Looking at My Profile

Looking at My Profile ©

By Michael Casey

If you find my Elevator Ad on the Internet, https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/  is a good place to look or even at https://michaelgcasey.wordpress.com then you’ll be able to read a bit about me. And yes the bit about the Chinese Ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet vetting me is true.

Ballet dancers seem to have played a role in my life. From being introduced to the Ballet by a friend at work, she knows who she is so I won’t embarrass her. I even met a Russian ballerina in a bar in Barcelona, I tried chatting her up, it was only the next day that she  danced across the stage towards me and the audience, she and her beautiful hair and broken nose, though the previous night she said she was a student in a perfect American accent.

Speaking of accents http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com is where you can hear my posh Birmingham accent. I have 50 audio there, I would like to use some of my 775 stories to teach English via laughter. A story then a facing page translation plus my audio. That’s the plan, so George and Dave now that you have a bit of time on your hands why not be my backers? You can share 30% of the profits and I keep 70%.

Now I always attach a stupid picture of myself to a story, as there is nothing more pretentious than the head on chin pose. That pose should only be in a kebab shop, the sheep’s head or a  pig’s head perfectly posed. Though the Thinker pose is acceptable, as it encourages people to play Twister.

We have a photo somewhere of my brother at Queens doing that pose. Queens as in Oxford, not the straight pub in the gay quarter in Birmingham where I was vetted by the Ballerina, just so you know. We also have a photo of my other brother trying to row on the Cam, he never made it for the boat race, though he was at Downing, never made it to that street either.

So what of me? What you see is what you get, I am the Birmingham Boris Johnson after all. Wait till Christmas, and you’ll hear Boris say “who do you think I am the Michael Casey of Westminster?”

I have been a computer operator, life insurance underwriter non-medical, march assessor, trainee betting shop manager, print room worker for Pinsent Masons, I thought I’d name drop like Andrew does on Sky Press Preview. Concierge and 10 other role simultaneously at CPNEC Birmingham, this was the job of my life, but very very tiring. And I was even an English teacher, English as a 2^nd language at an Islamic school.

In parallel to this I started writing 30 years ago. Before I took up a pen I listened to BBC Radio 4 for 20 years, constantly. So that’s why I try and write for ears, and if you add 20 and 30 together that makes 50, so  you know I’m over 50, though I always say I’m 28 when girls swoon. Ok when 89 year old women ask me to reach for something for them in Aldi.

By the way I got two excellents and an exemplary for my Teaching on my external assessment, so there you go, that’s why now years later I’m thinking my stuff could be marketed in groups of 40 stories to help teach English as a foreign language. By the way the wife is a Shanghai girl and we have 2 bilingual daughters. Even Totoro the cat is bilingual.

What else should I put on my profile? Yes I inherited my mother’s Arthritis, or Arthur as I call it. I was lucky I only got it 3  years ago. Thank God though I was able to buy Deep Heat in Malta, saved the holiday. When I’m rich I’ll go back, but I’d try the Hilton, though if you are reading this Paris, I accept freebies.

2015 was turning point in my life. I had an unplanned bypass. My girls were begging for a pet so I literally said “If I die you can have a dog, and if I have a heart attack you can have  a cat.” So they both went immediately online looking at pets. This would have been pre-Christmas 2014, just a couple of weeks. 

3^rd Jan 2015, with the Christmas decorations up I was in City Hospital Birmingham , or Dudley Road as it used to be called. I was in the bed closest to the office, which was right by where my dad was when he escaped death 20 years ago. He was given a week to live, but in the end he lasted 5.5 more years.

So the heart crew told me they were keeping me in and I’d need a bypass. From having no problems at all, then a tickle to a full bypass operation. I was reading Don Camillo, the Italian professor was impressed by that. I told them not to tell me anything but just to go ahead. So there you go, you could have all been saved from reading my stuff. It turned out to be 4 grafts, a quadruple bypass, not a triple as anticipated.

Now its 18 months later and I still get pain as well as Arthur joining in, then just for fun the occasional stab in the chest, which is not heart pain, I suppose we could call it a Michael Gove pain. So I have Arthur and Michael playing with my body. Yes other pains are available and lots of people are stoic about their pain.

If ever I did make my fortune like Dick Whittington then I really would set up the Birmingham Pain Centre. I can see the irony in the title, I would prefer the Don Camillo Centre but copyright would prevent it, and people would think it was a pizza place.

What else show I put in my profile? I’m 5’ 10” or 178cm with 46 inch chest and I’m 17.5 stones which is about 110 kilo. I did lose 10kilos after my op which is about 21lbs but after a year of monastic diet I got bored with that. So these past 6 months I put the weight back, but I’ll try and lose some again. I look 20  lighter kilos than I really am, but if I stand on your foot you’ll know about it. 

