Photo Shoot

Photo Shoot ©

By

Michael Casey

Where do you want me to leave my clothes, on the floor next to mine came the reply. That’s the old joke about Photo Shoots, so you can picture the scene of me naked on the floor like Barbarella with a man or should it be a woman photographing me. Though that wouldn’t explain what I did this morning, though it was a male photographer, with an assistant, who was male also. No I wasn’t being photoed for any random magazine, no inner Burt Reynolds revealing all.

No, in actual fact we were taking photos not of me but of my newly painted house. Wide angel of course to fit everything in, just like my large Kardasian size rear end, all natural of course. It was time to show my wares, or rather the house’s wares, all wide open, and ready for potential buyers.

In the end once we had fully moved out I reluctantly decided to take my clothes off, or rather repaint and touch up the house before exposing it to the camera. Then in all its made up glory it could expose itself as it really was, nice and big with plenty of space for fun and frolics. Which did remind me of several things, which I’ll leave to your imagination.

So the photographer went around flashing his laser to get the sizes of the rooms, very Stars Wars. Then he went around taking photos while I chatted to the assistant. I explained the History of this room and that room, after 32 years there was more History than a Michael Jackson album, which I’ve manages to lose during the move. I explained how I had balanced a type writer on a stool as I sat on a broken backed chaired and typed away. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker was written in the living room in front of the gas fire, then on Leap Years Day 1988 it was completed. However a few years later in an upstairs bedroom it was enlarged into 600+ pages on an Atari 1040.

All this I leave behind with just the painted walls for witnesses. The walls cannot talk though they do have ears, they cannot lie, but they do cry, Michael Casey Writer, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England was no more, well moved on.

It does feel different freshly painted and naked, no not a model but the walls, without any of my paintings on them. No stray socks or shirts or dirty girls knickers littering the bathroom, just the smell of fresh paint everywhere. Outside my Shamrock still clung on to the garden wall like mountaineers, so I grabbed some and will transplant it to the new house further up the hill.

The house itself is not totally naked a few bits and pieces we have left behind, perfect for a buy to let, or a first time buyer. We upgraded our life at the new place, it will probably be the house I die in, without many years of pain, but it’s all up to God. As the bedroom photos  were taken I spread myself on a bed and minced, you have to have a mince at Christmas after all. The assistant laughed and the photographer handed me some money, I told him I could do so much more for a few quid more. I was dressed all in red, like Santa with his beard shaved off. The photographer has a sense of humour, but he’s never getting that 30 pence back, not ever, ever. Not even for a Harry Potter’s Field.

I noted I’d never actually sat on those chairs because they were too low for me post quadruple heart bypass, so I sat like a fool in a corner on a hard wooden chair instead. As I looked around several memories came back, like deciding to get double glazing all those years ago. I carried on boring the assistant with tales of this and that, only stopping to let the photographer out to photograph the nice garden we have.

So Finally it was all over, soon the place will finally pass over to a new family. Time wasters will have been banished , and a new beginning will begin for somebody else. See if they can write17 books and have 2 beautiful daughters inside these  four walls that will become their home. So all there is for me to do now is to take my clothes off and run around the house naked for one last time. The photographer and the assistant refused to take those photographers, they are not allowed on Rightmove after all. So I’m stood here naked shivering while I wait for Lucy Lu from the Korea shop to come and take my photograph, she is such a great photographer, normally she takes snaps of dishes for the takeaway food website. Just Eat as they say.

Return of the Pain Monster

Return of the Pain Monster

Well I hope you all hade a fun Christmas. I've had a deaf ear for a couple of days, so taking antibiotics to take away the infection. Means I cannot hear the wife in my right ear, so there are advantages.

This morning had a post Christmas bath, and had breakfast, even ordered cat food for the cat.

Then suddenly from out of nowhere my left shoulder is giving massive pain, my chest hurts too, and it feels as if I've been hit with an iron bar accross the left side of my face.

So welcome to my world of pain, no kinkyness involved, no half dressed girls  spanking me or anything like that, no rolled up copies of Fortune magazine with my face on either.

Just me limping, I'm limping too around the house, to and from the kitchen.

So welcome to my ramdom arthritis and everything else.

I had been thinking the levels and frequency of pain had not been so bad lately.

But now, just as the flu finally seems to have left me, and I'm on anitibiotics for my infected ear, what happens? The pain monster returns.

So enjoy my words, while I wince. No doubt some of you will say God is punishing me, and if you believe that please leave me page and never come back because you are a philistine.

I may write something new later on when I'm breathing more easily and not  not straining to breathe, and yes I'm not making any of this up. It's almost 4 years since my heart bypass, so I've had the extra time, but with these amounts of regular pain, it  does feel like a bad bargain. Coming up to 6 years of pain, if you include the arthritis.

I would become a Hedonist if I had the energy, and anybody would care to join in.

