hamilton on the grid
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, an Saint Patrick over and over again
The the Rosary begins at warp factor 9, no time to build up speed
Just slap it down warp factor 9
And on Clapton plays, as people play and surgeons earn their pay
And on Clapton play, and on Clapton plays
With almighty God himself throwing down thunderbolts
I'll stop there I have yet to write the tale, I have yet to find that speed typist
So all you'll know is what's on the page today
But I hope you can imagine how it will feel, and Music is feeling
And if I write it right and Clapton does in fact play
Then God will push Eric out of the way and pick up the guitar himself
And that is when Story and Music Collide
20/Feb/2021 3pm
Just the Way you Are ©
By Michael Casey
What have Barry White and God got in common? They love us just the way we are. During my Tinnitus time, my mind wanders and between prayer and profanity, staying awake all night is no joke. Though if you remember your Bible, the disciples fell asleep, I am so jealous of them. Strangely right now the hiss seems to have lessened, as if the tide has gone out. My left ear always goes deaf too, every time I shower, if it were my left foot it would not matter, but hearing does.
So, as I look in the mirror of my imagination, what do I see, a George Clooney look alike, or the Elephant Man? Well sniff, and don’t scratch, and make your mind up. Though a workman did just barge into the toilet, so he’ll be making his own mind up. A twirking Michael Casey, with a bum bigger than Beyonce’s or am I just an Elephant Man? Sniff and don’t tell, thankfully this is not cinema.
Which brings us back to my hairy back, my stained left shoulder, with a mass of hair on it. During the Mass God sees all, and as I said before he Loves Us, just the way we are. Even if we stop talking and slap on the Movelot, on that very same shoulder, because we are about to curse in pain. And yes I’ve just done that, curse my pain, and Tinnitus is torture in the night, so that brings lots of things. But when Barry White sings, that can be a cure for everything. I’ve just turned him on, not literally, he’s a MAN, a very big MAN, but Ladies and Angels too, he’s in Heaven singing.
And God doesn’t want me blocking the view of the Stage, so despite my pleading, God wants me to stay, here in Birmingham while Barry sets the stars Rocking, while I’m like a blind man lost my way. So will the Tinnitus disappear fully and properly, will I get a big Grace, who knows but Big Grace is the dinner lady with all the moves, who always dances in red shoes. Not as graceful as a ballet dancer, but when she twirls as she dishes out the food a cheer goes up, big Grace knows God’s love. And when she sings, people stop eating their dinner in the school canteen, a voice of an Angel.
So that’s her and that’s me. We are all different as Joan in the Print room used to say, and God loves us any which way. So never be hard on yourself if you feel the mirror doesn’t match the way you want to be. Reality is what it is, yes we can tweak and we can twirl, but just be kind to yourself, try yes, but don’t let trying lead to crying. God can’t help himself, he loves us just the way we are. Move over Clapton, God’s on guitar.
Almost a Poem (c)
By Michael Casey
Well me and Tinnitus are going through a strange period, not staying awake all night till exhaustion and sleep arrive. But chunks of sleep and not being awake till they arrive. Though 3am where were you? I was having toast and Ovaltine, a snack and a hot drink seems to being sleep to me.
Sometimes Totoro our cat arrives, to be let out to plague the countryside, or just to chill with the nearby foxes, but not Gumiho, so I let the cat out and away she leaps. Setting off lights and movement sensors all over the neighbourhood. That's how I know when she wants to come in when she's out late drinking with the foxes. The lights light up everywhere, so me in my Tinnitus time put on a dressing gown and go downstairs to let her in.
Last night I had a poem come to me, 1% of my output is poetry of sorts, so 20 out of 2000 pieces maybe. When I get a poem it tends to be very good, yes in my opinion, but most people almost always agree too. I really should record any stray ideas and snatches, then I'd have more material to annoy you with. But I'm no Stevie Wonder, though I do have my share of Inner Visions, he has recording equipment by his bed. Me I just want to sleep, I do have aa old phone directing a smart speaker through the night. And yes Sting has been added to the night shift, so Taylor Swift can get a rest, and be fresh in the morning to do the High Dusting in my study. As you know her lad works in the chip shop down the hill, and that's how I kill two birds with one stone.
So there I was thinking, and with Tinnitus your brain can go into overdrive as you fight to sleep, that's why it is so debilitating, not to mention my other weaknesses. I got a theme about Land and Peace and Faith and Geography. History is Geography, and, you Cannot beat Geography. Something for all armies to think about, as well as with Faith you can Move Mountains. If you know that then you can achieve something, with Love.
I had a few lines and said to myself, that's good as I was half asleep and half awake and half in pain, Tinnitus is part of the Sine Curve of pain that I endure for 8 years now, first starting with Arthur my arthritis. When it hits it is deeper and longer, my pain. The night time Tinnitus seems to be worse too. But I want to talk about the Words, I had a line here and there so I promised myself I'd put it together in the morning, like flatpack furniture. Only I lost the allen key, or rather I lost the words by the time I was finally ready to arise. I still awake every 2 hours, so by the time I'd had my 8 hours, after Tinnitus time, the allen key to attach the words together had gone. Maybe I need a Gumiho I could dictate to in the night, but that is just a fantasy in all senses of the word and my imagination .
You have to have words and dreams and Gumiho fantasies even, because without them the pain would be far to much to bear, and no I'm not joking, I wish I were. Today my small daughter tells me our study clock is famous, as it chimes through the online lessons, and her French teacher calls it charming, though this dad is no Prince. The Geography class recognise the chimes too, meanwhile Jesus he Knows Me is playing on my speaker, Music the Genesis for everything. And yes Jesus does know me, and Saint Jude’s too, for when you are awake in the night, the conversation ebbs and flows like as does the Music of My Night, Andrew where is your Webber? Music is a cobweb catching thoughts in the night, dreams, hopes, and fantasies, as well as curses and pain, bouncing and rippling everywhere.
So that's all I have for today, maybe the Poem will arrive, they are gifts, they arrive and my train of thought marshals them in the station. I do not control the Poetry timetable, they are free spirits like Totoro our cat. The other writing is fast and furious, maybe my subconscious is telling me to squeeze out all I have, my only gift for my two teenage daughters. Then the page will flutter and fall down like falling leaves and my tree of words will be bare, and I'll turn to mush like fallen Autumn leaves on the wood's floor.
So enjoy me while I'm still here, as I constantly tell my daughters, I've had 6 years of extra time. But if you are a Gumiho, you'll have to wag your 9 tails to catch me, and would I be worth it? 20 years more if a Gumiho did her magic, though that's just more Music in the Night, I really must push the piano out of my bed.
Less is More ©
By
Michael Casey
Ok, as promised here’s a new piece for you. I’ve had a catch up with Vincenzo and it really should get International awards. 10/10 at least. So Less is More, what am I talking about. Not how I nag people, well maybe or maybe not. As you know I’m nosey so I watch people, hence decades of memories. And I’ve read and studied and I’ve even been writing for a long long time.
I once worked in a call centre, doesn’t everybody. And a girl there said to one of my fellow workers “you’re just a scruffy Indian”, only later did he reveal to her that he was in fact working 7 days a week, which is stereotypical Indian, or Korean. He was earning extra money to pay for Teacher Training at University for his wife. His real job, his 9 to 5 job? He, the “scruffy Indian” as she called him, he taught surgeons how to use lasers in operations. Yes really. I won’t reveal his name. But he was a very nice man.
Which makes me wonder the scars I have up both legs to my naughty bits and right down my chest, were they blade or laser? Anyway I’ve had 6 years extra time so far, and that’s why Still Alive 2015 had that title. So I’m rambling, do you want me to cut to the chase, or shall I put it in a podcast. I could record this later so you can hear it on Spotify later, https://anchor.fm/michael-casey1 to HEAR my Podcast.
Carrying on, do you just want bullet points, and a vacuous list, like you find in features pages? Yes, I’m very critical of the quality of stuff that litters the internet, Miaow. Here’s a few tips for you. First, make a list. Then you’ll buy less at the supermarket, or buy less online so you avoid impulse purchases. Ditto with your day, five minutes planning while you pooh on the toilet in the morning, will make all the difference to your day, and you will feel less bloated too. If only Trump twittered less during his toilet time he would have been less irritable, and so much more organised. Getting the Country to fight amongst itself is not organisation.
Look in the mirror before you go out, because appearances matter, to some. And you don’t want your dress stuck in the back of your panties, or your flies open. Simple things that can change your life. Yes, simple things matter. Like smiling, being Happy is a choice, even if you are not one of the 7 Dwarfs. I had the AA motto, How I can make this Day count, on my mantlepiece for years. No, I was not a drunk, I found it in a newspaper and cut it out, maybe 35 years ago. The point being, I read something and I agreed with it. So, I took it as my own. You have to smile, or people will say you are a misery guts, we had a guy work with us in the hotel, that was what we thought of him, misery. If only he smiled instead.
So, perception, and self-perception do matter. If only Michael Jackson did look in that mirror and change. How you look does affect how you feel. Yes, I know you all think I look like an illiterate tramp, but I want you to judge the words, and I detest those perfect vacuous influencer selfies, just before they fall off the cliff while taking selfies. Again I do like to surprize people, I had a doctor talk down to me at a conference, so I waited, he was talking about hotel economics, then I said my piece, adding My Brother did Economics at Cambridge, his reply, I can tell. So he noticed I had a brain then, so never talk down to anybody, just in case they bite your bum. Though in complaint letters, give them 3 strikes, then email the CEO and put Formal Complaint in the letter, every CEO has an email, and then really really dump on them. The board looks at lists of Formal Complaints and it influences their MONEY, so I’ve taught you something else as well. Be polite, but know when to be a Bastard too, your life is too short to be wasted by lazy ignorant badly trained people, Double Miaow.
I could go on, but One Direction are taking me down the Trader, the pub in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, they are celebrating their new joint venture, in car washing. I’m going to teach them how to twerk as they wash cars. So to recap, make a list, but be ready to change it. Don’t waste your time on time wasters, remember Kennedy and 15 mins for a meeting is enough. This is what I want, XYZ, and if they won’t do it walk away. Arguing the toss may make you pennies but in the long run, you’ll just get wrinkles, have you noticed I have no wrinkles, because I am penniless and don’t chase money. Ok, it’s because I fat, I won’t lie, I am heavier than Tyson Fury by the way, and 10 inches shorter. That’s why he never argues with me, he’s too busy having kids, so God Bless him anyway.
So everyday follow your list, and as you soak in the bath, look at your accomplishments, and if you have a big enough bath, let your partner look at your accomplishments, as you follow your true One Direction. You and I.
What makes and good story?
By
Michael Casey
Well actually, it’s the way it’s told. Ask Frank Carson the late great Northern Ireland comedian, who was so funny Roger nearly crashed the van, as he was crying with laughter, as he took Frank back to the airport. So, that’s the standard, let’s call it The FC standard. Now as I talk to you, you’ll not cry with laughter, though you may just cry. I hope that the putting it together makes it more interesting, and as I reveal things it gets more entertaining. Yes, I’m a Stripper on the page, hoping you’ll get more and more interested and entertained so a hairy man full of scars with an enormous birthmark on his left shoulder is your thing, not to mention the Winnie the Pooh belly. Some of you are, well you are, perfect for me, if that’s what gets you going. But in generality what kind of woman you do anything for love like that. But I digress.
You now have this horrible image in your mind, and that’s what stories do. They put images in your mind, in the Windmills of your Mind. Which is my favourite song by the way, and didn’t Fr. Brain later Bishop Brain used to say I was Sancho Panza as I always trailed after my much taller brother over 50 years ago. Yes really. So again you have another mental picture in your mind, and that’s what I hope I do, Cartoons made with Words, hence the name of my backup site for my words. And Don Camillo as you all know was written to fill a space on the page, and even the Pope was given a copy of those stories. I was reading Don Camillo prior to my heart bypass 6 years ago, and the Italian heart professor was impressed when I told him what I was reading. See, humble me impressing an Italian heart professor at the QE.
You can impress with your words too, but stories are for builders, a layer here a layer there, and then decoration, like a cake too. Too fancy and people will be sick, too bland and people will spit it out, or even be sick of it. Remember too a book can be great as a film, but not so good as the book itself. Because in a film things are rearranged and changed, so a novelist will have to accept changes, and if he does not like them, he can have his name removed from the credits. Then for film audiences there are Telegraph moments, and film buffs can ruin a film by pointing them out. Such as I always wear shades in front of my screen to prevent eye strain, then later on in a film the shades would reappear and save the day somehow.
The pace of a story makes it what it is, too fast and it’s like a bad boyfriend, too slow and your parents arrive. Now what am I talking about, I don’t know it’s all in your imagination, On y soit qui mal y pense, and so on. So, you’re smiling now, why? Come on, tell me, why? So choice of words can make or break a story. I’d rather be gentle myself, and make the laughs last, just take you by the hand and lead you up the garden path. And yes there are several meanings to that last sentence, it’s up to you. That’s the joy of Radio, as I hope you hear all these stories as you read them aloud to grannie and all the others in the old people’s home. They like a good story old people, and if you find Old People’s Home on my back list, or even spotify, you’ll have a really good laugh. It’s in the second chapter of Tears for a Butcher, my unfinished sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, and you all know I’d like to dictate it, otherwise you’ll all be spared another 600 page comic novel.
Keeping people reading and turning pages is another thing a story should do, but you know what, if they just drop knickers every 20 pages, or a murder every 40 page then that’s just boring. Though some novelists have had a lifetime of words just by doing that. With me I hope you get laughter and more, and bastards get shown the door, in the best possible taste, with humour. You are the judges, I just please myself, and hope you all like it. I don’t plan it like a Delia Smith recipe, I am like a blindfolded chef who mixes it all up, and presents it naked on the plate, which might remind you of another tv chef. My words are chosen and flow, and the hope is that you all says he’s on LSD, I am on IMAGINATION in reality. The reality I present on the page should amuse and make you ask who is Michael Casey?
Now have I explained What makes a good story? Probably not, but it is a story in itself? And getting the stories from in ourselves is what it is all about. Words on a page, cartoons made with words shared with love and laugher. Now this Sancho Panza has to mount his donkey and head for Korea, and Vincenzo is waiting for me there, to help carry away bars of gold.
Not Worth my Spit ©
By Michael Casey
Not Worth my Spit is a Chinese expression, it means it’s a waste of time talking to somebody, it’s not worth your spit. You may have had dodgy companies give you grief, and you go around in circles, a bit like Diplomatic dealings. Hey North Korea, Trump really was right, you’d make a great travel destination, so set your people free, and in one generation you’ll be Top of the Pops, and be singing happily. If Germany could rebuild after the Hitler nightmare, what can North Korea do? Even better and greater.
There are 5 of my books on my Wordpress in Korean, Kim, so have a laugh and read and then think, I want to live happily ever after, me and my people. I am worth your spit, so have a download and read happily. Now getting back to my theme, Not Worth my Spit. Kids bicker and say, he did this she did that, he should say sorry for scratching my Barbie dolls face, her behaviour is a disgrace. She should say sorry first, no he did the worse thing, his apology should be the first thing. So, mom, slaps both of them, a draw is declared, and all toys are locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Then they both hate mum, at last unity, mum is the worst, they can agree on that. So much for Diplomacy.
Circles of friends and circles of deceit, I’ll do this for you if you do that for me, so much for monkeys picking fleas off each other, a bit like Politics and Union deals. Where is Humanity, we leave that in Church on a Sunday, the rest of the week, we are weak Humanity, bargaining and cheating, and badmouthing each other, and for what? So, we can sell cheap copies of this and that and claim it’s worth 4 times it’s weight in Gold. And what about the Customers, they are there just there to be fooled, and abused, nobody is going to pay to send our rubbish back to us, to get a false refund. So, we gain more money but lose our soul, and as for integrity, we can buy some cheap online, it’s a new rave fake perfume our cousins sell. And on it goes.
Now is all this worth my spit, your spit, or anybody’s spit. No, not really, but if by reading this you are more cautious before you buy, then I’m worth your spit. But then again, if I’m not then you can spit on me.
Johnny No Friends ©
By Michael Casey
Peter had no friends, in fact he now was a stay at home person. Though everybody used to call him John or Johnny, because he was always in the toilet, rushing to it in fact. They even moved his desk to the corridor outside the toilet as a prank, so he thanked them and stayed there for 3 years. He did have relationships, but only with delivery drivers who dumped stuff by his desk. So he was a Concierge without actually being a concierge. But he was happy enough because he was near the toilet, he could dump like an Elephant, and smell just as bad. Bad diet and a touch of CKD does that to you.
As the years rolled by he knew more and more about the delivery drivers, as he had a giant thermos on his desk ready to dispense a warming drink. So by the end of the 3rd year he had more Christmas cards than the entire offer, but luckily he was a dab hand with a Prit stick so he dabbed them and stuck them to the walls. It looked better than Santa’s Grotto or any church. Everybody took photos and a photographic magazine even awarded a prize. Johnny and his Cards the caption read in the magazine, with Johnny’s email below. Though nobody knew his name was Peter in reality.
Then Johhny’s bladder got so bad, he’d have to wear nappies or have a funnel and a tube from his desk to the toilet. So, Johnny spent his last penny and had to leave. The company were generous, he could have sued the arse off them for the 3 years in the corridor, the company secretary said, who was a bit leaky himself, so obviously he was on Peter’s side. So Johhny got a nice pension, and a framed digital photo of the Christmas Santa’s Grotto, and a very nice tablet which was waterproof so he could use it in the toilet, just as Trump does.
So now Johnny had no friends, but he still had his tablet, well several, as the doctors kept on trying this and that in an attempt to fix him, so he had bottles of tablets, as well as the digital tablet. Johnny got used to his new life, and he had friends on the Internet too, while he continued dashing to the loo. One day out of the blue he had an email from LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com
He was going to delete it in anger, but decided to answer. Lindy Loo was her real name, she was American in Kansas were the mail servers were, and she did have two red shoes which she clicked and she did like ballet too. Out spilled everything, she’d seen the Santa photo in a photographic magazine while she was at the dentists having her teeth fixed.
So Johhny No Friends had found one true friend, which is all you need, and yes she loved the Beatles too, she played them constantly on her Amazon Prime subscription. Now email is a lovely thing, it is a letter that can be read over and over again, you can print them off too and put them in a scrap book too. After a few months, Peter and she called him Peter too, it was so much better than being called Johnny, because he used always to be in the John, so Peter asked for a photo. So LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com sent him a photo, she was tall and big, with horrid teeth and the stereo typical black glasses that Koreans, or American born Koreans wear. But she did have hair to kill for. So obviously Peter fell in love with her instantaneously. Because he knew the real her, and she knew the knew him, so the feeling was mutual.
Though LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com had lied, because she’d been hurt before, so sent a picture of her best friend from next door. So the friendship continued, and LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com decided she wanted to come and visit Peter in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, so a quaintly named place after all. So Peter said he knew somebody he ran an AirB&B so he could get her discount, it was the bloke next door. Peter had wondered why he was always carrying large supplies of toilet paper, and did he have some disorder? But his neighbour laughed and said it was for his apartments. So Peter helped let in all the supplies when delivery drivers came, so he was offered discount if ever, if ever he needed an apartment. So that was that, and this was now.
LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com said that was great, as she licked her dinner plate, that was her one bad habit, licking her plate like Oliver Twist, as she read his email on her iPhone12. They’d know each other for 18 months now all told, and so they weren’t being bold. She’d fly in from Kansas and land at Birmingham BHX, and Peter would be there to greet her, old Michael the taxi driver would be ready and he’d drive steady. Now when LindyLoo555@gmailpooh.com arrived Michael was in for a surprize, for the girl that landed was not like the photo, in fact how could she be. It was her best friend from next door, the Kansas girl was no witch, though she did wear red shoes. Michael drove her to the apartment where Peter was waiting, he told Michael he must have picked up the wrong girl, but it was the right girl, the perfectly right girl. You see Lindy Loo looked like a Kpop star, but prettier if that is even possible. Peter was shocked but she knew everything about him, and asked was he disappointed, and she’d leave immediately if he felt she’s abused his friendship. You see she felt it best to see if he wanted her for who she really was, and in emails he saw her as she really was. Apart from the photo deception, you see a girl has to know that she’s wanted for herself, not just her looks.
Peter replied, it’s an ill wind that blows no good, and farted before dashing to the toilet. You see Lindy Loo’s dad was a Proctologist, so why should nature get in the way of friendship. She enjoyed a month visiting Old Forge and Singing Anvil, she also revealed she was actually a dentist. Peter felt ten feet tall, and Lindy Loo just knew, she’d break her broom, she’s never go back to Kansas. Besides her dad had worked out how to fix Peter, as he knew he’d be joining the Korean American family. A Break Wind family, was born, Lindy Loo always loved England, and now part of it in the shape of Peter would be all her very own. And yes they had four daughters and formed a Kpop band, you see Love is like the wind it knows no boundaries, and the Kpop band was called The Saint Patricks because that was the day they finally met.
The Sky is the Limit ©
By Michael Casey
Well, I’m listening to Sky, yes clouds make lots of rain, especially when it’s thundering. Or if you are as old as me, John Williams et al. So, what shall I talk about today? I haven’t decided yet, but Totoro the cat sneaked in, I keep her out of this room, “the study” as I want a refuge and a nice place, that no cat paws can reach. We’ve managed to stop her from clawing the living room sofas, but the kitchen chairs have claw marks galore, even though we invested in a cat scratcher by food bowl. But cats don’t care, do you think I’m a dog? I’m a cat and I’ll scratch that, and if you put me out I’ll Leap a Fence and pretend I live with the neighbours here there and everywhere, then I’ll come home when it’s time for bed. Just for the bedtime bowl of milk. I’m not a stupid dog, I’m Totoro the Ninja cat. It’s her 6th Birthday soon, I said the girls could have a pet, a dog if I died or a cat if I had a heart attack. Weeks after that joke, the joke was on me an unplanned quadruple heart bypass. So be careful what you say, of you’ll end up with a cat scratching your furniture. But I digress.
So, I’m talking about pets then? No, but cats do grab your attention, even if it is by clawing at your bedroom door to be let out at 5am. Or setting off the motion sensor lights at 2am, then refusing to come in, because there’s something she can spy from up on high on the garden fence. So, as you shiver with the back door open for her, she just shows you her backside and continues stalking whatever was over the fence, as she wears a fur coat.
I just went to the kitchen for another hit drink and Totoro is outside the door giving me her big eyes, wanting to come in. Like a guard dog, but positioned next to the radiator, she is a cat after all, and cat’s have heat sensors in them, they find the warmest place to go. We have 2 metre tall cupboards in the kitchen, but to the cat it’s a challenge, a small Everest to climb, and besides hot air rises so she have a climb just because it’s there. Cats are nosey too and they always enjoy a view. A neighbour may build a high fence, but for a cat that’s just a challenge, so quicker than any Marine she’ll have a look and stand upright like a meerkat just to prove, any cat can look at any queen. And should you leave a door ajar, or a window open, then say hello pussy.
All in all cats love challenges, and they are company and make a house a home. Though my friends Lech, Boris and Gregorgi prefer wolf like dogs, because they can pull a sledge when Winter comes. Now is there a point to all of this? Man’s best friend is a dog, though I would have had to die before my girls got a dog. The point is this, The Sky is the Limit. Cats never give up, they look here and there and leap fences, they put their noses into everything like a Search Engine. Even yandex.ru can find me, and they have, so I wrote to them today to encourage them to share what they found. The Russian translation of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker and 2000 other stories for free until Russian Media get in on the act and share Lech, Boris and Gregorgi with the masses. Their offices ae near The Tolstoy museum, so I’d be in good company. In essence I’ve been a cat, sniffing around and climbing trees, checking back, or is it Checkoff and wasn’t he a Russian in Star Trek where the sky is the limit.
Reading Books ©
By Michael Casey
Ok, I’m full of snot and I should be lying down, but instead I’ll do a bit of writing like a clown. I just spotted the Russians are Coming, as the highest one day figure appeared. I did actually have dream and sat bolt upright in bed, and said “the Russians are Coming” then I went back to sleep, this was maybe 50 years ago when 3 or 4 of us brothers shared the same bedroom in the old family house. I mentioned the Russian search engine yesterday and I did email them, I’m shameless I’ll try and “Corrupt” anybody with my writing. I hope Google don’t get the hump, or my viewing figures might slump, just like my belly.
Though the Russians may not like two of my stories, The Spaceman and the Archangel story, though I think it’s great. Then the other story they might not like is I’m setting up a Band, where Putin, Trump, The Pope and The British PM become an Abba Tribute band. Apart from those two I hope the Russians love Stories too, wasn’t that a Sting or Billy Joel song. 2000 stories, perfect for cartoons and learning English with the son of a Kerry Blacksmith, that’s me.
Now that’s just the preamble, while I scramble my eggs. And rubbish rhythms are just a joke, while I stir the yolks. Reads like Lemony Snicket, and does he play cricket, Theresa May or may not, she’s in the band, as she was the PM when I wrote the story, but she’s still a Tory. Ok, I’ll cut the doggerel, or you’ll drown me at sea, Fisher, and do Germans bite, too much radio4 when I grew up, 20 years of that, before I took to the pen, and if I were a sheep you’d dip me in sheep dip, and leave me or corralled, I’m high enough already, just with Imagination. Then 33 years or writing, to make you all cross. 53 years in all, and I look so good looking, ok, shut it , frankly just shut it. Larry close that door there’s a draft right up my Spaghetti Junction. Now the past few sentences were for the pseuds-clever, who clog up radio4, so nobody else gets a chance, I am a Podcast now you know https://open.spotify.com/show/1wSSIExkhsR97u1jqj0iiR
Now where was I, just going around in circles, and they say you should have a circle in stories, I suppose it’s better than being far fetch like s))* from China. Which was an expression of my mother’s gone almost 25 years now, what it means is Beyond Belief, like me marrying a Shanghai girl. That kind of unbelievable, nothing bad about China, I don’t want 1,400,000 angry emails in my Junk mail, no pun intended. Chinese’s people might say “he’s from Birmingham” just as John Cleese used to say “ he’s from Barcelona” ok, enough said. By the way did I tell you , one of my brothers went to the same Cambridge college and John Cleese, where Michael was Winner, but nobody has filmed anything of mine yet. Maybe the Russians will be coming to film all 2000 of mine, who knows, just putin a good word for me.
Now, what did I read when I was younger, well Fear is the Key by Alistair MacLean, is why I read. I was afraid of Mr Gallagher so I started reading to avoid his wrath, and that changed my life in the mid 1960s. I did read everything Alistair MacLean wrote too, staying up till 2am to finish one off, freezing in the downstairs living room before going to bed, central heating ws unheard of then. I read all the History on the bookshelf by my desk in classroom of Class One at primary school. For a time I was left to read alone at a big desk downstairs because I was so far ahead of the class, and no not social isolation. The Outline of History by H.G. Wells was one of the books I read. I still have it, I was given it as a leaving present from Primary School, and yes I really was Head Boy, or locker-upper to make sure nobody did damage in dinner times.
So all in all I read by the yard for a decade or two, then radio4 with plays and clever people speaking nicely, before Reginal accents were introduced, instead of BBC English. That’s probably why I speak the way I do, but I did have a Kerry mother whose strong accent we only noticed on the phone, when we eventually got a phone. As for dad he worked in The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane Smethwick, in the heat of hell for 40 years, with Welshmen, so some though dad was Welsh, though he too was a Kerryman, Hello Dear How Are You, was what he used to say. Which proves how we all acquire our accents, over in the corner my small daughter is doing her French A Level homework, so that is full of accents too, or is it three.
So, on it goes reading, reading, reading, and when you get bigger it’s newspapers, so somebody introduced me to the Telegraph, then I started reading online newspapers too. The Guardian to balance the Telegraph and now a bit of Daily Mail too, though stars flashing their bits is boring, and I’d demand a double page spread, though a good double mattress would be more useful. Words are stories and they lead us everywhere, especially up the garden path, where Gill with a G is waiting to remind you Michael is Awful, but I do like him.
Chocolate and Salmon and Italian Beer ©
By Michael Casey
Well, I had a lazy time in bed listening to my smart speaker, then I got up feeling happy, I resisted the temptation to say Happy, because he is one of the seven dwarfs, and you would have gone all the shop with the potential ramifications. See I’ve confused you already, though if you’re a smiling Quack you may have had a field day too. But I like to amuse myself and you too. As for the chocolate mint ice cream cone and salmon with tomatoes on seeded bread and Italian beer, that was my lunch, the Italian beer being a late arrival to the house, but Moretti was welcomed, I think my friend Vincenzo in Korea must have sent it.
So now you know what’s in my belly but what about my head, nothing you are all saying in unison. You may be right, but that does not stop me from writing, though some of you may wish I did. You are all so cruel, Vincenzo stop playing with your lighter, they are scared enough by my writing already. Here I have saved the last straw for you, drink slowly and don’t spill the other can Moretti over your fancy suit. Better still give it to me, and I’ll stop an accident before it happens, you can go back to playing with your lighter now.
So, what am I talking about, I’ve caught up with the plot now, so shall I share it with you? Atmosphere. That’s what. In the morning there an atmosphere in my bedroom, so I opened the window and let the fresh air in. No, the atmosphere was created by the music, I have it on low all night as I fight the Tinnitus, and then I switch it off depending on my state of restfulness and exhaustion. So, by the time I was ready to get up I decided Justin Timberlake would be nice, yes girls I know he always is as far as you are concerned. So, I told him to be careful with his bubble gum while I has a couple of hours of music, though I did manage to kick the smart speaker onto the floor, luckily it was not damaged.
I listened to the new stuff too that the app puts on after Justin, and that was nice as well, so you can imagine a lazy Sunday morning atmosphere, though today is Wednesday, 24th March 2021 for all you students of my words.
Atmosphere is created by location and music and food, but never eat in bed as the crumbs get everywhere and as I am so hairy they would stick just about everywhere, no need for imagination. If you have a nice atmosphere you can achieve more or reveal more, nothing to do about undressing your lover and being in bed. As I started in bed, what I am talking about is that you are happier, you are in your comfort zone, so you are in a more relaxed frame of mind. Shops and Restaurants all think about these things as it can encourage all to spend more money, and that’s what they want, yes they enjoy being of service and those who work in service industries do. Everything is examined and analysed, no not back to you and your lover in bed, Marketing is all about making people comfortable and relaxed so the clamp is relaxed on the wallets and money transfers to the seller.
Conversation and Confession is easier too in a more relaxed environment, so take your priest down the pub and tell him it was you who scratched his car in the church car park. And see what kind of penance he gives you, 15 pints of Stella Artois and a packet of cheese and onion crisps, is what my priest usually charges, he’s not call Don Camillo for nothing. And yes Don Camillo deliberately parks his car so it will be scratched, how else is he going to gather the beer and crisps for the Children’s Home Fete, priests are devious. 600 pints of Stella and 14 boxes of crisps was what he needed, and he doubled it. How? He got the Police Inspector to swear there was damage, so everybody coughed up, he did of course threaten to blackmail the Police Inspector over the stolen bike from 30 years ago. We have no statute of limitations here in England. You can read more in Chapter 7, And for your Penance, from my comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.
I think I’ve given you enough atmosphere now, as beef braising in the kitchen is wafting through the house, so I’m thinking of my belly again. And should you pour Brandy on Beef, would it be just what the doctor ordered, I don’t know, I’m neither a doctor nor a chef, I’m a writer creating his own atmosphere, I think I’ll dash to the bathroom now.
The Confidence Booster ©
By Michael Casey
Sue was a timid girl, she wouldn’t say excuse me to anybody, just mutter silently to herself. So, she’d take forever to get through the queue in the canteen, so she always got the slops. Now Doreen on the counter who doled out the dinners noticed this and felt sorry for her. Poor little white girl so pale, she needed to eat more food and then she could study harder at the school library. So, Doreen decided she’d look after this little chick, it was her duty as a God fearing women, and Pastor John always said we should love one another. So, Doreen smiled to herself, thy Lord’s Will be done, Amen to that. Now how could she help Sue, she was just a dinner lady. Yes, she was just a dinner lady, but she had a voice, and she knew how to use it.
You, yes you, I’m looking at you, she sung make way for Sue, or you’ll never know what I’ll do. Now Doreen was in a Pentecostal choir and she knew how to sing, bring her up to the table and I’ll feed her, we ain’t got five loaves and two fishes but some very nice dishes. And on Doreen sung, as Sue passed through the queue, nobody complained, for this was like Adele singing, but obviously better, Doreen was a very big church lady after all. Amen, amen to that. So, Sue got served first, the last shall be first and the first shall be last, Doreen said Amen to that. It became a thing, Doreen big black and very beautiful sung, and Sue skipped through the dinner queue.
Now having a warming dinner in your belly is good if you want to study, and Sue was far happier and her confidence grew. Doreen smiled, she had almost adopted the child, but that was not enough. The school, the Benes School was a place of great learning, but Doreen thought it only right she did a but of social engineering, ok , friend making, any matchmaking they could do for themselves after that. So, Gloria her friend on the cleaning crew went on a mission, scout out a nice boy who’d help Sue with her studying. So obviously Gloria picked the Librarian, because he’d know where all the best books were. Yes, he was a little older, and much taller, but he seemed nice, his bin was never overflowing, and he did say please and thank you to the Cleaning Crew. So that was that.
Gloria was tasked to get him to the dining hall, and that’s what she did, she said she needed a big strong man to help her carry things. So, Larry the Librarian was roped in, Gloria had lied, being a cleaner for many years meant she was so strong. Besides her man, Manuel was a judo martial arts teacher, so she had plenty of practice at throwing things about, but not many people knew that. Where was I, yes, Larry arrived at the dining hall. Sue was there already. Doreen looked and Gloria looked back, then they started.
Hey girl, do you want some of my cherry pie, sung Doreen. Gloria replied, you mean me girl. NO, not you you’ve eaten a pie too many, I mean Sue, my child, come here and have some cherry pie, on sung Doreen. Larry laughed as Doreen and Gloria sung back and forth a tale of pies with cherries on top. Sue noticed his laugh, and his sparkling eyes. Gloria was right, he was the right boy for Sue, and in the future he’d say I do. Doreen sparkled, she sung Amen to that. Larry was lead to the counter by Gloria, a pie thrust in his hand. Was this a High School Musical. No, this was Old Forge and Singing Anvil in England, the Benes schools for higher learning.
Gloria and Doreen found a spare pie and shared it, as the canteen audience applauded, the staff were great here, and the teachers weren’t not so bad either. Now I could go on, but Gloria and Doreen have to go to church it is a Sunday after all, Palm Sunday. So prepare we the way of the Lord, and your own confidence will grow.
THERE MAY BE OVERLAP AS I CHANGED WORDPROCESSOR
In bed with Lenny Bruce and Obama too (c)
By
Michael Casey
Morning all
Well Tinnitus was pain yesterday
I’m in the land of the living now
I dug out an old keyboard but it feels right
smooth island keys
ask any writer or data inputter
a keyboard makes a big difference
its a bit like stroking the legs of a lover
I’ll leave that thought with you
NOW
I did think of Lenny Bruce while I was in bed too
Strange bedfellows
I even had an idea that made me smile
I could write the most graphic and profane piece ever
Though I leave blanks for you all
you have to crayon in the words for yourselves
I could also record or auto record the piece
But it would get banned without even being read/heard
The BBC actually banned a piece of mine from a website
Yes Really
Why
Because the tag line said”and send me 10 dollars”
So I was accused of Soliciting Money
MORONS
Read Internet story, I think that was the title
It’s somewhere on my 4 sites
This is the Main one, and WordPress has the most Translations on
The other 2 are backups
I’m enjoying this keyboard, the feel is so smooth
Not as much fun as stroking a lover
But I’ll leave that to your imagination again, and again and again
I’m glad I switched keyboards this is so good
I’m having a When Harry met Sally moment
Pink is singing behind me too on the smart speaker
She is such a great singer For Now is the song
SO Lenny Bruce was inked with me, him and his spiders
I thought of an entire riff, so go BLANK BLANK yourself
I laughed aloud in my Tinnitus bed
And Tinnitus hissed back like Muttley
So I may write that up, or maybe not
That’s the strange thing with Writers’ Minds, or maybe it’s just me
Pete But whatever his name is got in on a story yesterday
I was just saying but, when But whatever his name is sprung to mind
Him and his bicycle, so I just followed the chain of thought
That’s why he ended up in drag at a Cabinet meeting
Blame Dr Jill climbing the Hill with a pail of water
I’m like the Donald, but without the drugs, he should be taking
I could go off on another riff, but why give him any more publicity
Which brings me to OBAMA, in Chicago
Now it’s Easter, time of forgiveness and loving thy neighbour
No, I don’t mean stroking legs and pretending it’s a keyboard either
What I’m on, on about, is what is the Easter message
It’s Hope and Love and should be bigger than Christmas
though folks think Christianity is Christmas
The theologians amongst you can discuss that
If you are not playing with your keyboards
So what does Pierre mean?
Pierre means Rock in French
So Saint Peter was the Rock the church was founded on
Simple
Now is a church, a faith, a collection of beautiful buildings
and Art and Priests and Buildings going back 2000 years?
Or is it a collection of rocks?
Yes, its a collection of Pierres, people
A church is a people
Not a mega church where the “priest” is a millionaire
and flaunts it, but slams the door shut when a natural disaster happens
The church, any church is a collection of Pierres
So OBAMA, I’m talking to you, there is money in the kitty
Private money for your library
So here’s an idea
Rather than put rocks on rocks for a Library
Have a collection of Pierres instead
Have the Rhodes scholars for 2021 onwards
Don’t waste time defining Rhodes etc
Let there be the Obama Scholarships
Post Covid the world needs Pierres not rocks
So, I’ll give/tell you what Lenny Bruce would say
BLANK BLANK BLANK BLANK
Help kids get an education, start a business
Use the money in the kitty for that
Is it $400,000,000 dollars?
Build Minds not Buildings
You are Obama and on this rock, build minds and businesses first
Because of You is playing on the smart speaker
So Smart Speaker, that’s you Obama, let people say, Because of YOU
They got some education, they started a business
This is a mustard seed I’m sending you
We had the “Trump University”
Now you can do something for real, that will really make a difference
Build Minds, leave rocks for later, if at all
A building may last 100 years, but an idea?
You are Pierre
Now do something, or will Lenny Bruce have to reveal
that you BLANK BLANK BLANK
is that physically possible?
I am impressed.
Now impress Chicago for real
Michael Casey
the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
p.s. if you bump into Pete But whatever his name is, tell him Birmingham is
NOT in Alabama, he’s such a card, now play with the deck I’ve giving you.
Art and Design (c)
By
Michael Casey
I was having a snack and I hadn’t though of what to talk about today, the usual state of affairs, when I caught my own reflection, as I was reflecting on what to write about. Obviously I though who is that tasty looking man in the window, as tasty as my snack, then I realised it was me, such over arching modest. You’ve all just choked and spat your sandwich out all over your screen, or Big Brenda from accounts has just done a maneuver to save you from choking, so tonight she is doing more maneuvers under the duvet. So thank me for choking you, now you have found your future wife.
So what was I going to write about, you don’t care Brenda will always be there for you, so much for appreciating the Writer. Yes, I was going to talk about Art and Design, it says so at the top of the screen, while you and Brenda and being obscene, but in the best possible way. Now, where was I, I sound more and more like Frankie Howerd, yes, Art and Design. There is a way of making things nice, it’s called curves, or Women, as God designed them. So if you look around you what looks best. Yes curves. Curves in Design, look at your keyboard, not keys if you are bored, but keyboard, it’s curvy at the edges, even the keys are curved and smooth with a bit scooped out so your finger tips can slide in. All very simple, but the feel is so important. Nobody wants angular and rough, smooth and curvy is the way. Look at all the objects in your home, curves everywhere. If you have straight lines it is not Nature, man made objects were originally straight and boring mass produced, until Art and Design crept in.