And yes the bit everybody is jealous of, my hair really is silver, though ckd may be the cause, and no ckd is not a perfume by Calvin Klein, though I do like that one, so Paris put some in my room at the Malta Hilton.

That’ your lot, don’t bother clicking on Telegraph Profile this is the most accurate one 19/July/2016

p.s. enjoy the photos

What do you mean?

What do you mean? ©

By Michael Casey

So how did it go? She came straight towards you and bent down and kissed you. Which cheek, the left or the right? The left, you were lucky, the right cheek is the Judas cheek, means she’s going to stab you in the back, or call Security and have you escorted out the building, with just a Banker’s Box in your hands with all your odds and ends inside.

So how did it go, what else happened, did she kiss you again? She straightened your tie. No it’s not a sexual thing, she just likes everything to be exact, to be perfect. Then she brushed the dandruff off your shoulders. She really really does like you.

What questions did she ask? Do you think you could do my job? That’s a heart attack of a question. So what did you say? You said what? That of course you could do her job, because you have worked under her for 5 years. So if you couldn’t stand in for her then you’d be a moron, and she would have missed a trick, but as she never misses anything, especially the dandruff on your shoulders.

She laughed, and then came towards you and straightened your tie again, then she reached into her desk drawer and brought out a clothes brush. Then slowly ever so slowly she brushed your suit. It wasn’t the brush off was it? No, she actually likes you, said you show potential. How did she say Potential, was it snappily, or did she ooze out the words. It’s so hard to know what she actually means, she has a   PhD in English and Law, a word never means what it says with her.

Then she made you coffee, she actually made you coffee, I would have fainted if she made coffee for me. And she gave you brown sugar in it, God she’s never done that for me and I’ve been here 20 years. I’m sure brown sugar is a metaphor for something, not unless she a closet Rolling Stones fan. Then she discussed, actually discussed the future of the department with you.

My head is spinning what does this all mean, she’s been so open with you, I’ve been here 20 years and I’ve never had a coffee with her, let alone coffee with brown sugar, what can it all mean, I just can’t process so much information. I’ll have to sit down and have a think about it all.

Then she actually talked about holidays, about her and her husband. I need a cigarette what can this all mean? You will tell me what it all means, we were at school together, Eton and all that. So can I come to your office and you’ll explain face to face.

Sorry I’m panting, I ran all along the corridors, I’ve got ringing in my ears now. Oh it’s only the division bells. So what does it all mean? Do I want to sit down, I think I will all this running has worn me out. She told you that you were being promoted, and the mark of a manager is that he must be strong and supple at the same. And be able to sack somebody without it hurting your feelings. So why are you telling me this? Michael Casey you are fired, there is no place for you in her team, because, no reason required. 

It must be True I heard it on the Radio

It must be True I heard it on the Radio©

By Michael Casey

And now on Radio4 , It must be True I heard it on the Radio, advertising yes you heard me advertising on the BBC, a documentary.

Can you raise the volume I’d like to hear that said a glum looking customer.  Yes please can you raise the volume, it might cheer him up.

Legal, Decent, Honest, Truthful is what they say ads must be, or they can be taken down. Here are some examples:-

Peter’s Pizza will give you spots to die for, eat our pizza and you’ll never go back to your old pizza parlour, and ours will warm you on a cold winter’s night, because you’ll be farting fire all night long. So remember not to have a fag till the morning.

This advert would be pulled because smoking is such a bad thing and is not advertised any more. Not forgetting that Americans don’t know that fag is the English word for cigarette. Two peoples divided by a common language.

Don’t leave it till you die, pay for your funeral ahead of time, because your relatives hate you and would leave you in the fridge for six months, where you’d catch pneumonia  if you weren’t already dead. Then after six months a pauper’s funeral. So book early to disappoint them, prepay your funeral and tell them they’ll inherit everything. In fact only the undertaker gets a penny, they get a cheap prawn sandwich and a sherry.

This advert would be pulled, because it could upset people by using the word die, pass on or move to the afterlife are acceptable. This person is no more, is deceased and other Monty Python Dead Parrot like words are not allowed.

Lush pushup bra, will drive your husband wild, he’ll give you the pin number to his credit card, and he’ll be a better husband, he’ll drool like a dog.

Now obviously that advert would be pulled, because though it is totally truthful, the RSPCA would complain about the use of dogs in advertising, this is England after all.