Now is the Time

Now is the Time © 

By Michael Casey 

Now is the Time

Now is the Time to set aside our past Now is the Time to forget who came last

Now is the Time to forget our woes and dance towards our Future Now is the Time to Remember We are best when we Invest

Now is the Time to Invest in each other sister and brother Now is the Time for Hope and to get off the ropes

Now is the Time to Forgive one another for we are sister and brother Now is the Time to Dream our dreams together

Now is the Time to Laugh and Sing and Dance

Now is the Time to Dare to Better than we ever hoped

Now is the Time to Rope a Dope any difficulties and rebuild our cities Now is the Time to plan the route ahead to be positive and strong Now is the Time to have Confidence that nothing will go wrong

Now is the Time to reach out to Sister and Brother and our Mothers Now is the Time for the family that is the United States of America For WE are family, the red, the white and the blue and stars too Let us bring our shared Future into view

Let us not allow anything to dampen our Hopes no matter who won our votes For it is only together that we can once again reach for the stars

Our aspirations show the world who we are

All our hopes and dreams unite this United States of America Together we will sing together and wing our way back to the stars Back to the Stars which prove we are one United States of America Sing America Sing and Fear Not what the Future might bring

For we are family the family United, United States of America

**************

 if only Trump was like this instead of the way  he is, World War One , 100 years ago the world stumbled into war, Now History is on the verge of repeating itself, because Good Men did NOTHING.

well it's christmas eve 2018

well it's christmas eve

from Thailand to Norway to Russia people are reading my stories today.

Sadly nobody ever buys the books, I'll just have to wait for Rupert Murdoch and Spielberg to find me.

I spotted one piece was being read, my Lima Love Story so I reread it, made me cry, so I had to wipe my nose on my dressing gown.

I'd forgotten all the details. I hope you are all touched by some of my stories and laugh with me at the rest. Shoplife in Russian is being read right now, so I hope Putin is enjoying it.

Perhaps all the walls will come down like Jericho and then I get my  lucky break, an overnight success, after 30 years.

Stay happy, I have to wash my hair now, and the snot from my dressing gown sleeves.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi save Christmas AGAIN

I wrote this in October but I've put it to the top as Christmas is upon us

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi save Christmas

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Save Christmas ©

By

Michael Casey

The cousins had decided to buy and trade a few old Army Surplus materials. Putin has updated his army so there was a lot of old kit being thrown away. So obviously the enterprising cousins decided this was their chance. There were all kinds of everything for sale at rock bottom prices, such as Arctic gear, and even parachutes and an ancient flame thrower or two. Junk to you or me, but to the cousins it was an opportunity.

Sometime what is discarded becomes the most important thing, like a broken heart healed by love, or the dream of a dead mother on the feast of Saint Francis, that comes to heal and strengthen. But I’m talking about the Slav cousins, and their wives just laughed at them, they were just so stupid, but that made them love them the more. So as the wives sharpened their knives ready for the Christmas preparations, which meant death for some of the animals, but it for good purpose, to celebrate the feast of Christmas.

Amongst the junk was an old military radio or two, so the cousins’ children were allowed top play with one. To their surprise they were able to contact some other children, so soon there was a radio friendship. It turned out that they had discovered School 76 in Novablizt, which was a fair distance from where they all lived. It was a boarding school for children of army officers, really they should not be talking to outsiders. But it was a military frequency on an old channel, so that’s how the wall came down.

As Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rummaged through their treasure their children were enjoying the radio. It turned out that the parents of School 76 were in reality Space Engineers, they would not say more than that, but it was interesting to say the least. Now Christmas was approaching fast and the cousins had managed to sell boots and coats and the like, so they were content, they had at least made some money. There was the Christmas feast on the horizon and their wives were glowing, happy and so deeply in love. However when all the cousins’ children explained all the anticipated fun and love that they would have to the children of School 76 they were met with sadness.

You see at School 76 the parents would be working far away, launching satellites into space for the highest bidder. Christmas was lost to them, duty came first, if only they got to see a fake Santa, it would be fun amongst all the books. Now Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were saddened when they heard this, Christmas without even a fake Saint Nicolas, this was too much.

Their wives looked at them and all the children looked at them. We need to talk to your fathers said the three mothers. So the three mothers took the three cousins to the 3 bedrooms. It is always best to discuss things in a comfortable environment. 6 hours later, the mothers emerged smiling, and the cousins emerged too. It had been decided, the 3 mothers would sacrifice their 3 cousin husbands for Christmas. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would bring Christmas to School 76.

Now School 76 is not on any map as it was classed as Military even though it was just a boarding school. So a map reference was sent and Lech marked it on a map with Rudolf’s nose, that was all the map they would need. They loaded their snow plough with items they might need, and what could they bring the students? Boiled eggs painted and some English chocolate, Cadburys of course, and some Oranges. There was some vodka too, but that was for any stray teachers or caretakers. It was the thought that counted, there would not be any other gifts as such, or so was the plan. You see the school was in a remote area and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi may have to walk in the last leg.

When School 76 heard the news they erupted. They would not only get one fake Santa but three. Carols erupted from School 76, but the could not tell the teachers, the caretaker staff as it was still technically called a Military establishment. So with a final kiss to their wives, who were probably pregnant by now, what do you think they were doing for 6 hours, knitting? So Lech, Boris and Gregorgi set off to bring Christmas to School 76. As they dove away a fancy 4x4 passed in the opposite direction, paths had been crossed.

