50 Shades of Michael

50 Shades of Michael ©

By Michael Casey

I first met Michael at the bus stop, he was back combing his bushy eyebrows in the reflection by the bus time table. Applying a bit of spit on the them as well to hold them down. How could I an impressionable woman resist, it was all too much for me, I started to have palpitations. I had to hold onto the bus stop for support. The eyebrows were just so, so magnificent, he reminded me of a werewolf, so manly, so handsome, how could I resist him.

On the bus I followed him and sat next to him, I was intoxicated by his manly aroma, a mixture of Brut and sweaty socks. I gave him the once over as the bus trundled along the road in the rain. His broad shoulders and his even bigger belly were so overwhelming, I could barely breath, he was irresistible.

My breathing became laboured and heavy, Michael looked at me, with concern in his hazel coloured eyes, the eyes the eyes, he was the man with the child in his eyes. He was too much, I just had to have him. I started to breath more heavily, I was having an asthma attack, brought on by pure lust, how could Michael do this to me.

I reached into my bag for my inhaler, I placed it between my lips, but it was Michael who I wanted and needed, he and he alone could give me what I wanted and needed and MUST have. He asked me was I ok, speaking to me sent my pulse rate soaring. My head spun, he was speaking to me, he was speaking to me, it was all too much. I fainted and my body slumped against his.

I could feel his pulse against mine, Michael whispered in my ear, he asked could he do anything? He asked could he do anything. YES YES YES. Kiss me I whispered, so he did. I was in Heaven, a man a real man was kissing me, a man who wore Brut and had sweaty socks, not to mention the shoulders and the brushed back eyebrows, topped off with the Winnie the Pooh like tummy. I was tingling all over as he kissed me.

We got off the bus together in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, he knew what I wanted and I would not take no for an answer. I gave him my business card Tracy Rogers, lingerie designer. He told me he was a cross dresser and did I make his size, I laughed, he was so funny. He then told me he was a film reviewer for Hungry Wolf a lads magazine.

We went into the Trader for a pint and a natter, I explained my job and he explained his. We felt at ease with each other, as if we had known each other for years. He was everything  I had ever wanted in a man. He said looks did not matter, so long as I could make him laugh, though designer lingerie did help.

It was wanton, I had never picked a man up at a bus stop before, but life was short, my last boyfriend had ran off with the girl from the takeaway. I had never suspected, though he always seemed to get extra rice. So now to find a real man was too much of an opportunity to pass on.

In the bedroom, socks and pants littered the floor, but at least the sheets were John Lewis Egyptian cotton extra soft ones, and they were fresh on that day. Michael had a washing machine and knew how to use it. He also knew how to use what God had given him, and boy oh boy was I glad of that. As for me, he liked what I gave and gave and gave again and again.

Three hours later we stopped for some tea and crumpet, sex had made us hungry, and Michael did have Warbuton’s crumpet and PG  tips. So we had crumpet after we had had crumpet, and we share sex tips while we had our PG tips. I glowed and Michael was just Michael.

So we carried on again, it was as if Michael had Duracell batteries in him, long lasting and never fading. As for me, I was glad I had taken a chance at the bus stop, he was an animal, but the kind I wanted and needed and must have. 50 shades of Michael, I had heard there was some obscure film called 50 shades of something or another, but I had 50 shades of Michael which was much much better.

I told Michael I enjoyed all sorts of things in the bedroom, so he smiled and poured a bottle of Guinness  all over my body. I thought it was beer shampoo or something, until he started to lick it off. It was the first time I’d done such  a thing, it was wanton but I loved it, we both loved it.

I told Michael that he was my best lover ever, that we were so wanton, he could do anything he liked to me. As I said we were so wanton he went to the kitchen and made wanton soup, we fed each other soup, and what spilt on our bodies was licked off by us. Prawn crackers were spread over our bodies and we ate from our bodies. So much better than anything from Sex and the City.

We had so many plans, things to do, things to eat, we’d never use plates again. It was prefect, perfect lust, and perfect food. 50 shades of Michael, I was such a lucky girl, such a lucky girl.

Then I woke up it had all been a dream, but why did I smell of Guinness and have prawn crackers in my hair?    

Cover Letter 2014

Cover Letter 2014 ©

By

Michael Casey

I was talking to somebody about cover letters today, I can see the irony as I talk to you, as I won’t be needing one myself any more. However Pitch Letters are a different thing, and I do expect to have to do some of those.