Look at the old monitors in computer rooms, they were chunky and heavy, I can remember back to 1978 when I first started in a computer room, we had a rust coloured lump of cheddar with green writing, this was the super dupper fancy one. I can remember when I bought my own first flat panel monitor back in 2002 maybe, the staff taxi was a Jaguar so he could fit an old one I sold to him in his boot. Meanwhile I had a flat screen monitor which cost 4 times then what they do now. Writing being my vice, so I had a nice colour monitor. Meanwhile the jag driver had a lump of cheese monitor for his video game playing son.
And on it goes Art and Design. If you look back at those old photos what will you see? Badly shaped items, with extra large shoulders, both the people and the Fashionable clothes they wore. Then as time progressed the lapels got thinner and thinner till they disappeared. Go look at your Google photos is you don’t believe me, see you all looked so horrible, apart from your Gay cousin, and his friend Linda from the chip shop, who when she wasn’t battering fish dress to kill and thrill. Your cousin, was her pretend boyfriend to keep the sharks at bay, though once there was a fight and it wasn’t nice. Linda battered three boys, for saying Gays were, I won’t say, and neither did those three ever again.Linda was also martial arts trained. Her skills did impress this man with the child in his eyes, he was a roofer, he led her to the stairway to heaven, but it was alright he was martial arts trained too, and they were only going up to admire the view.
Anyway, looks sell, whether it is fish and chips, or dinner plates.We got some new plates today, fancy curvy white ones, so my frozen fish fingers will look even better on my plate. As a child growing up, ok I’m still a child, just inside a man’s body, a fat man’s body, well when we had new stuff the lodgers had the old stuff. And if it was furniture the lodgers had our old stuff, and the stuff from the lodgers rooms went on the bonfire. All of which would now be called Antiques, and Arthus Negus would be spinning in his grave if he knew what gems we burnt at the bottom of the garden.
If you compare what you have now to what you had as a child, the look and style is so much better now, though some will say the build quality is not as good, mdf instead of wood. Things are lighter and technology is smaller, what appeared on Star Trek 50 years ago, is now a reality. Then Retro appears, I had a real BUSH radio the new Retro look one is far far smaller and lighter, the old one had a battery almost the size of a tin of beans inside. The one I inherited from Frank Brown our lodger changed my life because I started listening to The World Tonight and Douglas Steward reporting followed by the book at bedtime, me my brother had the radio in our double bed in the middle so we could hear it without waking up dad in the room next door.
So some designs stay in your memory and the thought of their shape brings back memories and smiles. You can buy curvy plastic corners to prevent your kids from poking their eyes out on sharp corners, and yes I did kid proof my house when our kids came along. I’m teased for being like Mr Brown in Paddington,but just you wait and you’ll be the same. You can go through your photos and share memories, nowadays we’d refuse to buy anything that wasn’t a decent design, we don’t live behind the Berlin Wall after all. So now I have designs on my telly, I need to watch more Kdramas. Though I will say the Art and Designs in them will turn your head as well as all the Product Placements. I just wonder am I fashionable enough to be a Kdrama star, email your opinions...
Piping Hot (c)
By
Michael Casey
Well we got some new ovenware, so while my dinner is in the oven, I’ll talk about Piping Hot food. I’m that well planned as far as these stories go. So how do you like your food? Some like it Hot, which was the name of a film, but it could be a metaphor. It depends on you, speaking of hot, Are you Human is my new Kdrama, it was very hot there as the nightclub burnt down, and a robot saved the day. Very exciting with the usual song/music soundtrack. The robot got shinged but the girl thought he was HOT, me I just thought the girl was hot, and gently smoldered. She was a martial arts girl, so I won’t tell her to her face, I just wonder can she type too.
So food should be hot, there’s nothing worse than cold food, so I always tell my daughters to finish fast, so I can have hot slops, or make up their mind faster, so I get hotter slops. This is the life of a dad, you are just a dustbin, maybe that’s why flies follow me. A microwave is good to to reheat any slops before you eat them. Yes I know what we are all told but, a bit of left over pizza or chicken licking is always best when it is hot. Otherwise it just goes in the dustbin. And as your mother tells you,”its a sin to waste food”. Though I never waste food, you can tell by the size of my waist, I only buy what I like and eat what I like, so waste. Or is it because I’m greedy? Read 300 and Not OUT, as we’ve just past the 300th word, that’s the family stories, I even loaded it up again in Arabic, for all my Arabic speaking readers. You’ll no doubt find some food stories in it.
Now in the middle of the night it’s always good to have something hot and spicy, and I don’t just mean your girlfriend/boyfriend, before you all say it anyway. I used to have my sandwich break at 4am in my computer room days. I’d have ham and Red Leicester cheese sandwich, you run around a computer room for up to 12 hours you need energy food. The company had a cheap drinks machine, it may have even become free years later. In the daytime we’d go to the hole in the wall sandwich shop, so on days it was cold sandwiches, but on the night shift it was my hot Red Leicester and ham. Now a word of advice, too long in the microwave and the sandwich went all stiff and useless,like eating cardboard, so you had to time it right,so it’d stay nice.
You could skin a cat and eat it, Totoro just creept in and hid under my desk, with dangerous wires, so sparks and cat on fire maybe. Be careful of that darn cat, or they’d be pussy frying tonight. Everybody everywhere if you have an animal you have to watch it, cos they always sneak everywhere. So lids on food, or put stray food in a cupboard, or in the oven or in the microwave to hide. And if you have a dog and a baby, get rid of the dog, because too many babies have died, because the animal would not hurt a fly, but will kill a baby.
That safety message was brought to you by Totoro our cat, so blame her. Now back to food, when you call the kids to the table, switch off the wifi, there are Apps that do it from your phone, so switch off the wifi otherwise you’ll be eating alone. Your family should be eating together, whatever the weather. Mindfulness and so on, or as my mother would say, the dinner’s on the table, eat it now, or the cat gets it. Jean our old cat 50 years ago, did get the Xmas turkey once,so my mother cut out the bite mark, and we cooked it. Hot Xmas dinner for 13 and a dog and a cat, remember. Don’t forget to heat the plates too, even if you have to steal your sister’s hair drier.
Well it’s time for my dinner now. It was anyway, but the new ovenware is too slippy and I tripped over the cat. Yes, it broke and my dinner went all over the floor. So I’ll be having Red Leicester and ham again. As for Totoro, she’ll be eating my hot dinner from the floor, and the ovenware is no more. Be careful in kitchens, accidents do happen, the chefs at CPNEC did tell me off once, for getting in the way on a security patrol, 60 dishes could have fallen, and I would have been axed like a tree from the company. So wherever you are and whatever you are eating, just keep it hot and spicy, and you never know your boyfriend/girlfriend may repay you in kind. And take precautions, do lay the table first, and be careful of the water jug.
Writing as a Spectator Sport (c)
By
Michael Casey
Well a few minutes ago I said come back later and I may have something for you, it’s Friday 16th April 2021 by the way. I went to the kitchen for a mug of tea, I’ve had 2 coffees so now I switch to tea, well by the kettle I had an idea, they never stop, and this is what you are getting, a swallow or a lark, flying through my imagination. Though you may think it to be a cuckoo.
I may need to stop in a while as my arthritis is creeping through me, so I may need to stop, in fact I do as, I need fresh air, to release a fart. While I let the fresh air in and search for my pain killing gel, have a think of what I’ll tell, as Tinkerbell falls over because of the smell. That’s much better, I’ll close the window now, whether you want me to or not. So where was I? The idea for today is Writing as a Spectator Sport. I’m sat here all alone talking to you, and not having a clue which way the words will take me. Destination Unknown, or a Run on the Bus, like my dad in his retirement days 30 years ago. I let the words move me and take over, a bit like Abba and the Music. I do have an idea, like looking at the stars and joining the dots.
So the process is joining the dots, that’s the Plough and so on, the words, the idea is all there, it’s just a question of joining the dots, simple. How I connect them, and the order makes the difference, like Frank Carson the Comedian, it’s the Way I Tell Them, so with me it’s the way I write them. Anybody can write, but not everybody is a good writer. Some writing is just too dense, for example a very clever girl was looking at my site, I think it was her, as it was a link from an old site belonging to her. Though the Internet is strange it could be anybody. Let us assume it was the clever History girl, now she’ll know who it is but I won’t identify her any more.
So, please don’t hit me. Serious pieces are serious, but the style of writing is for Academics only. I’m not saying Dumb Down, but what is the purpose of Writing? To communicate, if the style is too complicated, then the message is lost, to the average Moron like me, I’ve said it before you do. I keep it simple, because I’m a Simpleton, and I don’t have the skills to write in any other way. I do have readers in 90 Countries all told, who like the telling of my Tales, in up to 10 different languages on the same day. She’s putting her tongue out at me now, maybe she didn’t see my message I left on her site, as there was no email. She’s picking up a dictionary now, hope she doesn’t throw it, this could turn into a Kdrama.
She missed, I ducked, ok. I just imagined the cause and effect of the last paragraph, off message it’s called. Trump was off, for 4 years, though sadly people are dying because the believed his lies. So I have an idea and I follow it. I go where the wind blows, and no I won’t open the window again, I’ll just change my diet. Which brings me to my Topic, and they are such nice chocolate bars, you eat one instead of reading my rubbish. I really am Ronnie Corbette and Joyce Grenfell’s bastard child, perhaps I’m a Gerald Wiley, what you all think I’m just a Gerald, you are all so cruel. But beware Gerald is the patron saint of pregnant women.
New paragraph, as I hate it when there is a sea of ink, it’s so depressing, so space out you words, let the page breath. I’ve had a trainee Doctor comment on my paragraphing, ok it was my nephew. Shall I get to the point, there is no point, I’m a pointless Writer who never wants to be a “Celebrity”. Ok, everything is Reality TV, which I tend to hate, as it’s obnoxious Z list hosts, with sprayed on tan people, with loud voices and even louder “personalities” . MIAOW. So why not have people watch writers write. Online or in the flesh, next to the watch paint dry channel. Obviously the watch paint dry channel, would get double the viewers, just like shopping channels.
So,I’d be sat in a chair, a comfy chair, near a toilet, with my computer on a desk. A side table for drinks and my friend a fisherman,who helps me breath. That’ll confuse Americans, ok, A fisherman’s friend is not some hairy bloke from a George Clooney film, whoever he is. A fisherman’s friend is a cough sweet. Sweet. Where would I be. In a bar, so you can drown your sorrows, not because my writing is bad, you are so cruel. There would be a link that sticks an image of my head and my screen onto the Big Screen that normally show the Football. Football is not some fancy dress game in padding, that thinks it’s bad Rugby, Football is Soccer, see I have to pander to the USA audience, because I’m just a big fat panda. The audience will always be with me, until I shake them off before I get to the train station, as Les Dawson would say, you can Google him, he was good. Used to play piano in a brothel, you’ll find the “truth” out there, just past Mulder.
So I’m up on a stage, music playing in headphones, so the audience can’t put me off, they can hear the music too. Writing is a solitary business, like having a pooh in the loo, yes just like the quality of my writing, you are all so cruel. So I sit and write and listen to music as I normally would do while the audience drinks and tries to guess which way the wind will blow me. Luckily I am sat near a toilet. Then away I go, the title appears. So he’s writing Writing as a Spectator Sport. Will it be any good, or will we be too drunk to care, which might give the appearance that he really is a good writer, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. As I’ve said before normally from a standing start it takes an hour to write a piece, assuming my arthritis doesn’t kick off. Though as this is a spectacle maybe a massage table at the ready, with some huge bloke bigger than the Rock ready to massage me, just in case. It could be a luscious lady, but I’d be accused of sexism, or any other ism. Frank Warren the boxing promoter would be the promoter. Though in truth the Rock look alike and the massage table are just a ruse to protect me should the audience become as ugly as I look.
The audience would comment, his opening was rubbish, what do you think Garry Lineker, he lacks “ball control” as I dash to the loo, before returning to my words. So I’d go on as usual, the crowd gently singing to the music I’ve chosen as I write. The audience in darkness as I’m in the spotlight, and if they could hear Eric Clapton right now they’d see where the improm slips in slides in, just as Eric is away on his guitar. Me, it’s an adjective on my keyboard being accompanied by a comma, that’ll lead people astray.
As I write the page moves higher and higher, and I forget what I’ve just written or is it like foreplay and the drunken audience want more. I write on a roll, so I have to keep on going or I’ll go off the boil, that’s why you should never interrupt a Writer, stay away from the spout as he’s writing or you’ll get burnt. For the audience they may be with me, or without me, or just mumbling a U2 song, as I’m on the edge of a sentence, will it be a throw in, or will the audience just throw up, as they head for the toilets.
And on it goes, why did he mention that, is he time wasting, where’s the Ref. Look he’s reaching for his left shoulder, he’s rubbed it a bit. He’s dropped his left hand, he’s typing one handedly, he’s just using his right hand to write with. Spontaneous applause in the audience. He’s stopped, can he go on, he’s loosen his belt to let his belly out, don’t look his hand is in his trousers, he’s pulled his shirt and 4 jumpers out. He stood up, Garry Linekar is speechless, the fat silver haired writer in shades is going to take his multiple tops off. Is he heading for the exit, is the piece abandoned. NO, the writer looks to the massage table, as he removes his top. Men laugh, look at that belly, he’s fatter than Lard from StatsMR, then the woman applaud, he’s Winnie the Pooh belly, and the hairy left shoulder, rush the stage. Sympathy, sympathy as the Rock throws me down on the massage table, just like a potter throwing down a piece of clay, though only my feet are made of clay. Was it me, or as it the Rock, I’m massaged, and the women in the audience applaud, sympathy, sympathy they’ve all got it for me, as Kenneth Williams might say. And he’d say Go Google up the Khyber Pass, and carry on, ask Jon Sopal of the BBC to explain if you cannot understand dear reader. I really do have to stop now for a squirt of Movelat painkiller gel.
Well I’m still in pain, and so are you, you are sooo cruel to me, but my small daughter is making a snack as I speak to you. So I may finish soon. Well the Rock whispers in my ear, are you better, I whisper back, play the audience. But I feel so objectified says the Rock, I bet that’s never happened to you, so enjoy it I whisper back. So the Rock throws me for 30 mins more, while the men get drunk at the bar, and Garry Linekar improvises with data. Frank Warren counts the money before putting on his beret and mac, he’ll cycle to the Post Office before it closes, with the take, looking rather like Frank Spencer.
Then the Rock in one smooth motion, lifts and throws me into the air and catches me again. The women in the audience scream, I think the Rock has got use to being objectified by now. I slip on my shirt and 4 jumper, a reverse strip tease, the women go wild, especially as I tuck it all into my trousers. Then I begin writing again, I have led them all up the garden path, past Gill with a G from StatsMR, she’s winked at me. Then I begin again, with a new paragraph, half the audience is wild, the other is just drunk. The bar taking are through the roof, and I could mention 2 companies I used to work for, who could do that.
I spin my tale, I drop a bit here, I drop a bit there, I continue, I stumble as I write, I mistype but a better word appears, does he have a 7th gear. But we are in the Inn of the 7th Happiness, so do we care, Really, Really, Really is that the echo of Jon Sopal coming from somewhere. I stroke back my ever so soft and gently silvery hair, spreading dandruff everywhere. The audience go wild, they are ladies hairdressers who wash for a living, when they are not watching reality tv. This is gold dust to them, Really, Really, Really, says another Jon, the gay hairdresser from Rowley Regis, a king with curlers.
So on I write, a line here, a line there, continuing and joining as I preen the story, a bit of colouring and a bit of lightening as I write like Grease Lightning. John Travolta may be bald in reality, but like my story he can dance, yes he can dance, with or without a U2 song playing, and carrying a tin of paint in the street. He’s going to mark out the car parking spaces, for the next time I appear. Writing as a Spectator Sport is HERE, Really, Really, Really, oh do shut up Jon, put some curlers in.
Shakespeare come out of the bog, I'm a cross gartered fool desperate to be let in (c)
By Michael Casey
Today is Shakespeare's Birthday, 23rd April
So he is quiffing ale like Falstaff
So his bladder is fit to but
So needs must, he is in the bog
No not an Irish bog, like found in Kerry and those parts
The kind of bog where farts are found
A toilet in any other words
Can you hear hear the Earthy Sounds
A hail of rain, and tempest galore
Merrily I say to thee, Shakespeare is past
He has had his Measure for Measure, and more
Litre pint glasses he adores, he is all for Europe
If he can fit more in his glass
And now it is all coming out his ass
And I don't mean a donkey
Though he brays like one
Especially if he is sat upon
But is takes up all the bench with a buxom wench
Where are we all to sit
So we all say, move up a bit
Then he has to go for a sh**
He says he won't dally while he dumps
The wench's breast look like mumps
So we say, take your time
It's no crime, as Falstaff moves in
His double chins as large as the maiden's breast
Though she is far from Maiden
She's been had, and Elizabeth said it first
When she was a walk on part, as Falstaff farts
So Shakespeare is in the bog and we cheer merrily
As the Inn Keeper to his credit will but the ale bill
on Shakespeare's account, because he is a right count
We did get a penny worth of bread for Falstaff
As he never drinks on an empty stomach
As we leer and tarry with the maiden
Shakespeare has inspiration and takes out his quill
As sat on the toilet, he writes a new Thriller
The Tempest, and judging from the noises off
It is the perfect title
As washed up on a sea of ale, Shakespeare writes his Tale
We are glad for him and call for more Strumpets
which are a bit like bread, recently invented and called
Crumpets, so now you know, because I told you so
Annie was at the gate, so I missed a line
she is very refined and paints
But back to the yard of ale, for more of the tale
Shakespeare would not come out
No matter how loud we shout
He just used his quill and wrote on the wall
Many a verse, as we converse with Strumpets
And hoping for a bit of crumpet
Will was in there with his quill
Not know he would be paying the bar bill
But as the wind blew, he knew with his quill
He had swallowed a bitter pill
If he was writing on paper, then scenes would be missing
As the ale and hapworth of bread
Had entered via his head
Now was dropping like lead down the hole in the ground
With such a mighty echoing sound
Yes, Will was all piss and thunder
That's why he webbed words together like a song
And could do no wrong on any stage
And now filled with rage for the lack of a page
He was the writing was on the wall
But he was having a ball
And so were we with Strumpets
Best paid by Will on his tabulations behind the bar
Though the Strumpets behinds, in front and behind the bar
Were England's Glory be far
For God and King Harry Parts One and Two
Were writ when he'd had quite a few
Strumpets and Ale, they were both for sale
And Will Shakespeare knew how to take the measure of both
He was a playwrite of note after all
And he was always after, before, after and during
He had to dip his quill, that's why Will was Will
He was no sheep in a pen, he was frolicking at will
And Will did grow up in the wool trade and wrote all his own stuff
Though Ernest the Wise innkeeper always said it was bracing air
Like at Morcambe that made the lines fizzle
Not the damp air and drizzle outside
So come inside for we have crumpet to go with the ale
Best served by our very own strumpets
And what of Me?
I am Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham
And it is I who is left to beat my carpet
For the bastard Will left the cat in
And she sha** on my rug, so now I have to beat it
To clean the mess off
Happy Birthday William Shakespeare
And hurry up out of the bog
So I can use it, and maybe I can steal a few lines
Off the Wall, as I dance the night away
Farting Happy Birthday
The Power of Laughter(c)
By Michael Casey
Well I've just watched episode 18 of Vincenzo, and I've laughed till it hurts, with my hernia through my bypass scar it really does hurt when I laugh. So I've taken 2 paracetamol and I'm gingerly rubbing my "breast" and it does look and feel like a breast. But at least it gave me the idea for today's talk. It'll kill me in the end, but to die laughing would be ok, though I need 7 more years till my small daughter over there in the corner gets her PhD. Yes I want more, Laughter and Years, but that's up to God not me. Which reminds me I need to pay our priest a visit, I have present for our own Don Camillo.
The sun is bright, but there is a chill in the air, I could tumble down the hill, to visit priest and church, but getting back up again would be a struggle, from day to day or hour to hour, I never know the state my body is in. Though I did shave, shower and S---, the 3rd S after all, I said that once to somebody they totally misunderstood, because nobody listens they just react, or maybe they just could not be bothered to listen to me. I always want a conversation, so never say How Are You to Me, because I always take it as a Literal invitation for Conversation not just vacuous Pleasantry.
So why does laughter have power? Because it is an equaliser, literally Equaliser. I learnt that at the hotel, I had the most Power there, though I was the very least of the brethren, because I could always make the guests laugh. Maybe 100,000 conversations over the 3 years there, some like Ami on the desk called it "my act" but it was not. There is too much servitude in hotels, I know it's meant to be like that, but some people just did not know how to treat staff, others did and do, but some should have felt my shoe up their backside. I'm far more "Mouthy" now I'm a retiring writer, but before with toddlers I had to put up with anything, like a rubbish boss hiding in the concierge room, pretending to sweep a broom.
I can laugh at it now, but 12 hours all day standing on marble with 3 hours travelling on top of it, I put up with a lot, until somebody wanted me to work till Midnight, so I decided to say Goodnite. Yes it was the best fun I had in any Job ever, but it was by far the hardest job ever. So that's the pinch of salt to take with all the other comments I've ever written. My kids always are more important than any job, and ultimately I raised them, which is/was good considering I could have died in bed, Jan 2015 unplanned quadruple heart bypass has given me 6 years more extra time, a neighbour down the road also with 2 daughters he died in bed. So I'm lucky.
Laughter makes you lucky, because people are glad to see you, he's good for a laugh. He always has a story, or he gets the drinks in, so God Bless him. That's why the criteria always is, they get the drinks in. So we don't care for education, or class, or if you boring about being gay or straight or any which way, so long as you get the drinks in. Can you laugh, and can you make others laugh. Pinsent Masons when I worked for them were class, everybody was nice, the HR people saw to that.
But I've sidetracked myself. A show on tv will make you laugh, or a Tom Sharp book, I was talking to the IT guy at Pinsents once and he had only just discovered Tom Sharp. Wilt, Porterhouse Blue, The Throwback were a few of the books, Porterhouse Blue was a great tv show too. I was visiting a friend doing his PhD when the books were introduced to me, 30 years plus ago. So laughs can be shared and discovered, you'll find them in a reading list, or Shakespeare if we mention him as it was his Birthday the other day. And believe it or not I did an Open University 3rd level course in Will 30 years ago or so, I was called his agent by my Tutor. I did a bit of History too, but gave it up as I was working loads of shifts on computers. The History PhD gave a lecture on WWII and said forget Normandy the War was won with blood in Mother Russia that won it. And for Americans considering this, 40,000,000 Russians died beating the Nazi scum. 400,000 American died too, and many many more from other nations. So imagine a crowd in a church. 100 people there, 1 would be from USA, the rest one be Russian, the sole American would be lost in the crowd. So, image that when you scream "Commie Bastards" at some Trump rally. A study of History would teach you so much more. And that could have made the Peace so much better.
Yes, I could have been a History teacher maybe, if my life took another turn. But you have to live with the way the Dealer deals the cards. And get up and start again, maybe repeatedly, as you follow the long and winding road. So my Writer incarnation which only began in 1987 is the best of me, 20 years of "study" by radio listening then 1 years of practice, before on Leap Years Day 1988 I'd say I qualified as Writer, when The Butcher The Baker The Undertaker, the paper version was first written. The expanded computer version was a few years later. So if anybody says my writing is rubbish, you'll hear this SOB, Son of a Blacksmith, call you (&&^&^&&.
I try to bring laughter, and just like in Vincenzo, ordinary, overlooked people can and do surprise you. That's maybe why I like it so much, and should you finally read The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker as people in 90 countries do, in many many languages, you'll see why ordinary people like it, because they can see themselves in it. And that maybe is the secret, but Publishers would rather sell coffee table books of Kim K's arse, or is that because I'm just an even bigger fatter but tighter arse?
The Power of Laughter(c)
By Michael Casey
Well I've just watched episode 18 of Vincenzo, and I've laughed till it hurts, with my hernia through my bypass scar it really does hurt when I laugh. So I've taken 2 paracetamol and I'm gingerly rubbing my "breast" and it does look and feel like a breast. But at least it gave me the idea for today's talk. It'll kill me in the end, but to die laughing would be ok, though I need 7 more years till my small daughter over there in the corner gets her PhD. Yes I want more, Laughter and Years, but that's up to God not me. Which reminds me I need to pay our priest a visit, I have present for our own Don Camillo.
The sun is bright, but there is a chill in the air, I could tumble down the hill, to visit priest and church, but getting back up again would be a struggle, from day to day or hour to hour, I never know the state my body is in. Though I did shave, shower and S---, the 3rd S after all, I said that once to somebody they totally misunderstood, because nobody listens they just react, or maybe they just could not be bothered to listen to me. I always want a conversation, so never say How Are You to Me, because I always take it as a Literal invitation for Conversation not just vacuous Pleasantry.
So why does laughter have power? Because it is an equaliser, literally Equaliser. I learnt that at the hotel, I had the most Power there, though I was the very least of the brethren, because I could always make the guests laugh. Maybe 100,000 conversations over the 3 years there, some like Ami on the desk called it "my act" but it was not. There is too much servitude in hotels, I know it's meant to be like that, but some people just did not know how to treat staff, others did and do, but some should have felt my shoe up their backside. I'm far more "Mouthy" now I'm a retiring writer, but before with toddlers I had to put up with anything, like a rubbish boss hiding in the concierge room, pretending to sweep a broom.
I can laugh at it now, but 12 hours all day standing on marble with 3 hours travelling on top of it, I put up with a lot, until somebody wanted me to work till Midnight, so I decided to say Goodnite. Yes it was the best fun I had in any Job ever, but it was by far the hardest job ever. So that's the pinch of salt to take with all the other comments I've ever written. My kids always are more important than any job, and ultimately I raised them, which is/was good considering I could have died in bed, Jan 2015 unplanned quadruple heart bypass has given me 6 years more extra time, a neighbour down the road also with 2 daughters he died in bed. So I'm lucky.
Laughter makes you lucky, because people are glad to see you, he's good for a laugh. He always has a story, or he gets the drinks in, so God Bless him. That's why the criteria always is, they get the drinks in. So we don't care for education, or class, or if you boring about being gay or straight or any which way, so long as you get the drinks in. Can you laugh, and can you make others laugh. Pinsent Masons when I worked for them were class, everybody was nice, the HR people saw to that.
But I've sidetracked myself. A show on tv will make you laugh, or a Tom Sharp book, I was talking to the IT guy at Pinsents once and he had only just discovered Tom Sharp. Wilt, Porterhouse Blue, The Throwback were a few of the books, Porterhouse Blue was a great tv show too. I was visiting a friend doing his PhD when the books were introduced to me, 30 years plus ago. So laughs can be shared and discovered, you'll find them in a reading list, or Shakespeare if we mention him as it was his Birthday the other day. And believe it or not I did an Open University 3rd level course in Will 30 years ago or so, I was called his agent by my Tutor. I did a bit of History too, but gave it up as I was working loads of shifts on computers. The History PhD gave a lecture on WWII and said forget Normandy the War was won with blood in Mother Russia that won it. And for Americans considering this, 40,000,000 Russians died beating the Nazi scum. 400,000 American died too, and many many more from other nations. So imagine a crowd in a church. 100 people there, 1 would be from USA, the rest one be Russian, the sole American would be lost in the crowd. So, image that when you scream "Commie Bastards" at some Trump rally. A study of History would teach you so much more. And that could have made the Peace so much better.
Yes, I could have been a History teacher maybe, if my life took another turn. But you have to live with the way the Dealer deals the cards. And get up and start again, maybe repeatedly, as you follow the long and winding road. So my Writer incarnation which only began in 1987 is the best of me, 20 years of "study" by radio listening then 1 years of practice, before on Leap Years Day 1988 I'd say I qualified as Writer, when The Butcher The Baker The Undertaker, the paper version was first written. The expanded computer version was a few years later. So if anybody says my writing is rubbish, you'll hear this SOB, Son of a Blacksmith, call you (&&^&^&&.
I try to bring laughter, and just like in Vincenzo, ordinary, overlooked people can and do surprise you. That's maybe why I like it so much, and should you finally read The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker as people in 90 countries do, in many many languages, you'll see why ordinary people like it, because they can see themselves in it. And that maybe is the secret, but Publishers would rather sell coffee table books of Kim K's arse, or is that because I'm just an even bigger fatter but tighter arse?
Morons at Work(c)
By Michael Casey
I just got up, I'll check my reader numbers then go back to bed for a final session of sleep
You try on Tinnitus for size
I spotted somebody was using a Plagiarism tracker on my Words
How many years have I been online, before landing here?
Maybe 20
When did I learn to read and start reading by the yard, 50 years and more
When did I graduate as a writer, 29th Feb 1988
So it more than pains me that SOBs think I steal stuff, so they take a look
I'm a read SOB, Son of a Blacksmith
So take it from me, I never steal
I have 4 sites now, and I post after I've written, and compile my books as I go along
TRY BUYING A BOOK
I also repost old stuff if I'm too tired or in too much pain to think
So on autopilot I'll post
If I post from a newspaper it's stated, or clearly marked
I don't care if you don't like the writing, my rubbish
But if you even think I'm a thief, I'd slap the backs of your legs with a wet lettuce
and yes that's a Larry Grayson line, but I cannot explain everything as I go along
I assume you have some level of intelligence
Otherwise you'd just be looking at snaps of Kim K's arse
Mine is much bigger and better and so much tighter
But you'd have to know me Biblically first to find out for sure
As for the writing, I have a brain, over 50years worth
So you can stay digging in the dirt, while I look up at the stars
or do I have to cross reference everything for you while you are
in Reading Jail?
Now in the news today we have a cabinet at war eventually
It's better top jaw jaw than war war
And a nation divided cannot stand
So Let's Beat Covid 19, instead of all the prattle
Hissy fits may sell newspapers, but don't help the population
Churchill said he'd do a deal with the devil to save England
People should learn from History
Instead of Twittering on vacuously
There is a time and tide for everything, ask Will down the pub
TODAY India needs our help
We are not an island, the world is not a vacuum,
though we are an object in the vacuum of space
If India dies we all. die
Who will buy, who will buy if the world dies
By being Charitable, be being Humane, we are helping ourselves
God Helps those who helps themselves too
But what of Putin's Russia, 140,000 troops posturing
They should be used to fight Covid 19
And China too
India is on your doorstep
As North Korea goosesteps
In Indian people are dying
Forget about losing face, save the human race
If the cat gets out of the bag, it's more than sad
Turn back time, or the crime of the century is more than a footnote
Who said what, where and why
Are they trying and prevented more dying
Comments in newspapers end up as chip wrappers
With vinegar splashed on them
So are you offering vinegar as Christ dies on the cross
Or are you doing something
Covid 19, has released the genie of hate and division in the world
Now is the time to set things right
Maybe even for prayer,
My last word was Calcutta
So save the Princess that is India
before everything is written in History books
or are you too busy checking for plagiarism
just go back to the first book
Addressing People (c)
By Michael Casey
Now I am a creature, yes you all reply, interrupting me
A creature of habit, and yes i look like a hairy Hobbit
But if you do things regularly then you won't be constipated
So get up at a regular time, and eat and drink etc
Regularly
Habits work, that's why Organisation works
Work, Rest and Play
and don't forget to Pray at bedtime
or any time, God is always waiting
Even at a bus stop or in a lift, or queueing at the checkout
God is everywhere after all
Now IF you are regular you life may
Seem boring but your life works
If you are wasting time, or not keeping track of time
Then you are always rushing about, like Putin
I had to put that joke in to see are you listening
He reads me too
Some joker sent me a message from Russia
So I asked when will Mother Russia start being a Man?
No not a transgender reference
BUT a sincere question, 140,000 men marching up to the top
of the hill and then down again
And as Francis said down the club, its obscene when Covid 19
Is all about, use armies to save lives, not scream and shout
Or maybe I'm a pacifist, or just pissed, in all senses of the word
Then in the papers I hear all this PC language
Kids must be called students
and boys and girls is stereotypical so must not be used
I cursed at the screen, and my words worth drifts out the open window
Education is about exposing people to knowledge that's why they go to college
If you are afraid of this or that, then they may just stay at home and stroke the cat
Hey you little bastards get in line or I'll give you a slap of the ruler
And you are all a bunch of bastards, only I your head teacher
Know who your dad's really are
My flat overlooks the supermarket carpark
And they are not testing car suspension at that time of night
And hey you Casey, one day you will hang
Which was really said to my own dad in 1920s/30s
But my own dad got "revenge" 4 teachers in the family
And his sons were at Queens Oxford, and Downing Cambridge
Not forgetting the Sancho Pancha in the family, me
2,000,000 words and 20 books on Amazon
But should the head teacher call them little bastards
Will they be scared forever
I got 4 of the best on my bum for not knowing the times tables
In 1966 maybe, and today I can recite my times tables still
What about the little bastards of today
Pauline knows her kids, and they know they'll get a slap
Or a look that could kill, cos she has eyes in the back of her head
And they eat more than jam and bread
Like when gran did when she was younger
Hey Bollocks you, watch my fence as you park your car
Your just a fat old bitch
Noises off, as Denny farts
Yes she's an old bitch, and definitely got eyes in the back of her head
The driver spun around
We're her little bastards, and you don't talk to Miss like that
30 little bastards, now grown kids
It's her Birthday so we her little bastards are having a party
So watch her fence, Or I'll arrest you, Denny was a copper now
22 stones and 6feet seven, Miss said he'd thank her
And so he did, that well aimed slap of the ruler
and being forced to read and learn. his times tables
Now he had a PhD from the Open University
But he preferred to walk the streets
A chance to meet people and to have a laugh
Nobody called him Sir, he was know as TT
Because he rode a motor bike
Or because Miss made him repeat his Times Tables
You can be fancy or call every Nancy
If you cannot remember just say hello Nancy
As nobody listens they will think you are saying
Nice to See You, well it worked for Bruce Forsythe
Talking is for communicating
You don't need to pretend to be posh
In the end we all wash our bollocks
Especially Michael Bollcocks Casey
or just call me Nancy if you pass in the street
You are on your Own (c)
By Michael Casey
You are on your Own, said God.
How many times did I tell you?
In the beginning I said the tree alone.
Then you gave the game away by dressing in fig leaves.
What did Cain do, yet I forgave you.
Your descendants numbered more than the stars.
You were never satisfied, you built a golden calf.
And even found the New World, where you worship Money.
Then you had wars, wars and even more wars.
Then 2 world wars back to back.
And blamed me for Man’s insanity.
You argue over how to talk to me.
Just talk to me I’m your best friend, I’m your Daddy.
No need for formality, just talk,
I’m always by the proverbial phone.
But you just ignore me.
Till things go bad, then you want Bank of God.
Till things go bad, then you want Dr. God
Till things go bad, then you want the Weather tamed.
Till this, till that, while you are all Insane.
I am just a fruit machine, that you demands delivers Everything.
Who made you anyway?
You are just made from my spit and clay.
Yet you think you are so Bright.
It was me that made Daylight, the Day and the Night.
Yet you pollute the night, so you forget the Stars.
The only stars are those selfie taking midgets in your tiny minds.
And what do you look at, their behinds.
You pollute this garden of Eden, that I made for you.
You carve the land, and pollute the sea.
Little wonder my whales stop singing to me.
At least the whales knew how to treat me.
But now, they are hunted and killed to near extinction.
All the animals I placed on this good earth are being.
Exploited and killed, just for thrills.
Or made into pills, and if that is not enough.
Why does mankind destroy their minds from inside.
Pills and drugs, exploitation by thugs, because of silly mugs.
Who have hardly moved on from cavemen with clubs.
Why oh Why did I bother, why did I create you?
I think I should not have bothered, you are all so selfish.
Perhaps I should start again, after you all die by your own hand.
Mankind, who don’t believe in any God, except Love of Money and Love of Selfies.
A quiet whisper interrupts God and his musings.
Our Father Who Art in Heaven, she begins.
Mary, I knew it would be you.
Hallowed by thy Name.
Mary, always leading the Prayers.
Thy Kingdom Come,Thy Will be Done.
Mary, they’d be dust without you.
On Earth, as it is upon Heaven.
Mary, you are so soft hearted, you Love Everyone.
All Nations, and All Peoples call you Blessed.
Give Us this Day, Our Daily Bread
Mary, you always intercede.
Even as they smoke weed, the world over.
And Forgive Us, all our Trespasses
You always know how to get around me.
As We Forgive those that Trespass against Us.
Mary, if only all those Leaders actually lead.
And Deliver Us from All Evil
Mary you, and your Rosary.
Will be the Death, of the Devil.
For Thine is The Kingdom and The Power and The Glory
Mary, most Clement, Mary most Kind
Maybe this time I’ll save them all.
Fill up all those Wine Jars, do as he says.
Forever and Ever Amen
I suppose I’ll have to save Ungrateful Mankind, AGAIN.
Mary, kissed her Rosary Beads, and bowed.
The sky was blue and the stars could be seen again.
Little did Mankind know, just how much Mary loves us so.
So Pray the Rosary, count your beads, of every Denomination.
Talk, Pray, Scream and Shout, just make a noise in God’s direction.
For there is only One World, One Direction, aiming for Perfection.
Or do you want to go to Hell, which is in the other direction.
Don’t you Dare email Me (c)
By
Michael Casey
Sounds like a Threat, Don’t you Dare email Me, what a jilted girlfriend or some kind of “Royalty” might use, or maybe just your Bank Manager. I’ve got your attention, as the UK starts to breakup, like some kind of boy band, when really they should stay together, and not be a “victim” like in some Taylor Swift song. I hope I haven’t upset her, or my high shelves will be forever covered in dust. It’s ok, she just emailed me, of course she’ll always be there for me, besides my house is near the chip shop where her lad works. And he can always kip in the dog’s basket if he’s a bit too battered.
So back to emails, and I am a bit of an email addict, ask anybody who’s received an email from me. It’s so easy, and if I had decent handwriting I’d be always asking Pop it In Pete our Postman to pop it in his box for me, as our house is last on his round, and the red letter box is on his way home. Pete is ever so accommodating. You can read about his colleague Pat in Chapter 7 of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, I just remembered just how much fun there was at the Fete for the Children’s Home. I won’t spoil it for you, there are Translations on my Wordpress, or my original English on Amazon books.
But back to emails, why do I get so many? Is it because my email address has been harvested, or because it’s on my website? I have the vain hope that Media will get in touch and discover me. Yet in reality the only people who want to touch me are those who think I am a soft touch. I will delete and mark as phishing all and any email scammers. So their email disappears and they don’t get more morons replying to them. I also get loads of stuff for various diseases, some of which I have. Arthritis, Tinnitus, Ckd, and I really did have a heart bypass, 6 years ago now. I even put my scar photos online, to prove just how divine I look. But people think I’m an exhibitionist, and ask do I want to join the cast of The Greatest Showman, and for just $100 I can join the cast, just keep my shirt art half mast and display my scar, and wear shorts to show the scars on my legs too.