In the 4x4 was Mikhail Mikhailovich who you will remember was the Spaceman who had a visit from the Archangel Saint Michael, by sheer chance he was driving through Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s village.Now there is no such thing as coincidence, there is only the will of God. Mikhail Mikhailovich went into the inn and had some food and a rest, he was going to plough on and get home for Christmas himself but then the Heavens opened and it was a Whiteout, a mountain of snow had fallen. So he just knew he’s be spending Christmas there, Mikhail Mikhailovich was soon telling tales and enjoying all the company. His eyes popped open wide when he heard what Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were up to, he had studied at School 76 himself in his youth before he became the world’s greatest Cosmonaut and then the world’s greatest storyteller.

I actually drove past them, will they be safe? They are like Polar Bears replied the three wives, besides we’ll kill them if they don’t come back, as they brandished their knives. Besides we are all pregnant so they will not abandon an unborn baby at Christmas. How many weeks are you pregnant asked Mikhail Mikhailovich? About 15 hours not weeks came the proud reply.Mikhail Mikhailovich blushed, this was like one of his stories, but true.

Mikhail Mikhailovich took out his satellite phone and recited another story so that Radio Russia would have a new story over Christmas. Then the military radio crackled, it was Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. Well we are 20k short of our destination, the snow plough cannot go any further so we will walk. We have skis and a sledge, it will be fun. Everybody looked out the window and saw the snow, it was deadly dangerous.Mikhail Mikhailovich took the microphone, hello I’m Mikhail Mikhailovich can I help in any way? We love stories replied the 3 in unison. I was meaning help in getting to your destination? We think we will be ok, we have vodka to keep us warm and multiple layers too, we have got old USSR army kit, so we should be just fine.

Mikhail Mikhailovich looked about him, these fine people deserved their own Archangel, so he took out his satellite phone. In seconds he was talking to Chuck from the USA, his friend Tim Peak who was back in space again, and Petrov a fine Russian cosmonaut. Mikhail Mikhailovich was talking to the Heavens Above AKA the Space Station. Hello guys, do you want to test that new thing you have. In seconds it was decided, it was a method of tracking Polar Bears, but now it would be tracking 3 polar bears called Lech, Boris and Gregorgi.

The only problem was their was no radio tracking device on a collar, just a vintage USSR radio. Looking around again, Mikhail Mikhailovich rung his good friend Esther, the mother of the zillionaire space satellite magnate. Shalom he began, and then Mikhail Mikhailovich explained, Esther would help he knew it. Ester put her cards down she was playing poker in Vegas, the winner chose which Charity got the pot, 10million had been raised just through her poker habit, if you can remember back to the Malta story. A phone rang in the situation room at the Pentagon, the ring tone was If I were a Rich Man sung by Topol, an actual one off recording just for a ring tone.If you are zillionaire then you can have such things.Sorry said the zillionaire turning to General Jim Mathis, mom insisted on the ring tone. In seconds all was explained and Esther went back to her poker, she wanted to win.

The zillionaire looked around, I wasn’t going to show you this yet, but a friend wants a favour. So with General Jim Mathis looking on the zillionaire brought up the satellite image. It was not perfect but through the snow Lec, Boris and Gregorgi could be made out. We’re guiding them through the snow to School 76. So the zillionaire spoke to Mikhail Mikhailovich and then he guided the three cousins.

In deep deep snow they went up and down and around and around , and this way and that way, leaving a trail as they dragged their sledge. High in space the zillionaire and brought a couple of other satellites into play, it was Christmas after all, they were not the three Magi, but they had friends in high places, very high places. But then disaster, the radio broke down, at minus 20 even a thirty year old USSR radio had to come to the end of their life.

All we can do is watch and pray, said General Jim Mathis as he looked up from the book Esther had sent him, first edition of a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.So watching from on high they all watched and prayed. Three cousins, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would go around and around until the cold killed them. From space they tracked their route, then the zillionaire spotted a pattern. Marked in the snow was PAX VOBISCOM, or Peace Be With You. Then through the snow the satellite could see a sledge drawn by enormous reindeer, there was a giant of a man on board. The giant waved at the sky as if he knew the satellites were all watching him.

Santa Claus himself had come to rescue them, if the Archangel Saint Michael had saved Mikhail Mikhailovich why shouldn’t Santa Claus save three Slav heroes called Lech,Boris and Gregorgi. And that is how Christmas was saved by Lech, Boris and Gregorgi or rather how Santa Claus saved them. School 76 had the best Christmas ever, 3 fake Santas plus the real thing. Now if you think this story is far fetched, just watch Norad track Santa this and every Christmas. And if you still don’t believe me, why are there photos of the Real Father Christmas locked in General Jim Mathis’ safe with a signed copy of a Christmas Carol on top. 

Marked 25 levels higher than TOP SECRET.

since I wrote this general Mathis has resigned maybe he'll visit Birmingham and look at our Pre Raphaelites  now that he has more time.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

or he can read my 17 books in one sitting