So what about Cover Letters, they are part of the job search process, without one you may not get a job, or it may swing it for you. So you have to write a cover letter. I looked at my old cover letter today and realised it was too long.

A CV should be two pages and no more, the cover letter that goes with it should be just one side. HR people and job agencies are always in a hurry, they won’t even look at a multipage opus. Into the bin it will go, literally or on their PC.

So what do you do? You iron out he rough spots, and raise the molehills to mountains, and vice versa. The Cover Letter is your chance to shine, it’s like your Facebook home page. Or your paragraph on the Dating Website. It’s all about you.

So you say what you were great at, you never say “I was a bit rubbish at X Y Z” followed by but. Your Butt would be kicked out before you even start. It’s a Positive Only piece, it’s your chance to get a great job, or any  job and be able to afford to pay the rent or buy a new set of golf clubs.

So tell them what you are great at, and think differently about yourself, put yourself in their shoes, the Saint Augustinian Way, and Sell Yourself. You may not think  that visiting the sick is anything special, its your good deed. This proves to an employer exactly where your heart is, he may be a hospital visitor himself, yes him in the £2000 suit.

You may be embarrassed by your kindness but it lets the employer know just what kind of person you are. Your Community Actions do make a difference.

In your job it may have been you who trained all the new people, and wrote the basic Bible for the job you all did. Nobody else could have been bothered, but you did it. So put it in the Cover Letter, you have Training Experience, so boast about it.

You may speak several languages, and the office staff may have poked fun at you for it, but it’s you who speaks to all the truck drivers when they arrive from all over Europe. Tell everybody as the Billy Joel song goes, you may even overlook it, because it’s only a few minutes. But only you can do it, so boast about it.

Write a list of everything you can do, and everything you do do, then write a flow chart of it, and join the dots with words. If you sell your house you put everything down in a positive way, so on a Cover Letter you do the same, but about yourself.

I am fat and have white hair, this describes me. In a Cover Letter it becomes I am distinguished looking with silver hair and a strong athletic build.  Ok the athletic may be stretching it too far. You are painting a picture, a pretty postcard showing just how great you are, so you get that job.

All this has to be done on one page, it’s a sprint and the winner gets the job, so don’t be shy give words a try.

Catchup Posts from Jan 2015 post Triple Heart Bypass

Dear Stephen, I still love you, lots of cuddles from God

05/02/2015

Dear Stephen, I still love you, lots of cuddles from God ©
By Michael Casey
Well Stephen, you really did have a go at me didn’t you? I know the world is a sad and bad place, but I did give it Free Will. But everybody still blames me, that’s if they believe in me.
I would go and see an analyst, only Freud is so busy, it’s impossible to get an appointment. What would I say anyway, Stephen Fry doesn’t believe in me. But you don’t even believe in Santa any more, do you Stephen. I suppose being so large and breaking Santa’s knee when you were 10 did change your life so much.
You are clever I’ll give you that, but not as clever as you think, I was having a pint in the bar with Shakespeare the other night, the other Midsummer’s Nights Eve  to be exact and he did mention you in passing, he asked who were you, he liked your performance in one of his plays. So you are known here in Heaven.
Everybody moans and says just how unjust I am, I had it all the way back to Noah, so Stephen you are not very original, at least you won’t be needing an umbrella like Noah.
Just be nice and niceness will come back to you is what I always say, put on a happy face, dance, laugh and have a nice glass of wine. Cana is my favourite by the way. Then life is so much better, if all you do is scream at me you’ll just end up with high blood pressure, and as you are so tall already who knows where it will all end.
I could always send you a dream, of Michael Casey and www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com he is looking for a business partner. Now wouldn’t that be such perfect punishment, Stephen Fry reads Michael Casey. The sheer indignity of it all. Or would that be giving you ammunition to fire at me again, an evil and vindictive God.
No Stephen, you have got it all wrong, as usual, but I still love you. I spend nights crying my eyes out, tearing my clothes and howling at the moon. It’s heart-breaking being a dad, I just want to give everybody a cuddle and push them on the swings, only they hate me or blame me.
People are too sophisticated, where has all the innocence gone, well Eve knew the answer there. I just want to be your best pal, yes Stephen, your best pal. Only I’m not modern enough for some.
Modern, isn’t the Universe modern enough for you. Or does everybody want the Sistine Chapel version of me, Michelangelo has got a lot to answer for. He’s whitewashing the toilets in the angels’ bar in paradise this week. But Stephen what I’m trying to say is that there are bigger people than you in Heaven and we all get along, can’t you just try and fit in?

