Dear Santa

Dear Santa ©

By Michael Casey

Well it’s that time of year again, so here’s my list Santa. I have been a good boy, I ate vegetables, I even gave up meat. Trying to stay alive a bit longer after what turned out to be a quadruple heart bypass. I suppose the operation, was your Christmas present to me last year. So can I have something nicer this year. What do you mean, isn’t the gift of life enough?

I suppose you are right Santa, at least I’m not like the Sherlock actor demanding a light sabre, and he’s so nasty about you. How about giving him a copy of Winter Song by Lindesfarne. It’s the Spirit that matters not the big list, a bar of cheap chocolate from  Poundland is the best thing of all if it comes with love.

My mum used to say if they got a hard-boiled egg or an Orange at Easter or Christmas they considered themselves lucky. If you look at the picture of her home, my mum was born in a Manger too, and lived there for 12 years. The glue that holds the family together is the laughter, I know some families only allow Poundland presents to be exchanged.

Ok Santa, can I ask for something simple, you don’t even have to give me anything. Peace and Goodwill to all men? Not exactly Santa. Just some words, that’s all I want. I’m so proud of you, you really share my values as Santa. So what exactly would you like me to say, or do you want me to sing Silent Night in German to you?

No Santa, all I want is 6 numbers for the Lottery, 2, 4, 7, 9,18, 59 for example. Santa looked sad and even began to cry, his tears freezing into his long white beard. Santa I’m sorry, it’s just that we need a bigger house now that the children are growing up, and I’d like to be able to walk around my bed. And I don’t want to share a bathroom with 3 girls, and a female cat who always watches me use the toilet. Revenge for her having a cat litter tray.

Santa refuses to budge, he starts gathering up the reindeer who’ve been grazing on my living room carpet. Dancer who used to have a slots gambling addiction, whispers to me as the take up their position on the sleigh, why not use those numbers you gave as an example to Santa,       2 4 7 9 18 59 . But Santa never spoke those numbers so they’ll never win. Dancer had an idea, Santa are 2 4 7 9 18 59 the first houses on the list?

2 4 7 9 18 59 mused Santa as he looked at the scroll, No you got that all wrong, its 59 18 9 7 4 2 which are first on the list. Dancer winked at me as they pranced into the Christmas sky. So I’ll be trying them on the lottery, if I can find some coins down the back of the settee. Though George Osborne  found £7,000,000,000 down the back of his settee in the Treasury to pay for the Tax Credits. I wonder did he get his sofa from Argos like we did.

Santa is real and I should know cos, he aint that heavy cos he’s my brother. He washes his beard in Persil, and to get the suit to fit so perfectly he wears it in the washing machine as his beard and himself too is washed on setting 28 of the local Chinese laundry. Santa can hold his breath for an awfully long time, he has to as he is so high in the sky there is no atmosphere at times.

Anyway Santa is so dizzy when he comes out of the washing machine, he has to have 3 litres of Dr Pepper to counteract the dizziness. If you look up into the night Christmas sky and hear the sonic boom as Santa goes about his work, it is in fact Santa burping after all the Dr Pepper, and why is Santa so quick? Because he’s using the bathrooms, he did drink 3 litres of Dr Pepper after all.

So Sherlock a very Merry Christmas to you, and if you promise to be good my brother Santa may, just may let you have his very own copy of Lindesfarne’s Winter Song, its Santa’s favourite he plays it in the hifi on the sleigh as he travels the world, in between burping. Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men, and thanks to City Hospital and the QE, may God Bless you One and All. 

The First Christmas Card

The First Christmas Card ©

By Michael Casey

I was having a pain few days so when I got my first Christmas card of the Season it cheered me. It was from Martina my cousin’s wife in County Kerry, the memories flooded back as I opened the card. I’d spent 3 Christmases in Kerry in the 1970s, it was so much fun and plenty of feasting, I remember putting on a stone, 14 pounds as the Americans call it, or 6+ kilos if you are metric, in just 2 weeks. I was a teenager then, and not a single white hair on my head.

 The Christmas card evoked memories of times past, of doing The Dying Fly Dance on the floor of a cousin’s house, it was a big thing from Tiswas, my big hearted Auntie Delia jumped down on the floor to accompany me, Delia was 17.5 stones and only 5feet something tall. She was and is the best Auntie ever, 30 years on she is still remembered with love and laughter by all of us.

She once even prevented a jail break from Killarney Police station.She had a cleaning job there and one of the tourists who was backpacking decided to make a break for it in the morning after been arrested for having drugs. There was only one Policeman on the very early turn, so the backpacker made a break for it. So Aunty Delia helped the Police by rabbit punching the backpacker, 17.5 stones of punch, so saving the day.

Christmas cards from Kerry have very pretty stamps on, religious ones, angels and so forth, you can feel Xmas when you see the cards sticking out your letter box. They have a tradition of leaving a lighted candle in the window too, so as you drive in the dark all over the Dingle Peninsula you can look over the bay and see all the candles in the window, guiding you with Hope and Love.