And on it goes, do you want this, do you want that? And they assume I want the other, and I even get emails for that. Ukrainian, Russian and Eastern ladies, ready made to marry and have babies. Is Putin, trying to get rid of excess population? And how about making money on Bitcoin, and whatever else Musk was on about the other night. I’d say listen to BBC Radio Comedy and forget SNL, we’re funnier over here, though the USA Political Class are the funniest of them all. What other junk do I get? Oh yes, we have offers for your home. In USD, dollars, $$$, but I happen to live in UK,in Birmingham England. Sometimes I reply with a poem of a story in a foreign language, English. That was cruel, I send them Japanese translations. Well if they send rubbish in Hebrew or in Korean, of course I’ll send back some of my rubbish to them, in any language I can, just to annoy them. I even get Concealed Carry emails, I thought it was a corset, or girdle of some sort, it turns out its guns. And nobody has a gun in UK, nor even wants them. Concealed Carry my arse, if it were a bum lift, somebody might be interested,but not me. I am a large tight arse, maybe I should forward it to Kim or somebody.
So on it goes, emails galore just to annoy me. Tinnitus ones might be of interest, but I never open links, so all your emails just stink.
Which reminds me I need to order more toilet paper. I use it to blow my nose on, as well my own trumpet on. No doubt I’ll get emails for that too now. So don’t you dare email me. I have other things to do, like take pain killers. I even get emails for cannabis tablets, without the highs, just pain killers. Do you think I’ll accept anything over the Internet, if it’s not sold by my own Pharmacist or Prince his Prince look a like son, then I don’t want to know. So stop sending me emails advertising it. Now I must really go and have a s___.
Now Where Do I Begin (c)
By
Michael Casey
Well if you are Russian you may be breathing a sigh of relief, as your email box was full, so you did not get that speculative email. I was checking my readers, just as Miss Sutherland used to check our hands to see if they were clean, back at Primary school. She was the Deputy Head, I also remember she donated her body to science, this would be back in the 1960s. So, you can all say a prayer for her today. Tomorrow marks 25 years since my own mother died.
Well somebody had Nu Vot as a link or search word to me, so I googled cos that’s what I’m like and I stumbled over
Stas Mikhaylov That's it (Nu vot i vse) with English lyrics ...
Yes, totally random, but I am a good stumbler as Mark Harris once said, though he also said something else, so I replied with a short word. That’s enough, no 15 minutes of fame for him. Anyway, so I thought as I’d just seen RocketMan, I could provide a few lyrics and then with Stas Mikhaylov’s skill I’d crack the Russian market. Then of course should my books ever see the light of day Stas would be the Narrator, as I cannot abide Steven Fry, besides Fry does not speak Russian. You can see how my mind works now. The whole world has email, so I annoy the world. It keeps me off the streets. I do chime a chord occasionally, and get a nice reply from some kind people. If you are one of them, then thank you, you know who you are. You can tell who they are should you visit them. My email is laminated and hanging next to the Urinals in their house.
Anyway Stas Mikhaylov I’m talking to you. Find my Valentine Poem online, or Let My Tears Be My Words, or The Dead and The Living. Then should you think you could adapt them, then together we’ll invade Russia, or rather the Pop charts. I have loads of stuff, 3300 pieces on my Bloggers alone. Not all poetry, but all kinds of everything, which was a Dana song. Then there are my Lech, Boris and Gregorgi stories about the Polish/Ukrainian/Russian first cousins who live in Popaloffoff where the 3 countries make love on the map. These are comic heart-warming stories. You can find them on my Wordpress and Bloggers. Right now if Stas’ wife is reading this to him, he’s thinking, just who the Theresa May is this fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. I DO NOT KNOW HIM, he’s as useful as Japanese vodka, which I’d only give to the cat. Russians only drink the good stuff, by the way Lech, Boris and Gregorgi make vodka in the woods behind me, but that’s another story. I have written 10 about the boys.
By now Stas is telling the Webmaster, make sure you bolt the door, and keep this fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England far away from my Babushka. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is already being read in Russia, under the bedclothes at night, by some misguided soul. As well as in 90 countries all over the world, thanks to Translations Galore over on my Wordpress. So, Stas Mikhaylov, could you be the voice, in Russian of Michael Casey. He’s on his knees now praying, Icon Our Lady of Valdimir save me. Who the Theresa May is Michael Casey?
I did actually once, 50 years ago wake up and sit bolt upright in bed screaming “The Russians are Coming” So now is it the time for the Russians to come to Birmingham. Bring some Eggs, the jewelled variety for our Museum to display. Andy Street our re-elected would be ever so happy, and exchange he’d give you some Cadbury Cream eggs, to eat.
So, if you are wondering where the stories come from, well now you know and have an example. The Spaceman and the Archangel is another story of mine that Russians might like, but really I’m lost in space, the space between my ears. But it is better to have an imagination, instead of just staring into space. Space should be filled, just as I fill a page. Conversation, and stories are a tradition everywhere. Some are very far fetched, like Trump, Putin and Pope Francis being in an Abba tribute band with Theresa May. And if Russians read that story then
They will know who the Theresa May is Michael Casey, its me, or Nu Vot.
Are you Human?
By
Michael Casey
Well, are you Human? It’s the name of the Kdrama I’m finishing off, where a female bodyguard falls in love with the man she is guarding. Only he is a Robot, but the robot has more humanity than the real person he standing in for. Ok, you either like Kdramas or you don’t, and yes I love them.
So, what makes us human? We cry, we are moved, we have empathy. Some Nationalities are said to have no empathy, or never cry. You can decide for yourselves if that is true or not, or are folks just stupid and shallow and vacuous. And again you can decide for yourselves which are witch, and am I just being a Devil’s Advocate to make you think. That’s what education is supposed to be about, learning the THINK. Not unless you are shallow and vacuous and are led by a Liar, again decide for yourselves who or how many leaders are like that. We had Hitler and Mussolini in the 20th Century, and others of their ilk. And what about today? Again decide for yourself. And should you allow the Oxygen of Publicity to aid and abet them. We play by the rules, they don’t, and they’ll abuse us to get what they want. Because we let them in the house. Read Animal Farm and 1984, and think about it all. It’s not so far away from Today’s reality. Those books used to be on a school reading list, 50 years ago, but do modern kids actually know about them.
Being Human is all about Humanity, it’s not about ME FIRST, it’s about thinking about our sisters and brothers. Sisters and Brothers doesn’t mean just the White Folk at our Mega Church, where millionaires rub shoulders and talk about percentages and net gains. It’s the others, on the wrong side of the tracks, at home in our own country and places far far away, where Shrek lives, or people we may just think are cartoons. Our land is not forever set in stone like a Lincoln Monument, it is movement it is Life. If we think this is it, it’s done and dusted, we just have to polish a monument, then you miss the point. All the spilt blood long ago is just History.
History moves, humans move. If we believe in Lies, what do we get? History repeating itself and Dictators ruling us again, you don’t give second chances to Liars and Dictators. They must be removed root and branch. And what would Jesus, who was brown and from the Middle East, say? Yes, he’s white and hates all his non-white neighbours, so yes he’s Ok. It’s just fake what they say about him.
At this moment in Time, all Humanity is at war with itself. The leaders should lead, and the place where leadership used to come from is divided and supports a Liar with Born Again Conviction. I’ll go far as to say, Faith itself has been corrupted, if you vote for a Liar and want to overturn Democracy itself, then your “faith” has been corrupted. I’ll stick with the poor Samaritans in the gutter myself, because all else seems to be tainted with The Love of Money. Or is somebody using Politics as a cash cow. Too many people turned a blind eye, because they were getting what they wanted. Now today we are seeing with this Election that a Cult is being set in stone like a Lincoln Monument. But Lincoln is no monument it is a movement By the People, For all the People. Not just a cash cow, for some.
Now that’s something for you all to think about, my 50 year love affair with Politics sneaked out. I’m just a pebble on a faraway shore, with no influence whatsoever. I don’t seek popularity or fame for myself. What makes us human is concern for each other, for we are all sisters and brothers, whatever our race, creed or colour. And my mother was born a spit away from a beach, Cromane Lower Kerry Eire, and she learnt all about Humanity just as Jesus taught on a beach in Galilee.
Tonight the lights are going out (c)
By Michael Casey
Tonight the lights are going out
Friend and families are leaving the stage
My parents generation are finally fading away
This week it's 25 years since my mother left us
25 years on, more and more of their friends are dying and gone
The families, the connections are going, fading into memories
The names that made up are community are disappearing
Old Mrs this, Mr Consequently, or the man that echoed goodbye three times
There are no more echoes, no more Mrs This or, the old guy with the stick
Because Time is catching up with them, and now they are all going going gone
A name is a memory, because of the welcome hello, or the sweets given
I remember the smiles 50 years ago as I collected the Tote money
Now those familiar names are nearly all gone
So once they all go, then I will reluctantly have to accept I am the older generation
For now, I pretend I am still that child of 50 years ago
Even though some even of my own age are already gone
But the parents are still here, so I can pretend I'm still that child
Even though my own children are of University age now
So I sigh, I remember all the names and all the families
That we saw at Sunday Mass, or I saw from the altar as I read the Bible lessons
for 5 years, and as an altar boy for maybe 8 years
The view from the altar, now I am sat at the back
Or watching on the Internet
The names of the five families or was it more
Are all now fading, then they will be no more
Life changes, time changes
But hopefully Faith is Eternal
So I hope, when it's my time to be carried out
And it could have been close already
But when finally when my time
Hopefully in many many years to come
That whenever it is
The friends the family of all the five families
Will be waiting for me at Heaven's Door
As I Knock, and I hope the doors open for me
Glory Be
Shopping List ©
By
Michael Casey
There might be a few mistakes in this as Tinnitus has been roaring like a storm since yesterday. It’s not fun, and whatever I try, between Prayer and Profanity has not kept it at bay nor lessened it, so I feel like…
Now as I sit here I have Ellie Goulding in my ears, with headphones on my head, I look like a Cyberman, maybe I’ll add a photo. I just noticed she is singing The Writer as I write, I’m sure Taylor Swift left her a note, or a message written in the dust on my ceiling. A spider did appear and crawl over my screen earlier, though spiders mean money, so I may try a lottery tonight. As Ellie Keeps on Dancing, but she is dancing with howling wolves of Tinnitus, and I’m 50 shades of S(*& as the din is too much, not of her, but of Tinnitus.
I’ve just taken a snap of me as a Cyberman so you can look at it, when I post this on my sites, Ellie’s singing Your Song now, I just hope you all don’t mind a badly shaved me with headphones on. Now, where was I? Yes, I was going to talk about Shopping List, and why, because I was going to trek down the hill to the shops, or rather to the Pharmacist to collect my 2 monthly supply of Meds, which as I am in UK are totally free now, because I’ve reached the age where they are free. Instead with Tinnitus roaring and April showers in May, I’ve decided to stay in, though I might sneak out for a Lottery and a visit to the Post Office, as the spider could have been a message. And Ellie is laughing at me, she’s just started It’s a little bit funny, she’s so cruel. Is Elton mocking me too?
Back to the plot. When you go shopping you have an idea of what you want, well apart from the impulse buys which are located near the checkout. So, we all buy chocolate and chewing gum and spare batteries for our toys. They should have chewing gum, and toothpaste too. And other things that could help in our passion, though that’d probably be in France. Or maybe you buy in bulk from Amazon. Though I’m side-tracking you all. Anyway you have a list and you work your way through the list, but supermarkets are clever and move things about, so to tempt you. Even shopping online as you are about to pay you get items thrown at you, to get more of your money in their pockets.
It is nice just strolling about, I used to do it religiously, but moving here, where I am the fool on the hill, the shops are even further away. So it’s rare for me to stroll around a supermarket, I have minions who do it for me. Ok, the Truth, I have a hernia through my bypass scar, and lifting and carrying hurts. Or if I do, do it then I’m in pain for days afterwards. I can move a sofa with my strong legs, but through the chest movements really hurt. But if you’ve been following me you know all this already, or have you not read my Blogger profile, or the About me on Wordpress? Makes me sound like an add on at the supermarket, just as you are checking out and slapping your children as you are on the phone as you ignore the checkout girl. Or is where you shop, so much posher?
Ok, so you are in the shop, with your shopping list, it’s quicker, or online is quicker still as Graham once said, as he saved his bread, by buying online instead. But back to me and you, as Graham practices his martial arts, he slices the extra bread he can afford to buy by saving his bread by buying online, with his fists of fury. That’s a trick sentence for all Esol students. But moving on again. How do you shop? I look for all the offers and buy those, because I am still poor, when you all finally buy books, then I might get some money, and buy honey. Governments complain about this and that and us the public getting fat. The truth is real people, real families need these offers, two for one offers on champagne, yes ban those for the elite in their “gites”, with their reserved this and that, while I get an offer for the cat.
Instant food is bad, add vegetables, sweetcorn, peas and tomatoes, plus some cranberry juice too, and stop the orange juice because it is so full of sugar. And this is what I’ve done in an effort to live a bit longer post quadruple heart bypass. And as if on cue Tototo our cat has sneaked into the study. I said the girls could have a dog if I died or a cat if I had a heart attack, so Totoro is 6 now. So, Totoro is a constant reminder of what happened to me, we even put her name on a nameplate with the house number on. So, if on your way home from shopping you dally, then you can find our old house because Totoro is on the wall by the front door. I write stuff that may be off the wall, but Totoro is stuck to the wall, and no don’t call the RSPCA or Prince Harry, not literally.
I’m going to stop now, as this imaginary shopping is too heavy for me to carry, and I used to carry a ton of stuff, of shopping and of paper and suitcases in my past lives. So, as you idle in the aisles looking for this and that, imagine Totoro our cat, and pick something healthier too. A colourful plate they call it, or otherwise you’ll be dead without a Cat Nameplate, to say you made it.
All Steamed Up ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s a Friday night so some of you will be all steamed up by now, steamed up means drunk/tipsy or having had too much to drink. See I expand the Esol vocabulary for any students out there reading me. In the corner besides me I can hear French rapping, it’s une confiserie patisserie all wrapped up, ready for later. In reality it’s my small daughter dipping into her French, Lupin is back on tv soon, do watch it the black lead actor is extraordinary, and I’m sure the ladies get steamed up watching him.
I could segway into Steamy Windows and Tina Turner, and I passed several steamed-up car windows in the dark of the field, on the way home on a Friday night, from the hotel to NEC train station when I worked there 20 years ago. But why have I pulled up on steamy windows? Well the whistle on our kettle has broken, and I just steamed up all the kitchen, if we had wall paper it would be rolling down like a lady’s stockings right now, which might be what still happens in the field on the way to the NEC train station.
Though whistling at ladies is not allowed any more, I used to get looks and many whistles on a Friday night, once a month as I dress in drag and go cruising down Broad street. I am a very big broad after all. With size ten dancing feet, in the street or anywhere else, who do you think taught Bowie and Jagger that dance? They never did return my flasher mac either, so I ran home naked like Lady Godiva, which is up the road from Brum in Coventry.
After all that explanation, should I put the kettle on and we can have a cuppa or a brew? Now I must confess I am a coffee drinker. Though I did give it up for a while after my heart bypass, but then I resumed, if you don’t have something nice in your life, then what is the point? You have to have rapport with your life. Which is the coffee I drink Kenco Rapport, instant with milk, which will make Americans puke at the very idea, that’s a strange way to drink coffee, I should be imprisoned for the very idea.
Back to the kettle, obvious growing up we had an enormous kettle, a gallon kettle, enough to make the tea and do the washing up after the dinner. There used to be a shop called Malcomb’s where all the pots and pans were sold, and obviously his children were percussionists, with that amount of metal it just had to be banged. So, my dad must have gone on an expedition to find a kettle big enough for the Caseys. Though back in Kerry at the family farm the fireplace was at least 10 feet wide, with a crane above the fire and a huge black kettle hanging there. You could actually sit in the fireplace on a chair next to the hanging kettle with the fire below. And I did indeed see my dad’s brother Danny sat right there. I believe Morris and his wife who run the farm now have boarded it all up.
Now does that story take the biscuit, speaking of which do you dunk your biscuits in your tea. There probably is a mathematical formula about the length of time a biscuit should be dunked. Then it’s soggy enough to eat, or if you dunk too long it drops off and floats in the tea, so you have to use your finger to scoop it all out, as you slurp. And memories of my brother doing exactly that come back to me. That’s how you put on weight, it’s all the biscuits with the tea. Though I gave up sugar in my coffee back in 1977, I know the date because I hit my head on the Kerry cow shed door in 1978, and my uncle Patrick said I’d grown 2 inches. Yes, that stone building that he and my mother were all born in became a cow shed. We never knew it was the original house till 1994 maybe, when Uncle Danny back from Boston, replied poking his finger in reply, that was the house. It had a well just a few feet away too, perfect for water for the pot.
Yes, a kettle is a fine thing, it brings family together, for tea and Madeira cake on a Sunday, and the cake would be gone by Monday, especially if I found it. Though for most of my life I’ve just drunk coffee, it’s been only a few years that I’ve added tea to my repertoire. And dad would come home from the steel works and wash his feet in the washing up bowl, and have his dinner sometimes in the living room on a chair, so he could watch the news and heckle the Politicians there, who could not organise a Tea Party, let alone run a country.
So a boiling kettle brings back many memories to me, something simple like me, it reminds of love and laughter, and a family watching tv together at the weekend. If a film was too touching, my dad would say he was getting a cold and blow his nose, as he excused himself saying he’d put the kettle on for the tea, for this is Family.
Never Discarded, Never Unloved 10th June 2021 (c)
By
Michael Casey
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
You were loved before you were even born
You were supported even when you thought you were all alone
Down on your luck, or flat on your back
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
Battered and Bleeding, your thoughts swimming against the tide
Ashamed and rushing for somewhere to hide
Rage and Anger boiling inside
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
Broken and on the scrapheap, only seeing defeat
Clothes torn and soiled, worse than any child
Tears falling like a waterfall to nowhere
You cower and hide under the stairs
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
You spiral ever downwards, despair like a comfy chair
You sit in it, you bury yourself in it
You wish you could fall down the back of the sofa
To hide your despair, being sat upon like a chair
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
You are down in the pit, the darkness everywhere
You are battered and broken, wanting to hide
There is no hope, there is no light, and worse
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
And on the circle, the big dipper goes
You are a passenger on a circus ride, your heart lost inside
You are not in charge, you are glued to despair
On and on you ride, an empty husk
Like a baby abandoned in a wicker basket
About to go over the waterfall
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
Then the love, from Prayers and Family
And from the scruffiest of nurses brings you back
You are in the pit, the very darkest bottom of it
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
It’s a long hard journey back
To trust again, to love again
You comb your hair again
You smile again, you’re not so timid any more
The wolf has been tamed, you are no longer
Hiding in your little red hiding hood
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
The sun appears, it pushed back your fears
Timid smiles, and little laughs crack the darkness
Of your face, the sunshine appears on your lips
You even dance and sway your hips
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
Slowly confidence, replaces apprehension
You learn to live again, to smile again
The clouds in your heart are blown gently away
The storm of sadness has been quelled
The dark glasses have been replaced with sunshine
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
So, on it goes, sometimes backwards a step
But now your mind and heart and soul
Is on the future, you have climbed out of the pit
And now as you walk away from it
It is being forgotten and filled in
Life and Laughter demolish it
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
So, remember you were always loved
Even if you could not see it
From before you were born you were loved
First by your mother, and even afterwards
When she was not there
Never Discarded, Never Unloved
You were always loved
Love is eternal, so from the first spark
Of Creation itself, there is the wealth of Love
And people still pray for you after you are gone
Love, laughter and memories carry on
All Creation carries on, one generation after another
We look forward to our Futures, never forgetting the past
We have climbed out of the bog, and through the fog
To form family and creation
For Love really does conquer all
We are all, no matter how bad or sad
Never Discarded, Never Unloved.
Mrs Pooh ©
By
Michael Casey
Now Mrs Pooh is not a foreign name we might laugh at, it’s a name Mrs Pooh got attached to, rather like dog pooh stuck to your shoe. For Mrs Pooh was just that, a married lady who was named Pooh. Rather like Miss Salt who married Mr Pepper, and that really happened to girl I used to work with 40 years ago. Now as for Mrs Pooh that was not her real name, though everybody called her it, it was just that the boss could not remember her married name, so he said Mrs Pooh, and it kind of stuck like dog pooh on your shoe. It was an emergency and Royalty were due, so somebody had to clean up fast. Though the Queen did say it was quite refreshing, instead of the high of fresh paint everywhere. And they did actually meet as Mrs Pooh hid in a cubicle, as it was too late to hide her big fat backside. A note was sent on Palace stationery saying the Queen had been relieved to meet “Mrs Pooh” and after that how could anybody call Mrs Pooh by any other name. Though the Queen did add a p.s. I really do thank a fellow Elizabeth.
So, Mrs Pooh framed it and it was in her store, piled up with toilet paper and towels and millions of cleaning stuff, in a corner of the shopping centre. Mrs Pooh would do her rounds, with a radio in her pocket, come here come there, on this level or that, clean this or that. Mrs Pooh smiled and hummed as she went about her chores, she was happy, who else had a hand-written note from a fellow Elizabeth, one a cleaner another a Queen. Mrs Pooh was there for decades, but now with a fancy iphone, connected to the security system, so half the time she need not be told where to go. She just appeared and baby sick disappeared. She was happy and new staff on orientation were told “that’s Mrs Pooh” we’ve forgotten what her real name is, but if any of you mock her then you’ll be sacked on the spot. Spotless shopping centre of the year 3 times running, that is her claim to fame. They say she has a hand written note from the Queen herself, and yes Mrs Pooh is really Elizbeth, but she only answers to Mrs Pooh.
Now did Mrs Pooh smell, not at all, you see the Perfume store just adored her, and why? Some visitor to the shopping mall had tried to bully one of the staff, only Mrs Pooh pushed the bully against the wall, she knew where the cameras were so nobody would observe her. Leaning her 18stones against the bully, her brush held like a Bushido stick, she told him this. He may be Gay but his a better “Man” than you’ll always be. Now Mrs Pooh was observed, the way she held her brush like a Bushido stick. A visiting Martial Arts team, on a shopping trip. They assessed the situation and gathered around. Their English was not very good, but they knew Bully, as Mrs Pooh pointed. When 18 muscle men look at you what will you do. Yes, the bully poohed his pants and Mrs Pooh told him where the Pants shop was and the closest toilet after that. Obviously the Martial Arts team laughed, and made a friend for life. They also gave her a badge for her lapel.
News spread amongst the staff like wild fire, and the Martial Arts crew visited the Perfume store, they liked to smell nice after all the time on the mat. After that every possible Martial Arts crew you could think of came to visit Mrs Pooh and the Perfume concessions. And yes many a night on mats and marriages after that. The Shopping Mall store was happy, Chinese, Koreans and Japanese were drawn to the centre now, and of course some stray English Martial Arts people too. And all because Mrs Pooh, put down the bully, though the Wing met the Wang, or was it Pong, as an abandoned pair of pooh filled pants were found, and Mrs Pooh had to deal with it.
So, Mrs Pooh, wore a different scent every day, a spray here, a spray there, as she pushed her cleaning trolley visitors would always ask her what she was wearing. But ever so respectfully, as the Martial arts badges on her lapels kept on accumulating. Now in the store was a Rolex concession, and Mrs Pooh would always stop to dream while she had a rest on the bench looking at the display window. So, it was there that she was sat with 2 Korean girls, they were enjoying the view of the Rolex shop window. They also had heard via Social Media about the shopping centre. So obviously, if you were in town enjoy the store and see the lady with all the Martial Arts badges. It was almost as important as taking a photo with a Red Letter Box, perfect for you English holiday face book page.
But there is always evil, nice people suffer. Mrs Pooh was chatting to the Korean girls with Hermes handbags, not that Mrs Pooh knew that. She told the two Koreans all about the store, and waved to old Bill who stood just inside the Rolex door, he was the doorman. Just in case of thieves. Now the man that poohed his pants had always vowed revenge on the shopping Mall. Now with 4 huge men he was going to rob the Rolex store, which is very hard to say if you are from the East, Far East. Mrs Pooh, knew something was up, and told the girls to move away fast. The Korean girls, sized up the situation, here hold our bags, then they slipped off their very expensive shoes .
Now a Korean takes their shoes when they are home and relax, or about to go to bed with you. Or, if they are about to do what these 2 Korean girls were going to do. Uncle they said as they put themselves between old Bill and the five would be robbers. All this happened ever so fast, Bill was swung to safety sat on the bench with Mrs Pooh. Surrender or we will use force the 2 girls said in unison, as is custom in Korea. The five just laughed, the 2 Koreans were tiny compared to them. Mrs Pooh put record on her phone instinctively, and so there was the Evidence for caught. A kick to the knee, a kick to the nose, a kick to the elbow, a kick to the jaw, all four might oaks fell. The pooh pants ran away, so old Bill who knew no Martial Arts skills, just administered an old-fashioned kick in the bollocks. The thing about Martial Arts is, you know the points to do the most damage. I forgot to say the two Korean girls were called Annie and Bettie, the same names as the barmaids in The Trader from Old Forge and Singing Anvil, in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker by Michael Casey, yes Product Placement this is a Korean story after all.
Dr Annie and Dr Bettie for in reality they were Korean surgeons, they worked in Sports Medicine, so when they Police and Ambulance arrived they could list what was broken and where. As for the Martial Arts, their brothers and all the family did Martials Arts, and they had decided to be Doctors to help fix the broken. So they were only Black Belts in just two martial arts each.
The Rolex company offered them watches as rewards, but as they had them already, Bill and Mrs Pooh had them instead. So over fish and chips that night, as it was a Friday and they were good Catholic girls, when they weren’t kicking bad guys, or healing them. Mrs Pooh introduced them to a couple of nice guys, and that’s why The Korean Flying Kick Private Practice Sport Medicine Centre is now situated in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, in the Black Country outside Birmingham.
And This makes my Life Perfect ©
By
Michael Casey
So, all I have to do is follow the plan, and I’ll touch my toes again.
If I buy this book and read it religiously I’ll be truly free.
There is of course the Tshirt too, that’s free if I subscribe to the Podcast
Then there are seminars, and meetings, and we have a special greeting
For only $500 we’ll be so hip and groovy, and a full 1% donation to Charity
So now I feel I’m in with the In crowd, and my Life will be so meaningful
I’ll have a glow, because I’m so fit
But if you believe any of this then frankly
you are worshipping a bucket of S**T
Come on Wake up, don’t Woke Up
You have fallen for the 3 card trick
Why spend all your hard earned cash on any of this
All that cash, and all it does is give you a rash
Rashly running to the New Life, having no time for Reality
Sorry I’ll miss you, I have to go to this seminar there
And I’m struggling to find the air fare, buddy can you spare a million dimes
I’ll pay you back I promise, once I finish this course my life will be richer
And then, and then I’ll pay you back, but lend me more for the Online bit
And yes folks it’s all a crock of S**T
Think for yourself, talk to Pete over the fence, or Pat in the steet
Talk with Tom, Dick or Harry and Gay Larry, and Liz the Lesbian too
Talk to Don the toilet cleaner at the Gym
Ask hairy Mary down the store
Ask and ask again
Speak to the Virgin, not Mary, though she is a good listener too
But Veronica the Virgin, the mother of ten, who drives a school bus
She bought if cheap to drive her brood about
Ask Den too, who always did the dirty with Veronica the Virgin
He was a lonely child and swore he’d have a baseball team of kids
And when he met Veronica a single child herself, she agreed
So 1st base, 2nd base, 3rd base, 4th base and repeated home runs later
Veronica and Den were no longer but a dozen, and they say its cheaper
That way, by the dozen
But the point is why pay for boring vacuous rubbish
When you can get free opinions from family and friends
And save your money for Walmart bargains instead
As if these Life Coaches have ever had a real job
As if they really care about you, just their fake tans and teeth
And stock options as they fleece you and me, and laugh all the way
To their Cayman island bank
You have your priest or rabbi or wise Wanda the street walker
Wanda has seen life from many positions, and her advice
Normally from a park bench as she sobers up
Is real advice hard won, very hard won, but it is real
Not fake or imaginary, even if it is don’t be like me, do the opposite
Do you want to join the Selfie crew, or really selfish
I’m all right Jack as I’m conning you, out of your hard earnt money
Do you really want to be like a perma-tanned homes abroad sales agent
You have choices in life, and who really cares about you
Your Priest, your family and your community
So, get some reality and don’t waste your cash on programmes
Switch them off with your remote, and vote with your feet
And if things are really bad, buy a ticket to ride, and shake the dust off
And try your luck someplace else
You don’t need any sales pitch, just hitch your wagon
And follow the stars, in the sky, nowhere else
And take yourself to the Promised Land, that you decide for yourself
In the end the only person you can trust is yourself
So, listen to the toilet cleaner, listen to everybody
But you decide what’s best for you
So, spend spare money on a better diet and walking shoes
And if you can spare a dime, put it in the Charity box
Not in some Cayman island account
And this is free advice, which may not claim to change your life
But if it does, don’t thank me, thank the toilet cleaner
****. so my famine is over here’s a new piece, and hello to Shaffi who the office girl thought was a Lazy Scruffy Indian when in fact he taught Consultants how to use lasers in surgery
Clouds, the Original Moving Pictures ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s 18th August 2021 now, if you were counting the days since a full story story, a © by Michael Casey one. It’s been a funny old time, Tinnitus has been beating me up, and lack of sleep has been making me even more of a _ , you can insert a word of your choice where I left the space. While you think of one I’ll get some Cadburys from the fridge, so at least I’ll be sucking on something nice, you can reach for the beer or boyfriend to kiss, instead of reading this.
So as I suck my chocolate you can read this, or get the parrot to read it aloud to you, as you sit on the loo. So, I was in the garden the other day, and Totoro our cat came out to play, hiding under my chair, beneath my big backside there is a total eclipse of the sun. Or some other song title, was it Heart who sung it years ago, anyway I fart and Totoro runs away over the garden fences to find somebody kinder to her.
I look up and watch the clouds in the blue blue sky, Garbo a Chinaman we used to know long ago, used to say the sky was so blue in UK. Mr Blue Sky by ELO no doubt was his favourite song, but then again I might be wrong, maybe Money Money Money by Abba, who knows, if he sees this he can send me a message, in a wine bottle. As for the clouds, they do tell stories. Maybe in Nepal as they read my stories they look up and say, that’s a fat cloud, as fat as Michael Casey, and another cloud is so silver, like his hair, and yet another cloud is like a feather, just like his pen. As they reach for their shades again, to hide the fact they are reading me. But maybe I’m wrong. Meanwhile in Iraq today somebody is reading me too, maybe an Arabic translation of one of my books, as they suck on their bubble shisha.
As we look up to the sky clouds pass by, fat ones, thin ones, shades of white and shades of black. Some with rain, some with not, or at other times just blue blue sky, with ELO playing in the background I got my copy in November 1977, and I have reason to remember it. Pregnant Ladies galore, and me being interviewed on tv talking about chips. And Pauline who wasn’t pregnant with everybody else, being pregnant later, so that child will be 44 now. I had no reason to look to the sky back then, just being in the gutter and looking at the stars, and on my dad’s 56th Birthday too. That’s how I remember things. My dad I remember shaving in the kitchen sink, and saying something will turn up, and telling me to start saving for the Future though I thought I had none. My Eldest Brother whose Birthday it was the other day, saying Try Computers. So, I did, and you know the rest. Clouds come and Clouds go, you think you have no tomorrow, but Tomorrow will come. Just have faith, and believe your dad, and listen to your big brother even if it was only once. That once, led to 21 years employment in Computers, Market Research into Alcohol Sales, and me being born in the shadow of a Brewery. I was in the gutter but was able to look to the stars.
Now at that job I saw a lot of Dawn, no she wasn’t the local nudist, or company bike, to use a very bad old phrase. Dawn was in fact Dawn, the Dawn, as I did 14 years of Night Shifts. So, we used to down tools, or wake up depending on which naughty boys I was working with. We’d look out the window in central Birmingham and watch the darkness of the night be chased away by Dawn and her daylight. Black becoming Orange and early morning wisps of white cloud, like a cat sneaking in and chasing the dark away, and yes Totoro my cat just snuck in the study as I was talking to you. Hence my choice of words, and just like the bell on the cat, the early morning noise rises. I remember when I was in Shanghai the traffic began at 5am and you could see it from the hotel window. The porter there got a great tip, I told him through my translator family, I used to do his job. The mother in law also tipped him well, so for him it was Christmas, snow falling from the sky, though I doubt he was a Christian, but maybe a Michael Bolton fan.
The light and the dark in the sky is Magic, hey hey hey it’s Magic you know and not just for airline pilots. The clouds in the sky, the very sky itself is our picture show, our moving picture show, or flicks, and it does flicker especially when Thunder and Lightning strikes. I was in Normand once at a very nice house, and Michel said tutoyer avec moi, and yes I’ve spelt that wrong. At school we leant Vous, so I did not know the Tu variants. Just as in Korean I know from my Kdramas that Honorifics are most important. Though if I do meet any Koreans face to face, they’ll get none of it, you me and you, and no words blocking our progress.
Back to the Normandy storm, you could feel the Electricity in the air, and as we were in the countryside, the light show was fantastic, or even formidable. So, the sky was God’s canvas and he drew across it with thunderbolts and rumbles, even louder than my stomach when I am hungry. Maybe Jean Michel Jarre was plugged in somewhere and doing a show over the horizon. As for the lightning bolts, maybe Jackson Pollock drew his inspiration from them, big bold and dramatic is the key, so long as Ben got the key for the studio from Frank.
So, imagine you are a cave man, or me with no clothes on, not much difference, if you’ve seen me dancing naked in the rain with a bar of carbolic soap, when the water heater was bust. Ok, we all do it in my neighbour, we can’t get a good tv signal, so this is our version of David Attenborough, Naked Bathing. It breaks down barriers, but Penny from next door always asks do I need anything ironed, but I reply there are no wrinkles on me. So, anyway the Sky is a Light show, it’s also a name of a band, I saw them at the Odean 30 years ago. My arm was in a sling, I had been ice-skating, yes really. I know a rhino on ice, I fractured my left elbow, it still twinges even now in cold weather. So, Sky played, and as I look around the cinema what did I see, everybody had something broken, almost like cripples’ night out.
So, as we look to the Sky, with or without music, there is drama in the air, and brave birds fly through it, or planes leave skid marks in the sky, or just vapour trails. I do leave skid marks in the sky, as I’m afraid of flying. Though 2013 was my last holiday, and I doubt I’ll ever fly again, not unless I’m kidnapped by Kpop stars, thinking I’m an even bigger PSY. The food is nearly ready so I’m going to finish, but tomorrow if it’s dry lie on your back and look at the sky. See the moving pictures there and watch the patterns form and move away again. Look for a Rainbow too. The Sky was and is the Original Moving Picture Show, so look East and look West, look to the Heavens at Night. Everything is still the same since cave men times. Enjoy the free show, and if you look careful on the very event horizon, you may see a naked man and his carbolic, that’ll be me, do you want to tutoyer with me? Une tres belle fess .
From a Distance ©
By
Michael Casey
Well, what shall I say? The news is so full and tragic. Too many cooks spoiling the broth, death and despair everywhere. And yes, Trump is still lying, I think all Press should just report one thing. I had the vaccine so take it. Then ignore him. You see if you cut out the bad bits everything seems so much better.
Like food with mould on top, scoop it out and eat the rest, I believe you can do that with jam, and when you are in a jam anything will do. Though in a traffic jam you are stuck there stranded, and bored. Though I myself am never bored, too many years doing Babysitting on Computers that’s what we called it 40 years ago, and I cannot believe it, so long ago, I was still a teenager when I started in 1978, DEC PDP 1170 and all that. Too many days off midweek due to shift patterns, this gave me Radio 4 time, which is the internal BBC world service, so that was my education. 20 years of it. Then I launched myself as a writer, 33 years ago. So, 53 years in love with words. And no I’m not 95, only on pain days, in my head I’m 20.
So, from a distance I can chart my progress, my growth, and not just were I cut myself shaving on my chin, shaving early. When I look back, I can see where I was and what I was doing. Mainly observing, like a sparrow on a washing line, a line I used before, because I looked out the back bedroom window, and saw a sparrow on a washing line. See observation is everything if you want to write. Things appear so you use them, like a sparrow on a washing line scavenging, and you can repeat them and fill up a page without trying.
The smell of roast dinner wafts towards me from the kitchen, so I investigate, but the broccoli is overpowering, so makes me feel sick. Though if you have had Covid 19, then you cannot smell or taste any of it, so I suppose if you have no nose or tongue now, just close your eyes and remember it instead. But as I normally eat with my eyes, I’d be spared any of it, so thank God all of you out there for your boring senses. And have pity on those who’ve been through it, and a word of warning to Birmingham Alabama, get Vaccinated and Mask Up, do you really think the liar Trump really cares about you? Only when you save yourselves can you save anybody or anything else.
So, from a distance things look, taste, smell better or maybe worse. News is the first draft of History, as a podcast out there says. Though some “news” stations are just Lies, spouted by over inflated personalities, on even more inflated salaries. I must go visit the garden centre later, why did that spring to mind?
Moving on, as a child I had hand me down clothes, I loved my sisters’ dresses most, but the knickers were just pants. Now half of you believe me, the rest of you are still trying to pronounce Birmingham, over here on the borders of The Black Country, which refers to soot and pollution, for any trigger happy misunderstanders. We pronounce Birmingham as BirmingUM, and I have a “posh” Birmingham accent, as my mother had a thick Kerry accent, which we could only hear on the phone, and dad could be mistook for Welsh on account of the Welsh guys in the steel works. As well as decades of listening to BBC Radio4, in the days before local accents were “allowed”. So, there you have it. Google Lenny Henry, should I say Sir Lenny Henry, a comedian, who left school with no qualifications, and remember pieces of paper don’t show intelligence, as intelligence is Speed of Thought. He is now also a PhD, so in fact he is Sir Lenny Henry PhD, and he does loads for charity. And yes, my pieces of paper, and thank you for your pieces of paper was the very first put down I received. My pieces of paper, or my 20 books so far, book 21 will have this in. My 2,000,000 words or so, those quantify my Speed of Thought. But then again, you may all be believers in the liar Trump, so only God can help you, and in God you Trust, it’s written on the dollar bill, it was in Miracle on 42nd street, I believe in Fairies and Santa too.
I’ve side tracked myself. Though a trip to the kitchen did get me some beef slops, which were very nice, though the cat may be disappointed. It reminded me of CPNEC were the food was legendary, I’m Beating my Beef, Chef, was one comment I remember from when I wandered through the kitchen on security patrol. It’s also a metaphor, for any comedians out there reading this.
I got lynched for telling my girls to go to bed at a more reasonable hour, 4am is too late. Strange hours will bite you on the bum eventually, and brain fog is too high a price to pay as you wanted to stay up late binge watching Modern Family, which is great by the way. But I was in bed at 2am. Ok late, but remember my Tinnitus already messes my head and sleeping, if I level with you, and yes Level 42 is playing as I speak to you. This all goes back to influences, and using what’s all around you. If you look in your fridge and say there is nothing to eat, and there are eggs, then you can convert the left overs into something, five loaves and two fishes kind of moments. So, take a moment to think, Dad is not just a burnt out old has been, as one kind person said to me, though when I saw him last he was scavenging from the dustbins in Saint Philips churchyard. Which may prove the point, look after yourself or you may end up a beggar.
or even married with children, or a writer, or a dad
A Tinnitus Story ©
By
Michael Casey
A Tinnitus Story, I wish I never had to write this, but it is a pain in the ass, or is it asp? Where is Elizabeth Taylor when you want her, she’ll do it for a $1,000,000 she said, not wanting the role, but they gave her the money, so the rest is History.
As for me Tinnitus jumped on the bus, or is it my Magic Roundabout of Pain, 3 years ago, 2018, I think. Though years merge, especially when you are screaming with pain. Now where does Tinnitus come from? It’s not actually there, it’s a by-product produced in your brain, that your ears fizz. Mine has got worse this Summer and yes it‘s a bummer. During the day the noise, the hiss, the shake rattle and hum, like an Irishman on a drum subsides. But at night when you go to bed the tide comes in, and its such an infernal din.