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From the Eastern Side of the Kitchen

01/02/2015

From The Eastern Side of the Kitchen ©
By Michael Casey
My wife has decided that I need to follow her diet, the Shanghai rice with everything diet, the I’ve had 2 kids ad still only weight 6 stones diet, which is 38 kilos if you understand kilos. I think my right leg weighs that much alone. So now I’m out of hospital 12 days I have not eaten any pork nor beef, I’ve also been reintroduced to rice too. There are so many tastes and varieties of rice. As a child all I knew was the rice pudding we sometimes had out of a tin as a treat on a Sunday.  Now I’m revisiting the Chinese side of the kitchen. I had baked or grilled everything for decades, I even gave up my weak milky coffee after 50 years yes 50 years, But now, I’m  turning Chinese I really think so. WE have to find a low fat spread or marg to replace our beloved Clover, we’re trying Olivo from  Aldi but I don’t really like the taste, If I have to be healthy I do want to enjoy what is passing through my lips. So Love might be sampled next. I had a plate of Chinese food today, it was nice maybe I should have photo’d it. So this is my future, the wife wants me to hit 100 kilos. I have got a thinner face now after my time in hospital and my unexpected 3 way bypass operation. And no I never smoked in my life, but I did work in print rooms for decades, so maybe that was a contributing factor. I am lucky I was spotted and had an emergency operation. My small daughter tried her hand at cooking cake from a packet with instructions today, It was perfect, I was even allowed to sample a small piece, she just walking past me here at the computer, her spoon banging against her bowl as she finishes off her haute cuisine.  This is my family future, a change of diet, a Shanghai wife and our two bilingual and impossibly thin daughters. So spare a thought for me as this adventure unfolds. Alcohol I hardly ever use so I won’t miss, bacon and beef may never reappear on the menu again, so as you scoff all your favourite things tonight, just look to the star rising in the East, in Birmingham.

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I’ve got the hippy hippy shakes

30/01/2015

I’ve got the hippy hippy shakes

By michaelgcasey

If you remember that phrase then you are as old as me. Though for me I’m trying to get my mind off my hips, because today they really do hurt like hell. It was my hips that led to my heart bypass I suppose, my old arthur starting the pain that led to this and then led to that.
I’m hoping the weather will warm up a bit so I can do my bit of exercise, though I’ve just slapped Movelat on my hips in the hope the pain will go away then later on I can go for my walk.
Makes me sound 93, Outside the sun is shining and we have a blue sky in Birmingham, do you remember Mr Blue Sky the old ELO album from 1977 I think. Well think of that instead of your own arthritis, then we can play loud music together to drown out our pain. As its Friday maybe some of you will be having fish and chips, like in the old days. Happy memories to kill the pain of Arthur.

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Strange Brew

29/01/2015

Strange Brew ©
By Michael Casey
Strange Brew indeed was a track by the Cream, many a year ago. My brothers listened to Cream when I was growing up. Now Strange Brew is the list of medicines I take after my Triple Heart Bypass operation. I was given a carrier bag of medications when I left hospital.
I’m in between times now as I build my strength and do a few things around the house. I also sneak out to the shops to build up my strength and stamina. I used to walk 20 miles a week, so that’s my target. It was so cold today what with the 2015 snow that I did not leave the house. A very good neighbour did drop by to construct a new computer chair, so that I can have comfort while I am on the Internet. My stamina has to build before I can get back to all my writing and news watching. BUT a big thank you to Brian for all his help.
I have put a few bits and pieces together and posted them, yet the flow has not yet returned,  it’s like the flow of a river that has been blocked by beavers and the natural flow changed. So I await for my own natural flow to return. I do have such a large back list that I can post from, my 550 item back list, some things are worth repeating too.
My daughters say I should write an autobiography, but I think that would be boring. There is enough biographical material in all my short stories already. I think the commonality in the stories makes them perfect for a worldwide audience, for in the end family is family, it’s just GPS which is different, family is family.
Energy levels are different at the moment, coupled with motivation, everybody needs to push themselves a little so that they do not become lazy or stale. Having an unexpected Triple Heart Bypass does slow you down a little. Though if ever I could borrow a Legal Secretary I would just sit here and dictate my next novel, Tears for a Butcher, I am motivated to do it, though not just now, though not just now. By change there is a surgeon in the book, he actually appeared in the first book The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Then Big Sid the butcher came to a medical lecture theatre and cut a side of beef. The perfect butcher’s display. Then surgeons gave lectures, afterwards there was a BQ.
In Tears for a Butcher, Big Sid is shot 3 times at point blank range, it is his friend the surgeon who is there to save his life. In fact a medical convention was taking place, so the butchers save a butcher. It’s all very dramatic and will make great tv lots of drama and pathos. It has been brewing inside me for years now, maybe now that I’ve had my own surgery experience I’ll be able to write with much more emotion. Now that’s what’s brewing inside me. If it’s a Strange Brew only time will tell, there will be plenty of comedy too in the sequel, I am a much better writer now compared to when Old Forge and Singing Anvil first sparked across the page back in 1987.