Get rid of your glasses, see like a hawk, see long distances once more, look up and see the sun, 93million miles away, look to the stars at night, and know it’s not headlights in the distance. Lie back and think of England while Des’s Eye Restorer gives you the sight you deserve. Be a sight for sore eyes again, throw away those horn rimmed glasses and be the woman you want to be once more.

This advert would be pulled because it encourages littering, throw away cannot be used in adverts. Des is just such a naff name it should be banned. Lie back and think of England is a banned sentence too, as Britain has to be used as it’s much more inclusive.

Come to Birmingham and

I’ve been prevented from saying more, though Come to Birmingham and  followed by sound effects could be a trendy advert, let the sound of fun do the talking. Hang on I’m going to copyright that idea.

Fred Pots plants for all your flower needs, though Fred’s Pot would mean something else entirely, I did wonder why there were 7 police vans outside  his florists, I thought they were buying flowers from their favourite Police and Crime Commissioner.

Radio IS more fun I hope we’d given you some food for thought, which reminds me I have to buy some plant food for my aspidistra, is Fred’s Pot still open.
 Buy, I mean bye from BBC Radio 4.

Well George has that cheered you up, or made you laugh at any rate? You just have too much time on your hands now. You could audition for a band, The Cross Parties are looking for a drummer. You have to do a bit of wallpapering at your new gaff, I thought we both did enough gaffes.

Well I have to be going, the misses wants me to do some modelling for her new catalogue, do you like this mac? I have to pose in 200 items in 3 hours. I never knew posing was such hard work. Bye George.

Same time next week for a coffee? Sure, but bring some money, you always say you left your wallet under the wife’s side of the mattress. Bye Dave.   





p.s.I just thought of it George and Dave could be the new Derek and Clive, 
     I thought of it 1st.

Craft Works

Craft Works ©

By Michael Casey

Well the school year is almost over, so the school reports have arrived, the girls’ school posts them out, so there is no fear of them being “lost” not that the girls would need to lose them. As its also end of school year any craft objects come home to decorate our house.

My small daughter has produced a wind chime so I have to find a place to hang it, as it’s quite heavy it cannot be attached to the light pull in my room or in the bathroom. So it’s relegated to the metal post that holds up one end of our washing line. The pigeons will be the art and craft critics, awarding one, two or several white marks to the device. Though the local cats might attack the pigeons first, before any artistic grading or scoring can be given.

They use laser guided design tools or some such thing at school. When I was at school 40 years ago we had a ruler and a pencil, and maybe a fretsaw. So what the girls use is very high tech. One of my brothers was a bit of a carpenter at school, perhaps he should have been christened Joseph.

As for me I was total rubbish. You make a 12 inch pencil case in 1^st year, they call it Year 7 now, just to confuse parents like me. My pencil case ended up as an 8 inch one, why? Because I got the ½ joints wrong and had to trim my wood, twice in fact. So my pencil case shrunk. Mr Ely was both the woodwork teacher and PE teacher, he was very tall. I remember that fact for once on the rugby field I was able to throw him out my way, I was as strong as a man when I was 12.

My woodwork skills were just rubbish, but I tried my best, and made a football rattle out of wood. It’s upstairs in the rubbish room underneath all the junk. Nowadays it would be classed as an offensive weapon and the Police would never allow it into a football stadium.

We also did metalwork at school, and having a Blacksmith father did not help, I was rubbish at that too. We made ornaments of plastic with 3 pieces of twisted metal planted inside like trees. Only mine got warped and arthritic, I was not proud of my efforts at craft. I remember I took it home and installed it on top of the air raid shelter, it stayed there until it rusted, then we just binned it.

So the final craft subject was Art, I think the teacher was called Mr Boulton, same name as the kid in front of me in class. No we didn’t tease him about being the son of the Art teacher. And yes I cannot draw or paint or anything. We were going to carve a piece from chalk, so I drew an outline of Coffee our dog on a square of chalk we had created from powder and the we were supposed to carve it. Needless to say, if I was making instant coffee I would have had more success and at least I’d enjoy the drink.

All I can remember is taking a lump of chalk home, which we gave to my  little sister to draw with on our back yard. Mr Boulton also had a few mens magazines for the A level students to look at, we stumbled over them and were told to leave them alone, despite this I never wanted to do A level Art. I did one year and that was it.

So with this lack of ability what of the next generation? Both my daughters are great artists, drawing like professionals. My brother could draw too, he used to do cartoons by drawing on the edges of books, so you flick the book and the cartoons come to life. My wife can do calligraphy, in Chinese characters, so the Shanghai side has saved them. That and the fact that we were strict parents, no video games nor such toys when they were small, all we gave them was crayons, hundreds and hundreds of crayons and pencils. Ten years of that makes for good draughtsmanship.