It may take hours to get to sleep, or even 8 hours later and you have not slept. So, you have an early breakfast and let the cat in or out, this is anytime between 3 and 7 am. No wonder Lockdown Belly is getting bigger, a you have a hot drink to wash down the toast. The cat, Totoro our Ninja killing machine, may awake just to see will I share anything with her. Or demand to be let out, for a predawn killing spree, Frogs are nice, so I’m told, or just hanging loose with the foxes. And yes she’ll sneak up to the Woods, for a swim in the still with Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. That’s why Totoro’s coat is white as the driven snow.
Meanwhile I shake the bread crumbs from me, I’ll say it’s the cat’s dandruff, and climb the stairs again. Then exhausted I’ll get back into bed again, and finally sleep. With all my scars and my through bypass hernia I can no longer just dump myself in my bed, I can no longer be a Kebab on a Stick. I am more the Elephant Man, only able to sleep in certain positions, the Karma Sutra reduced to the cover position, not the actual cover position, just I can only sleep in one position. Then 2 hours later, or is it more like 90 mins recently, I suddenly awake, and the roar of the sea is in my head again. So I negotiate that, and get back to sleep and my one Karma Sutra position again.
And that’s not forgetting the trying to get to sleep mind games. Music does help a lot, as just the Sound of Tinnitus is horrendous, so you break it up with music. The Hills are alive with the Sound of Music, or rather the pillows are bashed, you trash the duvet, you open and close the curtains so you get enough air coming in. Then you sleep and may have to do it all over again. If you are lucky after each slot of sleep, you actually get back to sleep relatively quickly. But if you do not then, just SUFFER. Am I exaggerating, probably the reverse. And have an old phone ready to distract yourself, with Music and News and any Damn thing, just so you are so tired the roar of the sea is tamed and you get back to sleep again.
You finally get up and you make use of the Day, as best you can. But at least you can have a nap on the sofa later on as you are just so exhausted, and nearly fall asleep at the keyboard like Duncan used to do, 40 years ago maybe. I hope he had a nice life, and lived in the Daylight and no Night Shifts, or maybe joined a Circus. So that’s about it, as I now have to go and have a _. Tinnitus is no friend of mine, it’s no fun, a dollop of cream on top of my cake of pain. And worst of all it slows me down, and pushes me away from the writing. So this is enough on Tinnitus, I’ll get back to another proper story tomorrow maybe.
And that’s why I have a Korean dream, it’s really a bucket list, as what are the chances of that. Though read Padre Pio and Me, and see just how remarkable is my Shanghai Life. And yes I really was vetted by a Chinese Ballerina in The Queens Tavern, a straight bar up the side of The Birmingham Hippodrome Theatre, home of the Birmingham Royal Ballet in our Gay Quarter. Or read Birmingham is Ballet, perfect for the stage anywhere, in a Circus tent even. Ok enough of this, my small daughter will be home soon, so we can have Year 13 cat, then she’ll ignore me and play with Totoro our cat. And yes, I did say my girls could have a Dog if I died or a Cat if I had a heart attack, then weeks later I was having what turned out to be a Quadruple, and the photo is really my bare chest, after they shaved me. Now I have a breast poking through a Hernia, I am one of the 1%. Or maybe you think I’m one in a 1,000,000 as a Chinese Uncle once said.
Father Dan’s Altar Boy ©
By
Michael Casey
Now if you’ve been on my page before then you’ll know about Fr.Dan, what you cannot remember? Well in Tears for a Butcher which I’ve only produced stray fragments for, he’s in that, and well just go hunt on my Blogger and Wordpress. Are you so lazy, I have to write and wipe your backside for you? Mrs Murphy would hit you with the wet mop, straight out the mob bucket. Just as my own mother, Mrs Casey threatened, I’m laughing now and I’m sure so is she in her position in Heaven making the tea.
So you know Father Dan was the softest of all men, a good priest too, but underneath he was an Iron Fist in a velvet glove, and those drug dealers who nearly killed Big Sid the butcher would be finding out soon. Now find Tears for a Butcher if you want any more. But how did such a Holy Man develop into an Iron Fist. Well it started when his altar boy got thrown off a cliff, as in, a leg and a wing, and a throw, and that was that. He should have died. Stone dead, but his belt got caught on a root and it saved him from death. Though he would have died there, as he was all bust and broken, but a stubborn young priest saved him.
The Altar Boy was a very bad man, a dirty son of a who er, if you know the Irish pronunciation of Whore. He dabbled in everything, just like in that Taiwan film Man in Love, but the altar boy was far far worse. No nice music surrounding him like in that film. So the altar boy got his just rewards, he got chased by other gangsters and they were determined to catch him, kill him. So after a big fight, and it was monumental, 10 to one are bad odds for anybody, knives and guns included. The altar boy was battered until nearly dead, then grabbing his legs and arms and by his belt he was thrown off a cliff. DEAD.
Now where this was I cannot remember though it was in the East, where gambling is king, and that reminds me its 20,000,000 tonight but I’m so full of snot, so shall I tell you this story or waste 2 quid on a ticket. Ok, I’ll carry on, but first I must go to the toilet or do you want me to wet myself? The altar boy did wet himself, when you are shot you pee, go ask a trauma doctor, and if you are a naughty boy just STOP. Become an altar boy, now read on why.
Fr. Dan was big but weedy and scared when he saw what was happening he hid, and so would I, ten men killing one. Fr. Dan was not long out of the seminary which means school for priests if you think its some other meaning. So, he hid under his excuse for a church, battered bits of wood held together by spit and wood, and great singing. Did I tell you he had started a choir? Feeling guilty he went to the edge of a cliff and decided to say the prayers for the dead. He was amazed to see the gangster was not dead, just half dead and bleeding. So he climbed down to see what he could do. Suddenly brave enough to say a prayer for the dying, he been reading The Cardinal recently. The gangsters eyes flickered, soon he’d be dead if he was left there. So Fr. Dan blessed him, then blessed himself, Lord forgive me for being such a coward, he even shed a tear, tear for the dying. So Fr. Dan climbed back up. He’d need a rope and some help, but nobody was there, would you hang around with such violence?
Fr. Dan closed his eyes, and prayed, God will provide, when he opened his eyes a donkey was there, the gun shots had frightened it and it had broken its rope. My own uncle Patrick back in Cromane Lower Kerry, used to have a donkey too, which was a mobile lawn mower for around the house, no I’m not joking, go ask my cousin’s son, Patrick’s grandson. But I’ll get back to the story, so Fr. Dan went over the cliff again, this time attached to the end of the donkey’s rope, he tied it around the gangster’s belt and hauled him up. The cliff was very dangerous, just like at the back of my Aunty Mary’s house in Ballyheigh Kerry, she being Patrick’s sister, and she loved stories too.
So once the gangster was safely on solid ground, Fr. Dan put him over the donkey’s back and carried him away. So, Fr. Dan had saved him, now he had to nurse him, bullet holes and all that. Fr. Dan hid the gangster in the cellar under the church, just where he had him himself. Then looking at an old copy of Readers Digest he took two bullets out, and nursed him. All this was done in secret, or the gangsters “friends” would have come back to kill him, and Fr. Dan too.
Fr. Dan named him Sylvester after Rambo in that film Ciffhanger where he falls off a cliff, he’d seen it on plane on the way to the missions. So, it seemed appropriate, as the gangster did fall off a cliff, or rather was thrown. Now God works in mysterious ways, I speak from Experience.
And Fr. Dan knows it too, as he nursed Sylvester his Faith went into him, and Sylvester’s courage and inner strength went into him. Fr. Dan had a convert on his hands, stuck under a church with only a Bible and Hymn books to read, with Mass and prayers and choir above. Sylvester had been drip fed Faith. Fr. Dan grew stronger, as he had to move Sylvester about and hide him in the cellar for months. Sylvester said he’d repay him he owed him his life. So yes you’ve guessed it, Sylvester taught Fr. Dan how to Fly as Korean martial arts people say.
TO BE CONTINUED
Scam Letter Maybe
Scam Letter Maybe (c)
By Michael Casey
Dear Sir { insert. name)
If you see that then it's yet another Faker, reading off. blackboard
If you have talked to them once and they don't reference what you said before
Then show them the door, now as I write this I am in incredible pain
So I may stop again finish this on Friday 17th Sept
I was actually writing 2 emails earlier on and I had to stop because of pain
But as I finished those emails with
I must take a pain killer
They probably think I'm a scammer
Though a few minutes Googling me reveals all
And no I'm not a stripper as I put in the 2nd email
So the receiver may think I am a scammer
Or Hopefully has a sense of humour
I don't want to waste my pain free time on those who
Just cannot smile or laugh
Not even if they are beautiful and intelligent
Because Arrogance is the biggest TURN OFF
I'm Beautiful Adore Me, push her over and let her taste the gutter
But I digress
So a real person should say
I spotted you on the internet, I read X Y Z or I saw this picture
snogging a man/woman/cat or murdering your mother in law
And just wondered how did you escape the Police
If nothing is referenced, and they don't reply to your reply
If you had replied because you were bored and were testing them
Then they are just a bunch of idiots wasting your time
And trying to commit crime
That's why when I get top of Google Search Engine
OR Website tidy up
I alway say NO, and return a silly image of me
They have harvested my email and never actually talk to me
So I send them some of my rubbish in return plus a photo
So now you all know what to expect
SO don't bother me ever
Not unless you are a doctor for real who might
cure my pain
But be aware you will be challenged to pose
In such a way that proves you have a sense of humour
One finger up your nose another on your hip
Nothing that can be grabbed off the internet
I've had people in hospital beds, and pretending they are them
BUT I just reply, hope you die, because I know its FAKE
Just because my own body is battered and broken
I won't put up with BS
So now you know
WHO whoever, or whatever the latest scammer is
Yes, I'm even crankier when I'm in pain
But a genuine person, or even a real fool
I will give all my time too
Because that's the way we are in the Casey family
Enough, I have also been talking about French Culture and Sociology
with my small daughter sat in the chair in the other next to me
A Levels and all that
She still loves me 20 by the way
20 being the greatest number she knew when she was a child
27 was the challenge my other daughter gave me
When I got out of hospital in jan 2015 after quadruple heart bypass
27 like in the 27 dresses film
Such a large number, and that's the amount of books I should write
In other words live longer
I'm on book 21 now, and Tinnitus does slow me down
So if I finish in 7 years time that's past the average life expectancy post quadruple heart bypass
Obviously I'd prefer to meet and marry that Korean girl and have 4 more kids etc
But really that's something for my Bucket List, that'll never happen
You are my Spring a Kdrama about a doctor with a new heart and a female concierge
That hit a chord with me
But Kdramas touch my. heart, and I sing along to the songs
Love beyond reason is what they are all about,
So go watch some for yourself
And stop sending rubbish emails to me
just go to my Wordpress and read in every language
Though right now its locked
Who Have I upset?
Don't know, it's probably my sausage fingers
Like the butcher In The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
ok enough, I'll try and write something else in the morning
Spotted Tom Cruise on tv in the other room
they stole his car in Birmingham and got all his luggage
so I had to lend him a pair of my knickers and a clothes peg
to hold it up
Still waiting for the large size folding Wayfare sunglasses
as a reward.
Or maybe that's just a future scam letter to me
he can put his gun in our fridge
I’d do Anything for Love and Saving the Planet, But Not That ©
By
Michael Casey
Well I’ve finished my Taiwanese Kdrama about the store, so I thought I’d try and write a new piece for you all. Though one last thing, the hair with the tiny crown attached for the Wedding Finale, was TERRIBLE, it was made 11 years ago, so perhaps they did not know better, but the bride looked bad. No doubt my friend in Taiwan may disagree if she ever saw it, I’ll have to email her and ask.
Half of Taiwan wants to invade Birmingham now, and give me a slap. But if you know my Taiwanese friend she’ll tell you the beauties I live with, so I do know what I’m talking about. I am a Gay Dad after all, this means I know about women’s fashion, I may look like a sack of potatoes myself, but I do know how a woman should look. And by the way I’m not Gay, just to avoid any Internet Confusion. I’m very fertile, so don’t even shake hands with me, and no that’s not a metaphor. Or those 4 Kpop kids will soon start appearing.
So, I’ll ask you, how long have you been recycling? Did you applaud when the visual litter appeared in every front garden, colour coded dustbins, for, waste, recycling and for grass, and even a food waste bin. Did you throw a street party for them? Greta may be your hero, or should I say heroine, and no it’s not true, she’s not dating Barron Trump and taken up modelling, and attends his basket-ball matches. And no she has not taken up smoking either.
Well I’ll have you know, all you trendy people, recycling was what we did automatically in the 1960s, because we were poor and did not waste anything. If we could burn it, it went on the old coal fire. My big sister used to sit on top of the fire with a book on the fire guard reading. Then afterwards the criss-cross pattern was all over her legs. Next to the outside toilet, shared for 8, we had a coal shed and the coal man used to walk up the entry and toss his load, a hundred weight into the coal shed. I nearly was killed stone dead in that coal shed in 1966 maybe but that’s another story. So, in times like these, we, everybody did not waste anything. You only had 2 dustbins then and they were made of galvanised steel. The dustmen used to come and get your rubbish too. They had slide down shutters on the dustcart too. And before I forget the coal man’s cart was a flat loader with a horse pulling it, I seem to remember. And there was a breadman too, with big basket bring in the bread. So, your back passage was always busy too.
This was the climate, and the Space Race was on as well, early 1960s, so 1969 really was a big big deal. We were too poor to be the consumer society, I got puke coloured cord long trousers in the Summer of 69 or was it 70. I used to wear shorts and long socks with garters on. So I danced up and down the garden when my mother had finished sewing them to make them shorter. I can picture her in the back yard sitting on an old broken barn chair, with the setting sun, and yes I had that chair for 30 years afterwards when I moved house, so maybe 50 years use altogether. And I was so happy to get 2nd or 3rd hand trousers from my 3 elder brothers. Fast Fashion did not even exist, not a picture of poverty, but of a large Irish family in the shadow of Cape Hill Brewery Smethwick, but we were in Birmingham.
People had things and made them last. Money, makes you wasteful, and being bored too. If you have the Blitz mentality, There’s a War On, then you won’t waste stuff. Or I only had three holidays last year, and these clothes are six months old, so I’ll throw them out. This fruit comes from South Africa and the others were delayed because of bad weather over the Atlantic. Everybody likes fancy stuff. We were forced to have central heating in 1973, because of Smokeless Zones, but at least my big sister no longer hogged the coal fire. Even though over the border in Smethwick they continued. Things change, attitudes change.
Would you choose to have less? In the end accepting a lower standard of living may be the only way to stop global warming. Or do you want to continue travelling the world buying plastic tat souvenirs, taking selfies, filling cyberspace with your taste. And continue killing the human race. Or even do less breeding so we can feed the world as it is. Or is Covid 19 an unintended way of Saving the Planet. Think about everything you do, you don’t need heroes to tell you. Or do you?
Make Them Laugh ©
By
Michael Casey
Now as I begin I realise I have to tidy up my files they are a bit messy, so I’ve put this where it should be to start with then I’ll do my security afterwards. I was very disciplined but I’ve got untidy, so a return to discipline then I can find stuff. I think in three years here I’ve written 400+ new pieces. This does not include the Chats, which I don’t back up, I just write directly to the Blogger and Wordpress. Or write then copy and paste to share my wisdom with you all, ok my boring rubbish, but you do come back all the time, just to see if I am improving. I also have Translated books just to spread the pain worldwide. Here is the new house further up the hill, if I had realised how steep it was and how my Health would be, but I’m here a fool on the Hill. But in Korea 2500 plus downloads of Quick Stories in a short space of time, and 1000s more in other languages. Though when you read it you all may resort to bad language, is he really this rubbish, I don’t know why I bothered. Though Judging by the figures and maps, you must like it. Though it could just be good toilet reading while you are waiting.
So, I hope you are smiling as you read this whatever your position, or wherever you are in the world. In bed with the one you love, my words as a kind of foreplay, I have written more than 4 plays actually, love. It may just help you to sleep, but other methods are more fun, come here, throw that ipad away. Who knows, maybe just Drs. I had a fake scam email from a Dr today, the 2nd actually, the 1st was from a Korean WHO Dr, today’s from a Yank in UK. The Korean was more appealing but obvious fake. You can cut and paste emails and check them in seconds against a scammer list. That’s if you have 5 seconds to spare as you finish your tea, and you don’t have to open them. But I’ve told you this already Dear.
Now to the point though there never is one. Making people laugh. How do you do it, show them a picture of Trump. I still cannot believe that USA GOP people are so stupid, it’s gone beyond a joke. But back to the plot. You extend and exaggerate, you push sideways, I’ve started to think of Trump and his bedroom skills, but that’s because I’ve watched Politics for 50 years. Read Chapter 9 M.P. Married to a Person, Married to a People from The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, that’s my take on Politics from 30 years ago. Or read Tom Sharpe books, a PhD a real PhD introduced me to them, Blot, Porterhouse Blue, The Throwback, Wilt are some titles I remember. In places very course, but very very funny. Porterhouse Blue is set in Cambridge or was it Oxford, a tv series was made years ago, very very funny.
So how do you make people laugh? It’s the way you tell them as Frank Carson the great Northern Ireland comic used to say. Roger drove him back to the airport and nearly crashed the van, he was crying with laughter. It’s timing, and letting the laugh out slowly. Americans Telegraph everything. You have to be slow, and then spring the last word. No I’m not a stand up Comedian, and you have already thought of a joke because of the verb I just use. You just use words and lead people up the garden path, as Gill with a G used to say. I do hope she’s alive and still slapping people, Michael you are Awful, she’d say a la Dick Emery. That is such a fond memory I have of her, last time we met was in Hill Street, and no we are not Policemen nor Blues. So you use a word and it has associations already.
If you talk to Lawyers and 400 of them know my name, no I’m not a criminal nor a thief, a law firm was my workplace. If you talk to lawyers it’s all about briefs, and no I never flash my knickers or flags. Though I do remember one girl did try to pull my pants down in the print room as a joke. I’d forgotten about that, not a regular member of the crew either. Again by my choice of words and sharing such information you are painting pictures. In truth we were too busy and hot, and no I don’t mean I was so sexy. I mean it was 90 degrees because of all the industrial size printers in use. Hence me going to Saint Philips cathedral to cool down on my lunch break. The Verger, who looked like Jeff Bezo, really, he thought I was Holy, but God knows otherwise, 3 years of lunch breaks, inside the cathedral or on a bench outside with a quick nip inside.
Again, I’m just sharing a story, but the phrasing makes a difference, the choice of adjectives, and finally the comma is King. That pause on the paper, or the lick of the lips. Then the wall of laughs comes down. Just as in Music you have a build up, then Bang. And you have made your own jokes up again, again and again. Oh, Sally stop it. I’m listening to Rendez Vous by JMJ, appropriately enough. Though in my head that music would be used as back ground music to a finale of one of my stories. But I gave you premature elation, yes you did stop to read that word again. What did he just say, elation premature elation. See you can take another bite of the apple, and get a 2nd laugh, though if talking and I say take another bite, you are ahead of me. Because it’s all in the mind. Phrasing makes a difference.
Anyway, me and my friend Andy were behind the wall at the Front Desk, and no we were not kissing, an Andi maybe, but this was Andy with a beard, I wouldn’t want hair in my mouth, and we are both manly. You see Andy had a handicap, no he wasn’t a golfer, he had some horrible disease that twisted his back, and he had crutches too. He as our Switchboard guy, so I did Switchboard as soon as I came in, while he had his dinner. So, we always had a bit of banter, and if I wasn’t sent somewhere all over the Hotel, we’d chat. So, I’d feed him a line, or just accidentally, and then he’d put me down, slam dunk on the floor. I always remember the look in his eye and he’d purse his lips and then PUNCHLINE, we’d laugh and the receptionists too. You Walked into that one, Michael. And, yes I did, on purpose or accidentally, it did not matter. Only the Laugh matters. So be generous and don’t kill the joke, let it breath. Being mocked by a man in caliper and crutches is one of the greatest gifts I’ve been given. Because Laughter really does unite all of us, whatever our condition.
Why I’ll never be Interviewed ©
By
Michael Casey
We’ve all heard and seen interviews, even the pretend ones in newspapers where 20 questions, ok 8, are asked and answered. It’s just an email back and a reply really. I saw one with Frodo recently, and frankly they are a waste of time, a page filler. Frodo will mount a quest now against me. Sorry I just had to take some pain killer, I saw an interview once with the writer of the Singing Detective and he had to pause and swig morphine, so luckily I’m not that bad, though in the middle of it, you just wish lots of things.
So why should I hate interviews, or rather interviewers? Well they don’t listen to start with, if you are talking to me I actually want to be talked to, not processed. Not scanned at a supermarket checkout by a bored girl. Though me being me, I always start a conversation, and yes they do wish I was a tin of beans, though I do fart as much. So, it’s a question of attitude, and the Irish in me wants words, not silence, silence is for lambs. Also describing a page is never as good as reading it. So, I’d rather read a page and not talk about it. A page is a performance, well the way I write it is, the Jackson Pollock school of writing, so how can I possibly talk about it?
The interviewer always wastes time and goes around in circles. If I say it’s a bit like Shakespeare, the interviewer always then says, so you are comparing yourself to Shakespeare, then you go off on a tangent wasting time on that. If the interviewer actually listened he’d learn more, on behalf of the listeners or readers of viewers, instead of justifying his own existence. Two ears and only one tongue, and no I’m not talking about foreplay either. An interviewer is there to listen, it’s not a Political Interview where we all know the Politician is a Liar, a Damn Liar hiding in bed with Statistics, and Statistics was all that mattered, 38/24/38 when his assistant became Political with him. But enough of that, NDAs and all.
The Interviewer goes around in circles, as if his foot was nailed to the floor, or he is painting his nails and ignoring you as you answer, or texting his mum, asking are his shorts done. Then there is the backward announcing to studio and the advert for next week too. Not forgetting the Nods to camera which will be inserted later to pretend he was actually listening to you, as vacuous as the kind pleasantries at the beginning and the end to prove to the People’s Choice Viewers that he is everybody’s best friend. But judging by the laser looks from the crew, they hate him just as much as you.
So why waste time being interviewed. I’ll read aloud a page or two and let the audience judge for themselves. Never let an overweight and over paid idiot, get in the way between you and the words. Let folks, read touch taste every sentence, it should be like a French Kiss between me and my readers. I just hope when I open my eyes, I enjoy who I’ve exchanged spit with.
Friday, 8 October 2021
In the Vacuum
In the Vacuum
Of Space
Of Time
Of lack of Love
Your Mind whirling around
There is no sound
Just Tinnitus in your head
You are all alone in your bed
Would Passion end the sound in our head
Don't Give Up
Sings Peter Gabriel as I talk to you
Angels have the view from the stars
As I beg for Silence
Just the Sound of Silence
So I make the music higher
To drown the Tinnitus in my head
As I beg God for Silence
As I violently punch my pillows
But they fight back
Whose idea was it to have a metal zip on a pillow slip
So it scratches me in retaliation
Soothing sounds come from my phone, from my smart speaker
As the Hiss and Hum of Tinnitus is worse than a beat of a drum
Some distraction some action would be more than welcome
To take the noise and pain away
And on it goes day and night, night and day
Charlie Watts up in Heaven can you ask the Heavenly drummer to
STOP
@@@@
I did not know I'd write that, the first line refers to an email I got
so at least I got today's piece, which I will insert into the book
as I never know when or where or how inspiration will come
Anyway Vacuum you are welcome if you really appear,
and if you do they'll be a story to create about that.
and Quick Stories remains the new favourite with Koreans
and Kim how about throwing those nukes away and open Golf Courses
with Trump instead....
The Nature of Love (c)
By
Michael Casey
As you all know I've been enjoying Her Private Life a Kdrama Romantic Comedy, they are like
Coronation Street with James Bond production values, though obviously Korean girls are far prettier.
In this particular Kdrama, He thinks the She is a Lesbian, but she is not. But he pretends to be her
boyfriend from Super Fans, which is very Korean mania, a bit like Trumpianism but without all the
lies kind of. Judge for yourselves.
Now tonight as I watched it I saw struck by a simple thought, expressed through the Kdrama, without
any drama really. In the story a Photographer left his final photos to a Writer friend of his before
dying.
The reveal was the the pretend couple were overheard taking by the Writer. And the girl said, and she
was a secret Kpop snapper, there is Love in his eyes, the eyes of the dead Photographer. And the final
published photo has a title, but it had been mistranslated. It should say Hi not Goodbye, apparently
there in Korean that means both, and forgive me I was reading sub titles. So if you are Korean in the
street and you see me, don't slap me for my ignorance.
The point was the Photographer loved the Writer more than just a friend of 30 years. It was a Gay
friendship but never expressed, just repressed. So the Writer was wondering did his Photographer
Friend know he loved him back even though he did not dare say it, due to his upbringing. The Art gallery man from the pretend couple said, of course he did, as a Photographer sees things that a
photographer would see. Just as an Artists sees things too, the Art guy was an Painter too. So it was
sweet to see these few minutes of a Kdrama, express Love in another way.
Immediately some of you hate hate I've just said. But Love is Love is a true expression of Reality. Yes
it is so boring, when people boast I am Gay, just like in Little Britain on tv in UK years ago, before
Wokeism killed Comedy. Just Live and Let Live, just don't push your opinion down our throats. Who
are you to judge anyway, Linda the Deep Throat Political commentator?
But all Love is good, just don't make women blush and startle the horses in the street. Yes it is better
to love and lost than never ave loved at all. It is better there were no cobwebs where love should have
emerged. It is better the soft kiss instead of the stinging nettle. A year, 10, 20, 30, 40 or more, or just
far far less than none at all. Or being abandoned and rejected, can make you bitter.
But you have memories of kisses and more, broken beds and tables, discarded clothes everywhere, and
much much more. And if you have kids after your coupling, then you have kids doing all the damage
and leaving a trail of rubbish everywhere. And life goes on till the love stops. Today was also a
memorial for somebody who was much loved, a church filled with love.
So the mix of events primed the pump for these words, love can last a lifetime, it can end tragically, it
can also just die, and wither away. So enjoy every second of it.
Then watch Kdramas for the Comedy and Pathos, and maybe just may you'll have a happy ending,
Love conquering all, despite the twists and turns, and no I'm not talking about Karma Sutra. Just to
some soppy Kramas with music and comedy and James Bond production values. And maybe just
maybe they'll open a Korea food shop in your street, and the girl there will fall madly in love with you,
you marry have 4 kids and form a Kpop family.
I do like happy endings, as my Tinnitus roars in my ears, and I wish I wish.
Cleaning for Floyd ©
By
Michael Casey
As Pink Floyd popped up on the music Floyd appears on the page, meanwhile my dinner is in the oven, and I hope Tinnitus nor Pain interrupt as I put a new story on the page, 19th Nov 2021 is the date if you are tracking me. Tea rhythms with tracking me so I my just have one before I start, and yes the pain is rumbling in my shoulder.
But let us begin our story, Grace had shoulder pains too, all the hoovering she used to do, a girl has to clean if she wants to buy those new shoes. Grace worked in several offices, coming in at night and tidying up. Amazing Grace, was her nickname, she could make anything spick and span, and if you lost anything she would find it. So obviously she was very much in demand, amongst the High End office brigade. Lawyers and Building Societies, and stray Estate agencies. They were in a new block just by Saint Philips church yard, Birmingham, that’s in England by the way.
So, Grace had popped in for a quick one, a prayer that is, and bumped into a casual lawyer wearing two odd shoes, he’d got up in the dark and did not want to disturb his girlfriend, hence the odd shoes. He dropped his briefs and she picked them up quickly, he was just on his way back from Court, Grace apologized. No need, he replied, I pop in the cathedral too if I ‘m doing something big in Court. But don’t tell anybody he continued. I’m looking for a new cleaning gig myself said Grace. So there and then Mr TwoShoes gave her a job. It was so hard to find a quality cleaner. And that’s how Grace begun her QC cleaning company. Mr TwoShoes said it was simpler that way, and they had accountants and so forth back at base, as they called the Law Firm.
So, Grace began with one, then two or three, till finally the building was hers. She came in during the late afternoon then kept on going all was done sometime it was almost dawn when she finished. Now Lawyers are like hawks, so soon the block next door came around sniffing, but Mr TwoShoes was there to defend his catch, you’ll not have our QC, get one of your own. QC if you do not know if a very posh name for a very high powered lawyer, a Queens Council. We won’t litigate over it was the smiled reply, but if your QC, your Amazing Grace has a sister, then Mr. Tort will be happy to give her 25% more to do our building too, providing her skills are equitable. Now Grace over heard this and had a fit of giggles, My Skills, that’s what my boyfriend calls it. The lawyers blushed, though they were in accord Grace was amazing, if you dash around all the time cleaning it is far better than any bike in a garage. So, Sharon who had had enough of Nail Bar life joined QC, Quality Cleaners, and Mr TwoShoes increased the fee by 25% too, he did not want to be accused of mistreating the staff, though Friend is a better word, as that’s how Grace felt amongst them.
So, time passed, and QC grew and grew. They had all kinds of vacuum too, not just Henrys but brooms on a stick the fancy charging ones. Grace never forgot her chance meeting outside of Saint Phillips, so she’s sung a hymn to herself as Dawn broke. Now Grace was in a Gospel Choir, the one that was at the children’s home do in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, Chapter7 to be precise from BBU. If you need a clue. Anyway Grace would sing, and as the windows were open to let some air in, her voice would drift across the square. And if you have Shona in you as Sharon and the cleaners from QC did soon a choir was singing. Now a handful of Shona is like an army of angels. This sound saved a life, the Bliss it gave, made somebody decide to live not die. He was a wannabe Music Producer down on his luck. But when Shona sing, it is Almighty God humming. What more can I say. QC has cleaned an office or two over-night but at the darkest part of the night just before Dawn, when bad things can happen, Shona singing had praised God and saved a life.
The Music man, said thank you, this really was the rhythm of the saints, made by Shona cleaners. So, it came to pass, he got some therapy, and as luck would have it, his sister worked in filing at the law firm where QC had its first cleaning gig. Which led to him meeting them, and eventually producing them. The QC girls laughed when asked to record a CD, will we be bigger than UB40? Eventually was the reply. And Mr TwoShoes himself would do all the Legals. So, singing Professionally became a reality. They did do a Charity concert for Christmas at Saint Phillips cathedral, where the ticket price was extortionate. But Lawyers all wanted to be there, not just for the singing, but on the off chance they could get on QC waiting list.
And what was the Charity, The Samaritans. For Christmas is a time of great joy, but any Samaritan will tell you, Christmas can bring pain too. So, let this Christmas 2021 be a time of glad tidings and great joy as the Shona choir sing. For being a good Samaritan at any time, or any day of the week, is the greatest gift you can give, and Singing not only praises God, but can save a life, any day not just at Christmas.
Protection 2022 ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s been a while, so here’s a new new story, the first for 2022 and already I’m trying to get the font right. Ask any writer, they just have to have the right font in front of them, Palatino is what I prefer. It’s rounded and looks nice, and is clear when you read it. Not so small that you have to squint, and it’s curvy like a woman, or my own belly and super fat backside, whichever you prefer to look at. I’m flattered if it’s me that you find so appealing, Lockdown has a lot to answer for.
So, Mr Casey, just put a mask on, please, it is the rules. And a visor too, and a gown, no we haven’t finished yet. Then a Police Forensic white suit. No, the Plague is not here, and then get into the space suit, and if you flick the switch your own air supply will kick in, and the suit will inflate, so you look like the Michelin Man. Yes, we are all set now. It’s just that we think you stink as much as your writing. So, we did not want your rubbish to pollute our waiting area. No this is not the Hospital, this is HOSTspital a fab and trendy Italian restaurant next door, by the Windmill pub. That’ll be £12 service charge, but you can use our toilet for free.
So, I stripped naked and washed in the sink, like a monkey in a birdbath. I used all their fancy soaps, like the one you get in hotels, then steal and take home with you. So, I was stood naked drying myself under two fancy Dyson hand driers when Pearl came in, Pearl was a Singer, she was singing as she washed the floor. Either that or she was a machinist and the needle on her Singer had broke, but I won’t go on like a broken record. Pearl looked up and remarked that Kim would be so jealous, as my backside was huge, but well-toned though in need of a Black and Decker. I spun around and Pearl laughed. And that is how we first met. She was still laughed as I put my clothes on. You don’t type I asked trying to Change the subject. 120 WPM was her reply, I used to be be called The Flash at the law firm when I was younger. Though it was I who was flashing, though by now my face was bright red. All the fancy soaps had given me an allergic rash. And that is how I came to dictate to Pearl. She’d come to the house as I lay on the blue sofa and dictated my latest short story. A perfect union.
But, where was I? I was in the kitchen eating turkey rashers, making a pig of myself. I have to lose weight, I’ve given up the snacks in the night, have to ty and protect my heart. Totoro’s fault and the Tinnitus keeping me awake. So, I was going to talk about Protection, Just say No, Sleep in another room, or have a picture of me over the bed. If that does not take away the urge then NOTHING will.
Though I wasn’t going to talk about that either, I was going to talk about other Protections. Words, Clothes, Shades. I don’t want to say but, I may be wrong but, you may not want to hear this but. And so on. I know somebody who CLARIFIES every sentence, like a bad Politician glued by his backside to the fence. Real people don’t do it. They just say. Michael you are FAT, and grey haired like a 99 year old, and your after shave is so passe Ck One you only use it because it is the CHEAPEST like you, OLD MAN, you reek of the wrong perfume, Jeyes Fluid drain cleaner dabbed behind your ears would be better.
As for clothes, they are like Easter eggs, lots of coverage, when finally removed you are disappointed. All packaging then nothing at the centre. We hide or wrap up ourselves in clothing. If you are fat you protect yourself from mocking by forever wearing a tent. Curves are nice, but how they are presented really matters. A blanket of snow, with your attire can hide many things. If they are just out there then they are not appealing. TART is the word, conceal or reveal, this is the eternal balance. A bloke with his Bee Gee look, may work in a Gay Bar, but to attract a lady, hide it, don’t dangle too much. Class is so much more, than tight jeans and shuttlecocks, ask George Michael.
Words do matter, clothes do maketh the man, but if he looks so right, but when he opens his mouth all he can talk of is himself, leave him the use by sell by date dustbin. She may look great, but if she opens her mouth and smells of smoke, leave her by the artichokes, and the magazine rack at the back. So we chose words to explain ourselves, but if words are not your thing, just being with him or her is enough. You just feel glad her or she is around. Some use lots of words but actually say nothing. A word can mean so much, especially when your mum died, he said nothing, but her was always there bringing in the washing for me, helping with the kids, getting me to smile. His rubbish jokes, but without him, just how would I have coped.
And on it goes, words to protect ourselves, or words to defend, or even works to save us. You were gonna be mugged but he threw a kindle full of Michael Casey’s 20 books at them, they picked it u and ran away. At last Michael Casey your words were of some use, Fat Silver Haired Writer in Shades from Birmingham saved a lady from a mugging. Police arrested 3 men quoting Casey non stop, E and Casey don’t mix, it gave the game the away.
So that’s your lot for today, it’s time to put the Christmas tree away for another year. I did an online Life Expectancy thing in the middle of the night. Because I’d be classed as a non smoker and a non drinker even though in poorish health, at 5feet 10 and 127 kilos I would still live till 88 which is 5 years better than most. 25 more years, though it did not ask about nature of illnesses. And my guess was far far less. So if it is right, should I have 4 more kids and start a Kpop band. Though from what you’ve heard would you be interested, women, not men that is.
Coming of Age, 20, me it was 11 ©
By
Michael Casey
Well an item in the news attracted my attention, Coming of Age in Japan which is when they reach 20. Ditto in Korea. It’s in the newspapers so you can read it for yourselves. So, it got me thinking, when was I all grown up. Well it was when I was 11, Summer of 1970 before I started at Grammar school, the 3rd brother at the same school, hence I was called Casey Minimus by the Latin teacher, a very small man called Mr Hanny.
He got Max Francis who was 6feet 4inches to stand at the front while he taught the body parts in Spanish, so Max was a visual aid. His younger brother Simon was in the same class as me, 1B, which may have stood for Brothers, as we all seemed to have bigger brothers in the school. The UB40 guy Ali was in my class too, he broke his collar bone playing rugby and cried, we though he was a girl for crying. A friend I made in 1B was in the class too, so I know him 52 years. I think 4 of the class became Drs including my friend but he was just a PhD not a Medic.
Now I could say a bit more about the class, such as MacKenzie a Black guy who could run like the wind, I think his dad was the cobbler down the road, as for Clive he’s a Rastaman now, last time I passed him on the Dudley Rd years ago. Anyway your environment is part of your Growing Up. That and your family. So in a way I was all grown up, or wide as Big D might say, he was so small he was nicknamed after a brand of peanuts. Woke rubbish was not recognised 50 years ago.
So if you grow up with lodgers in the family house, then you learn about them. We even had an alcoholic struck off Dr as a lodger, dad carrying down her Piss Pot to empty in the outside toilet is one of my memories. We had a fridge of sorts too, all the fancy Minton tiling was where our daily 6 bottles of milk were left to stay cool. We were a family of 8 after all, 2 girls and 4 boys, plus mom and dad, hence 4 children’s milk and 2 sterilized milks, not forgetting our cat and dog, making 10. Sterilized milk was for dad to take to work at The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane Smethwick, in a little bottle, as the heat from the furnace curdled any children’s milk. He did want milk for his tea after all, that’s what sterilized milk is for after all.
So you grow up seeing the alcoholic lodgers, Mrs Casey here’s the rent. As they swayed at the side door, dragging on a fag. Then when they bailed out you had to clear out, and why are nurses so messy? You have to keep their rubbish for 3 months, in the old coal shed in the house next door, just in case they come back to pay the owed back rent. Dad is gone 20 years in 2 week’s time, he was far too kind, a gentle gentleman.
So I have experience of tidying, I even had a lodger die on me while I tried CPR. But that was ten years later. If you come from such a background you are grown up, and 50 years ago I knew too many things which I wish I never got to know for decades or even ever. You have to compartmentalize or not even think of it, hide in the bunker of your imagination or prayers till the storm passes or the tide ebbs.
I could say more, I could write a PhD thesis, but I don’t need to prove anything to myself, nor anybody else. But I did nail PAX over my door once I got my own home. And then a year or so after that I did actually stumble into writing in 1987, it was not planned it just happened. What is in your life, just ends up on your page. Though 20 years of radio listening thanks to Frank Brown, who mum called the Best Lodger did play a part too. I remember him giving me an orange and he had the programme of The Jungle Book too from the Gaumont Cinema, which was the biggest screen in Europe. Later the site became where Pinsent Masons office, where I worked for 3 years 30 years later.
Events in your life, direct and indirect play a part. I noticed in today’s article about Japanese coming of age, 20 you have a bank account. My dad got me mine when I was 8, I can remember the bank, and going in with dad to do it. I can recall what dad was wearing the string bound bank book. Though today with 2 student daughters I have nothing now. A day without pain is enough, or Tinnitus not driving me to the edge and beyond, which it does almost every time I wake up. Tinnitus is worse than all the pains I get and they are horrendous at times, hence the current hospital tests.
Coming of age can be a sudden thing, or a series of things, with one being the straw that broke the camel’s back. Never Give Up is playing as I talk to you right now, Gallagher and Lyle are right, as was Saint Mark, but it is my own credo already and always. Life is full of colour, if you just say I’m Bored, or There’s Nothing to Eat, or There’s Nothing to Do, then I suggest look inwardly. The Greatest Journey is the Interior One, or failing that look at the back of the fridge, you can always make something with an egg, even if the egg is slightly cracked.