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Bill Gates and Me

29/01/2015

Read the link first of all
https://uk.news.yahoo.com/pretty-stupid-bill-gates-reveals-big-regret-220148355–finance.html#Wxtlzs7
Bill Gates feels stupid as he cannot speak a language, I’m sure when he gets to Heaven, everybody will understand the language he speaks, CHARITY. And Charity has its own reward.
On another topic, Bill could use short stories to learn English the easy way, or in his case to use my original short stories to learn any other language. I’ve said it befoe but maybe it’ll take Bill Gates himself to see the value of my idea. If you learn a short story you enjoy learning and it is easy. Hence if you have 540+ short stories in English plus my audio read in clear English English, it is totally idiot proof. One page my English original story, mainly humorous, with a facing page translation in any other language. So you read my story and listen to my audio with a safety net in your own language in the facing page. If somebody forwards this to Bill Gates and tells him to go tohttp://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to HEAR 5o examples of my audio…
Its very simple and he won’t feel like a dummy any more. If he used a Spanish translation he’d be good at Soanish in 3 months.
By the way 25 years after my Spanish exam I did relean my Spanish by just spending 15 mins a day, but every day with my Soanish book, reading ALOUD.
OK Bill here’s your chance to laugh and learn and invest in me, and to stop being a dummy.
.
p.s.Bill though I have a Shanghai wife I never got around to learning Madarin, though our daughters are bilingual. I have started teaching Spanish to my daughters, so that my Shanghai wife cannot understand us.
All the best Bill, when you get to  Heaven can you start praying for me.

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Compression socks and all that

28/01/2015

JANUARY 28TH, 2015 14:15
Compression Socks and all that
By michaelgcasey
Well I’m continuing to gain strength. I have now also reached a full week without meat, no meat, no weak.  The sexy new  thing we do is put my compression socks on. I cannot manage on my own, so the wife helps. There is also a trick with a plastic bag, You slide the socks on over a plastic bag, Such fun, first/last thing in the day.
I’ve also braved the icy cold to get my daily exercise and buy some fruit. It’s more like Dudley Zoo in our house now. You cannot believe just how cold Birmingham was. At another point in my life I’d be readying for a snowman.
I have also been wondering how to describe the surgeons, In the end I think their job title is wrong. They should be called POETS, because what they do puts the vim and vigour back into people’ lives. So please call them POETS and not surgeons. Mind you LIFEGIVERs is another title. I think we should just ask their mums. Do you want your son to be called a MR, a MISTER or wouldn’t POET be so much nicer, and make old MRs Smith so jealous, her son was just a QC…..
photo is me before I got a decent mike. I have written over 550 stories and recorded 200 of them so far. you can hear me read 50 plus stories athttp://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com

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Had an emergency triple heart bipass operation

22/01/2015

Luckily I made it, thanks to our NHS. I’ll put some detail down another day.
If I could compare the Love and skill ther NHS has then I’d compare it to the sculpture  Pieta. In the sculpture Mary holds Jesus’s crucified body in her arms.
If you look and see and receive HHS care that is to know what La Pieta is all about.
In fact the original, is just a lump of rock, True Pieta and Love is NHS
I hope folks realise the NHS is LOVE, so thanks to the 100 people who looked after me during my near 3 week stay at City Hospital Birmingham and the Queen Elizabeth.
Michael

Lies Damn Lies, Linkedin Profiles and Facebook

LinkedIn Profile  and  CV ©

By

Michael Casey

We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these Profiles?