So now I have to shave and so forth, SSS as it’s called if you can work out that crossword clue. Then I’m off to Aldi for my daily shop and my daily walk, if my priest is right I’m now halfway through my recovery period, post quadruple bypass, it was supposed to be a triple but six months later I discovered I had four grafts. Ah well, at least I’m still here amusing you all, and that I suppose is my only craft, I am a writer, I cannot do anything else, though I hope I’m a good dad.

As I look out my window

As I look out my window ©

By Michael Casey

As I look out my window I try and decide what to write about today, I can write about what I’ve seen on the news, or what I see out the window, or just from the window in my mind. I may write parody, like I did the past 2 days, or I may write from life, from our Shanghai/ Birmingham family, not forgetting Totoro our cat. I don’t know what I’ll write each day, it may be minutes or even moments before I know what I’ll put on the page. I just hope it’s interesting and amuses. I have been writing a long time now so I hope the quality stays high.

Now a few minutes ago 2 Polish men walked up the road carrying a bed, or the top of the pine bed frame at least. Are they moving house at this time of night? It’s nearly 9pm now. Or is one man giving away the bed to another man? Now because I’ve just seen that I could write 2 pages about beds, there is so much in the soup that I can just about write about anything at the drop of the hat. 

The soup by the way is my life experience, so I just ladle out a story just like a school dinner lady, though obviously I am much more attractive if I were in drag, David Walliams is a dear dear friend. So as I write the story I add the meat and two potatoes, and a dollop of gravy splashing over the plate and onto the tray and even onto your school uniform. I may or may not add pudding, it’s not up to me, it’s up to the story, if the story is very funny it’s because the story is funny, or does that sound too pretentious.

I’m listening to Celine Dion right now as I talk to you, she’s good. But she’s also sad, because the night my mother died her song was on the radio, You Lifted Me Up etc, so that song has a family connection to us, forever. So you can see how words and events have such power, they can control us and we not them. I enjoy not knowing what will happen with my story, will it turn right or left, will it go around in circles. I just hope it’s always interesting.

Now Totoro our cat jumps up the back of my chair, she’s a literary critic, she wants a cuddle before I’m allowed to carry on. The trouble with giving your cat or wife a cuddle is that you forget your place with the story. You can run out of steam in mid-sentence, so you have to end the story abruptly. Having music on can have the same effect, Celine Dion is singing I remember L.A. I haven’t heard it in ages, so I want to stop and listen so the story suffers. However as I’m explaining the mechanics of story writing its ok, now I’m  being nagged to go out to collect a Chinese takeaway, and the kids have come back from choir practice. They are telling me about a cute cat they spotted on their slow Summer evening walk back from choir.

Ok, I’ve just been up the road to New Peking, takeaways haven’t changed to Beijing yet, I’m still the take away fetcher. I get none either, my pigs say it’s for the good of my health, 18 months since my quadruple heart bypass and they’ll use any excuse not to share any nice food with me.

My big daughter is happy tonight, her braces are off after over a year, so now she has a plastic retainer over her now perfect teeth. I told her she looked like a rugby player with a gum shield, or a boxer. So she smiled back at me, and now she can smile. I did tell her we still have 1000s of photos of her with her gap teeth and I’d have posters blown up on the walls on her wedding day. Though some days due to all the pain I get  I wonder will I live that long.

Noises off, Totoro’s two bells ring as she tries to get some noodle left overs, she is of course bilingual, so you cannot fool her. As for me I’m back at the computer trying to explain things to you all. Perhaps I should have called this piece Explaining, that rings a bell and not just Totoro’s bells, is it a Clapton song? And yes I did meet him once but I told you that before.

So on the story goes and it should have a structure, it should not ramble, but so long as the rambling is interesting does it matter? Then the end by tradition does complete the circle. And they all lived happily ever after. In our case, my pigs have finished the noodles and Totoro got to lick the container clean, as for me I got nothing, for the sake of my health.

Now as its nearly 10pm and I may watch the news or we may all watch a film together I have to finish for the night. At this point I read back the story and listen to it in totality for the 1^st time, then I’ll give myself marks out of ten, and sometimes I’m really pleased where the story has led me, I don’t lead the story. On other occasions the meal I’ve prepared is not as tasty for me or for you, I can only use the ingredients in the back of the fridge, in my mind, in my soup. 

But then again there’s always tomorrow.

****** Thank you Mauritius and China for reading my stories, if you are an angel investor in China please email me, or then again you may think I’m a farmer.