Explaining Irony to Americans
Explaining Irony to Americans (c)
By Michael Casey
Well you should know this already
TRUMP is a Liar and a Fraud, proven in Court
Beaten in Court repeatedly
Yet you still flock to him
So that is irony
So does that proven Insanity on your part
Or Do the insane flock together
yes I know I could be called disrespectful to the real insane people
But they get help and get better
Trump is just screwing the country
For his own Vanity
Even those who are only worth a dollar are NOT worthless
That's what Democracy is, all voices are heard
Not just the rich loudmouths
That's why Every Vote should count
The Pantomime should end
Google panto or pantomime and watch one
Then it should be self explanatory
Over here in England
Boris could meet his end
Why?
Because of a drink too far
Friday drinks
I worked in a very successful company and they used
to have Friday drinks every month or so
Not in Covid times obviously
But when a Government tells us this
Then does that
When they behave one way, the Public are obviously Angry
In the great scheme of things, I bet lots of people did the same
But they are not the Government
They are not accountable
Even though
And this is the Irony
England, the UK, did very well in Covid times
In 10 days time restrictions may be gone
Keep a mask may be kept
But honestly in the Orient they always masked up
For years and years well before Covid
But Boris may be pushed out
Or kept on till May so he can be blamed for the Local Elections
But then he is toast so they say
Irony, UK survived so much better than EU through Covid times
But still the leader gets the push
For the drinks trolley so to speak
Victory but still he is a Loser
I just hope with his 3rd Wife and 2 small kids
He decides, I did my best
Now it's time to have fun
Churchill had his Gallipoli then he won WWII maybe
but then he got dumped as soon as WWII was over
Then he got Nobel prize for Literature in 1953
So Boris can get back to his Books
Maybe he should read
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker by Michael Casey
I too am a bit of a Phoenix
Though I'll always be poor
Even though 100 countries have read my stuff
Or is Money the only Proof you are of any worth
If you think that then even if you are as rich or richer than Trump
Then really it is you who are worthless
You should be throw out like salt that has lost its
taste
the old house where most of my writing was done, with Totoro name plate
26th Jan 2002 , 20 years ago today
was when my dad died
I screamed like a puppy dog being beat with an iron bar
for an hour
mum had died in the marriage bed 5.5 years before
despite my brother doing CPR
8 weeks later, he happened to be home
he heard dad fall out of bed in the next room
the same room
my brother saved dad with CPR
dad went on to live 5.5 years more
despite being given just a week to live
and us picking hymns for his funeral
You read more online somewhere
Padre Pio and Me maybe
I visited dad every single day for 3 years
and he lived a couple of years more
I got wed and we had a baby
now doing BioChem at University
another girl turned up 2 years later
after dad was buried
So what can I say
The Love, the Strength, the Hope
never stated but there like the Mountains in County Kerry
where my Blacksmith dad came from before Birmingham
they were always with me
Ave Maria happens to have kicked in on my Music selection
Dad was too busy working up to 16 hours day at
The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane Smethwick
he'd do to a late Mass on Sundays
I could say oceans more
He actually had bought his Thomas Cook ticket for England
When his sister Mary in Chicago sent him money for America
So the tale goes
That's why I'm here and not in America
But he was like a brother to Mum's brother who did live in Boston, USA
And me and Dad were more like brothers than father and son
because I spent most time talking to him, as I was the youngest son
And 5 of 6 was my place in the family
When I wrote The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
mum and her 3 sisters was obviously Mrs Murphy with Julie Walters in my head too
if ever it were turned into a film
My dad I loved too much to put him in the book
But when I finished the book I realised that Big Sid the Butcher
the love inside him was really my dad, though Roy Kinnear was the
idea for any filmed version
But I only realised afterward that Big Sid was my dad
A pure and simple love, though dad was very intelligent, not like the
character in the book
Casey one day you will hang said dad's teacher in the 1920s
Irony was the 4 of the 6 of use were teachers
So my dad is in me, and always will be
Because he made me
If I were(c) by Michael Casey
I've been on the sofa chilling as the tv was claimed by somebody else
So I woke up I suppose I was asleep, anyway dashed to the bathroom
But this is in my head, despite the SCREAMING from Tinnitus
If I were (c)
By
Michael Casey
If I were Black would you hate me
If I were White would you hate me too
If I were Straight would you hate me
If I were Gay would you. hate me too
If I were a Christian would you hate me
If I were a Jew. would you hate me too
If I were a Muslim would you hate me
If I were of No Faith would you hate me too
If I was Right would you hate me
If I were Left would you hate me too
If I was Political would you hate me
If I was total UNPolitical would you hate me too
If I was a Prude would you hate me
If I was a Nudist. would you hate me too
And If I were battered and bleeding in the gutter would you be a Good Samaritan
And if I were Jesus, would you Crucify me again
BUT
Love is Always Better than Hate
And despite the Tinnitus screaming in my head constantly
I beg Mary to ask her Son Jesus, Bring Peace on Earth Again
AMEN
Mary and Baby Jesus, they see no boundaries, they Love EveryOne
Stumbling Over Myself ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s 31st Jan 2022 and Tinnitus is killing me, lack of sleep etc, not to mention constant din, children are not as bad. Anyway, enough of that, you may be glad as I cannot do as much writing, just Bullet Point stuff instead. But as you all know 2,000,000 words, 20 books, 2000 stories, 3600 pieces all told, are to be found on my Wordpress and Blogger, just Google Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham.
That paragraph was for any stragglers to my sites, spammer beware too, I don’t want you. So, what am I going to bore you with today? Well I have loaded up a load of Russian Translations to keep the armies at bay, just stay away. A bit of Peace is all I want. I still play the Peace album from 20 years ago constantly, the Eurythmics. I don’t like the modern version they did. My album collection is now on my devices so I can play it everywhere, but 20 years ago was when I stopped regular Music buying, marriage and poverty puts an end to all that. What else, as it is Chinese New Year, the Tiger, I’ve loaded up Chinese Simplified Translations. So, when you are down the takeaway tell them where to look to see my stuff, though they may think you are crackers. I need to eat now, so you have some egg fried rice while I have some salmon and rice, healthy eating, though at 127kilos I do need to lose a lot.
Well did you enjoy your food? Mine was fine, though I need to slap on the pain killer now, so wait there while I do that, then I’ll continue. It’s 3rd Feb now and I’m continuing this. So every day I look at the newspapers, 3 of them, then I look to see who’s been reading me, then I check my email to see what rubbish has been sent to me. Supermarket wins are tops at the moment, though some I’d never go to, one of the family just got food poisoning from a supermarket sandwich. And I never thrust any of them. Always hover, always check sender IP, then delete unread. Any competition will just hack your card.
So when I’m on my sites I can see country and piece of writing read, sometimes I can match them up, other times I can guess. So why do Iran, Jordan, UAE read me, not forgetting Pakistan too, that’s just today. I don’t know, perhaps they are practicing their English so they can all speak in a Posh Birmingham accent. The full-on Birmingham or Brummie accent you would not understand. I speak the way I do because I had an Irish mum with a Kerry accent, and dad after decades in steel works with lots of Welsh guys, didn’t have any accent I could hear. Added to that I spent 20 years, yes 20 years listening to BBC Radio 4, before Reginal accents drifted in. That’s why my Esol English students liked my clear accent.
As I check my reading figures across my 4 sites, 2 main, and 2 backups, I see what you have all been reading. Some I’ll remember by the title, some I cannot, so I’ll click and read for myself. A photo album of words so to speak. And as I talk to you the pain descends again. So, I’ll move about and come back to you, with JMJarre playing his Revolutions. Well I had chicken soup and seeded bread, and yes the seeds always come out the other end like those famous coffee beans. I also spoke to my GP, for blood results, GFR 27 now, got more painkillers too. My body needs a different gel, as the other not strong enough anymore.
Beatles singing She’s Leaving Home, very touching. I wrote Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Check it Out when my big daughter went off to University, worth a read. They are Polish/Ukrainian/Russian first cousins who have adventures. I’ve written ten stories or so with them in. True Eastern Europe values, Love, Food, Family when this nonsense finishes maybe somebody will make Cartoons or films with them in. Look online for the stories.
So, I look at what you have all been reading then the memories and sometimes tears fall. Normally I write, do a quick proof read, then Post and add to current book I’m creating. Then read again. So, it can be 3 reads and I’m done, until I spot whatever you people, you people, can mean anybody anywhere, so don’t go Woke on me. If you go Woke then I’ll hit the back of your bare legs with a wet lettuce. Google Larry Grayson for more details.
As for inspiration, you’ve seen the old house, I just looked out the window and away I go. The window here is bigger, but the inspiration is less. 2,000,000 words now after all. I could rattle off stories but I do need that speed typist, as with Tinnitus it’s like the tide is coming in fast, so not enough time to write write so to speak. I am no Canute, but some of you may be thinking otherwise. So, don’t get your feet wet or those pretend leather shoes will get wet. Normally one hour is all I need to write a new piece. Then 30 mins for posting and backups, which is the boring bit. But SECURITY is everything.
Back to Stumbling, Mark Harris said I was a good stumbler, I just told him he was a Canute, as Barry will no doubt remember. But words arrive with stories attached, and I just nudge them a bit, I’m a story nudger, though Mark if he sees this may call me something else. A metaphor is always funnier, and you can reach a wider audience by not being Profane. PG to 12 is the audience level for all my writing, though not as useful as PG Tips tea, but I hope I don’t make a monkey out of any of you. You all hate my writing equally. The people I mention, or myself are just Fools, who should be laughed at, and left locked out in the cold, while you have a mug of PG Tips. Then when the teapot is cold you allow me to have the dregs, with only the gingernuts left which nobody likes, except the ginger haired girl, who happens to be a speed typist. So, as we drink the cold tea, and eat stale ginger nuts, she sets the page on fire as I dictate to her. Where did that random Kpop girl come from
And maybe that’ll be the next story.
Any News ©
By
Michael Casey
Well I’ve just had a pain attack, which is like the pack from a rugby team landing on you, my left shoulder as ever. Pain killers are not good enough, so let’s see what my doctors can find when I return to the pain clinic. I missed the original appointment as my Tinnitus was nuclear, it’s pretty loud as I talk to you right now, but I haven’t written a Story Story for a while so let’s see what I can muster, I might even stop and resume another day.
So, Ukraine is in the news and Putin smiles like a naughty school boy, he’s gone back to a side table like a café now, Table Wars are over. Like I said before he’s more than welcome to visit us in Birmingham, I was told I look Russian with my leather jacket on. As Churchill said too, Jaw Jaw is better than War War. I predict Putin will be gone by Christmas, nobody has told me anything. Maybe he’ll be a pianist in an Abba tribute band, with Trump and the Pope, and Theresa May as the lead singer. I did write about it before, I’m setting up a band I think I called it. Donald wears a Kilt and nothing beneath, and as he struts his stuff, we see his assets or is it mushrooms, I cannot say as I’ve signed a none disclosure agreement.
So, Any News is what I’m asked when I talk to the family, did you hear who died, never I thought she was dead anyway. No not her, but the other one with the bad hair do. Oh her, yes her the whoer , which is how Irish people pronounce whore. Did you see the 15 motor bikes outside her door, the house reeked of dope, you had to wash your clothes even if you just walked by. Her pussy lost its miaow, and it was the RSPCA who finally closed her down, cruelty to animals, a spaced out cat. So, a RSPCA inspector finally chased the bikers away, and they said he was rabid, or his name was Rashid. He put paid to bad pussy treatment. Passive smoking for cats can kill them, and caused mental illness in people. Imagine the poor cat thinking it’d lost a life or two, as its eyes were bigger that dustbin lids. Leave your cat out if you smoke dope you stupid animals, you are behaving inhuman to pussies.
Then what else, Mr This or was it Mr That, he is in hospital, what happened to him. They say he fell over in the road, outside Saint Jude’s, you mean he was at Mass and then fell over in the road. No, he was outside Saint Jude’s social club and somebody waved goodnight to him and he lost his footing, as he waved back to them, as he said Good Night John, three times. Do you remember him, he always said it 3 times when he waved our old dad bye years ago when we were kids. But he must be 90 something now. 92 my friend Jean the nurse told me. I’ve been to see him and brought him grapes. 3 Generations of people are queueing to see him, the Drs even know him from when they were kids. Consultants are all checking up on him, as if he is royalty, the security crew are there too, everybody but everybody knows him. The Priest even came to say Mass in the ward for him. But he’s a nobody like us, that’s true, but they say he always prayed for Everybody, and Saint Jude is a personal friend of his, so he’s being treated like royalty.
Did you know the Coop is closing down, but they are so nice in there, really really nice, and the security guy Paul too is a gentleman. So, you’ve been to get the closing down bargains? Of course, cannot resist a bargain, but it’s a pity they are closing. I wish it it stayed open. But the Lidl and Tesco and Asda and Sainsbury are so close and bigger and parking too. So, Coop will close, so you’ll hurry to get a bargain or two. I remember one of the staff giving a beggar a cuppa in the winter, and I gave him chocolate. Now her kindness will be forgotten, as you grab the last bargains, and Coop closes its doors forever more.
Did you see that film on tv, Rocky Horror is 47 years old, from 1975. Christopher Biggins was in it. But did you know the stage show is still running, and maybe back in the 1990s my play Shoplife was not finally produced as they did Rocky Horror instead. Or is that just my bad Googling, I’ll never know. But it’s a good bit of conjecture, whatever conjecture means, sounds obscene. Oh, talking of obscene My small daughter saw a naked man in the house opposite, he’d left his landing light on and his curtains were open. She came down screaming from her bedroom. The man is nearly ninety I believe, too much sex education.
And on we go, talking to each other, or whatsapping one another. The best thing from Lockdown is seeing each other face to face and not just on the phone, as that would be horrible. Though some of my family insist I’m better on the phone, instead of on camera. I’ll go and sulk now, but at least I’ve written something new. A new story story. So, all of you all over the world that read my rubbish, be good, as ET said, and I can remember Alan Watson saying he cried when he saw the film ET all those years ago. I haven’t seen him or his horse in 30 years, he’s probably big in IT now. So this is a hobbled Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham saying, Be Good Everybody, and Vladimir get practicing for your Future in an Abba Tribute band. Rejoice Rejoice Emmanuel.
How Fakers Write to You (c)
By Michael Casey
With Due Respect
as he beats his lover with a stick
From the Desk Of
he is the cleaner stealing the PC to spam you
From Dr XYZ
he's in the waiting room waiting for his STD test
Email me on this 2nd email
his mother will spank him if she catches him
Bokino Fazo
every email from there is PANTS
I am dying of Cancer, see a photo of me in bed
They are lying in a swimming pool spamming you
I am a female and enjoy swimming
NO, they are a man with a hairy chest
$344,999,000 to share just send me your Bank Details
Scam, Scam and Scam again
You are a special winner
100 emails on the email forwarded to you
To you, INSERT EMAIL,
they are copying from a Black Board, probably in Bokino Fazo
And On it goes
I found your email address on a directory
You are Totally EX-Directory
I can get you to Top of Google for a Fee
You are in 100 countries already
ANd SO ON And So ON
If you hover the real Email appears
And if it does not
Just DELETE UNREAD
FWD email
Just delete IT
If they don't say
I read your piece on Farting your website
And it was Gas, how are you so funny
If they don't write 3 sentences on how they found you
Then just DELETE them
DELETE
DELETE
DELETE
If there is a real person out there then
THEY WILL WRITE IN ENGLISH
Otherwise it is mass produced SPAMMING
They will bother to read the Bio
And then they will bother to say something
One line, is a scam
Two lines are still a scam
Three and more, mean they have at least done their homework
TRUST nobody
Why should they write to you anyway
Also if like me you are in England
Why are USA ads targeting you
Spam, spam spam and spam again
Or should I say THIEVES and LiARS
So everybody beware
And if you are one of my readers and really want to talk
Who/WHAT/Where/When/Why just for starters
if you could not be bothered THEN
you are just a faker, a con artist, a liar
I get 100 a day, which I delete unread
I also get pain every day, and Tinnitus in my head
So I don't suffer fools
Real people I'll give all my time to
But you there With Due Respect Dr ZXT dying of cancer in a hospital
bed, with picture attached, wanting to donate millions to me
to build a children's home, as you have no living relatives left
you are just a Faker
Who'll burn in Hell very soon
We all went to school, and you obviously did not
Putin’s Shadow ©
By
Michael Casey
Well, it’s 28th March 2022 now, I’m musing what to write about today, Putin’s Evil dominates. Like a spoilt child he plays the victim when in fact he has always been the bully, though as he has Media Monopoly his own people may not see the lies. Look to the Fridge not the TV is the answer, as they say in Moscow. Russia did defeat the Evil that was Hitler, but then for 80 years they held their own people back. Billionaires stealing all of Russia’s treasure, corrupt elections with ballot stuffing caught on video. So, Putin can play the innocent, sending perfume to Salisbury, you do know how tall the spire is? All this makes everybody sick. Now Ukraine is trashed, 40,000,000 souls Russia lost to Hitler, and yes, the West never did appreciate it, but now Putin is trying to kill 40,000,000 Ukrainians, Poetic Evil Irony. Ukraine may be totally trashed, but a Country is its People, just as a Church is a People not the building they are in. Will Sanity prevail and Putin be carried out, look to Fatima for the answer maybe.
I think the Future should be Russia disarming, billions will be needed to reconstruct Ukraine, and Russia will have to pay for it, Free Gas for 100 years maybe. So, what will be left in Russia. The Brain Drain has already started, 100,000 already gone. Is Lenin still on display like a Holy Icon, when Faith was banned for decades, till Political Expediency allowed it back. I’d bury Lenin and really Bring Faith Back, not lip service to hoodwink the truly Faithful. We are not Christians if we make war, as Pope Francis said, the Russian Pontiff too should be allowed to state the same. Faith is never an instrument of any state. And if it is, then it is not truly Faith but a corruption. Look back at History.
Open for all to see is true Democracy, term limits, not just shuffling the pack. Pay Politicians well, but they should be in a fish tank, nothing off the books. Yes, corruption is endemic is some countries, but once Putin’s war is over, Russia needs to start again. It will have to, as the West won’t let them off the hook this time. What does Russia want as its Future, a Disney Land theme park offering. I’d suggest get rid of all the Nukes, what use are they, just making Russia poor, you never needed them anyway. Militarism is just stupidity, Russia is too big to be invaded.
Or does Putin think he can nuke his Future away. There is no Future for anybody, for mankind itself if nukes are used. And if Power stations are destroyed all the earth can be poisoned too. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. The wind spreads nuclear radiation, does Putin want to hide in his bunker for 20 years, living a half-life, as the half-life of radiation goes down.
All what’s happening in Ukraine makes the entire world cry, as the world stands on the side-lines and 40,000,000 Ukrainians begin to die. 9th May is one date I’ve read when Putin will declare victory. As that’s the anniversary when Hitler was beat after killing 40,000,000 Russians. Then 13th May is the anniversary of Fatima in 1917 when Russian Evil was foretold. So, Putin casts a dark shadow over History. And maybe it is only Fatima’s Light and Prayer that’ll end the dark period of History. Pray, Hope and Don’t Worry.
Without Love (c)
By Michael Casey
Without Love
Without Hope
Without Family
Without Faith
We are Nothing
These are the things that bind us
A devil can bomb us, can burn us, can destroy our homes
But the devil is without, is without love, family, faith
So this devil is NOTHING
This devil will still be nothing even if he kills us
For Nothing is still Nothing, no matter how much gold he steals
This devil may even preach that it is great to die in a nuclear flash
To be nothing just like him
A devil and his unseeing, deaf to the world ignorant followers
But in the dawn of a new age, they will say
Why did we do nothing
Why did we listen to the Devil himself
Why did we believe his lies
Why did we not do anything to stop or remove him
Why did we walk on the other side of the road
Why did we believe all the lies
Why did we not remove the scales from our eyes
For 30 pieces of silver, for something glittering
Now we have lost everything
Why did we forsake God
Why did we worship a corrupt man, a liar and a thief
Why did we follow Putin into a nuclear flash
Destroying Everything, now even the birds won’t sing
But we can always Pray and Hope and try not to Worry
1945 is in the past, 2022 is here
We must look to the Future and NOT the Past
The Future is a Rose Garden for ALL
Not killing our Brothers
2022 is the turning point
Turn away from the devil
and look into the Light
Of Faith, Hope and Love
Never fight your brother
In Jail(c)
By Michael Casey
In Jail
is when you are not free
but a cage can be made of many things
bars do not make a cage
when you close your eyes you can be anywhere
anywhere you imagination can take you
you can dream of the perfect man in bed beside you
or the perfect woman
they may even be the ones your married
or the ones you live with
or it may even be Bella Emberg
you can google her, you will smile
but the most important thing
are the eyes, and the space between
her ears, her brain, her love, her laughter
I was always accused of marrying for looks
But I never did, nobody believed me
But a fact is a fact, even if nobody believes
Trump should realize that too
Which brings us back to Trump
He should be in Jail
But GOP has lost its morality
So Trump could even be President again
Joe has to stop being so woke
and get stuff on the statue books
Or the Plague will return
But back to jails
So long as you have an IMAGINATION
then you are always free
look at me, yes marry me for my looks
well what you see of me in your imagination
Nelson Mandela keeps his spirits b reading in jail
And then he was so Forgiving
Unlike Corrupt folks there and all over the world
Just pay Politicians well, and make them live
in a Glass Cage, then maybe no corruption
though south facing side of the glass would be worth something
Our Bodies can be our cage too, no matter what our age
People just want me for my looks and firm backside
Ladies are so jealous of me, or maybe I'm imagining it
John Lennon was our lodger you know, he worked in GKN
down the road, just imagine it, You Got the Beatle as
Mrs Moylan said, her son is a Peer now you know
hello Danny if you are reading this, I even chased him
up the road throwing snowballs at him, and his mum was thinking
of buying a trunk before he went to South Africa, diplomat and all
that
We had 3 Oxford and a Cambridge come from our street, as well
as 2 PhDs from the neighbours, and then there was me
So I won't listen to any nonsense about being from a Poor Background
We all went to Mass at Saint Patrick's Dudley Rd too
Stopped for a coffee, now I'm back with you
A hot coffee does make a difference, but what is more important
Hot Love, no not the bedroom sort, though that's always good
But having parents, friends, family who love and encourage you
even if all they do is supply hot drinks when you need them
The only Jail is the one you allow to be built around you
Somebody who thinks he is the master of the Universe is actually in jail
Because he has no imagination, so there are limits to him
But you, maybe locked up in a PRISON CELL BY PUTIN
You are free totally free, and you can accomplish ANYTHING
Everything else will pass and wither and die
So Stay Happy Always
Your Time will Come
Michael Casey
the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
Saturday, 7 May 2022
Two Babushkas in a Moscow Bar 9th May 2022 remembering 1945
Two Russians Babushkas in a Moscow Bar 9th May 2022 remembering 1945
We beat the Nazis, they had killed 40,000,000 Souls all told
so the Historians say today, the Nazis kept an account of everything
But we were the winners
Now look at us now
We are the Sinners, but whisper it or we will be in jail
Look at the Fridge not the TV
What has Germany done since then
The biggest economy in Europe, 5th in the world
But look at us, too much corruption
Where did all the money go
Even stolen from the space program
So one of our rockets is missing
And as for the army cheap tires, that don't work in mud
And all our kit is crap, my grandson is a mechanic
What about Japan, all that technology
And a great big economy
And what about us
Even more corruption
Putin's boat is stuck in Italy worth $500,000,000
How many hospitals could be built in Russia for that
Korea had its all war, and look at them
So rich, and great TV shows too
Look at us, I'm wearing 10 years old clothes
And our TV is hopeless
Too many pundits with homes in Italy and France
Good money tell Putin's lies, I should try and be a Pundit myself
Look at India, everybody everywhere is better off that us
If we have so much Gas, why is my apartment so cold
Why didn't Putin insulate everything
Why no new schools and hospitals
I hear we have better ones than Ukraine
Because Putin has bombed and destroyed all of theirs
If he stayed home and shared all our Gas money qually
Instead of all the Palaces, and boats and girlfriends in Switzerland
As well as the Billionaires from nowhere
Maybe some Communists are more Equal than others
But he is great at killing out brothers the Ukrainians
10/10 for that, do you think he'll put it on his CV
Even Britain with that fat blond clown, is doing better than us
And how was he elected, it must be Democracy, whatever that is
And China under Xi, everybody is making a ton of money
So wherever you look all over the world
Why is Everybody so much better off than us
We are good at parades, just like North Korea
I suppose we are
But at the end of the day, what good is War
Nothing
I won't see you anymore
Why are you emigrating to USA
No, I shopped you to the FSB, for a bag of shopping
- May 07, 2022
We are more than numbers (c)
By Michael Casey
We are more than numbers
20 yesterday, 14 today on Wordpress, the Countries reading me
And here on this Blogger and 15 today
Countries that is
So I hope you are all Praying Too
For Putin's Insane war to end
Nuclear ending, would poison the world
Too horrible to even think about
If Russians could see and smell the horrors
committed in their name
They would storm the stage tomorrow
and remove Putin
The Nazi's used a sacred symbol in reverse as theirs
Now Putin is using Z as a symbol
Z means death Forever now
Easter has just passed
We should be celebrating Hope
If ever you read past the simplicity of my writing
THINK
There is Hope in what I write, see the ending
of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
and it is Hope, to the very last word
It's been downloaded in multiple languages
30+ of them, only last night
Somebody getting a free read, maybe
OR
Am I sharing Hope
You are the Judges, so go read a book
While you are in Jail, refuse to be in Putin's vile Army
Will he shoot all his own people
or maybe Poison them, like that Unnamed Person
in Jail, who exposed Putin's corruption
There is always Hope
Now is the darkest Hour
Just before dawn, at our weakest point
And I've had many, especially with my Tinnitus
keeping me awake
Do something useful with your life
I once stood by the fridge in despair
looking at a photo of my dead mother
years ago, this year she is dead 26
But I made my 3 wishes
A wife, a family maybe,
and to do something useful with my life
So what is the 3rd thing to appear, as Dawn breaks
I'd build Hospitals
I have no money, or skills, and I'm a battered man
My nephew is training to be a Doctor by the way
The last thing my mother did was hold him in her arms
Then she was on her way to make tea in Heaven
So all I can say to all of you all over the world
Miracles do happen
8 bare weeks after my mum died, my dad had a massive heart attack
And was given a week to live, it's all in Padre Pio and Me
and by the way when I was in hospital prior to my Quadruple Heart bypass
I was in the space where my dad had been
Following in great footsteps maybe
He was a Kerryman, a Blacksmith and sweated for 40 years in
The District Iron and Steel Brasshouse Lane Smethwick
Nobody has heard of him, apart from all of you
In 100 countries
I am just one person, though I weigh as much as two, women that is
But each of us, can make a mark on History
So encourage Peace, Peace and More Peace
and pray for it
In whatever way you pray
War leads to destruction
Peace brings Prosperity for all
Via Reconstruction
And the foundation is alway, family, friends, faith
and maybe Football, Cricket, Hockey
Then the world can get back to having a May Ball
as May is the Month of Mary, after all
How do you write a story (C) By Michael Casey
Posted bymichaelgcasey10/05/2022Posted inUncategorizedEditHow do you write a story (C) By Michael Casey
How do you write a Story(c)
By Michael Casey
Well first of all I cannot teach you, because I don’t think it can be taught, so what I’ll do is tell you what I do. I hope that’s enough? And if it’s not, tough. First of all Tinnitus is a curse, and it’s screaming in my head as I try and talk to you. It’s 9.30pm on 10th May 2022, for any of you who like dates. And if you take me on a date, be nice to me, and make sure I get home safely, or book a nice hotel if you are seducing me.
Now first of all did you spot the rhymns? What I’ll do followed by tell you, for example. Then enough rhymned with tough. It’s very simple stuff, have I explained enough. Moon and June in songs, bad songs are worse, you just wish there was no second verse. See worst matched with verse. I may be wrong, but I’m explaining via a song, for Wong our Chinese cousin. Shanghai family and all that, and I did just actually let out the cat. Totoro is her name, she climbs the high ground on the fence, and view the land, so she cat attack, as she’s an alley cat.
I hope you’ve had enough of all this, wait a sec while I have a pee, I’ve been drinking too much tea, actually it was Pepsi and I do have Ckd actually. If ever you meet somebody who writes like this, excuse yourself and have a pee, and don’t come back, not even for your flasher mac.
Now I did LISTEN to BBC Radio 4, like the internal BBC World Service for 20 years, constantly. Then I started writing, so that’s over 50 years in LOVE with words. I did of course read by the yard, everything in the bookcase my desk in Primary School, History mainly. Then loads more too. If you want to give your kid an advantage glue the dial to the BBC radio, not music, just Quality Speech Radio. Don’t them have a phone till secondary school, and switch off Wifi as needed. Give them pencils and crayons and let them learn to draw too. All this will help this their brains expand, without the use of harmful chemicals. I mention this as I spotted a kid in the street sniffing laughing gas as he walked past my house. STUPID. I’ll mention another thing 20, years ago at the hotel, one of the staff was given E on a night out, the next day I had to call an ambulance for them as I was the First Aid guy on duty that day. Substances are killers, they ruin your imagination.
So, how do I write a story, simple, I make it up as I go along. If you have read a lot, and listened for 20 years to radio plays and stuff, you should have something in your head, not forgetting lots of films on tv, maybe 5 a week, nowadays maybe more, though Korean and other foreign films, or Lord of the Rings yet again on tv. The writer was a Birmingham man, I bet some of you don’t know that. For The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker maybe a tiny bit of planning, but otherwise I let it roll till I finished on Leap Year Day 1988. Then I wrote a few plays and stuff, before deciding to do History and Shakespeare at the Open University, 3rd Level which is equal to 3rd year University. I was also working full times including night shifts in my Computer Room. After all that constant work and study for 2 years, like F1 and F2 like hospital doctors, my nephew is at Med school, that’s why I slipped in that comparison. 80 hours a week for 2 years, I decided to rest. Hence no more full length books but Short Stories.
However I do have enough ideas now for the sequel to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker , Tears for a Butcher, that would take a year of my life at least, if I had the energy. So that’s why I repeat myself and say I need a Korean speed typist, so I could dictate to her, and for a reward we’d have four kids and form a Kpop band. Or is that just a bucket list wish, or are you all being sick in a bucket at the very thought of it. I’ll have you. know 20 years ago, one of the girls at the hotel said that another girl wanted to breed with me, because my daughters were and still are so pretty. Or is that the sound of you all being sick in the bucket.
So you start a sentence, and that leads to another, and you just continue, if you can see something out the window it may be included subconsciously, like a fat silver haired man in shades walking by, or is that my own reflection. As you write you reflect on things, and you distort things like mirrors at an amusement park. I’ve just remembered when I was 1st in Shanghai before I had kids, there was a mirror there that we looked in, but nothing could make me thinner, maybe that was at the zoo where they have real pandas. See a memory from long ago just bubbled up and hit the page, it’s as simple as that really. I seem to remember everything, if I could do that for work related things then I would have made a better career path. Instead Korean Kdramas are the best part of my life, in between chronic pain and Ckd but at least I do have a great Pirate scar in my chest to bore you all about. So that’s it for tonight, its 10.25, have you had your money’s worth, just give writing a try, it’s kept me happy for 35 years now. Though I’d say it took a full year to teach myself, after the 20 years or Radio +.
That’s all, and don’t forget to pray the Rosary for Peace in Ukraine, Putin is insane, can Russians find their Courage and give him the Elbow, or Elba like Napoleon.
Friday, 20 May 2022
As you lie Dying Mr Putin, what will you be thinking?
Posted bymichaelgcasey20/05/2022Posted inUncategorizedEditAs you lie Dying Mr Putin, what will you be thinking?
I’m sorry I didn’t build more Hospitals
I’m sorry we didn’t share the Wealth Equally
I’m sorry we didn’t have friends over for tea more often
I’m sorry all the People aren’t treated Equally
I’m sorry for Cheating and using Chemicals
I’m sorry for wasting Talent on Monstrosities
When I should have been restories Monastries
I’m sorry for Corruption and Building Palaces
I’m sorry for Stealing Everything
I’m sorry for boasting and claiming Credit for Everything
I’m sorry for Crossing on the Other side of the Road
I’m sorry for even Corrupting Holy Men
For a share of 30 pieces of Gold
It could have been much different
If Damascus was like saint Paul for me
But instead it was more insanity
Destroy Destroy Destroy the only prayer I said
Instead of seeing Jesus on a Cross
Instead of seeing Jesus in the beggar in the street
Instead of washing the feet of the sick and the infirm
What did I do with my Life
I Destroyed Destroyed Destroyed
Christ calls all of US to be builders
To help, encourage and share
This is what a family is
Why oh Why Mr Putin
Did you follow the wrong path from Damascus
Did you not see Saint Paul standing there
Now as you hang like a Thief of the Cross
Will you repent as your last breath
Or will you die Unrepentant
with only Hitler for company as you burn in Hell
- May 20, 2022
Каждые 12 лет
Every 12 Years (c)
By Michael Casey
I remember 2nd Year Latin with Mr Proctor, we read something and he said THINK, and I went Horrible, then we all realised . Why did war stop then restart 12 years later.
The tribes of Greeks or Romans had to wait for the children to grow up, then there would be a fresh crop to fight and DIE.
Pyrrhic victory was covered too, go Google, it means you won, but at such great cost, that you really lost.
The Battle of Bunker Hill is frequently cited as a classic example of a Pyrrhic victory for the British. The British won that early skirmish with American revolutionaries, largely because the rebels eventually ran out of ammunition and were forced to retreat.
Today we have Putin’s insane attack on Ukraine. Russia is shouting all things, and threatening even more. There is no Victory. Russia will lose even if Putin thinks he wins
There will be a new world order. The Money cost to the West may be HUGH, but it is Ukrainian blood that runs red all over the map. So don’t complain about the rise in prices would you rather see your mum lay dead in the street, her brains splattered everywhere. Or your sisters tortured and more.
The Price of bread will go up, and millions of the Poor could die as the grain cannot leave Ukraine to feed them
All the time we get Putin’s lies, God judges by your actions, each and every one is weighed. So tell me on a Sunday or any other Holy Day, what in God’s Name is right about all the WAR, so special you call it an Operation.
Killing for Corruption’s sake, to place your puppet on a throne, is just abuse, and Putin is abusing himself the most. So he’d been stuck at home during lockdown and spent his cancer care time looking at all maps, and dreaming of being a Czar again. Did he never look from Space and see that we are all one family. The Human Race.
Maps change and peoples move. Look at my own family, from County Kerry to Birmingham, now I have half Shanghai daughters. People mix and mingle, and Maps change. But what about Russia since 1917 and since 1945 especially. What has Putin and his kind done for the Ordinary People. Has he built a nation to be proud of. Hospitals and Schools, and Housing to improve the Lives of the Russian people. Or has all of it been wasted, to create a Prison for Russians and every place their Army visits. Corruption so vast that even the tyres could not cope in the mud. And the space rocket was not made, because the money went into somebody’s pocket. Russians can I ask you a Question, are you still Serfs, or a Proud Nation?
Putin is killing you, just as 50,000 of your boys are dead, because of Putin’s naked ambition. The Ukraine is destroyed just to Please Putin’s blind ambition, And all for what? A few lines on a map, called stupidity and Puerile Putin ambition?
Russia can be Good again, but first you have to pay the Price, and that Price is Removing Putin, or are all of you bought and sold like cattle at a market? The Bill, Putin’s bill will be have to be paid too, $1,000,000,000,000 maybe, free gas for a lifetime. And atonement for your sins, as you try and fail to exterminate a nation. Ukraine is your cousin, your very brother so why is Putin killing his brother, just because he can?
The madness of war and tyranny. In the end the blood must stop staining the streets. Russia will be beat, the only question is, how many lives will be lost before it STOPS.
It’s up to Russians to stop Putin, open your eyes. Special Military Operation. What if it were happening in your town, your street, your square, instead of remotely over there. If it’s far away and if the army is just conscripts, do you care about your own flesh and blood. 50,000 Russians, dead already. You can go to church on Sunday, and pray, and close your eyes and hope it all goes away, Because you got your pretty church back, so your can turn your back on Ukrainians cos their lives don’t count. Cos Jesus is a Russian and carries a Kalashnikov . If you believe that then your soul is lost already. But right now at this very second you have a chance to change and get back your soul again. Mother Russia get back your soul again, and don’t turn into USSR 2.0 again.