I am a born leader.

Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.

I created the supply chain structure.

Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.

I optimised the sales among target audiences.

He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.

I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.

Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.

I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.

Means there was a street gang chasing him after he was at  the bank

I am great at communicating the business message.

He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.

I always try and improve myself.

Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.

I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.

Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.

I am now looking for new opportunities to excel

Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister

I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.

Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.

I created my own start-up company

Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.

I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career

Means he is in jail, working in the library.

So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years old, and they are. Dig deeper.

Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google. Google me (michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you laugh, as I Google everybody.

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com

www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC

I have written 500+ such pieces, perfect for radio, so get in touch.

The House a stpry for children of all ages

JANUARY 3RD, 2015 16:08

The House © a story for children of all ages

By michaelgcasey

my daughter asked me to write a children’s story so here’s what I’ve written so far, any children's publishers out there do get in touch

The House ©

a story for children of all ages

By Michael Casey

Pretentious Preface

Sorry for being Pretentious but my small daughter, Eve asked me to write a book for children. I told her I’d written 100s of stories about children, but she said she wanted stories FOR children. I blame Roal Daol and David Walliams for being just too good and influencing her too much. So I will be trying my best to produce something just for her and for children of all ages. So that is why I’ve put a pretentious preface. Now on with the book, it’s 3^rd January 2015 and its cold and damp and my 3 girls have gone to London to meet a Shanghai cousin. So I have a few hours peace, just me and Arthur in the house, as I begin my tale…..

 One

I suppose I should tell you just who is Arthur is, he is not real, he is not a ghost either, though he does make me scream. Arthur is in fact a pseudonym, which is a big and difficult word to spell. Ok, it’s a pen name, or a nom de plume, but not la plume de ma tante if you are doing French at school. Arthur is in fact a disguise, it’s a name for a  BASTARD, go and ask your grannie should you be reading that word at your age. If she says it’s ok then please continue reading. If you no longer have this book then maybe you’ll be allowed to read it next year.

Well grannie it looks as if I’m writing for grannies now and not children. Though if I reveal that Arthur is the name I call my arthritis then I know you will agree with me that Arthur is a BASTARD. If you are laughing grannie maybe your granddaughter can have her book back now? I’ll try and be civil with my tongue, your granddaughter will let you know if I say any more bad words further along in the book. I don’t think I will as my wife would throw Bibles at me, we have 4 in the house, some are even in Chinese. And you have your own special words for your own arthritis, and what I said is holy by comparison.

Ok, so we are back together again children, but at least you know how gran feels and why she smells funny. It’s the liniment and spray she uses for her own Arthur, which can be confusing as her husband is called Arthur. So when she is cursing her Arthur she is not cursing her Arthur, but her Arthur. I hope that is crystal clear for you. One tip though, tell her Movelat is fast working and has a better perfume than Deep Heat.

Talking of perfume why do old ladies use too much perfume? It’s to cover the aroma of Deep Heat, this is obvious, even a child as young as you will know that. I’m being to sound like Lemony Snicket, if you have read his books you will know what I mean, if you haven’t read him yet then you are in for a treat.

Sorry for the pause, oh you did not notice, well I went to the kitchen for a cup of tea, I have to keep my mouth lubricated as I talk to you. But I’m reading, stupid, you calling me stupid and I’m sat here in a cold house with just my Arthur for company. I’m going to ignore you and finish my tea, I may not bother talking to you again with that kind of attitude.

See I’ve started a new paragraph, left you abandoned on a raft of a paragraph, so you can’t me stupid any more. I’ve even put my tongue out at you, oh no, I’ve just spilt hot tea down myself now. You don’t think of all the trouble the writer goes to, do you. There you are just a selfish reader, I should make you give the book back to your gran.

Ok, another new paragraph now, I’ve calmed down and changed my clothes, but there is a damp patch on the carpet in front of the computer. What I was trying to say was that a good book should be a conversation, a talk, a chat. You are not reading you are listening, that’s my style. If you have to get a dictionary out after every other sentence then it’s not fun. Though it does expand your vocabulary.