Some say Christmas cards are a waste of time, a waste of paper. We used to have washing lines full of Xmas cards hanging in the living room, plus every shelf had cards on top of them. The card total would reach 150 to 200 cards when both my sisters still lived at home. All manner of cards and all manner of designs. The Holy ones came from Ireland and Irish relatives in USA, while the modern silly ones came from England and younger friends. I’m sure you can judge a person’s character by the design of the card they send. All are welcome.

You can send free ecards nowadays, which can have dancing elves where you put your own face on the elf. See how technology has changed the face of Christmas. Whatever kind of card you send, just send them with love and a few lines of news for your relatives, for a card is all about love, and love is what we all need in today’s bad world.

 this is where my mum was born and lived till 12 years old with 8 other siblings, so we have advanced in one generation.

Speaking is a very powerful verb

Speaking is a very powerful Verb ©

By Michael Casey

Prime Minister you are not properly dressed, the PM follows the eyes of his bodyguard, his flies are undone. The P.M. attends to his wardrobe malfunction, saying “I was speaking to wife” which is the only benefit of living over the shop.

I shall speak to them about it, says a very senior lawyer, this is the equivalent of arranging for the party of the first part to have a very nasty accident, falling down the stairs of the 3^rd party fire and theft, if you know what I mean. Speaking has so much power, that’s if you can get people to talk to each other in the first place.

I was speaking to your mum is a very nice phrase, but I’ll speak to your mum makes you quiver with fear, especially if you’ve been doing anything naughty, and naughty can cover a whole multitude of sins. Please God don’t let her speak to mum, she’ll skin me alive, or she’ll beat the living daylights out of me.

The two parties agreed to speak to each other, this is always a good sign when there are disputes, neighbours fighting over overgrown trees, or nuclear powered neighbours fighting over which end of an egg should be the one that is opened, the fat or the thin. Wasn’t that in Jonathan Swifts book, I’ll have to speak to my English teacher to find out.

There is speaking and there is speaking, a couple may fall out and not speak to each other. It may be over the size of the phone bill, or how much toilet paper is being used, or even who wet the toilet seat. So they don’t speak to each other till finally they give in, and have sex on the living room floor, strictly come dancing on the tv in the background. How the judges would mark them for performance and technical ability, perfect 10s and what exactly would Bruno say, I cannot say, I won’t speak about it. Ask me in 9 months time and then maybe I’ll speak about it.

We’ll speak about it later, but later never comes, so anger and frustration mounts, all because we did not speak. Just a few words here and a few words there could have changed all our lives. I did not know how you really felt, why didn’t you speak to me, are words lovers exchange just as one of them is dying in a film.

I’m tongue tied when I see him, I wanna tell him but I cannot, if only I could bring myself to speak to him. If she had spoken, if he had spoken, they would have been married 20 years ago. Now both are still single, regretting what could have been if only they had spoken. Or both are thanking God they did not speak, he is old and very fat, as well as bald. She is a smoker with a hacking cough. The only thing that should have been against her lips should have been his kiss. A word and a kiss, if only they had spoken.

Sometimes we speak too much, less is more so they say. Though teenagers grunt and don’t answer in sentences as if their batteries are running low. So speaking is a nuclear weapon which should be used with caution. If you get on like a house on fire then you will talk the hind legs off a donkey, or talk till the cows come home. Explain those phrases to your Esol students. Or as Churchill said Jaw Jaw is better than War War.

Dr Who Times Two

Dr Who Times Two ©
By Michael Casey

Dr Who Times Two, why have I called today’s piece this? Well sometimes it takes me two viewings to understand every nuance of the show, especially if you live with 3 girls and a female cat. I’d love to have it on even louder, I’d get a sound bar too, just so I could hear over the screaming of my wife to Shanghai or Korea on her phone. However I’m not allowed, though if somebody has one for Christmas that they don’t want then I’d give it a good home.
This season as the Americans call it has Capaldi as the Dr, it was his childhood ambition, now he is the Dr. He is not as funny as the Silly Dr as my children call Matt Smith. He’s not as heroic as David Tennant, who we never knew was Scottish until after he finished Dr Who. His real accent came to the fore only then.

Capaldi as Dr Who is a different Dr Who. Capaldi is the same age as me, though ½ the size and not as good looking, we do have one thing in common, our shades. Last night’s episode where he was trapped in a Rubic cube like moving castle was on 2nd viewing one of the best and in my opinion may win awards. Why do I say this?

The themes of perseverance beyond hope, beyond reason, with Clara being his prayer, his Hail Mary was very touching, being augmented by the use of music. This is where a sound bar would come in handy, although everybody was out this afternoon so I had the tv on loud, loud enough for Dr Who and that great Welsh orchestra.

I cannot wait for the final series ending episode, has Galifrey been saved? Well after Strictly Come Dancing next week we shall find out together. Capaldi’s Dr is a heavier Dr, he’s less plastic than other ones, earthier. Here in England the time slot has been pushed back due to the Rugby World Cup and then Strictly Come Dancing, so the tea time tradition has been eroded. Again as the guest writers write some episodes the standard does dip, so some episodes are a 6 and others an 8 or 9. Last night’s in the Rubic cube castle was a 9.