Saturday, 25 June 2022
as I say to my kids I'll be dead soon
as I say to my kids I'll be dead soon
the howling in my head/ear
the pains galore
and wanting to be sick
another day in paradise
I wish i were joking
but this is my life these past few years
STOP
don't send me rubbish get rich emails
like the Clint Eastwood film where the 80 something
guy was a courier
it was a good film
but please I'm sick of rubbish emails from afar in multiple languages
just don't even start
Today is a horrible pain and howling wind day
so don't even come
Stay away already
As for the rest of you, do come up the garden path with me
and maybe I'll write a full story,
a XRT (c) by Michael Casey
that's how you identify stories
this is just a chat that won't turn up in book 21 as I write and compile it
Maybe I'll win the lottery as maybe 10 more years of education at Universities
for my two young ladies, so that'd be nice so I can help out
I only spend money on food now anyway
and don't all say, it must be loads as Casey is FAT
I'm listening to Lionel Richie now
even he is saying I'm Easy
I'm queezy more like it
So long as I don't puke all over the cat sat on the mat
But the floor is clear in here now, as all the studying is done
My new Kdrama is great so I have that Alchemy to enjoy
If only the pains would go away
They are more frequent recently
Lionel is calling me a lady now, maybe I should take this frock off
the scars on my legs look like seams from silk stocking
and my 3 breasts as I sit here in the window trying to acost passers-by
is quite a sight, I have French, Geography and Sociology A Level folders to give away
all for free but maybe I'll attract attention myself
My Endless Love, Lionel is telling me to give it all away
and the girl is singing too
I am the Man with the Child in his eyes
And Kate did come up the hill from the chip shop
to give me a battering of fish
So maybe I'll have my chips after all
Let my tears be my words, let there be Peace, Everywhere
Collect my Tears in a Thimble (c)
by Michael Casey
Collect my tears in a thimble
Collect my tears in a bucket
Collect my tears in a bath
Collect my tears in a pool
Collect my tears in a sea
Collect my tears in an ocean
Collect my tears till they are higher than a mountain
Collect my tears till they reach to the sky
Collect my tears till they touch the moon
Collect my tears till they reach to the stars
And Then
And Then
Mother Mary answer me
Pray the Rosary
Then all the tears will come crashing down from Heaven
And wipe the stain of Putin's War from the Face of History
The Map will change Forever
Putin's Evil will be washed away
And Russia will be rendered harmless
Russia will disarm permanently
The Stain, The Horror, all the Lies
Will be cleansed by Holy Water
That came crashing down from from the Heavens
to Wash the Kremlin away forever
So Pray the Rosary
In the End the Victory is Certain
By Pray that it comes Today
So many Lives Lost and for what
One man's Vanity
Humility is the Way
After all Jesus died on a cross
Love thy Neighbour
Was all he had to say
If I could touch you with just one word
Posted bymichaelgcasey17/07/2022Posted inUncategorizedEditIf I could touch you with just one word
If I could touch you with just one word
If I could get Russia to LISTEN
Nobody believes all the Lies even in your own Country
Time and Tide moves on
It does not stop for anyone
We refine ourselves
We grow old and change
Just as we change our clothing
and wash ourselves then refreshed we start again
So why has Russia stopped in 1945
Why have all the People all over Russia
Still being treated like sheep
And even today being led to slaughter in Ukraine
Why Why Why
Our kids grow up and leave home
But if Russia is the dad, you are still ordered about
There is no Freedom
All he decades of Militarism and for what
So the Generals can skim off money for their Dachas
While the conscripts are no more than slaves
Now a dictator who is no “Leader” smiles like a cheeky schoolboy
As he lies and lies and lies
And is totally ignorant of History, he just wants a Land Grab
So If I could say just one word it would be STOP
Then CHANGE would be another word
LOSE your SOUL would be two others
If he read all my Rubbish, my 2,000,000 Words
What would he learn
One word Laughter
A second word Love
A third word Ordinary people
So why does he never respect any word
Love would be a good one
Love thy Neighbour were words spoken by Somebody
Far greater than Me or even him
So why does Putin Never Listen
What do I have to do
Shout till his ears bleed
Or till the Walls of the Kremlin come Falling Down
In the Beginning Was the Word
and PEACE
is the most beautiful word of All
Can you hear me Putin, let Russians be FREE again
STOP TURN BACK the Tide of History
And Surrender to the Words of God
Amen
Words are Fun ©
By
Michael Casey
Before I begin I go to the bathroom to let out some hot air
Though some will say it’s always there
Either my CkD embarrassing me or a comment on my writing
But people can be cruel and do not care, either way
I fell in love with words 55 years ago maybe
Robin Day was on the tv, a Political interviewer
Though any News Junkies will know him already
He was a trained Barrister, no he did not make coffee
Just mincemeat of Politicians
And Politician is not Cream to go with Coffee
Like I said he was a Barrister not barista
Me and my dad used to watch him
So, if you hear good language,
Here Today Gone Tomorrow Politician
It may tie you in knots, or make you laugh
As it made me dad and me, and then
My dad would curse at the tv, using all the letters
Of cursing, no Wokery back then,
the word had not been invented
and should not have been
Far better if you had not been heard, absurd word
So, I grew up with an educated dad, left school at 14
To become a Blacksmith, which makes me a SOB
Son of a Blacksmith
Dad was very bright, but on the 1930s in Ireland
Everybody went to work, but it does not mean
He or anybody else was thick
Intelligence is Speed of Thought
I’ll explain it for the half-wits out there
So, if you follow BBC news you have an
encyclopaedia in front of you, just engage your brain
Then if in my case you have BBC Radio4 constantly
You hear clever people talking, in posh voices back then
Add Latin, English, English Lit, French, Spanish then
Words are everywhere
If you read a lot too, then Words do become your plaything
If your days off are in the middle of the week too
Radio fills the void, and even if you are half stupid
You will learn a lot, it’s osmosis so to speak
Then if you have clever kids with you at school
4 of my cohort, which is a new word used a lot on tv lately
Year Group, Age Group might be more understandable to some
4 of them are Doctors or PhDs, I’m just the toilet cleaner
Though as I said earlier, doesn’t make me stupid
Your Job does not always mark you, as far as brains go
Although Brains was a brand of faggot years ago
You can make your own joke up there
Though Fags was the name for 1st years in 1970
In my old grammar school, but I’m from a different age
On the cusp of one age to another
Pause for Pain Killer
And no that wasn’t a rubbish rhyme
20 mins just gone for paracetamol and slap on gel
This is my life for years now
Pain
Though all of you reading me, might say
Yes, we suffer, we are the readers
CRUEL
Anyway, lots of Wordplay, like Foreplay but not
As much fun, on Radio Shows on the BBC
If you grow up listening to it you’ll learn a lot
Glue the dial to BBC Radio4 if you want clever kids
Though Wokery did show its head, beneath the bedclothes
Samantha, an imaginary radio girl, was banned or spoke
About because Woke People have no Imagination
Trigger warnings on books at University too
This is madness, Words are Fun, they have Meaning
Nuances and Shades and Tones, almost musical
But they are being banned by idiots
By the way too Slaves have existed for 10,000 years maybe
So yes, take note of it, but don’t whitewash History in every
Meaning of the Word. GROW UP
Now I’ll finish now as my head is about to explode with pain
And did you know my pharma knowledge big daughter told me
They don’t really know why Paracetamol works
And in my case sometimes it does not
As my Pain, My BASTARD is too much
And its whore of a sister Tinnitus is just a Tramp
Or should I post a Trigger warning on my words
For kids who are so Woke
They should just stay at home, wrapped in cotton wool
And take them out once a year like Christmas Decorations
Or Winterval as the Birmingham Council Morons
Once called Christmas
Celebrate everything, because Words are Fun
The Things I Love, The Things I Hate (c)
By Michael Casey
Well I was having a leak, then I had a thought
The kitchen tap was dripping, as was I
Then I thought I could write something new
So I pushed the cat away as she as following me
She'll following anybody for the thought of food
Or she'll just stay as she is, not unless you offer 80 quid
If you rustle food wrappers she'll come
But otherwise, fat chance, this cat is staying on the mat
Though banknotes, the plastic sort, do sound like food wappers
But it has better be 80 quid, or she'll stay where she is
We offered 20,40 then 60 but it was 80 I think
Before Totoro our cat stopped grooming
she was a litter of 4, but sadly the other 3 are no more
7 years old now, a reward for my quadruple heart bypass
I told my girls they could have a pet
A dog if I died or a cat for a heart attack
Then no sooner had the words been said
At Christmas 2014, I could have been no more
instead 13 Jan 2015 I had what turned out to be
my Quadruple
I've told you all this before
So me repeating myself, must be something you all hate
I do love to hear stories, and that made me close to my dad
In fact I was practically in the same bed as he , in 1996
But they had made space on the ward, so I was in the the one
next to where he had been
I love sunsets, and views
I used to look out the office windows
on Smallbrook Queensway, overlooking the Chinese Quarter
Little did I know in 78 that 20 years later, a piece of Shanghai
would come to me
I love puns and plays on words, maybe because I have learnt
So many languages, Latin, French, Spanish and English Literature
as well as Shakespeare at Open University, Level 3
in addition to decades of BBC Radio 4
Then teaching English as a 2nd Language to the Shanghai girl
Not Forgetting Esol English in an Islamic school
So my view on words can make me quite absurd
I'll even put in a rubbish rhyme, like a school principal
who should know better, but no names mentioned
as I don't want them to cry
I hate bad writers who bore me with their style
Harry Styles is the only style I like, I'm listening to him right now
He's calling me a Woman, it must be my 3 breasts
Long Term Paracetamol gives you man boobs
and now a Hernia in between, no wonder Harry is Confused
But at least he can sing
I do enjoying ad libbing to songs I know
Adding a new line, in a different voice
while I wait for the kettle to boil
Though my neighbours next door tolerate me
It may be because of my 3 boobs
and my 3 cups hanging on the washing line
They can't work out how to address me
Man or Woman, or IT, maybe Sam would cover it
Though Political Correct People, complained to BBC
about Sam's treatment on a radio show,
Even though she was a non existent comic device
I hate left-overs too
I eat everything I put on the plate
No waste me
Though when you look at me you'll say
LIAR, big tum like Winnie the Pooh
46 inch waist, to match my Beyonce backside
If she saw my tight firm bum, she'd cry
Cry me a River, almost, until
it winds past Timber on the Lake
I like him, I sing along to him too
PSY is a good, he reminds me of myself
If I had talent, and could move like him
But I am 120 kilos and he is not
I'm all Birmingham style, Wobbling
PSY is like a singing and dancing Benny Hill
I've worked out how to watch Utube on our family telly
So now I laugh along to PSY
When not watching K Drama
And Alchemy of the Souls
was very dramatic, I was amazing
Maybe she is not the girl for me,
all she can do is use a sword
I bet she cannot type
She's having my Baby, Harry Styles sings
The Alchemy assassin would just kill me
so it won't be her, who comes and types for me
I like running jokes too
Though, you may not understand the concept
Like British Humour, it's not just Slap Stick
and Telegraphed for Americans
Clock strikes 6pm, News on TV maybe
I love News, and current affaires
But I detest rubbish, about how many affairs
X Y or Z has had, and splashes all over the Newspapers
What 2 people do, is up to them
It should never be all over the TV and Newspapers
Besides I don't want a staple all over my 3 breasts
or enormous, Beyonce shaming backside
Podcasts are rubbish too
Whatever happened to Radio
I was a Royal, and I hated it
etc etc etc
Most people are worried about the Gas Bill
So self indulgent people, just make me want to puke
I hate Liars too
Trump, being the biggest one
But he'd be elected today
As USA is just too stupid for words
PAUSE
while USA readers revolt, or agree with me
I'd imagine if you are reading this
YOU agree with me
I hate sports men who state they are doing it for their Country
or for their City etc
They are doing it for the MONEY
If they do some good they that's fine and dandy
But most are just very very Randy
which rhymes with dandy
And they are all Dandies too
as they can afford too
People not knowing their own Style
brings me back to Harry
What am I now, he sings
Take time to discover your style
And stick with it
Obviously, I look like Charity Shop left overs
But I live with 3 women
and a female cat
They know what is best
So I'm a Gay Dad by default
Devil wears Prada was on TV again last night
So don't wear Elton John track suit
No matter what brand it is, Elton you look like a Chav
You can thank me later
He's covering for Taylor Swift, and Snoop Dogg
who do my high dusting
Though he may just say Life is not Everything
and smile at me
Well I've put this down, as I had a break in the Tinnitus
and now the pain is coming back, Codeine is wearing off
and I got spelling right in the end
And life is like that
So long as you get it right in the end
All is forgiven by God
Though he may not like my writing
and I'd end up as a greetings card writer
DON'T YOU DARE SAY ANYTHING
end
What do you see?
by
Michael Casey
You look in the mirror and see your reflection
I look at you and see through you
You are a window, a sheet of glass
I can see inside of you
You look and see yourself only in the mirror
I look inside you and see the soul within
You tidy your hair and think which way to hold it
I look inside you, your hair does not matted at all
You think are you getting fatter or are you too thin
I look within and you are just right
You wish you were taller or smaller
I just see perfection within
You think about your clothing
I just see your smile
You think about your colour matching
I just see all the colours of the rainbow within
You think which shoes match these clothes
I just see everything including your perfect nose
You look sideways does you bum stick out
I laugh, you are a product of genes after all
You pluck one last eyebrow
I smile, so much messing with perfection
You wonder will it be a rejection again
I hope you remember you are never rejected by me
You hope you'll get the job, the man, the whatever
I laugh out loud now, does it really matter
You take one final look in the mirror
I smile again, for I am not a mirror
I am looking through a window into your soul
For I am your dad
or Abba as Jesus said
Tuesday, 6 December 2022
Stay in Bed make Love
Stay in Bed and make Love (c)
By
Michael Casey
Stay in Bed make Love
It's too cold for this fool on a hill
so stay in bed and make love
and if you have nobody
and your love needs kindling
and the neighbour next door is not interested in you
then go and chop wood
not a metaphor
but beware of splinters
as you chop wood
and as you throw your logs on the fire
or turn the central heating higher
and put your hands on the thermostat
just imagine what it would be like
not chopping firewood
but making love
with the Alchemy of your Soul
in your warm bed
without icicles on your window pane
maybe a metaphor
as you wish you wish
you could burn Putin
or use Trump's hot air
to warm your cold big Beyonce ass
but maybe the girl next door will come
to appreciate you
if only for your chopped logs
and taking off her glasses
will see you clearly
though you are all shrivelled up with the cold
if she warms you up
with another log on the fire
then together you'll feel so much better
so everybody out there
he may be bald and fat
she may need to shave a bit
AND
I am fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
so cuddle up everybody under the covers
with Bill the Gas man, which gas can mean funny too in Irish English
and enjoy the thrills together as you read my rubbish
under the bed clothes
But anticipate or 9 months
you'll always be awake
or just burn my books on the fire
just to get a little bit warmer
for I am Alchemy of the Spirit
100% Irish Poteen
which can make you go Blind
Let there be Peace
Posted bymichaelgcasey23/12/2022Posted inUncategorizedEditLet there be Peace
Let there be Peace (c)
By Michael Casey
Let there be Peace in the Land
Let there be no more shells flying
Let there be no more dying
Let there be no more tears in the rain
Let there be no more graves in the mud
Let there be no more destruction
Let there be water and electricity
Let there be no hiding in the underground
Let there be a return to normality
Let there be NO more men acting behaving like beasts
Let there be no more schools turned into dungeons
Let there be no more destruction of schools and hospitals
Let the food supply stay alright
And why all of this
Because a Fool called Putin
Came out of his man cave looking to prove
He was king of the world
Corruption was not enough for him
Destruction and Death was his play thing
But now but now, he begins to see the reality
Ukraine just wanted to be left alone
Instead they are in for a fight of their life
Ukrainians are tall, they cannot hide
But now they crawl in the mud, to defeat the infedel
Heathen hoards from Moscow, full of lies and deceit
We are here to save you they said
The reality they just wanted to steal all the bread
To starve the world instead of feed it
To freeze the world instead on warm it
So when you put your central heating tonight
Think of the sacrifice today and ever day as Ukraine fights
Give them the tools to fight and they will finish the job
While Putin practices Genocide into the dark of the night
Be a light, be a light in the dark, and hold it high
As Ukrainians fight and die in the cold and dark of the night
Give them the tools to finish the job
Give then the tools to finish the job
Do not take any Russian Blood Money
For 30 pieces of silver they sold their soul under Putin
But Ukraine will never never never give up the fight
For they are Golden like a field of wheat
Putin is just all lies and deceit
And if you are in Russia and you read my words
Remember we are all mortal and to dust we will return
So turn away from Putin’s Evil darkness
Are all Russians cowards and afraid
If more Russians stand up to Putin
He can and will be defeated from within
Or are 100,000 Russians dead not enough for you
Is a TRILLON USD wasted a good idea
Stop living in fear of your own President
Remove the blood stained liar and fool
Make sure Putin cannot dance and goose-step any more
Why do you, in Russia allow a fool to dictate to you
Why do you allow him to lead you destrution
Would it not be better to put him in n empty barrel of oil
And drown his black heart in the Black sea
Or will you wait for 300,000 or 1,000,000 Russians to be dead
And all for what, lines on a map
So Putin can say to the Devil in Hell
Look what I achieved in my life
The world is mocking Putin
But you Russians in Moscow doing nothing
Because Putin drove your entire country
not over a bridge in a Mercedes but to utter and total destruction
As for Ukraine they are winning, and will win in the end
Don’t take my word for it, watch the read media
And what was at Fatima in 1917
In the end The Immaculate Heart of Mary will win
So what are you waiting for in Moscow
The Blessed Virgin Mary to appear on a Donkey in Red Square
This Christmas 2022
But what are you saying in Russia already to the Virgin Mary
No room at the Inn
WE are too busy killing our Ukrainian brothers
In Ukraine Russians enjoy killing just for the sake of it
Russia choses Putin
Instead of Jesus Mary and Joseph on a Donkey
Even if they were to appear in Red Square
STOP
Save your Soul Russia
Be like a Mother with a baby at her breast
Instead of selling your soul
to a Murdering Selfish Ignorant Cheeky Schoolboy
who has to rewrite his report for Xi
Because in the end Putin is just an ignorant little child
But in Ukraine they only have Men
All believers tonight, Pray and Pray again, because in the Mary will have the last word and that word is PEACE
ukrainiantransationallfileDownload
Tossing and Turning by Michael Casey
Tossing and Turning (c)
by Michael Casey
Well it’s 21st Jan 2023, just so you archaeologists of words know. I haven’t done much new writing this past year, because my Tinnitus is horrendous. Switch the fire alarm on and stand under it for an hour, get the picture now. Then imagine it getting louder when its triggered by the extractor fan on the cooker, or in the bath room, not to mention cold weather and storms in the air.
So, you are all lucky lucky people. The noise in your head can be so much, it actually causes pain. In my case the hearing in my right ear is almost gone, I can hear a bit, but the overwhelming sensation is NOISE, despite deafness, the NOISE of Tinnitus. Tinnitus is not a Gay Roman lover either. It’s just terrible, and for some so bad, it becomes fatal.
Now in bed I listen to Taylor Swift, or anything as a distraction so I can get to sleep. However, I still wake up every 2 hours, such is my CKD. When after a night of tossing and turning, though I can only sleep on my right side due to my hernia in the middle of my bypass scar, I’ve had enough sleep I get up. But then the fun begins, because the scream has to die down before I can do anything. And even when or if it dies down, it’s very hard to concentrate long enough to write a piece. That’s why I’ve been using bullet points this past year.
And as I finish my coffee, my brain is distracted from my flow so I have to force myself to remember what I was going to say next. My left shoulder as per usual wants to get in on the act too. So, I have to literally stop so I can slap on hemp pain killer, my neighbours think something kinky is going on, all the sound of slapping echoes around our house. If only, if only.
Now my Tinnitus is fizzing louder, but the pain killer on my shoulder should kick in soon, and I may have a paracetamol in a bit. Daily paracetamol for 8 years, my GFR is 25 now, so I cannot use any old pain killer, or it would kill my kidneys more. Anyway I’ve written or bullet pointed a lot about Ukraine, because it is Hitler all over again, but now the name has changed to Putin. Germany helps a lot, but is afraid of its own History, so they could do more. And as for the score 180,000 Russians dead, according to latest USA intelligence. 180,000 Russians DEAD.
But Putin does not care, because he hides behind History, Nazis and all that, but the irony is Russia under him are the Nazis committing Genocide. And on it goes, and in the West people are tired of it, as paying the Gas bill is all they care about. As for me I studied History a bit, and I also know about Fatima. Basically the Virgin Mary said Russia were bad lads. And History proves her right.
So that’s why I’ve put Holy Pictures on my websites, and that’s why daily I send Holy Pictures to 12 to 18 email addresses in Moscow, with a little message too. They may have all have gone straight to Junk Mail, but what else can I do a buggered up body, with scars everywhere, with noise in my head, I am useless. Or maybe I am not, cos I can say a Rosary, even if I am totally useless in the eyes of man, or holy people. So, if everybody does a little bit, in the end Putin will fall. And Mother Russia will behave like a mother to its own people, as well as the rest of the world
The RUBBISH you send me (c)
by Michael Casey
Well I had a spate of google docs
I had saw your profile I want a man like you
Here's a photo
Some card must have put my email down somewhere
But I only look East, Far East
So they are wasting their time
And they should just STOP
and they have now, as I've deleted 100s UNREAD
I also get lots of discount stuff
my email is .COM
but I'm in England not USA
so I don't need Target, whatever that is
Microsoft reads your emails
so then you are targeted for stuff
Tinnitus cures and Pain relief
And YOU ARE CHOSEN
I'm not a Jew, so don't say I'm a Chosen One
Chosen for a Scam by somebody in a Bikini
Living the high life from where they screw everybody
Amazon automated phone calls, but I'm not even on Amazon
Amazon and DHL fake emails too
They just stink like YOU
Fake this, fake that
And some companies NEVER use email
It costs money for a mail shot
So Scammers never do that
When you top-up on your phone
They harvest your phone number
So you get all manner of stuff
Today right now, fake Turkey/Syria charities
This is beyond evil
And on it goes
HELLO WHO ARE YOU WHAT DO YOU WANT
AS AGRESSIVELY AS I CAN
The Vicar was shocked but he's used to me by now
so HE swears at me in Latin
GO Ablative Absolute YOURSELF
and yes I'm mangling everything here
To Confuse Scammers if the read this
That's if they can read ENGLISH
The Ablative Absolute is what we did in 2F in the corner room
back in 1972 maybe, Mr Proctor WE still hate you
I hour lesson, we sweated, break, continue 2nd 1hour lesson
Only then did HE explain it to us
I think Prasat had an inclinling, he's s Doctor now
One of the 4 who became doctors
Yes, a clever clogs class, and UB40 guy he was in 1B with me
But he did not make it into the fast stream, 2F and LATIN
He became a Musician, whatever happened to him
Maybe too much Red Red Wine
Foster was a vicars son, he was very clever
another his dad was a Prison Officer
But I digress, no doubt I'll get offers of Protective Clothing Now
And stun guns from USA
And Bibles for Everybody
With a cheap riffle on the side
Very Trumpian, Firing Squads
I'd fire all the Politicians in the GOP, as in sack not attack
and now it's time for Pain Killer, Hemp oil , which is legal
and made in the UK, a cream that takes my pain away
otherwise I'm bent double with pain
So as I've mentioned that Gummies, will be advertised to me
They are dangerous by the way
I'm an expert on pain after all, 10 years of it
But do you give a monkeys
So long as you can send me marketing
Its just as bad the glossy leaflets through the letter box
Pizza galore
Well I'm waiting for the pain killer to kick in
Then when I'm done with you
Better Call Saul conclusion
Howard has just been shot in the head, dead
So I have to continue with that
I was shocked too
BUT I would say watch all of Better Call Saul
I do wonder why Howard was persecuted so much
But the acting is great, quality stuff
I will get back to my Korean via a Japanese horror film
And still daily as soon as I put something online
France reads it
Korea reads it
If only the Korean could type for me...
But it's probably a USA service man
who stumbled over me
I used to get Portugal straight away too
so who those three are/were I'll never know
So now I'll get fake Emails with emails .kor, or Fr or PT
Pretending to like me
I get so much rubbish I need a shovel
To clean the stables
and on it goes
In the night when I cannot sleep I may send
yet another email to Moscow
Holy Pictures and an admonition
If only I change one mind
Then PUTIN's evil is lessened
and yes I've bored you all this past year
And not written as much comedy
But it's hard to smile
while there is Genocide in Ukraine
I do believe in what Mary said in Fatima in 1917
So I'll end now, and just ask fellow sinners
to Pray for Peace in Ukraine
which is Russia surrendering to Jesus through Mary
15 Feb 2023
AI is watching me plus around the Horne link
AI is watching me
Perplexity is all mixed up
confuses me with the Irish guy of the EXACT SAME NAME
so there’s a WEAKNESS
In fact it mixed up data about both of us
so I cut and pasted my Blogger Info
which appears at the side
into Perplexity
so wait a week and see
if you Google michaelgcasey
or rather enter michaelgcasey into Perplexity
will it still be confused
BUT
most people forget what they were doing after they meet me
I’m like a bar of chocolate or a hot drink
I bring RELIEF
so make your own jokes up there
and hello to Ukrainians everywhere who seem to like my rubbish
as well as my Korean readers
Though you could just be bored hotel night shift workers
so I bet you are disappointed
Quick Stories FULL title is Quick Stories for Busy People
So I hope it brings Relief to you in whatever language you read it
Quick Stories is NOT about “relief” but I do hope it amuses
the 1000s of you who have downloaded or looked at the pages
It appears on, though Perplexity will be even more confused
Wait till it stumbles over Shakespeare and Double Entendres
If if found Around the Horne
https://www.radioechoes.com/?page=series&genre=OTR-Comedy&series=Round%20The%20Horne
it would be totally confuses
But while you are here
Click the link above and discover British Comedy at its very best
From the 1960s
what Prince Charles was listening to under the bed clothes as well as The Goons
He is a King now, no not a metaphor, but he can still dance like a Prince
He will have a Purple Reign no doubt
So don’t be Perplexed just bounce off the perspex
AI AI AI adio adio , she’s coming round the bend
you have just been michaeled
did you enjoy the experience
was it a relief
Language was an essay my daughter wrote
But they wouldn’t even mark this
too many skid marks on it
Mark Wheatstone where are you now
only StatsMR folks will understand
that reference
AI
Always Ignorant
Let There Be Peace on Earth Again (c)
By Michael Casey
Let there be Peace on Earth Again
Let there be no more mindless invasions
Let there be no more intimidation
Let there be no more people shot dead in the street
Let there be no more bodies identified just by their nail designs
Let there be no more shallow graves
Let there be no more LIES
Let there be no more Theatre of the absurd to Justify those LIES
Let there be no more Hospitals destroyed
Let there be no more schools burnt down
Let there be no more Death while you sleep in your bed
Let there be no more Underground hiding places needed
Let Subway just be a sandwich again, not just a place of safety
Let Churches be open and full of celebration
Let Funerals stop being a constant, constant, constant event
Let Marriages take place with Joy
Not with eyes to the sky looking out for Death
Let Food shopping be fun again not a quick dash under attack
Let a walk in the park with Sunshine on your back return again
Let stopping to talk and chat be normal again
Let News be something different every day
Not just Putin's Insanity over and over and over again
Let there be time for making Love again
Idle lazy time, as your stoke her hair, and cuddle together
Again and Again and Again and On and On and On
Instead of stolen moments, as your Ears Listen in case of Attack
Let LOVE come back, Love, and Peace and Happiness
Let Hospitals have flowers all around again
Let Gossip and Laugher ring out again
Let Singing and Music fill the air again
Let skipping and bouncing for joy be in Children's Hearts again
Let Old Folk meet and greet slowly, ever so slowly again
Let Church Bells Ring Out again
Let the Lights come Back again
Let. there be Peace Again
Let there, Let there, Let there
Let there be ALL things again
BUT WHEN
When Russia is BEAT
For ONLY then
When the Immaculate Heart of Mary
WINS over Savagery and Bigots and Insanity
Only then
Can there be Peace on Earth again
Stormy and Trump and my Mattress is gone
Stormy and Trump and my Mattress is gone
as you know I got a new mattress
I sleep my on right side because of my hernia in the middle of my chest
post quadruple heart bypass
before I was like a kebab rotating
so if 120 kilos in on the side
it is more pressure than two 60 kilo women on their back
surface area and all that
so 4 times the pressure maybe
hence new mattress
anyways as I always say I sleep with Taylor Swift and Will Young
Tinnitus and Music or I'd never sleep at all
So picture it in your imagination
They'll be happy tonight
New mattress and all that
In fact I have 2 mattresses on top of each other
As my original very expensive Dormeo
Broke and they refused to replace it
So I got a new one and threw Dormeo in the dustbin
the replacement was from a posh shop that only sells quality
I had said this would be the bed I'd die in
But it was too hard
So I got a mattress in a box
these expand when you piece the bag
That one has been on the other one for a few years
But now is tired, so would you be if 120k was sideways on you
So I manhandled and screamed and cursed and got it out the house
I was going to get rid of the hard one too, but I'd need 2 strong men to do it
I could have really hurt myself, remember hernia in the middle of my chest
So that one is outside for a day or two
I knew somebody would take it
150 quid just for a foam one like that
So, so Tuesday I dragged the new mattress on to my bed
Pulled the ripcord, well almost
unrolled and pierced
Then the vacuum packed mattress expanded like a life jacket in seconds
And yes it is so comfortable and was in a Sale 1/3 off
and review saids better than a 600 quid fancy one
Let it breath it said on the wrapper
You don't get the model and the 2 dogs in the photo
Anyway tonight
Just before Stormy Daniels was on TV
Piers Morgan interview on Talk TV
Owned by Murdoch I believe
I looked outside
And there are woods up the road and a Golf course too
The mattress from my bed was missing in action
Could it be Trump and Stormy were having a final swing
The Final Cut of the 19th Hole by Michael Casey is one of my books after all
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0847S94PW/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i1
well I watched last episode of Picard
enjoyed it, they all look so old now
I also watched a bit more of Kdrama Mad Dog
so now a break from tv
and see if I can get in the groove to write this
Normally a Poem is Dominos falling
so with the taste of Camembert in my mouth
here's what falls out, as Taylor Swift sings to me
Let The Sun Shine Again (c)
By Michael Casey
Let the sun shine again
Let the pain fade away
Let the tears dry up
Let the hair be combed again
Let the lipstick be applied again
Let the smiles reign again
Let the eyes sparkle again
Let the breathing be normal again
Let the singing begin again
Let the footsteps have a bounce again
Let the pace become faster
Let the joy inside come out again
Let the dancing begin again
Let the laugher ring out again
Let the hugging and then the kissing begin again
Let the hearts beat faster
Let the love rule again
Let the Future hold no fear again
Let the Promise be over the horizon
Let the Fear be banished again
Let the Fear be totally and utterly gone again
Let there be Love in our hearts again
Happiness and Joy and Laughter and Dancing
Singing too
Don't be afraid to let Love reign again
The Past is Over
We are in the Present
The Future is ours again
Let the Sun Shine on Us again
All of Us everywhere, in the world
Whatever we do, whatever we want
We can have it back
Because we are not Afraid anymore
There is Love out there
Just don't be afraid to grasp it
Let the sun shine in your hearts again
For Evil will pass, and only Love is Left
Ask Sancho Panza, I read it on Google
only the other day
And 50 years ago I was Christened Sancho Panza
by one of our Priests
So I am Sancho Panza, and Michael Casey too
Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham ENGLAND
and my. message to all of you all over the world and in multiple languages
is just this
Let the Sun Shine Again
and never never never allow Evil to freeze your heart
for in the Sunshine everything GROWS
Exam Guidance Summer 2023 (c)
By Michael Casey
Well the big exams are here for my big daughter, who looks the image of me, when I was a kid.
Not now, luckily, now bushy eyebrows like a werewolf, and a mane of silver hair.
She did tell me to go to the barbers incidentally.
So what advice do I have for her, and any of yours doing Finals?
Well my dad said to me, "Michael, I have no education, do what you like, but do your best."
My dad was a clever man who went to work at 14, back in 1930s Ireland everybody did.
So what do I say to my 2 daughters.
I say take it steady, take it easy.
The questions should not make you afraid, you revise and you answer what comes up.
My BioChem daughter showed me a chart, a start chart, a horoscope almost to my eyes.
It was about different Cancers
So I just looked at it over the internet and said
A horoscope can be an indicator, or a pointer, but it's not all in the stars
Unlike the comedy I wrote , It's all in the Stars, from 25 years ago, but I digress
So the cancer will not come if you mix this with that, or the length of exposure
A virgo and an aquarius won't end in something fishy
Using mixed metaphors of how it seems to me
A totally uneducated in Science person
But if you think of things from a Writer's perspective
Then I think it can give you insight into what you are doing
The answer will come out when the Paper is marked
And yes the only paper of mine marked, is toilet paper
Hopefully I hope my daughter can use some of what I say
Which reminds me in Czech in 1998 you have to pay for toilet paper
and a lady only gives a few sheets, and you are supposed to tip her
My only tip would be, my pile is radioactive in cubicle three
so fetch the Jeyes Fluid, and ventilate
Back to exams, have a supply of chocolate, or nuts or other treats ready
So as you study, you reward yourself
And go to bed and get enough fresh air
My girls study 10 hours a day, I have to hunt them to bed
But check in with your daughters and sons, if you have sons
Talk to your kids, some parents don't
Dad time is good, if not for them exactly, but it distracts them
So they don't brain freeze
Tell them don't be afraid what may or may not come up
Hopefully, they have covered everything
and with daughters COVER EVERYTHING
But back to Studying
What will be, will be, so just think of it as another day at the office
Or wiping Granny's behind and wheeling her into the garden
Your kids have done all the studying
So now the Final exam even if it's 4 hours of BioChem
It's just a Banquet
READ THE QUESTION
then pick it apart, and stack up the evidence on your plate
ON you essay written on screen, or on paper
If you've ever worked in a hotel, and I did 3 years worth
Every day is a box of chocolate
So an exam is just the same, just pick your teeth as you go along
And PAUSE to think
Then you'll wipe the table clean
You have sampled and explained everything
Nothing to fear, the Rosary has been in Top Gear
while you do the paper, you dad and All Saints
have been there beside you, cheering you along
Besides, Padre Pio himself has been roped in
To mark all the questions for you
So Relax, just do it, and you won't go far wrong
And as for the Future, amazing happens
when you don't expect it
Smile, now brush those teeth
And do go to the toilet
after 4 hours doing a Paper
Explosions can happen, so bring your own Roll
and as you sit and pooh
Just think Dad, was right
If only this was in a room with a View
and not just a 4 hour Pooh on Matching Paper
SMILE
Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC
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Influencers TOO Stupid for Words
Posted bymichaelgcasey03/05/2023Posted inUncategorizedEditInfluencers TOO Stupid for Words
I was going through the Press, and I’m fed up to read about Influencers
Take this first sentence. What is Press?
Where you press your clothes?
Like an ironing machine.
Or the Newspapers, because of Printing Press.
Which spread Knowledge, because Books were mass produced.
And is mass a Mass, as in a Holy Service.
Or a kind of Weight, but let Physics people explain that
Now, I’m fed Up
Does that mean a very fat bastard, who ate all the pies?
Or does it mean I’ve had enough, so I’m fed up.
Like a mark inside my belly, an internal Plimsoll line
If I go over the line, I’ll fall over maybe?
Or does it mean, I’ve had enough BS from ignorant people
Talking about stuff they could not be bothered to do Research about
Quora , or Donald Trump’s mouth do not speak the Gospel Truth.
And that does not mean they are Preachers.
Though Social Justice does descend from Preachers.
Go back to the Marches and Bus Rides, for examples
And what is an Influencer?
Your mum, or the Virgin Mary who asked for more wine indirectly
So Jesus performed his first miracle
Do as HE says, she said
And the rest is History.
SO PLEASE IGNORANT INFLUENCERS
Read a book, do some research, and realise
Things aren’t what they appear.
Linguistics Matter, or are you just in it for the MONEY maybe
Michael Casey the Fat Silver Haired Writer in Shades from Birmingham. ENGLAND
And speak clearly,or Snoop Dog might start commenting in the most direct way
As only Snoop can, TRUMP man TRUMP man, Just TRUMP TRUMP TRUMP you TRUMP
which should be clear enough in Any Language
and YES Trump is the Worst Word in Any Language of the World
Or maybe I’m just an ignorant fat man from Birmingham England
Trying to use TRUMP as the newest word to cause OFFENCE
as TRUMP really is the record breaker for that
Man was not born in chains, so avoid TRUMPING TRUMP TRUMP TRUMP
I am a SOB after all, a real SOB
Son of a Blacksmith, from County Kerry EIRE
Tororo my Ninja Cat
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22/04/2022
05/09/2018
16/10/2019
Posted bymichaelgcasey03/05/2023Posted inUncategorizedEditInfluencers TOO Stupid for Words
Published by michaelgcasey
I've updated this 18th March 2022 I'm Michael Casey from Birmingham England, the fat silver haired writer in shades. Beware of Others with the EXACT SAME NAME, they are not me, and would not want to be me ... use Google UK to find me, otherwise Posh Americans pop up I've done loads of writing, about 2,000,000 Words worth over 34years now But before I started to write, I LISTENED to BBC Radio 4 for 20 years, from the age of 10 or younger Frank Brown our lodger, went back to County Tyrone and he gifted us his Bush Radio. He'd be nearly 100 now if he is still alive, so say a prayer for him 54 years in love with words, and I still look so dashing. I have a picture in the attic, just like Dorian Gray I've also had an interest in Politics for 54 years with my dad heckling the tv and Politicians. I almost immediately had a hit, a play called Shoplife was accepted but not finally produced by a Theatre. The Kenneth More Theatre, so thank them for sparing you all. This was back in 1989 yes, 30 years plus ago, the play was written in 1988. So since then I'm more than good enough, as a writer. Anything else..... I also ignore those who just cannot write, pick your own candidate I tend to write Comedy as I'd rather make you laugh than cry I have written over 2000 short pieces of writing, yes 2000 " (c) by Michael Casey" If you include "chats" 3700 samples, all told, the chats do NOT go into my books when I compile them. My first book ,a full length comedy/drama is The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker You can read translations of it here on this site Up to 20 different languages/translations have been read on the same day via this site, here on Wordpress look fo Translations Galore page, and more And in over 90 Countries world wide too so you have no excuse, find your own language and read The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker or Quick Stories or any other of the books in Translation on my Wordpress This proves to me that the humour does travel I have readers in over 100 countries now, just to repeat myself From Nepal to American Samoa and all places North South East and West Or its just a hit man on the run, or whatever Unknown Region Means It may also mean that only non English Speakers like my stuff Coverage but lacking penetration as marketing folks might say I did get 21,000 readers in 3 weeks for the Polish version of In Search of an Indian Princess. which is basically the final 3 chapters of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker all by word of mouth. And 50,000 plus in Christmas week 2021 If you add up all the downloads from my Wordpress + 13,000 when somebody stole the file. I have had more copies than Boris Johnson's Churchill book distributed. Maybe 40,000 copies . Not made a penny from it, free downloads in multiple languages. Reverse Logic, if the world knows me, eventually somebody will pay me But in reality I'll be dead first, and then just 2 pennies to pay the ferryman is enough I've cut the Plaudits, you can read/decide for yourself As for my life, I was born in the shadow of a Brewery, I was a computer operator for a market research company into alcohol sales, 21 years altogether, StatsMR Call centre guy, like everybody once in their life I was also a Trainee Betting Shop Manager I was a concierge and 10 other roles at Crowne Plaza NEC Birmingham for 3 years. Spent 3 years at Pinsent Masons Law firm in Birmingham I even hid a copy of my comic novel "BBU" in the Law Library at Pinsent Masons, well just for a day.. I did a few other jobs too, working life in reverse so to speak and I was an Esol English teacher in an Islamic school, for a year, I knew I could teach. I got Excellent, Excellent and Exemplary on the external assessment, yes really And I asked them to pray for me at least once a day beside which I've had a Shanghai connection for 20 years now, including 2 bilingual daughters and being a hausfrau a long time too, I'm a great dad, as I've had lots of time with my daughters I can always make somebody talk or laugh I believe my short stories could be used to teach English, just package them up correctly or App them Or a Tale a Day from Michael, a story telling App What else, I was brawn and brains, I used to be as strong as an Ox, now I just smell like one We have a cat called Totoro, my daughters wanted a pet I said they could have a dog if I died , or a cat if I had a heart attack. A few weeks after that in Jan 2015 I had an Unplanned Quadruple Heart Bypass , it was supposed to be a triple but it ended up a Quadruple, 33% extra free so to speak. Now with an add on Hernia, the size of your fist, pushing through my bypass scar, it hurts when I laugh, so don't make me laugh I also have arthritis and other hindrances that hobble my body and give me pain galore. But my mind is free, though having read my stories you may wish I didn't bother But I'll ignore you, and carry on regardless. I do get heckled by my own Tinnitus these past 3 years+, so I have music on all night long to drown it out. I sleep with Miley, Taylor, Eric Clapton and Will Young, maybe I should buy a bigger bed, or just get a better mattress. Tinnitus is a curse, just trust me I know, each day I wake up, Tinnitus SCREAMS at me for a full hour till it calms down That's the end of the tidy version of my life To finish here's the list of my 20 books, so far:- 1.The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker 2.Shoplife 3.Essays and Plays 4.Blogs 2011 5.300 and Not OUT 6.Shorts 2013 7.More Shorts 2014 8.Quick Stories 9.Still Alive 2015 10.Undiscovered Words 2016 11.Still Smiling 2017 12.Altogether Now 13.New Horizons 14.14 Up 15.15 Down 16.Sweet Sixteen 17. 17 Again 18. 18 New Views 19. The Final Cut of the 19th Hole 20. 2020 Words 21. 21 Door Keys, key to the door 21 on Bingo, hence title, 53,000 words so far I write bullet point stuff mainly now as Tinnitus stops me from getting in the zone to write, story stories. (c) by Michael Casey stuff though my bullet points are better than some "writers" discuss, miaow. That's why I dream of a speed typist, so I could dictate from the sofa https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC to buy ebooks Loads of Korean and Arabic translations downloaded from my Wordpress, 1000s of them Quick Stories in Korean is a big hit. Maybe Kim in North Korea should read my books, instead of wasting his countries resources on what? Just keeping one person in power, him? Instead of joining the real world and opening a string on golf courses. That way we could get rid of Trump too. Into the sunset, as they play golf. Tears for a Butcher will be the sequel to BBU, and it too will be 600pages, however I really need a speed typist to put it down, while I sit and dictate like Barbara Cartland, and hopefully my speed typist would be impressed. we'd marry have half Korean kids, and form a Kpop band with our 4 new kids, with me as manager. And yes this is more for my bucket list, as Tinnitus keeps me awake too much, 6 months of not sleeping till dawn is really killing me Michael Casey aka the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England https://2.gravatar.com/avatar/efda2dca0de5b9269191b7c8b0102473?s=400&d=mm View more posts
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Exam Guidance Summer 2023
- December 06, 2022
- January 21, 2023
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
Short stories from Birmingham PODAST TOO https://open.spotify.com/show/1wSSIExkhsR97u1jqj0iiR
Sunday, 14 May 2023
Time Trial ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s Sunday 14th May 2023, and Putin is bombing Eurovision, and Trump continues to lie, they have not joined an Abba Tribute Band yet, even though I did write such a story a few years ago.