Fact is stranger than fiction (c)

Fact is stranger than fiction ©

By Michael Casey

Well I wrote Vote for Me and posted it and then what happened next. A Labour Politician said exactly what I’d written the very next day in an interview. I once said to my  big daughter I write something then it really happens. So she said WRITE YOU WIN A MILLION AND THEN YOU BUY ME A PONY.  So lets see if that really happens next. I win a million and buy her a pony. More likely I have a heart attack and die. Or should I delete that. Mind you Tempting Fate is another story. Speaking of which my small daughter wants me to write a children’s book. David Walliams will be worried. Should take 3 months work, and be about 100 pages. which is 200 pages in children’s books as the font is so large. Or 30,000 words for those sad people who count words. Oh did I upset editors just then.  I’ll let you all know how its going.

p.s.My nephew was around today, he thinks I can write, he was suggesting I should teach, what is the next question

Vote for Me in May 2015

Vote for Me in May 2015 ©

By Michael Casey

I am of course from the landed gentry, my family goes back 500 years, that’s in County Kerry Ireland of course. So I am from the bogs, somebody switched the lights out so I was stuck in there for hours. I am the son of a blacksmith, which proves my working class credentials, so you will of course vote for me.

No don’t vote for him vote for me instead, I live on jam and bread I’m so poor, but I love being poor it’s where my heart is. I love living amongst the rainbow coloured people, I don’t drink lots of tea nor smoke a pipe, I haven’t even got a wife. Just vote for me, I am a man of the people, people love me and my sandals and the faint smell of weed, I didn’t inhale, maybe I just splashed myself not weed myself.

I am a self-made man, nobody gave me anything, I did it all myself, and not because I don’t have any friends, so vote for me. I can lead and I can make money, that’s why I have 8 houses and 5 jaguars. Which is twice as many cars than that man who always had eggs thrown at him. Though not as many houses as that former politician, you know the one that smiles a lot. I’d be smiling if I was ½ as rich as him. Just vote for me, I was at grammar school.

No don’t vote for any of those, just vote for me, I have no policies nor vision, I do like a good pint, which proves that I’m the real man of the people. I just hate a few things, my candidates hate a few things too, but when we find out just what I expel them.

So this is my vision, vote for me. Yes I’ve never had a real job, I did go to Cambridge and do PPE, then I was a political assistant at central office before being sent up north to be an MP for a working class constituency. They’ll believe any BS up north and just keep on voting how they have always voted. I do hate my constituency and  their  little funny accents and cloth caps, not to mention their “culture” but it’s the cross I have to carry. They don’t have decent wine in the pubs and clubs up there, but thankfully I’m so busy with constituency work in London I hardly ever have to visit.

No, that guy is just a fool and a fake. I live in my constituency and enjoy country sports, I’m goosing ½ the constituency ladies, and they and their daughters are ever so grateful. I’m a real county man, and I wear real wellies, apart from when I’m in bed with the Major’s wife, or is it daughter?

See they are so shallow, they’ll never save the planet, if everybody wore hemp sandals the world would be a much better place. We have a Trade Fair sandals and coffee shop, saving the planet is so trendy. I met a couple of really great students, said they were with Greenpeace, then I awoke in their bed the camcorder was switched on. I then had a call from The News Of The World asking did I have any statement to give. I told them to publish and be damned.  

Nothing was published, nobody would believe somebody in my political party would have it in him. The other lot yes, but my party no. We lack credibility, if only I had lied it could have swung the election for me. A swinger would attract attention and votes, but I missed my chance. I’m no Russell Brand believing in nothing and getting lots of press.

Just vote for me, I’m the bloke down the pub, why walk the streets like a prostitute, I mean politician, or did I really mean prostitute? Just vote for me, you know it makes sense, we hate the same things don’t we, so just let’s stick together. Whose round is it next? And can I have some crisps too?

So with politicians like these perhaps Russell Brand will get elected. You get what you deserve they say, so be careful who you vote for.

I would just love to go to Burger King and have a really good conversation with Jeremy Paxman and Norman from the BBC as well as a few other cynics. John Sopal is now in USA  so I really miss his contemptuous style, he would call it probing, I call it treating the politicians just how they should be treated.

Love thy Neighbour as Thyself it says in the Bible. Politicians should never be treated that way. I’ll leave it there for this year, if Lord Archer has room for me at his table in Burger King then I’d love to chat with him too, though I’d love one of his posh dinners in strange places. Though WE could have a posh dinner at Burger King Birmingham, just bring caterers in, I’d vote for that.