I read Dr Who review’s in the Daily Telegraph and they generally give 4stars, though for some episodes I’d say they were generous. The format this series has also had several 2 parters, which can irritate some viewers, a throw-back to the Saturday morning pictures of 50 years ago at the Grove Cinema.

I also read that Whoians or whatever they call themselves are too precious, and think they own Dr Who, too many inside jokes and references in Dr which only they understand, a code which the rest of us are unworthy of knowing.
As if the Dr were in private practice, when really he is a NHS crash Dr.

Shopping Habits

Shopping Habits ©

By Michael Casey

I am a shopper, we are all shoppers, otherwise we’d all die, not unless you have pizza and Chinese delivered, but then you’d grow so fat that you couldn’t leave the house, except with the help of a fork lift truck. So we all go shopping, to feed ourselves and to clothe ourselves.

This is then described as the “shopping experience” by marketing men in magazines such as the Grocer, the fact that those men never go shopping and have everything delivered by Ocado and have never seen a man in a pinny in their lives is by the by. Marketing is king, though it’s the queens in our lives who do most shopping, by which I mean our mums and our wives, though queens do go shopping too, I’m sure I’ve seen Lizzy down Aldi once, their bargains are so tempting after all.

I could say at this point that I worked for ACNielsen for two decades, which is BS speak that you put on a CV. I was in the computer room, shovelling data and printout, so I knew nothing about market research as it is called. Though you do pick up a bit to a lot just by talking to those who really do know what they are doing, KJ, MF and TS to name but 3.

TS was a really nice man and I regret I didn’t gossip more to him over the years. This time in 1987 I mentioned an idea to KJ about The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, and see now all these years on, nearly 30 years on I’m still boring you the readers about it.

Where was I, oh yeah, with my hand in the bargain basket, a bit like James Herriot with his arm up a cow’s bum. You have to ferret around to find the odd bargain or two. A week after this week’s special bargain you get the real bargain, the item has been reduced in price, they have to clear their stocks after all.

In my local Aldi the pretty little Indian boss goes around with a taser, well it looks like a taser, so I never give her any lip, just in case. It is in fact a hand held computer for counting stock, though it might be a taser, so I’ve never been brave enough to ask. So they clear out the bargains which have not been sold. I got half price socks that way, and they are really really warm, I’m wearing them now as I talk to you. Though I have missed out on other bargains because the rest of Birmingham did not wait.

Shoppers are classed into groups, what kind of people are they. Do they shop regularly, do they do a huge weekly shop, are they bargain hunters. Yes I am a bargain hunter, and I shop daily and sometime twice daily. I have to get my exercise in after my operation, and I cannot carry as much as I once did. Bypass and Arthritis does that to you, but at least it gives me the chance to try a new joke out on the staff.

You can try new things when you see a bargain in the shops, and if it’s horrible Totoro the cat will always eat it, or the children depending how slow the girls are when I offer them my slops. Shops like the Coop have really nice stuff, overpriced, but very nice. As they sell the lotto in their shop I occasionally drop by, then I tour the aisles, like a store detective, ok they think I’m a shoplifter, till I turn around and they know it’s me, the fat old white haired guy, the George Clooney look alike. I am his body double after all, ask his wife if you don’t believe me. Anyway they do occasionally have ½ price items, like the fish I have in my fridge, which I’ll be eating soon.

Specialist shops have died out, the butcher the baker and the undertaker used to be on every high street, ok not so many undertakers, but the other two. Now big stores have consumed the small sole trader shop. From a shopping point of view it is cheaper, but from a neighbourhood point of view it’s not as nice. Spirit has disappeared from the high street. I don’t think you can ever turn back the clock, maybe only in fiction will you rediscover it, read the butcher the baker and the undertaker perhaps.

Having said that Spirit can be injected if we decide to break convention and ignore the security cameras. In one store “darling” has made a comeback, I even get called darling by female staff, which does my ego a power of good. If you make the atmosphere like an outdoor market but indoors in the shop then the staff are happier, and the shoppers are happier too. The vibe, the buzz is better, so this step backwards is in fact a step forward, and we all dance and the tills ring. Strictly ballroom if you like, or you could read my play Shoplife.

Christmas is but a month away, so I assume mums and dads are buying stuff ready for Christmas, if you really really like the much too rich food then the bargains begin immediately afterwards. Christmas cards will be so cheap after Christmas, as will a bird stuffed into a turkey stuffed into a sheep stuffed into a cow, a special multi roast, just for Christmas. There was an old Val Doonican song along those lines, swallowed instead of stuffed, I’m sure it’s on Google somewhere.

After Christmas all the obscure triple strength beer and wine concoctions will be ½ price, you may be able to use some of them to creosote your fence with, it would be safer that way. But the true Christmas spirit is the friends you have in your local store, in your pub and in your club, and not forgetting the good friends in your street and others you may meet. So don’t forget to send them all a Christmas card with a p.s. telling them when the Aldi post Christmas sale starts.