I’ve been lying down on the sofa behind my desk as the Tinnitus roared, and shoulder pain galore, the usual for my life. I’ve had some meat, as I feel weak without a bit of meat in me. So, I’ve had some beef and put a new collar on Totoro our cat, as the pink one with two bells has gone. Now I’m going to see if I can write a new piece, before I need to go to the lavatory which is often due to my CKD. And if you read Johnny No Friends you can read a comedy I wrote all about it, where the wind of change saves the day. I looked down 160 words now, at 10 to 10 in the evening, so let’s see if I can write something new for you all in an hour, I used to be able to do that.
As the kettle boiled I thought of it, a watched kettle never boils after all. And time moves on. So here we go. When we are young, and in my head I’m 20, so that explains some things about me. As you get older you get boring, you not me. I’ll always be just me. Yesterday for example I left the Post Office and a young lad was in a car with the music blaring, his window wound down. So, I moved within eye view and started dancing, just my arms, just like Sam Smith in his Abby Rd, 3rd album, where he says pretend to be in a gay bar. So, there was I, dancing like a queen, the music was so loud, and Eurovison was on later. The driver smiled and drove on when the lights changed from red. He hooted 3 times, so was that approval for my dancing queen act. Two stay Indian pedestrians laughed, but I said it had to be done, so I did it. Abba have got a lot to answer for, or maybe just me.
Now as you get older you won’t do that, but I intend being ME, not you, in all things I do. Or if you are Religious, in all things Love, and that’s the way to be. Stop and talk to a stranger, though soon you get a reputation, and people avoid you. But they are white entitled people, so are they worth your spit in the first place? We are a Human Race after all, and it’s by talking to each that we pass the time and it is not a trial.
I hear far too many say I’m bored, but they could not be bothered to talk to each other. Without studying Anthropology, as my daughter does. I can tell you, cultures based on food are more fun, I’d rather go around to their house. Cultures where people sit closer and touch each other, which ironically meant more Covid when that was around, those cultures are far nicer. Pick your own favourites.
Ditto with Music, a culture with music, singing, chanting and dancing, they know how to use time and enjoy it. Time is more than sand falling from the hour glass of our life to our guaranteed death. Time is for us to use, and feel the rhythm of life, which reminds me of the very old Dave Allen joke, about the Jewish drummer so good at the rhyme method he became an honorary catholic. Use time, don’t waste it, never say you are bored. Be a cat, I’ve just let Totoro out by the way, now with an orange collar, look at the Queen, whether they dance or not. Life is a box of chocolates, just don’t eat to many.
Time Trial ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s Sunday 14th May 2023, and Putin is bombing Eurovision, and Trump continues to lie, they have not joined an Abba Tribute Band yet, even though I did write such a story a few years ago.
I’ve been lying down on the sofa behind my desk as the Tinnitus roared, and shoulder pain galore, the usual for my life. I’ve had some meat, as I feel weak without a bit of meat in me. So, I’ve had some beef and put a new collar on Totoro our cat, as the pink one with two bells has gone. Now I’m going to see if I can write a new piece, before I need to go to the lavatory which is often due to my CKD. And if you read Johnny No Friends you can read a comedy I wrote all about it, where the wind of change saves the day. I looked down 160 words now, at 10 to 10 in the evening, so let’s see if I can write something new for you all in an hour, I used to be able to do that.
As the kettle boiled I thought of it, a watched kettle never boils after all. And time moves on. So here we go. When we are young, and in my head I’m 20, so that explains some things about me. As you get older you get boring, you not me. I’ll always be just me. Yesterday for example I left the Post Office and a young lad was in a car with the music blaring, his window wound down. So, I moved within eye view and started dancing, just my arms, just like Sam Smith in his Abby Rd, 3rd album, where he says pretend to be in a gay bar. So, there was I, dancing like a queen, the music was so loud, and Eurovison was on later. The driver smiled and drove on when the lights changed from red. He hooted 3 times, so was that approval for my dancing queen act. Two stay Indian pedestrians laughed, but I said it had to be done, so I did it. Abba have got a lot to answer for, or maybe just me.
Now as you get older you won’t do that, but I intend being ME, not you, in all things I do. Or if you are Religious, in all things Love, and that’s the way to be. Stop and talk to a stranger, though soon you get a reputation, and people avoid you. But they are white entitled people, so are they worth your spit in the first place? We are a Human Race after all, and it’s by talking to each that we pass the time and it is not a trial.
I hear far too many say I’m bored, but they could not be bothered to talk to each other. Without studying Anthropology, as my daughter does. I can tell you, cultures based on food are more fun, I’d rather go around to their house. Cultures where people sit closer and touch each other, which ironically meant more Covid when that was around, those cultures are far nicer. Pick your own favourites.
Ditto with Music, a culture with music, singing, chanting and dancing, they know how to use time and enjoy it. Time is more than sand falling from the hour glass of our life to our guaranteed death. Time is for us to use, and feel the rhythm of life, which reminds me of the very old Dave Allen joke, about the Jewish drummer so good at the rhyme method he became an honorary catholic. Use time, don’t waste it, never say you are bored. Be a cat, I’ve just let Totoro out by the way, now with an orange collar, look at the Queen, whether they dance or not. Life is a box of chocolates, just don’t eat too many.
Forget AI, I’m Michael Casey the (far from) Perfect Man
Posted bymichaelgcasey16/05/2023Posted inUncategorizedEditForget AI, I’m Michael Casey the (far from) Perfect Man
Forget AI, I’m Michael Casey the (far from) Perfect Man (c)
by Michael Casey. ME, SOB
Firstly I’m a SOB, so what more does any woman want, SOB that’s me
Son of a Blacksmith from Kerry Eire, that’s what a SOB is
I’m in Birmingham, all of me, and there’s plenty, see my photo
I have scars so I look like a Pirate, NO Johnny but plenty of Depths
I have a hair back too, so swoon ladies swoon
I like Keith Richards and his smokers laugh, I cannot play an instrument
Though that could open a door to a metaphor, do you want more
I have broad shoulders, I am no wimp, and I do like squeezing pimples
I have strong hairy legs, that’ll indulge you , and you can shave them
It might reduce drag in the wind, though I do dress up in women’s clothing
and Fart a lot, not Monty and his Spam a Lot
I love Kdramas, and I would marry a Korean girl, and have 4 kids
Mathew, Mark, Luke and John I am a writer after all
But it would take a real Kdrama script for that to Happen
and Dr CHA I’ve finished Episode 10, where everybody is drunk
I eat apples and bananas and oranges which makes me sound like a Monkey
Though I more like a silver backed Gorilla, but far smellier
So AI AI AI my backside, I am perfect for somebody
Though can Jokers STOP sending dating site and worse to my emails
You need to talk to me, and treat me nice, and then you can stroke
my hair, ever so soft, just like me
I could go on but I need to out for bread, before darkness falls
I look better in daylight after all
I may be battered, just like the fish in the chip shop
But I’m young at heart, 20 in my head
So with that, I hope you all flock to me
And AI is far from Reality
Though Trump should be matched with a Balloon
And then he’d float away to oblivion
So I’m the far from perfect man
But I can do a CanCan and I know all the words
To the Moulin Rouge film
Which is all about LOVE
And what is AI just a Tin Can
that should be kicked in the Alley
So Dance away the night with me
A perfect Man, well almost
1st cat is a clone, NOT ours SCRUFFY
2nd cat is Totoro, our cat FLUFFY
diy haircut
Come Talk to Me (c)
By Michael Casey
Now I spent 3 years on the doorstep of the Crowne Plaza NEC , a 4 star deluxe hotel, 242 rooms and conference facilities, this was 20 years ago. Hello to Jonathan Walker who opened it. How are your 3 daughters. Mine, 1 has just finished BioChem Finals, and the smaller one is doing Anthropology at a very illustrious University, which I won't name to protect her Privacy.
So my job was to TALK to everybody, I gave them 30 seconds, and then I approached them. Jonathan once went to the opposition hotel, and it was 20 mins before anybody approached him. I was spring loaded and we looked after the guests, we were the Friendly Hotel.
My point though is that I TALK, I talk to Everybody. I hate it when people moan that they are bored and won't even take their nose out of their mobile, or just sit arms folded looking glum.
OPEN YOUR MOUTH
Speak to somebody. anybody, it's not a sin. Silence now that is a sin if you have any Irish blood in you. I can't speak to you, because. There is NO BECAUSE. Just talk, Black, White, Green, Straight, Gay, any which way, and any age at all. JUST TALK. You will break up your day, find a friend maybe, or just spill gravy while you are eating.
Talking changes everything and anything. How do we meet or friends our wives or lovers, we open our mouths and TALK. You can save a Life, just by talking. That little old lady in the store, or the fat man on a bus, you can discover a new reality, just by opening your mouth and talking. I always like having a natter in the store, and if they are stuck up I might just jump up and down like a Gorilla for the security camera. I did it the other day, because I had the fun feeling within me. Though I have to be careful due to the baseball size hernia in my chest.
Talking is fun, same as Opening your Eyes, you will will observe things and even spot things you never even knew existed. So Look Up, Look Around you, take of the sound barrier, or the binkers of the mobile phone. Enjoy the Sunshine, you can write your own songs, instead of using the crutch of Spotify.
Right now, the Tinnitus is so loud it physically hurts, my chest hurts too where it was broken in two to save my life with a unplanned Quadruple heart bypass 8 years ago, in 2015. I'm listening to Jean Michel Jarre's Revolution, which I first heard maybe 30 years ago, or it could even be 40 years ago. Mark Alder silly voice master and great cartoonist where are you now. Debbie W's first cousin.
We were a company of friends at StatsMR, and 45 years ago tomorrow I first joined the greatest show on earth, and everybody knows what I mean. That's where I first learnt to type. And everybody there knew how to talk, and lots lots more.
So everybody Come Talk to Me,
for that's the greatest way to be FREE.
Playing a Round with Donald Trump ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it had to happen, Donald had swept in and offered Cake for Everybody, then he disappeared and I got no cake. Let them Eat Cake, was what that French Lady said, and look what happened to her. It was not TOP SECRET it was all over tv, after Donald was counted out 37 times, which is a bit like that French film from the 60s. Film buffs go check it out.
So, I said to Rodger who knew all about swings, you should challenge him. Rodger declined gracefully, he had to wash the CPNEC van after all. Then I thought you know what I’ll challenge the Old Fraud myself, though all I know is that golfers have dimples on their balls. I was going to ring a lady and ask does Donald have dimples on his, only she said she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement.
Donald replied in crayon, a note pushed through my letter box, wrapped in a red baseball hat, used, it had strands on his hair in it. I was going to have it DNA tested, my friend Carol works down the Path Lab. When Carol is not testing my Pee for Ckd he has a side-line of Paternity testing.
I send an email to the Chinese email address inside Donald’s baseball cap, and they would pass on my reply. Yes, Donald would battle my stand-in as I cannot get around a lot what with all my illnesses. Little did he know, who would swing for me, only my man from the Pharmacy. Mr Pharma Man himself.
Donald sent a plane to pick up my man, and when he arrived Donald Trump mocked him openly. Just wait till wants something for the weekend, no Pharmacy in the whole of the UK would welcome him.
Donald teed off, Pharma Man waited then with one almighty stroke a Hole in One. Then while Donald had a few strokes to finish the first hole, Pharmacy Man was on the phone discussing piles and how to threat them, Donald being so close gave Pharmacy Man a few ideas on Pile Drivers.
Donald smiled, beginner’s luck, I built this course. Pharmacy Man, put his phone back again, as Donald hit the ball with all his might, it actually landed on the green. Though Donald fell over all red faced, and the Secret Service had to give him Oxygen. Pharmacy Man moon walked backwards, and spun around in slow motion, and hit a 2nd Hole in One. Then took his phone out to discuss laxatives, as Donald got up and took four more stokes to get in it the hole.
Donald was livid by now, just who are you. I’m the Pharmacy Man said the Pharmacy Man showing Donald a picture of himself and his Lady Wife standing behind the counter of his Corner Pharmacy shop opposite the Pub and the Building Society and by the Electrical store. The Pharmacy man smiled, he may be small in stature but as far as Pharmacy was concerned he knew it all. His Golf was not too bad either as he had played every golf course in the whole of Ireland and a good few in England. 30 years plus experience, of Pharmacy and swinging his golf club.
Donald strode to the 3rd tee, the Pharmacy man reaching into his golf bag and brought out a flask of tea, Indian of course. Plus, a sandwich, all the time consulting on the phone had made him peckish. Donald gripped his club and swung it, missed the ball and brought up a clump of earth. The Pharmacy Man smiled knowingly, I can recommend Eye Drops, that might help you. Donald took 7 shots to get it in the hole, and yes the Pharmacy Man did it in one, another Hole in One.
At the fourth Donald was red faced and livid, just tell me, who the&&&& are you really? I’m the Pharmacy Man, replied the Pharmacy man smiling with a twinkle in his eye. The Pharmacy man was on his phone again, organising a Charity Event, and would Donald like to donate a set of clubs, as clearly he was not having any luck with those one. Donald swung, and fell over backwards into a bunker, 8 shots for that hole. The Pharmacy man, another hole in one.
At the 5th Donald offered 1000dollars if the Pharmacy Man would take two shots, but the Pharmacy Man replied, INTEGRITY cannot be bought, as he moon walked backwards and hit a 5th Hole in One. Donald screamed YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS
And attacked the ball, he got it in two. So at least his shots were better, though the Pharmacy man did say, there’s a Lady I know who could help you with your Anger Management, she’s 82 but she knows everything about Calming. Donald was livid and screamed, the Secret Service had to restrain him and give him Oxygen.
At the 6th there were bunkers everywhere, Secret Service hiding in them too. Pharmacy Man said “looks tricky” as he put his reading glasses on. Trump skipped around the tee he was so happy, perhaps maybe Pharmacy Man would not hole it in one. So, Trump swung first and landed in a bunker, his ball bouncing off a Secret Service Man’s head. But Trump did not care, he had a feeling the Pharmacy Man would be Human. Just one moment, I have to take this call. It was his grandchild, he had to ask how was Primary School, then after pulling a face on his phone. The Pharmacy Man swung for it, wriggling like a worm as he swung. Of course, another Hole in One. Trump’s face turned all the colours of the Rainbow, that reminds me Gay Pride is coming to Birmingham remarked the Pharmacy Man, the Lord Mayor is Gay, Andy Street, and he’ll be dancing in the street too, maybe you should pay a Visit.
The Secret Service formed a huddle around Trump, like an American Football play. The 7th was a long fairway, with trees at every side, Trump had to decide, should he use a big driver or what, he had plenty of drivers, a failed President always had plenty. So, Trump plumped himself up to his full height and swung, the Secret Service lined up behind to catch him. I should have worn my high heels said the Pharmacy Man, as he swung. It was going to be a Hole in One, but a squirrel grabbed his ball, bit it and dropped it in the Hole. Trump was Triumphant, Like 4th of July, he wanted to kiss the Secret Service, and none are Ladies.
See, no Hole in One. Actually, Under the Rules of Golf, Page 467, paragraph 1B. It is a valid shot. Trump was apoplectic, He demanded somebody look it up. But calmly the Pharmacy Man explained. Chapter and Verse. How can you know it, how can you know it, Trump screamed. I’m a Pharmacy Man explained the Pharmacy Man, How many books do you think I’ve read just to get Qualified? A book on Golf was lying around on at our Honeymoon Hotel years ago. And my Wife suggested I get out in the Fresh Air, all the time spent behind the counter of a Pharmacy would make me a Dull Man. So that’s why I took up Golf in the first place. Something Trivial to take my mind off the serious stuff, PHARMACY.
But as I’m a Gentleman, I’ll take the shot again. Could you do it with your Eyes Closed Shut asked Trump sarcastically. So, Pharmacy Man closed his eyes, and took a shot again. Another Hole in one. My wife has taught me so much, and as she always says Eyes Closed Shut it always better, once you know the lay of the land. You should listen to your Wife, Donald.
8th hole coming up, a dog leg, 2 shots if you were a PGA champion. No way on God’s little green earth would Pharmacy Man get a hole in one. Trump was crying now, his fake tan being washed away, but at least Pharmacy Man would never get a hole in one. Can we walk from tee to the green so I can picture it in my head, asked the Pharmacy Man. So, they walked to the green and back, as Pharmacy man asked his wife what were they having for tea, and to save some for him, he’d have it cold when he finally got home. Putting his phone away, Pharmacy stood well back, as if he was playing cricket, and then he took a run at the ball and swung his club. The ball went high into the sky, like a rocket from Kim in North Korea, a seagull swerved to avoid being hit. The ball came down and rolled along the green and stopped at the lip of the hole, without falling in. Trump got a message from Secret Service stationed there, Trump cried. His makeup in tatters. But then a second later the ball dropped in. The Secret Service had to restrain Trump yet again.
Who in God’s Name are you? I’m just a Pharmacy Man, but I’m a very lucky man, as I have such a great Lady. So long as she can hear my voice she’s happy. Ok, 9th Hole before we start the return 9 holes to the Club House. I’ll give you a million dollars cash, if you just drop a shot, begged Trump. One million dollars, that’s what Elizabeth Taylor said, but really she did not want the part, remarked Pharmacy Man.
As Pharmacy Man walked to the 9th tee, he rung his wife yet again. These free minutes are so good on our mobile plan, you are so clever my darling wife, and the Pharmacy Man blew a kiss down the phone. Trump swung for the Pharmacy Man, and it took all the Secret Service to restrain him. But calmly the Pharmacy Man winked at Trump and hit another hole in one. You know this course is a little boring to me, but it does match you perfectly Mr Trump.
9 holes in one, is that not proof enough for you, you LOST you LOST you LOST. In 2020 Election, what kind of substances are you taking? Maybe you should change your Pharmacist, I could squeeze you on my list, I assume you have a decent doctor already.
The Secret Service carried a Rabid Trump away, so the Pharmacy Man took a free helicopter back, he was home in time for tea after all. Trump could shove his dimpled balls up his backside 3 times a day with water.
Saturday, 1 July 2023
Now is the time, again
Now is the time, again (c)
By Michael Casey
Well that's a title, lets see where it goes, a bullet point thing no doubt
as the pain and noise in my head makes my head bow down
Or is God reminding me to show a little bit of respect
I bow to no man, a nod hello, but bow never
Respect has to be earnt
Courtesy you get free, without bending the knee
But Politicians and their ik beware, you prove your worth to me
As you get older you may expect respect
But that is a mistake
and in Korea, to me, all this Age nonsense is just that, Nonsense
They have just voted to have the DOB as age
In Kdramas it always seemed a bit daft this obsession with age
And as for FORMAL speaking
That's just a joke
I speak the same way to everybody whatever age the are
I never talked down to my kids when they were children either
I talk down to the cat maybe, and Totoro just sneaks out
for an all night drinking session with the foxes in the woods
She's a bit of a whoER cat, Irish pronunciation
But to me, just be the same to everybody
never suck up
Money and Power are transitory
Everything ends in the grave
and for 10 years of pain, it feels like I've been travelling to mine
Maybe 15 more years, but really QUALITY not Quantity
Yes as a child I used to say 100 would be a good age
But most kids now, will live till 100 anyway
SO SAVE
What more can I say, age is in the mind not the body
A battered and bruised person like me can still be 20 in my head
so if I suddenly run away, or walk gingerly away
with a 26 year old girl, she would be the older woman
because I'm still 20 in my head
Newspapers are full of fake shock when age different couples
are coupling, and whatever else they do in gossip magazines
If Picasso can carry on, so can I
Well in my imagination, I'm already old enough to be my kids Granddad
I'll get a Tsunami of complaints now for this post
That's if any of you are reading me
You are all out Dancing in the Streets with PRIDE
I just hope the bin men end their strike
Ot maybe our Pretentious Councillors can just
tidy the streets for us
Before the RATS come
Explaining Laughter ©
By
Michael Casey
I’ve just been watching GLOW on tv. a comedy about Women’s Wrestling, a great ensemble cast, 90% women I suppose. Go watch it. Now before my Tinnitus picks up or before my left shoulder tries to kill me again, real injuries not fake as in GLOW, I’m going to try and explain a few things.
Words are the beginning, without the Writer there is Nothing. But then a good actress as in GLOW will make those words GLOW, and Sparkle. And the opposite is true also, BAD ACTORS can destroy a show. BUT if the Writing is RUBBISH then nothing can put GLOW in a show, it’s dead like a Dead Donkey. So, it’s a combination, you have to mix and match, that’s where casting is so important too. Now I speak all this because, I have been writing a very long time now. And watching too many films too. You have the director who directs the actor, to encourage the actor to push it to the limit. You have the art director, who if I’m correct in explaining the title, the guy who frames the picture, how nice it looks. Then you have sound, AND WE ALL HATE MUMBLING FOR ATMOSPHERE.
We want to hear and see our actors doing their stuff. And on it goes, till you finally have a great tv show, or film. But then again it’s the Writer who matters most, or maybe I’m just boasting. I’ve written a ton of stuff, and I’ve only slowed down because of Tinnitus and Pain. Right now as I talk to you I’m hurrying before the Iron Curtain of Pain comes down. And yes I do love my new bedroom curtains, and yes I used to go to the Theatre a lot too, many years ago, and as you know I studied Shakespeare at the Open University for a year, 30 years ago.
So that’s my background. Now am I joking or am I teasing when I say things? Like I want a speed typist, then maybe I go on to have 4 kids, Mathew Mark Luke & John.
Well, what do you think? It’s a running Gag, but it’s almost on my Bucket List. So, there’s Pathos, who is not one of the Musketeers. And if you knew how much pain I have on a daily basis, and how much noise in my head. Then maybe you’d be more understanding. Or do you like your Comedy straight.
There are no rules to comedy. Just is it funny. I used to work in a hotel for 3 years, so I met 100s of people daily, so I had plenty of practice, maybe 100,000 interactions. Robin used to say, what did he say, what did he say, as people were laughing. It’s all just Practice. Later on I’d be cleaning toilets in bedrooms for Vicky, while she did the bedroom itself. Then I’d put my jacket and tie back on and do Front of House at the CPNEC Birmingham. It was the hardest job of my life, but the most FUN.
So, with a guest you have to read them, and speak so as to match the guest. And find a way to relax them and make them happy, and humour works, even if I had to use French or Spanish. Jokes, stories are the same, you have to match the words to a story. Different words for different occasions, some words work and others don’t.
A priest will use holy words, that can be very very boring. You can touch, influence more people with humour in my opinion. No, we don’t need Dave Allen in every pulpit, but words and message matter. I’m a Secret Sermon Reviewer also. As boring as Hell, sends people in that direction. And by the same token, a rude and crude man, who says (*&* a lot, is more pious that any hypocrite priest or congregation. Judge by what people actually do, not all the pretence.
Now what really bores me, is stand-up on tv, where they swear a lot, because they have no material. Which reminds me Singapore has suddenly become my big big reader, or maybe just Singapore IP hidden, maybe they are STEALING everything, wherever they really are. In yesterday’s film The Family, De Nero said &*^^ a lot, and each time in Luc Besson’s film it had a different meaning the same word *&^^
BUT IT WAS FUNNY.
So, context matters, so I have new curtains and I’m so happy with them today, but what if I die in the night, and sometimes the pain is so much, yes really. So, I’m dead in bed in the morning, and my kids say. Is Curtains for Dad, he is dead. It’s funny, it’s Black Humour. And ignorant woke kids, don’t misunderstand ignorantly and deliberately what the Black is in Black Humour. Same as I live next to the Black Country, in the Midlands England, please don’t give me a lecture on Civil Rights, get a few books out and Learn some History.
But nobody bothers with anything, it’s the Twitter generation, who would rather stoke a fire based on ignorance. Empty Vessels make Most Sound. A quiet word, using influence is the best way to be. It’s a Truism, more Social Media, makes People more Anti-Social. I should carry on with this, but 900 words have just past, and my Tinnitus is whistling, so I may give you Part II another day. But it was nice for me, to write something instead of Bullet Points. Or don’t you give a (*&&, now that’s Irony explained to Americans.
Monday, 1 February 2021
What does History Teach Us What does History Teach Us
What does History Teach Us What does History Teach Us
yes that it repeats itself
The obvious joke
As you look around the world, or Globe if you are trendy
What do you see
Insanity
A man of the people who lives in a Palace
A man who claims to be Religious but has no Faith
People saying one thing and doing another
He is NOT my brother
Save me first, I'm so important
People tricking and cheating to the Lifeboat
But there is only one Sea
It is called Humanity
Look back at History, in USA
400,000 dead in Battle in WWII
450,000 dead with Covid 19 so far
Back in USSR 40,000,000 is latest estimate for WWII
100 times more than USA
Yet the average American has a total lack of History
If you look back you should see the Mistakes
And not go there again
If somebody says this but does that
Don't trust them, ever
Don't be a sheep listening to "Opinion"
Listen to News, and as may sources as possible
Lies are Lies are Lies
No matter how often repeated
Follow the Money they say in USA
They say it too in Russia too
And what will you find
Money speaks all languages
Money corrupts all Peoples
or rather the Love of Money
Their is a difference
These Covid Times, should be a New Beginning
There is only one People
Mankind, or Peoplekind if you a Linguistic Acrobat
Mankind is One
We are all fish in the same Fish tank
So everybody has to be saved or everybody will suffer
This is so Simple
Pollution Kills Everybody
Global Warming Kills Everybody
All resources are Finite
They End, just as we all die
But for Mankind to Survive
And it as big a deal as that
You have to remember we share the same bubble
Floating in Space
Stock Markets are not a True Indicator of Wellbeing
The Health of a Nation is the only true Wealth
Everything can be rebuilt and built better
Some things are so Simple
But Love of Self and Love of Wealth
Must be tempered by, Saving All is the only way to save yourself
Or Avarice and Greed will Succeed
And then what ae you left with?
A dying planet lost in space
Polluted and Raped and left dying and bleeding
Mother Earth should be loved like a Mother
Mother Earth is Love for One Another
Mother Earth is never me first
Mother Earth is loving one another
But do we need to repeat History, again and again
Before we, Mankind realise, we are already on borrowed time
Or will we be lost is space
By Michael Casey
I had an old glam silver purse in a drawer where I keep some of my meds
So as it was jamming my drawer I decided to give it away
a tiny silver purse, perfect for a girl on a night out
no not me in drag either, it used to belong to one of my girls
So I thought I’d leave it outside the house on the wall
where we leave stuff for others to take, kind of recycling
I did think put a penny in
In the end I tore off a piece off a cereal box and wrote
SAVE MONEY I DID NOT
and put inside, ready to leave on the wall
As I was about to leave the silver purse
an Indian teenager with new nails walked by
So said to the Indian girl, do you want a purse
obviously she thought I’d escaped from somewhere
as my hair needed combing, and I was still half asleep
So I explained and opened up the purse to reveal
my message SAVE MONEY I DID NOT
the Indian girl was relieved and laughed
I told her to give it to a friend
She laughed and said she’d keep it
Shaking my hand over the garden wall
She asked my name
Michael Casey I’m a writer
the fat silver haired writer in shades
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
So if the Indian girl saves her money
and opens a chain of Beauty Shops
I’ll take all the credit, and will I get
my nails done for free
Make Somebody Laugh Every Day
That is the key to happiness
and it costs nothing, like an empty silver purse
Posted bymichaelgcasey19/07/2023Posted inUncategorizedLeave a commenton Silver Purse full of Nothing
Short stories from Birmingham readers in 162 countries so far HEAR ME READ ALOUD 207 stories written & read by me https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey https://michaelgcasey.typepad.com/blog/
Tuesday, 18 July 2023
Honest I’m Innocent
Honest I’m Innocent
I did not pay any money to anybody for anything
Read the non disclosure
I did not say this or that or even the other
It was a perfect phone call
why wasn’t I interrupted by all my Lawyers
Answer that
SHUT UP THE PRESIDENT IS SPEAKING
ME
I’m so pure I could be a Virgin
What was the reason for your first Divorce
and why is she buried on a golf course
tax break
Secret Papers
Why did you keep and show them in a dining room
why play shell games with the state secrets of the USA
why do you constantly speak BS
why don’t the DEMS call you out constantly
FOR YOUR LIES
Cos they are STUPID
we can agree on that
Why in USA can you slag off judges and prosecutors
IN UK you would would be dragged before the Court
and made to apologise and pay a penalty
Contempt of Court etc
And worst of all why does half the population
believe in Trump LIES
He wears nice suit and ties
but what rhymes with ties LIES
A lifetime of Lies does not make an ounce of TRUTH
PUTIN is as bad as HITLER
you don’t want a MORON in charge of anything
He cannot even swing his golf club recently
Don’t be as one dimensional as TRUMP
He cannot even sing
HE just milks everything for himself
How can such a great country as USA
sink so low as to have HIM
represent you
Global Warming is here, and he does not even accept that TRUTH
but he did not accept the Election result either
I’ve been watching him since he came down that escalator
and he always will be suspect
Just as he is right now, a suspect in too many things to count
Or will you let him run, so he can absolve himself if he won
I thought USA got rid of Kings in 1776
Or is King Donald to be on the Throne in 2024
Instead
Just Flush him away in the Sewer of History
as he writes his LIES on Truth Social
as he sits on his TOILET
Even King Canute could not get the Tide to Obey
– July 18, 2023
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Korea I have not forgotten you
all I can offer are my words, which I hope
brings a ray of sunshine all over the world
White Water Ride (c)
By Michael Casey
If you imagine that, as in films you have seen
Then that’s the feeling, the scare, that I get every morning
It takes a few hours to calm down
This is TINNITUS
So instead of lying in your bed
You get up to stop being a target
Or if you have a lover beside you
You could be creative, to distract your mind
through your body, but constantly daily
you’d need a very understanding lover
So you get up, out of bed
And have a cup of tea instead, with just your cat for company
Then you may stay up an hour or so
So when you are exhausted, you go back to bed and sleep
When you finally have had enough sleep
You arise, and go for a White Water Ride
Repeat ad infinitum
It is soul destroying, and physically and mentally exhausting
So this is my Life
Add on Left Shoulder Pain that comes like a thief in the night
Causing you to double up in pain
That’s just the beginning of the Fun and Games
A lover with needles for your shoulder would be neat
But I have to admit defeat
So forgive me for boring you
All these stories don’t write themselves
Neither do these Bullet Points
and some of you would put a bullet in your head
such is the pain
So no need for applause, but do say the Rosary for Me
And for Peace too in Ukraine
Putin wants to starve Africa, I say Out of Africa is the best solution
Putin is a thief, stealing from his own people
Do you think he really means what he sez
When he is denying BLACK AFRICA BREAD
And the Irony is I am listening to Our Lady of Sorrows
Sung by Bread
Il Palacio
Il Palacio (c)
By Michael Casey
I was talking to my good neighbour over the garden fence
we were discussing creosote
he'd just painted his side of the fence
and the fumes got me high but also brought back memories
from 40 or 50 years ago when I painted the garden fence
all the fences had blown down in a gale
before gales were common place
global warming and all that
but not if you are Trump who
only believes in his own hot wind
so mum had begged for floorboards from demolotion sites
the floor boards were all dumped in our back garden
mum and dad gave the crew some money for a drink
the floor boards would have been burnt or dumped
instead they were turned into alcohol
Pure Magic
so I ended up painting the fences
and my green wool jumper
forever stunk of creosote no matter how much I washed it
SO
some things leave an impression on us, if only the smell of creosote
my neighbour and his wife leave an impression of Kindness on me
which is priceless
Il Palacio refers to their back garden with all work they have done
our cat Totoro approves too
it's stunningly white, almost needing sunglasses as they sit there
in the Sunshine of their Love with family gathered around
I did ask did he strap his wife to a skateboard and drag her
so she could paint the lower border black
while he did the higher pieces
AS for the garden fence I did mention Tom Sawyer
and getting his grandchildren in height order to paint the fence
to help him along
or if he had a dog, dip creosote on tail and feed treats to the dog
then as the dog wagged its tail the fence would be painted
but the animal cruelty people will not see the joke
as everything has to be Politically Correct nowadays
A Man is a Man and a Woman is a Woman
and thank God , we all appreciate the difference
but maybe I'm classed as old fashioned
If you want old fashioned then watch
Office Romance a 1960s Russian film
it was originally watched by the cleaner
in the 1970 maybe, in China
and now in 2023 I watched it in England, last night
we are nothing if not Eclectic in our house
My Tinnitus has just kicked off again
so no kissing me on the lips
As I'm not a woman
even with my hernia bigger than some women's breasts
or maybe I'm talking footballs
as usual maybe
Life is a game of two halves, and if you don't ask you don't get
and if the ball had gone in the net it would have been a goal
And my goal is to amuse you all
In between the pain and tinnitus
What I see you get on the page
So this Summer Holiday
Teach your kids presenting
It will help them, I've spoke of it before
Maybe I'll explain tomorrow
But for now, a man has got to do what a man has got to do
Cook his own dinner, and feed the cat
before watching a Kdrama
about a Vet who feels bums, as a way of seeing the past
Kdramas are the best
and Uncanny Counter 2 had me crying
But I love them so much
So call me a woman if you like
and kiss me on the lips
as Kdramas takes forever before the first kiss
Fat Silver Haired Writer from Birmingham England,
Michael Casey Singapore's Fancy Man(c)
By Michael Casey
Fat Silver Haired Writer from Birmingham England,
Michael Casey Singapore's Fancy Man
what were you doing all night
You will go blind Singapore, I've seen the Figures
You may be hiding behind your Shades but I know the Truth
Are your fingers numb and you scroll past me
numb fingers too and eyestrain under the bedclothes
I'm checking my figures, fully clothed 127 kilos today
with my writing jacket on too
So I need to shake it a bit and twerk a lot
Then you'll all be in frenzy on the bathroom floor
Will Young is singing Crying on The Bathroom Floor
he is UNLIMITED on my Bathroom floor
GO listen to him, I really like him
I sing along too
I met him 20 years ago when he passed through
our hotel, CPNEC Birmingham
He's gifted and famous and acts now too
SO listen to him as you read me
what a combination
Will Young for your Ears
and Michael Casey filling your eyes, I am fat after all
So Singapore you doubled or tripled down on me last night
Now wonder I'm on the bathroom floor
or was that 9 and a half weeks ago
when suddenly a Singaporean Explosion
Did you click on me in the middle of the night by mistake
But Now, but Now, I am your man of choice
Fat. Silver haired and wearing shades, but not in bed
and from Birmingham England
Pause
while we all catch our breath
or I catch my 3rd breast, my hernia in the middle
at I look at my hairy back in the reflection of my bedroom window
I must draw the curtains, or the neighbours may call the Zoo, again
Silver Backed Gorilla naked in the window
Pause
as you catch your breath again
Am I your screen saver yet
Am I a fatal attraction
Would you dare come and type for me
and then and then Tears for a Butcher would be born
and you could be the mother
of 4 sons, Mathew Mark Luke and John
CRASH as you jump out the window
or head for the door
To avoid Puking on the floor
as you hammer on the bathroom door
but the bathroom(s) are locked
so you puke over the 33rd floor Balcony instead
It was not Me, it was Michael Casey
you shout in a fake British accent
So now there is a Singapore manhunt for
the Balcony Puker, Michael Casey
And I thought all the figures were readers
IT's the Police tracking me
So they can cane me with pole
Not for Pole dancing
but for smacking my Bum
Turn the other cheek they say
or did Singapore do it the Michael Casey Way
though Michael Casey Way could be the road to the Toilets
Just off Sandy Bottom and Bog Hole
Thanks Singapore again
Cartoons Made from Words is YOURS
its like a stick of Blackpool Rock
with Michael Casey written inside
I do know some dentists, but that's another story
Holding the Door Open (c)
By
Michael Casey
Now it's 2pm as I begin, I've just been holding the door open as my small daughter
goes on her wayback to University. So obviously I'll miss her after the Summer
together, though graduate big sister is herefor a year with her new Birmingham job.
And we did get a postcard from Kerry from my Lawyer sister-in-
law and her daughter, they had made it back to Cromane Lower Killorglin Kerry,
and parked outside Jack's which used it be the coastguard station.
Go Google earth, the most beautiful spot on earth.
When you go to a bar, you hold open the door to let others in, and if it is your
local, to let your friends and neighbours in. You don't slam it in their face, you are
a gentleman and let others in, and if you've worked in a hotel you give way to let
guests or housekeeping pass.
It's like a dance, smooth and effortless. and incidentally a good worker is like a
ballet dancer though not wearing a tutu, just smooth and graceful, because he
knows what he is doing, just as I look out the window and see one good neighbour
helping another. Smooth and Graceful.
So, the question is, do you hold the door open? I did literally for 3 years at
Crowne Plaza NEC Birmingham, the hardest job of my life, but the most fun.
Though some may say my daily battle with
pain and Tinnitus noise, is the greatest battle of my life. 10 years’ worth of pain
maybe, and maybe 5 years of Tinnitus, which is getting worse, But I digress.
If you are an Altruist like me, I'm also catholic with a small c, then you want
people to have a chance, and besides if some think the family came from a Kerry
pigsty, you enjoy poking them in the eye, metaphorically,
YOU ARE AS GOOD AS ANYBODY as my mum said,
and yes academically mum's
kids are top of the tree, and the next generation they too are no slouches.
But to the point, that guy at the door, that was me, letting you in, greeting you at
the door. If I am just stood there, don't look down on me.
The guy on security at the door, he'll save his crew, and not
because he's paid to, he'll do it because you bothered to smile
and say hello every time you came through the door.
It costs nothing to smile and say hello, it costs nothing to share a joke,
or just a wink as you pass through.
And yes CPNEC Birmingham 20 years ago when I opened it was known as the
Friendly hotel, it was Our hotel, the staff called it that,
me and Vicky the Cleaner and all the rest.
You can emulate that happy feel wherever you are, working or studying, or any
place you go, though I go nowhere such is the random nature of my pain.
In my play Shoplife, written in 1988 maybe, Bernadette is based on my shop
worker sister, now gone, Bernadette was a Born again Shop Assistant,
and my sister did read it once and say it was so like where she worked.
That's why the play Shoplife is
so good, it was accepted for Production but never hit the Stage,
that's why I'm sat here on the Wrong
Side of the tracks metaphorically, instead of where Rich Birmingham folks live.
It's all about thinking, this is good for me, but hang on, my friend Shirley might be
interested, or Jack can do that. Networking is the horrible modern word.
Pass the word on, hold the door open for somebody else, and not just your clique,
give everybody a chance. Don't be angry or jealous because
somebody else has done well.
Don't kick as chair and say BASTARD, because somebody did well,
instead, say God Bless, and maybe me one day.
Because Envy and Jealousy and Love of Money too
will just Blacken your heart.
But God Bless You, is a ray of Light, and isn't that the best way?
I am just a Mug (c)
By Michael Casey
I am just a mug
Everything has been poured into me
I am just as mug
Everything has been mixed in me
I am just a mug
I stir and stir without thinking
I am just a mug
I dunk my biscuits in
I am just a mug
I slurp and spill down my jumper
I am just a mug
I splash everywhere when put down without care
I am just a mug
I hold close to me, to warm my hands in Winter
I am just a mug
I hold tighter for comfort in the dark
I am just a mug
I am shared and left in the sink unwashed
I am just a mug
But I am the favourite one
I am just a mug
I am sought out, at the back of the cupboard
I am just a mug
But no other will do
I am just a mug
I am battered and chipped and should be thrown away
I am just a mug
Well past my heyday
I am just a mug
Laughed at and Scorned
I am just a mug
But when broken, tears fall down
I am just a mug
A mug, well used and battered and chipped and worn down
Now I’m broken
I am just a mug
I am no mere token
I am just a mug
I am your dad
Bury me in the cabbage patch
So, the cat can water me often
A simple mug, now gone
Am I missed from the back of the cupboard
Or is my memory already gone
Replaced by cat piss in the garden
Story Outline (c)
By Michael Casey
well I was up at 5.30, I think
Tinnitus horrors keeping me awake
so I had toast and tea, hence my waistline
let Totoro our Ninja cat out
and then said a Rosary
and no I'm far from holy
and if you say I am I'll curse like a foundryman
so %%**()*()*)*90 , ok
So I sad a Rosary, 3 in fact
then as I'm dead on my. feet I almost fall over
which makes it dangerously going back up the stairs
as my Barry White dressing gown is so long
but at least I can sleep
until I wake again, 2 hours later
and I'm on a battlefield such is the noise
Anyway
as I said my prayers, I thought to myself
how reassuring is the noise the rattle of a rosary
so that instantaneously gave me a story
Here's the bones you can write it yourself as an exercise
DIY story
old lady on the wrong. side of the track
in the dark
is going to be attacked
but the sound of her Rosary jangling
strikes a chord, so the attack backs off
and follows in the shadow, now protecting her
this is repeated 3 more times
obviously when written up it is put together nicely
Finally the old lady reaches her destination
she is visiting an old friend
or maybe bringing Communion to a sick old lady
So she was protected already
and the sound of the Rosary was coming from her handbag
or maybe she was being accompanied by Saint Michael
invisible until he strikes faster than lighning
You decide you are writing this up as homework
So on her arrival
the old lady look all around and 4 very large men/boys
emerge from the shadows
Come inside, you look like catholic boys
I can break the bread, my dear old friend
would enjoy the company
for she is dying and this is her last communion
she had an eventful life
she was a prostitute, she said she had 4 sons
with 4 different men
the only way to protect them was to name them
Mathew, Mark, Luke and John
she lost her boys but she did name them well
And yes you have guessed it
The 4 lads in the dark, were the dying prostitutes 4 sons
So now they met again, and broke bread together
Communion Bread
and if you decide the 4 boys unite and their mother lives
Communion is Bread of Life after all
and that's the story from inside my head
before Dawn broke
Tinnitus has a lot to answer for
but maybe, it's God's voice calling me
to Pray More
or maybe Tinnitus is the sound of Sound or Souls burning
so I need to Pray More
On cue My Sweet Lord by George Harrison just started playing
on my Amazon Music Unlimited
My Sweet Lord......
And God Wept (c)
By Michael Casey
if I were a poet I could write something beautiful
If I were a poet I could say something eloquent
If I were a poet I would stop crying
If I were a poet I could touch the heart
If I were a poet I could ask why oh why
If I were a poet I could explain everything with words
If I were a poet I would not scream why
If I were a poet I would ask why do people do such things to their brother
If I were a poet I would try and comfort a mother
If I were a poet it would be easier to explain things
But I am just a weak weak man, I am just a nothing
So what can I say, what can I do
How can I explain God's creation
How can I explain anything
It is all beyond me
So all that is left is the sound of God crying
Tears from Heaven falling down to the ground
How many more times will man hurt his brother
How many more millenium before
God will say enough
And then still with tears falling
God will say
I cannot take it any more
Too many tears in Heaven
have fallen on my creation
my beloved earth
A Day out, or a visit to the hospital (c)
By Michael Casey
Well I had a regular check up at the hospital to see how to see how my Kidneys are
Got a taxi to the QE, its too far to walk to get the bus in the cold
So I had a Pakistani driver take me there
We got talking about cars, of all things
I was all layered up, so I needed help getting the seat belt over my bulk and hernia
I am 120kilos too, so without a seat belt I'd kill the driver if I was sent flying
Buckle UP
It used to be Clunk Click, with Jimmy Savile
you can google him for a horror story
I was early at the QE but I did have Neem in my pocket
Just in case it kicked off badly
They had 2 Annie dummies in the Foyer
So I asked was it still called Annie
The Guy running the demo with his female colleague explained
that the Annie came from a girl fished out of the river in France
a death mask, a Jane Doe
I do first aid certificate 20 years ago with an Annie dummy
and 20 years before that, 40 years ago, I had real life practice
our neighbour died on me
he was a lodger in fact, I was still 20
Then I bought some sweets for the lady at the clinic
the one who hands out the bottle you pee into
I did take a photo of my sample to stick on the family group chat
Then you have BP and height weight
Then you see the consultant
an indian lady in a spotted dress today
Last Time I had an actual Professor, the top guy in uk, goes to Europe too
so they suffer having to put up with me
then you give blood
the male blood guy looks like Jack Black
the lady who took mine was a wonderful Ugandan lady
we shared a joke, then than was me finished
so I went and had a meal deal, which seemed expensive
but was very nice
I sat next to a guy and we got talking
how Birmingham City Councillors had wasted OUR money
and are selling off trophy assets
WE touched on Agency nurses earning the earth
If you saved on the Agency fees, there would be far more money
As we talked he revealed he was on Dialysis
So I asked what was it was like
Hopefully, I can avoid it for a few more years
but I am in the danger zone
Tinnitus, Migraines, Arhritis, CKd 20 time a day ,
Quadruple heart Bypass nearly 9 years ago
Hernia the size of your fist in middle of my chest,
which means I cannot carry heavy stuff
and a hairy back that would put a silver back gorilla to shame
This is me, ever so sexy
So I thanked the man, and went on my way
I finished my cheese and onion crisps at the bus stop outside
I discovered a different bus home, it took 3 buses and walk to get back home
On the 2nd bus, a beautiful African girl, pushing a white guy in a wheel chair
and wearing boxing gloves
The bus filled up with school kids
So when it was time to get off I had to use my VOICE
I have worked at a Hotel so I know how to Shout
I'm fat I'm 120kilos Get out of the way for the Lady and the Chair
Don't just stand there, move 2 metres back
The beautifully dressed Jamaican bus driver had dropped the draw bridge down already
So God Bless all of them
So I toddled off down the road, tired out and holding ny hernia
Cold weather and walking and not very good for me
Outside of a shop, 3 kids had set up a charity stand
An almost 2 metre Black kid in a long coat
with his head wrapped in a scarf like a pirate
accosted me
He said he like me shades
So I said tell me a story and you can have them
So we bantered and then I had to go
He asked did I need a drink of water
I said I was fine, I did go into Subway nearby
As for him he has my shades, But God Bless him and his charity collecting
In subway, the girl could not understand my accent]
So I sat and caught my breath after telling her to Marry
the boy coming in, looking for he attention
he used to work there, I told her to demand proper
Italian food, and go on a date with him
At a table a lady fatter than me was arguing on a phone
About a delivery
I walked down the road to my 3rd bus stop
and the bus was there and it even waited for me
The pakistani kid driving it look so smart
As if he'd stopped placing snooker on tv
to drive a bus for people
then I walked final bit home
and that was the end of my journey and my day
SO taxi driver I hope you encourage your kids to listen to Radio 4
And Uganda lady, this is how you write
You put it down simply, and write it up
Load it up on KDP Amazon and then you have a book online
You can even add your own picture on the front
See lady Uganda it's as simple as this in front of you
Just follow your nose
20 years of Radio 4 listening first
1 year of writing to Qualify, so to speak
then 35 years of Practice
Is that 55 or 56 years
Then you can BORE. everybody and say you are a writer
Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England
20 book on Amazon now
2 to 3 million words written
And nobody wants to pay for it
But at least Singapore Loves my words especially
Maybe they are blind
If they really saw me, they would run far far away
Miss Uganda you can DO it, if I can then ANYBODY can
The Bad Lads Rosary ©
By
Michael Casey
Jorge was a bad lad, a very bad lad indeed, but he and his friends did like to have a friendly card game whenever they met. They had a table in a corner all to themselves, with bottles in the centre to share, Mezcal was their poison, Tequila was for little girls as far as they were concerned.
Jorge was not very tall, but if you called him short he’d punch your teeth out, he was a sensitive man after all. He has a cousin a dentist, a real dentist, so he always dropped his cousin’s name card on the ground every time he broke somebody’s teeth. He was a charitable man after all, and yes he had sparkling teeth, a thank you from his cousin, family should look after each other after all.
Now once Jorge stumbled over a body in the mud, in all the rain he could not see where he was going, he was going to kick it as he cursed. But the body moved, so he rolled it over, maybe he could steal the wallet. As he held the empty wallet in his hand a Holy Picture, a plastic one fell out, it was San Martin de Porres and a plastic Rosary a bright red one, such as child might have. Martin was his cousins name, the dentist so Jorge decided to save the beggar in the street, instead of robbing him.
And yes the beggar in the street, was actually a young missionary priest, lost and beaten in the street. So, Jorge saved Paul from Peterborough England. He got him a room in the local whore house and said look after him, and so Paul was bandaged and fed for a month, by the local girls. While Jorge went about earning his daily bread. When Jorge returned he settled the bill, and had his fill of the girls too, before coming to see Paul in his room.
Paul said he could never repay his kindness, for Jorge had saved his life, but Jorge replied I did not save you, San Martin de Porres did, besides Martin is my cousin’s name, a dentist. It was him that came to see you, we don’t have a doctor for 100s of miles away. Paul said, all I can offer are prayers, and maybe let me wipe the slate clean by hearing your Confession. Jorge laughed till he cried, but it might make great entertainment.
So, you can wipe the slate clean? So then Jorge began, it took 2 hours and 3 bottles of Mezcal and then he was done, it was only his 2nd confession ever. Paul was absolutely horrified. Are you sorry for your sins? I am slurred Jorge, maybe I’d be a better man if I had education like my dentist cousin. Paul blessed him, your sins are forgiven, try not to sin again. And what is my penance? Paul handed him the child’s bright red Rosary. My grandmother gave me this and that’s how I became a Priest. For your Penance, an Infinity of Rosaries, every single day for the rest of your life you will say 3 Rosaries and to make sure, here is San Martin de Porres as well, as he handed him the plastic Holy Picture.
But these are your most treasured things, said Jorge a tear in his eye, that’s why I’m giving them to you replied Paul, or should I say Fr.Paul.
Now let’s back to the card game, Jorge called for a break and took out his Rosary and began to say his penance. 5 very hard men at a table loaded with money and Mezcal, with one saying a Rosary. Laughter rang out from others in the room, but the friends at the table took out their guns with one hand, and with their free hand they dug out battered Rosaries their Abueltitas had given them, and made them swear they would always keep in their pocket, so Abuelitas from Heaven could keep an eye on them. So, Jorge continued and his friends joined in.
As for the others in the room, they joined in too using their fingers to count off the Hail Marys. It became known as Fr. Pauls Whores Rosary society. Now am I being disrespectful? Or is Pray for those in need. Prayers should be said in every situation, and Paul was like Saul a flash to the heart not on the road to Damascus, but deep in the Jungle of South America.
And that is my new story, different to what I had in my head this morning, but fundamentally the same. And take it from me Rosary works and maybe one day I’ll steal Pope Francis’s Rosary from his back trouser pocket, he should put it under his pillow like Padre Pio. And yes I’ve already started my Infinity of Rosaries, what about you?
Monday 20 November 2023
This is what Tinnitus feels like (c)
By Michael Casey
This is what Tinnitus feels like
my daughter vacuumed the house
and the noise triggered me
the hiss so loud like a jet engine in my face
the pain in my forehead makes me bow my head
right down till my chin hits my chest
the noise is like being in hell and it swells
you want to scream and I may do in a bit
and yes i might even convulse like an epileptic fit
so i push myself away from the keyboard on the desk
just in case i convulse and bang my head
my head was just pushed down to my chin
like bully leaning down down me
and the infernal hiss
like walking into a blast furnace
and how many hours will this go on for
and can I last it out
YES THIS IS ALL REAL
no orange peels
so If I say Tinnitus is a curse
believe it
and it is far far worse
Barometric Pressure is what I have
can anybody Fix It
or is it Souls Burning in Hell
Screaming Mercy to Me
So say a prayer for all those in Purgatory
and Say One for Me as Well
Monday 29 January 2024
A little bit of Peace as you read a piece of me
A little bit of Peace as you read a piece of me
well today my Tinnitus continues to try and kill me
full on for hours, like being in a furnace, or burning in Hell
while I watched TV and had food, my Tinnitus calmed
But but left shoulder pain kicked off, my daily merry go round of pain
However, you have been downloading The Arabic and for Neighbours Translations
even an ipod being used to read me
I'd just listen to music, but you decided to download/read me, maybe
as my hernia at the top of my chest hurts too, or do I sound like a big baby
YOU try it for a day, I dare you, walk in my shoes, and high heels and evening dress
except in Florida, when will Americans just GROW UP, Panto is King in UK
Meanwhile my smaller daughter continues her Anthropology and French
back in the swing of things second year at University, and. yes I miss her already
I missed my big daughters Graduation, as my pain attacks and NOISE in my head
is so random, so my brother and sister went in my place
Bio-Chemistry was that one
So it makes me happy seeing you all read me, I will write more full stories eventually
These are just Chats, not story stories,as I need a straight hour, not wearing a dress, a joke for Florida
so I can think and put it all. down
Sincerely I thank Jeff Bezos for Music Unlimited as I listen constantly, I have it in my bed too
to soothe the savage beast, the Tinnitus in my head/bed and everywhere I am too
though perhaps if I did dress in a dress it might relax the noise in my head, but not in Florida
Perhaps I should go to Lourdes and then my Tinnitus might go away
I have taken to wearing a beret recently, the one from Amazon.
was no good, but they sorted it
Then I found one that fitted from a shop here in Birmingham
you can Google for yourself
My Tinnitus is inflamed by COLD, so both Wind and Cold, affect me badly
I'm not making this up, do you think I want to be up at 4am talking to the cat
I'd rather be asleep, dreaming of wearing a dress and high heels, but not in Florida
SEE I've even taught you about a running gag, that's spikes and grass, or maybe not in Florida
Maybe as you read me you dream of me, as you can see the photos attached
I'd love to have his 4 sons, Mathew Mark Luke and John
but then you think again, he'd never move to Florida
You'd all have to move to Birmingham for my Cobwebs of Love
and no, not a metaphor
Cobwebs of Love is one of my 4600+ pieces you can seek and find it
but don't trip over that evening dress and high heels at the bottom of my bed
and they are not from Florida, and they are not mine
and that red beret at the bottom. of my duvet
am I going to be invaded
Surrender
to a woman, always
Sunday 4 February 2024
The Good That You Can Do ©
By
Michael Casey
I was up in the night, as Tinnitus is my bedfellow, and after I had brown Hovis which was wonderful I said a few Rosaries, and let Totoro our cat out. Then I was thinking, most people never take time to think, but Tinnitus gives me plenty of time for that. How often do you think, think about it.
Then I sent yet another email to Moscow, a daily bread for them, maybe they’ll send Salisbury Perfume to me, CK1 is my standby, and Jeyes Fluid behind my ears. So I warned them I’d write this, and send it to them, then I went back to bed.
We all know the Evil that is happening in the world, too too much of it. So in the dark of the night, I mused what Good can we each do. Spread a little happiness, good deeds. Not done for self-gratification and spread on your Facebook. No, the real deal, where you do it like a Sneak attack in Kim’s store on tv. With Charity and Good Deeds the Left Hand should not know what the Right Hand is doing. Think about that too, the inner glow is enough, no need to advertise.
You can pray, that cost you nothing, so if you see somebody less fortunate, instead of just saying Poor Bastard, if you have even noticed, you can do a small small thing. Say a prayer, any Faith will do, and that will help. Maybe the next person, gives that beggar a sandwich, or God hears and the person picks a winner on the Lottery with his last 2 quid. Not Life Changing but enough to get him by.
You can also pray for those who need it, so that in the Great Message centre in the sky, your prayers are collected and delivered to those I need. Prayer is like Perfume that is never wasted as Padre Pio says. And yes today right now, I have a family in mind, they could do with some serious serious prayers, so I’m not asking for anything but maybe a share of your Love of God for them.
A smile in time of need, a hug, a kiss on the cheek all these simple simple things do make a difference. They are the mosaic of family, of community, of God himself. I once met a girl on a coach and she said she was so glad I talked to her. Conversation breaks down barriers, and passes the time. But some people hate to do that, hence book stalls and newspapers at Train Stations, which is a pity.
My small daughter does her reading on the train if it’s not too packed, people look over to see what she is reading, then they look away baffled. Degree Level Anthropology does that to the layman. Though her French is amazing, the teacher at University said with here eyes closed my daughter is 100% French to her ears, but if she peaks, she becomes Chinese/Irish, but I digress.
On this road that is life, we have chances to interact, or not bother. You can have a natter with a passer-by or the girl at the checkout. And yes I’m terrible for doing that. However, it is all these small interactions, or chattering cement that bind us. And Chattering Cement is a line from the first chapter of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker from 1987 when I started to write it, so don’t steal it. And speaking of stealing, managers will steal your ideas, and even claim them as theirs. Customer Focus Training, does that sound familiar to anybody, maybe 30 years ago, but I digress.
Life is about choices, do you want to be a helper and a joiner, or a moaner on the side or even hide in the Concierge Room when things were too busy for you, anybody remember 20 years ago, but I digress again. Yes, I’m the guy who carried everybody for 10 years. The point is, find a niche and stick to it, you may never gain financially, or promotion wise. But it is your niche, maybe I should be Luca Brodsky the henchman, ok I’ll be a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham instead.
You can be an encourager, Yes You Can cheerleader, without being a Pushy Mum, or an American hustler. I know Americans all need a Hero, a concept that is alien to me, but you can do it for yourself. No need of The Trump Self Help book, cost 99.99
All you have to be is organized, you cannot play sports for 40 hours a week and just 10 hours studying. I know you have Sports Scholarships over there, and people sell their soul to be on the team, where they are so selfish, so they can get those multi-million dollar endorsements. And boast they do it for their state, they do it for the state of their bank balance. Or am I being cynical.
Getting back on track, you the sports star, and yes maybe I should be a Sumo, though my backside is firm, and my twerking is so good Beyonce sends me hate mail. You can encourage so people can say, if that idiot can do it, then I’ll give it a try. So yes, I am that idiot, I really do want you all to have a happy happy life, and do the best for yourself. As my dad said, and we buried him 22 years ago this week, Do what you like but do your best.
If you are doing something you love, you are never really working. My dad did 40 years in a steel works, like working in Hell itself, I try to follow his example of Love Encourage and do what you can for the least of your Brethren, then when your time is over you can look God in the eye, and say what you did, and all those least of the Brethren will welcome you into Paradise.
- February 04, 2024 No comments: 
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Saturday 3 February 2024
Peace is like a flower trying to grow in the Snow
Peace is love refusing to. Let go
Peace is an end to War
Peace is children's laughter once more
Peace is a spring of water
Peace is an end to Slaughter
Peace is so much than this
I wish I was a poet and I could explain it
I wish I wish I wish
But all I can do is say my Rosary
And beg Mary to put a stop to War
As I lay crying in my bed
Mary I'm far from Holy but please but please
As my tears fall down
Listen to me a simple fat clown
And save the world from itself
As you said you would long ago
With the Rosary I pray to thee
On my knees as my tears fall down
Help this clown lead the world in laughter again
And Hope too through you and the Rosary
Amen
@@@
this I sent to moscow from my bed after I wrote it
- February 03, 2024 No comments: 
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Padua, sent a message today, much apreciated
and Singapore you continue to love me
well not me, how could you love a toilet
so it's just my words
and you read me while you are constipated
and stuck on a toilet
BUT
yo estoy constipado
MEANS
I have a cold
SO learn some Spanish
I am Sancho Panza after all
thank's again Singapore
feel free to come and feed me
like an animal in a zoo
a gorilla with a Rosary
in need of a Kimono
Sumo Size
I have to go eat now and find
a funny Kdrama
though Kim's Store a Canadian show is funny
about a Korean corner shop
Singapore has top spot by far on 2 of my Bloggers
BUT on this one, the main one
you need to triple your total to beat USA
and takeover this Blogger
but you could do it in 60 days, by Easter
if you keep the reading rate this high
or you could just eat Cadburys chocolate
which is from Birmingham too
as is Lord of the Rings
and Peaky Blinders
with that I'll finish
or Finnish if you are Putin running away as everybody dies
Mary Bringer of Light by Michael Casey
Mary Bringer of Light
End the Darkness from 1917
Mary Bringer of Light
Let your words be heard
Mary Bringer of Light
Let the sound of Rosaries bring said
Fill the Evil One with Fear
Mary Bringer of Light
May the beat of Rosaries
Be accompanying the March of Angels
Mary Bringer of Light
Banish the Darkness fast
Mary Bringer of Light
Enter all Believers Hearts and Homes tonight
Mary Bringer of Light
Accept my humble prayer tonight
Mary Bringer of Light
Comfort those who mourn their sons
Today and tomorrow and always
Mary Bringer of Light
Forgive us for hurrying you
Just as you hurried your son
At the wedding feast at Cana
Mary Bringer of Light
You warned us in 1917
Now 2024
We beg you to save us from Evil
Mary Bringer of Light
End Putins War of evil clowns
And make us laugh again
Once your light shines bright
The madness has darkened the world
For over 100years
Now only Mary our Lady of the Light
Can end the Kremlin darkness
Love of money behind everything
Let love of neighbor begin again
Let your love shine brighter than the sun again
We beg you Mary to save the world again
Accept the humble tears and prayers from
A broken man a gorilla with a Rosary
It’s all I can offer so I hope it is enough
If it were multiplied by all reading this
I hope I pray it’s enough
To save the world yet again
And maybe in the Future we all
Love our neighbors
The Mark of a Man is in his Charity
By Michael Casey
The Mark of a Man is in his Charity
The mark of a Man is reflecting in the eyes who love him
Fear does not last
In the dawn Love breaks through
As the birds sing to greet the day
Sun will shine
And darkness will be chased away
For wherever there is song
The birds will sing in
And people will rise up
Just as the French say
Au armes cityones
Evil will end
We will have our cake
And eat it
LOpera is just a dance away
So forever be happy
This is just a rainy day
But it comes a Rainbow
Made of Freedom
Mary has thrown it into the sky
For WE are her children
36years ago on 29288 I qualified as a Writer ©
By
Michael Casey
As you all know Pad Webb said, Write a Book, so I did A Nation of Shopkeepers was the original title, but only the French would understand where the title came from, so The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker became the title. I did call myself Michael James in the spirit of having a nom de plume, another French connection. After a lodger who was like an uncle to me, but finally I became myself, and publishers still said Thank you for your pieces of Paper.
As you also know 20 years of constant listening to BBC Radio 4 was my University, along with living as part of a large family of 13+ as well as a cat and a dog, if you include lodgers. So then in 1986 I got my own house, and then thought what next? So in 1987 I started to write, scrapes of paper held together by a shoelace through the holes punched in the paper, in pencil of course. As I started in computers in 1978, yes 46 years ago, I could type, so I requisitioned the green family typewriter and started to use it. I sat on a broken backed barn chair with the typewriter perched on top o a red topped stool that dad had bought in 1973 at Digbeth Civic Hall. One of my sisters had been encouraged to learn to type, but the pull of Woolworths was greater. In fact one of my brothers taught himself Pitman and typing before I got the use of the typewriter.
Now if you count everything, from my sites not just the 20 books and book 21 Fresh Fields which I’m still compiling, there must be 3,000,000 words. I have readers all over the world, but I’m a failure in some people’s eyes as I’ve not made any money. And yes small Singapore is my greatest reader apart from USA, but Singapore refuses to be 2nd so they are marching through my site to take over. This is my main site https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.com/ so Singapore that’s the target. 4600 pieces of writing on that one alone. 2 security backup Bloggers as well, and then the Wordpress with translations galore https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/ and audio too if you click here https://profile.typepad.com/michaelgcasey and finally if you actually want to donate to me.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Michael-Casey/author/B00571G0YC?ref_=dbs_p_pbk_r00_abau_000000&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
OK, let my restart the music behind me, Mylie Cyrus sings I used to be young
As if on cue. I’m still 20 in my head, so a PhD and a smile might tempt me, and you can type for me. I can offer nothing, a quadruple heart bypass and maybe dialysis by the end of the year already, so my bucket list would be 4 more half Oriental children.
You have to stay positive or you are already dead, even if the reality is heading to not the butcher’s nor the baker’s but probably the undertaker’s in the next decade.
Though my own dad in 1996 just 8 weeks after mum died in the marriage bed, he was given a week to live after a massive heart attack, but he carried on for 5.5 years and I got a family. It’s all in Padre Pio and Me. So, I’ll leave my Future up to God, and if I do have that new family, don’t say Where did he Buy Her, as some bastard did when I worked at the hotel and I had a young family 20 years ago and a Shanghai wife. No, just say God Bless Him, maybe a Singapore will discover me.
I can hear you all laughing, and puking into a bucket. Metal Trip was a Finnish Heavy Metal road comedy I saw the other night on TV, it was very funny. Maybe I dream to much, when I can actually sleep through Tinnitus. I have a whole Grammies Award ceremony in my bed every night, as I must have Music on permanently to drown the Tinnitus, and yes you can guess what would be better. And 3 to 4am is best time to conceive. I used to work the Graveyard shift at SMBC computer room, so I got home at 3am. Or maybe that’s too much information.
Writing is easy, getting paid for it is impossible. I have 55 years love of words now, and yes I’m still 20 in my head. Picasso had a child in his 90s, or is that an abstraction, but his footsteps are worth following in. I’ll finish now. I have bored some of you but talking about Putin too much these past 2 years. I’m hoping Russia rises up and removes Putin. Too many lives lost for one man’s vanity. I hope Trump goes to jail too, for he is just a Con Man. Sadly, USA has lost its honour, the GOP has become a Cult. While Ukraine bleeds because USA crossed by to the other side of the street. The Good Samaritan lost maybe forever. And all our kids the world over suffer. All these lives and all this money wasted. Mankind could be saved if it grew up and changed direction, and did not Love Money. And that is why I post pictures of myself, a Gorilla with a Rosary.
A Normal Day (c)
By Michael Casey
I've been chilling and we did have a flake of snow too, so the berries on my bush were
there for a reason.
Every day is different, the amount of noise when I wake is horrendous.
Then I go downstairs and have breakfast. I may have gotten up at 3 or 4am because the
Tinnitus torture was too much, so rather than be a sitting target while I lay in bed ,
I get up instead,
So I have a tea and a Rosary, you cannot read all the news constantly on a tablet or phone.
Then if Totoro our cat is about I may feed her too.
I may spend a full hour in the dark of the night just there, Totoro may go out to listen to
the morning chorus, or kill it.
Then return again, by which time I'm dead on my feet, and I stagger back to bed.
So I can get more sleep, but I awake again like clockwork, and Tinnitus is screaming at
me, like having Donald Trump on my chest being very demanding, but no cheques or non
disclosure agreement
just NOISE.
When I've had enough slots of sleep I get up.
I spend a few hours checking my websites and reading all the Newspapers
How can Americans believe TRUMP LIES, does not bode well for the future
If we have Trump, people will respect us
NO, one lunatic in the world is enough, but Trump is even madder than before
So can you see the mushroom clouds forming?
Reagan said something about Mad people in charge of Nuclear weapons
No wonder I cling to my Rosary
Other forms or Faith are available
Trump believes in Nothing, but himself
God Help Us
Anyway after my words and my figures, and maybe I should be a Male Model
ok, a cadavre for the Medical School, and the sooner the better, you are all so CRUEL
I'll have a look at the Houses on Rightmove
I like to dream where we could live, if the Lottery turned up
Today's dream house is at the end
I'm thinking what if I ended up on dialysis and wanted a home machine
so I'd need space and plumbing for it
Otherwise I'd be going to a hut, 3 times a week
which I hate the thought of.
and the taxi fares there and back would be big
Its inevitable is what my consultant said
But God is good, so I hope I can avoid all that for a couple of years
GFR 21 now, all you medics just sighed
So I have my dreams for a house
and yes 4 more kids too, but both are really Fairy Tales
not unless Singapore surprises me
a Crazy Rich Asian and all that
Then as darkness falls, I'll have my dinner
followed by Kdramas on TV
and maybe more Trump watching
He's hoping to cash in on his SPAC
4 billion, if he cashes in and crashes the stock price
Suckers will lose and he'll have money
or a way to make money to pay the 500,000,000 USD fines
as in USA you have to pay to appeal
If you lose the Courts already have your money
Back to Kdramas and late night news
Finally bed, and Taylor Swift and Sam Smith
as I have constant Music to drown Tinnitus
and finally I sleep for 2 hours then wake again
or I don't sleep so I get up in the middle of the night
and the cycle repeats itself
Such is my day, so pray God sends me something
and this has turned into a story
So I'll add it to my latest book
Now look at my latest dream house
A 4 bed bungalow
Michael The Pole Dancer ©
By
Michael Casey
Well it’s 10.15pm on 21st March 2024, and it’s time to expose myself, or rather the fact that I am a Pole Dancer. I am not a Flasher, though I did once teacher a Czech friend a new English word, Flasher, as they had come as a Flasher to a party, but did not know the word. When I explained they looked through a huge English dictionary, and repeated the word.
This is old news from Easter 1998, but memories do bubble up. Now time has passed and I have two very smart and beautiful daughters, Chinese/Irish or Shanghai/Birmingham. The smaller one has taken up Pole dancing for exercise and her University subsidises it. Volley Ball and badminton were too competitive and maxed out by foreign students. So, my daughter dragged a friend along and has become a Pole dancer, or student of the POLE, as it is called by those in the know. So, my small daughter is studying Anthropology with French and a side order of Pole.
Obviously, I talk to my daughter and she explains things to me, so I thought maybe I should take up the Pole myself. So, I went into out garden and swung off the clothes dryer for a few hours, but the wind started blowing a gale, so I got trapped amongst the wires. I was found tied up and half strangled by the wires, with my knickers in disarray. I should have emptied the dryer first but I did not think of that. My own trousers were down by my ankles, as I have a rounded belly so all the activity meant my trousers slipped. At least my pants still survived, though all the buttons were open, like a cuckoo clock jammed open.
My neighbour did take photos to put on her Facebook page, she likes to boast about just how Bohemian the neighbour is, with artists and writers. Though I was in the real Bohemia Czech and nobody took photos of me attached to an air dryer in the garden. So, finally with everything frozen I was untangled under cover of darkness and allowed back into our house, before the foxes would come out and nibble me.
The sense of freedom was intoxicating, like as a child you are swung around till you are dropped and you fall over drunk like. Dizzy is children’s alcohol, or maybe that was back in the 60s, as it’s Politically Incorrect to swing your kids any more. Anyway, once back inside I thought now I had caught the bug, I would advance to the Pole. Maybe I should have just joined a Circus, be part of the Greatest Showman. I’d be the bearded lady, the size of my hernia is bigger than some women’s breasts, take my word for it. It used to be like a marble, and I waited a year for a surgeon to take a look, and he said leave it alone as it was so high up my check, so nowhere to attach mesh to keep it in. But now, it’s as big as my fist, or some women’s breasts
I decide to use a street lamp as my Pole, and the light on it would be my illumination. I climbed on my neighbour’s car and dented it, why can’t they a 120kilo man walking on the bonnet and roof. As I leaned over and was wondering how to get further up the street light, Totoro our cat decided to help, she scratched me, next to my heart bypass scars on my legs. And Twinkle her fox friend bit my bum. So I grabbed the fox as I shot up the lamp post and twirled, the fox became a Boa and I spun and dangled it around my neck, legs and bum as it snapped at me. Madagascar is just a cartoon, you try a real fox up a lamppost, I learnt so much, and fast. It was like a crash course in Pole. My small daughter live streamed it back to her University friends.
I can twerk, so I twerked a lot too, though my weight was too much for the lamppost. It buckled and the light flickered, the neighbours came out to cheer, my knicker elastic gave way, and the knickers came down, so I flicked them off. Landing in the face of one of our new neighbours, I was the first naked man she had ever seen, she was a vicar’s daughter. And what had I taught her.
It was growing cold, and shrinkage happens, so I slid off the lamppost and wiped my sweaty body on the dented neighbour’s car. He could always set fire to it, and say it was vandals, skid marks on a roof. With that I decided to go in, and have a hot bath. That was the full extent of my swinging. I’ll have to write a story about it. I look at my watch, it’s 11.06 pm. This has been a 50min story. As I had my hot bath I left the window open to let the steam out. I mused if only I had a typist. I didn’t notice a Shy Girl called Marie, the vicar’s daughter she was looking out her bedroom window and could see me in my bath. The next day she knocked my door and handed me my knickers, oh and by the way I am a Typist, I’d. love to type for you….
A Tale not worthy of Shakespeare (c)
by Michael Casey 23April 2024
Well if you wonder where the stories come from
here is one of them
I went down the hill for a haircut
because I look too much like my mum
only difference is I have 3 breasts
the extra one in the middle is my
hernia, bigger than some women's breast
in the middle of my chest through my heart bypass scar
I met an Irish man with an Arran and a cane along the way
I stopped to say I looked like Benny Hill in my hat
and Good Luck as us Irish are wont to say
Then I toddled down the hill
I met Jack and Jill pushing a pram
because Jill was not on the pill
and Jack had spilt his pail
maybe they were Americans
but that's over there over there
as James Cagney used to Sing
But though I sing I just wanted a haircut
So I continued on my way
And the barbers was shut
Outside a Pink Lady was having a fag
No, not a drink
but a lady all wrapped up against the cold
smoking, no nothing bold, just having a cigarette
She told me that Tuesday was the Barbers day off
and no he was not from Saville
or the tailors next door
though he cuts hair quick
he was off today
So laughing I crossed the road
and Noelle Gordon, not a drink winked at me
nor James Bond dancing in the Street
Though Andy Street might be dancing If he wins again
So I went to the Post Office for some money instead
Then I crossed back the road
To buy my daily bread
I look like Falstaff or Sir Toby Belch you know
and Harry was a bit of a lad as I said
in my Henry the Fourth Part II essay in Mr Sharpe's class
but that was in 1974/5 maybe
when my hair was brown, now I am a white sheep
or silver if you are being. generous
So I got my bread fit for a Kingsmill
a Hapworth for Falstaff maybe
and paid the lady on the till
with longer hair than mine
and silvery too, who's daughter is doing Phycology
a man in a beard with crocs was in the queue too
looking like Jesus, or a heavy metal band singer
Supervised by a Pakistani girl with eyes like diamonds
who was the chief of staff in the store
So I left the store with my bread
and I thought I'd take a chance
there is a Ladies hair dressers next to the barbers
I was surprised to see the Pink lady in a coat inside
She had finished her fag
I said are you the hairdresser
could you cut my hair instead
as I look so much like my mother
No, not I for I only do the beauty
So obvious she could do nothing for me
for I am just a beast,
a Gorilla with Rosary
So I left downhearted
I'd have to climb up the hill
With Kate Bush running up it
in front of me
Luckily God has Mercy on all of us
the bus came
No, I'm lying
Beyonce came with her horse with no name
and threw me on behind her
And by High Noon, she carried me into the sun
slapping my bum, homewards
never be cruel to animals, this is England after all
And that is why my words are full of Manure
The horse with no name dumped in my front garden
But at least I have sweet smelling Roses galore
growing in my front garden
Happy Birthday Shakespeare
Lend me your ears, for mine are full of Tinnitus
maybe I just need a pillow of busoms
I do have 3 of my own already
but I am not a Lady
TINNITUS KILLING ME again (c)
by
Michael Casey SOB, son of a blacksmith
I kind of missed a day, the Tinnitus was a Tsunami of noise
and actual physical pain
all you can do is hide in bed
yes a lover would be great to keep you warm
and to hold onto
but the Tinnitus is like being on the Titanic
No steamy love scenes, in a car with misted up windows
just the terror of being engulfed
and not by a lover
just by noise
It is the worst thing in my life ever
and I've had far too. many bad things
and I still get arthritis pain daily
and hernia pain too
as well as the back end of this whooping cough
where I nearly choke to death
Yes, welcome to my death
and it's your soul that suffers
so The Boxer does spring to mind
though I always sleep in the nude since 1986
when I got my own house
so no boxer shorts on my
just overwhelming pain
and not knowing from day to day
or even from hour to hour how bad it will be
If I pop to the shops, the happy fool
you are seeing the best bit of me
I climb back into the lions den once back at home
yes this is my life these past few years
I don't know where my resilience comes from
so allow me to dream
of 4 more sons and oriental young wife
as I choke to death and cough my guts up
all so very appealing
as I slap on the Neem
because regular pain killers
destroy my kidneys even more
on. top of my quadruple heart bypass
so flights of imagination
and writing itself
aids my sanity
even when I cannot write full stories
but writes pieces like this
because Tinnitus is in my head and in my bed
I'd rather have a young PhD instead
but you curse and judge me now
Is my imagination yours to control too
you try my life for just one day
try walking in my size ten shoes
Get somebody to randomly kick and punch you
and choke you, and scream 24/7 and invade your bed
with noise
How long do you think you would last
I won't add the subtext too
you haven't got a clue
No wonder Taylor Swift a fellow Tortured Poet
is swearing, and saying(*())). YOU
Are your eyes wide shut, or are they open
Your thoughts are at least 4 times faster than your words
Writing is the slowest
Then Speaking, Then Thinking
and speed it up with Tinnitus is your head
so what can you imagine
years of. Tinnitus like that
and mine is affected by Wind, Cold, even what I eat
and even thoughts can make it worse
I'll put a Title to all this so you can sample it in a book later
ordinarily I wouldn't bother
but I realise this might be good stuff for you all to study
I'll finish now but I'll tell you this
I was up at 7am for toast and tea and heart meds
then went back to bed and lost a day
Tinnitus roaring in my head
It's nice tonight to see even Mongolia
is reading me
Maybe it was the girl from Kdrama
where a Korean was lost in Mongolia
and came back home to find her family
maybe I need a girl like that in my life
But Life is Reality not Kdrama, unfortunately
But. It's always good to dream
I'm still. 20 in my head after all
though my illnesses are killing my body and soul
so my faith saves me
so judge yourselves first
and look in that mirror
and change
at least its not me or my Tinnitus in your bed or head
Food for Thought, and thank you all my readers all over the world
be a good Samaritan, you may be in the gutter like me
but you still have your dreams in your head, if not in your bed
Kang Nam Soon has superhuman strength. She went missing as a kid in Mongolia. Now as an adult, she comes to Gangnam, Seoul, South Korea to find her parents. She finally meets her mother Hwang Geum Joo.
https://decider.com/2023/10/09/strong-girl-nam-soon-netflix-review/
very latest photos of me
so adorable , not. just sob. son of a blacksmith
28 july 2024
