So why do you want to be a member of our club?

So why do you want to be a member of our club? ©

By Michael Casey

Come in, take a seat, make yourself at home, we don’t stand on ceremony here, at the Club. Now before we start you take sugar in your tea? Have to ask, the Prime Minister is a diabetic you know so we always ask, just in case she pops in for a cuppa.  I’ve got a few hobnobs on a plate for you as well. Yes go ahead and dunk your biscuit into the tea, we’re not snobs you know, I’ll let you into a secret Theresa is a dunka, her whole crew are dunkas, the amount of biscuits they get through when they pass by all blue lights flashing. Thank God she’s not Obaba, his crew is 200 I believe, the cost of the free hobnobs would be enormous. We don’t charge her for tea and biscuits it’s an honour after all, and we won’t be getting any honours for the honour if you know what I mean.

Now I see you haven’t filled in an application form, can you tell me why Mr Casey, oh you prefer being called Michael, just plain Michael, you don’t expect any honours either, your dad used to ask was there any money attached to the honour. And as there wasn’t they could kiss his arse, or he’d lift his leg and fart, which added to the global warming.

You have not filled in the form because your hand writing is terrible, like drunken spiders on acid, if I forgive the poetic licence. And what is your occupation, you are a writer, a writer with bad handwriting. Perhaps you should have been a doctor, if you forgive my little joke. Your daughter’s going to be a doctor, touche, no really she’s determined to be a doctor. Well that’s nice, Harley Street could always do with new doctors.

What else do you do? You shop in Aldi, you could be the Times Aldi correspondent keeping the readership abreast of all the latest bargains. You do know though that Times readers are Lidl shoppers, apart from when they shop in Waitrose or have Ocado deliver it. What? Aldi is best, between you and me that’s where I shop myself.

And if Theresa and her crew decide to come around often I’ll be stocking up on biscuits from Aldi.  Give the Police and Prime Minister a tea and a hobnob biscuit and you can forget about those parking tickets f o r e v e r, it’s like have CD on your car. No not a CD player  in the car, but a CD plate, no not a dinner service. A CD plate, Corps Diplomatic  on your number plate. Those people never pay for parking tickets.

Now what interests have you, you like reading newspapers. Your fingers must be permanently black, not unless you wear gloves, forgive my little joke. You read them online for free, don’t tell Rupert he’s a member of the club, he’d be livid. What else do you like, you like watching films on tv, on Sky with your daughters. Rupert would be happy to hear that, he’s saving up to buy the BBC, but don’t quote me.

Now about the dress code, we are a gentleman’s club after all. So smart attire at all times it’s not like that club in James Bond, you know the one with Madona in, we have an image to uphold, we don’t want to upset Theresa, not that I’m showing favour to her, it’s just great PR for us, membership applications are up 25% and fees up 10%. I don’t know who the bloke with the big glasses is, but he seems nice and Theresa’s eyes  sparkle when she’s with him, so he must be some junior minister or something.

Now I haven’t mentioned it so far, but what are you wearing a dress? It’s a very nice dress, silver and split very high up the legs, good job you are wearing under-ware underneath that’s all I can say. You got it 2^nd hand from a Brazilian friend she only wore it once last night at a runway show at the Olympics. So you know a few supermodels? The reason being you break in their shoes for them, can you imagine 6inch stilettos without being broken in first. It’s a hard job but somebody has to do it.

No doubt Eddie Izzard is a friend. Not anymore. He got you the shoe breaking in job, when his comedy career took off, and he was too busy to continue. So Eddie Izzard used to break in shoes for models, and that’s the real reason he became a transvestite, not because he likes wearing lipstick and high heels. Exactly. Might I ask what was the reason for the falling out. 

You introduced him to Marathons, I see Mr Izzard ran 26 marathons in 26 days.  He’s become addicted to them, and his addiction counsellor has advised he ties his shoelaces together so he can’t go running off into the distance any more. The real reason though was that you meant Marathons the chocolate bar, or Snickers as it’s called nowadays. You wanted him to eat more chocolate, but he misunderstood you and went off running Marathons.

Well you seem to have answered all my questions, do you have any of your own. What price is a pint of Stella Artois? £3.50 in the bar. You get a can for a quid back home in Old Forge and Singing Anvil. Can you wear your dress all the time? Well it is a very nice dress, but if you dress as a woman you still have to use the men’s toilets. We are strict about that, just as those Americans are. Only joking, so long as you don’t pee on the carpet we are very relaxed, very relaxed indeed.

Smoking of course if forbidden, except in the library, nobody uses the library nowadays, so it’s a smoking room. You can use the ink wells as ashtrays. Any more questions?  The food is Michelin 2 star. No that does not mean the beef is as tough as tyres. It’s wonderful in fact. MacDonald or Burger King level? I’d say Burger King level but even better. The fries? Let’s say they are hand made with love. You can meet Jules the chef if you like. You cannot speak French. That’s ok Jules is a Linguist, multi- lingual. You are blushing why?

Well I hope you have been satisfied. Now as regards the fees. What fees? You think this is free? You read about being an honorary member, so could you have one of those please. Do you have connections? You know Henry the street cleaner from Old Forge and Singing Anvil, and Big Sid the Butcher. I don’t think that is quiet enough. I think you’ve had a wasted journey apart from the tea and hob bobs.

I better show you the way out.

What about Smiling Paul and Percy the Poet Undertaker?

You know Smiling Paul and Percy the Poet Undertaker?

Of course.

That’ll do nicely. Your membership will be in the post, and can I say that dress really does show off your legs nicely, apart from the surgery scars if I might be a little forward.

With that I lifted my dress from the gutter and hailed a taxi. Smiling Paul is the bookie and Percy really is a poet Undertaker in Old Forge and Singing Anvil which is where we live. What I didn’t know is that Smiling Paul and Percy the Poet Undertaker are also the names of two chief whips in the government. The fear of God had given me free membership, either that or they really liked my dress.

I'm glad to be fertilizer

I’m glad to be fertilizer ©

By Michael Casey

At a funeral the mourners are all gathered there, the family, the friends plus a few of the local  alcoholics who came in search of free food. Also squeezed in at the back a few men in suits with what appeared to be bodyguards, in shades with ponytails. What was also noticeable were the flowers, 100s of flowers. There were also what appeared to be models, 10 or more of them. What were such people doing at a funeral for a humble man, a nothing if you like.

The priest rose to read the oration, which is a new thing at Catholic funerals. John Doe was simple man, some may say he was a nothing, he had his faults as we all do, but he had many friends as witnessed by you all being here. When John lost his job he had no hope, no future, just a young family to feed. He came to me and asked did I know anybody who could help him, he had despair in his eyes. I told him all I could do was pray, so I gave him a Padre Pio prayer card and he put it in his pocket.

The next day, the very next day Mr Slim at the back of the church there, his car had a puncture and on impulse he came inside Saint Jude’s. So I welcomed him, and Mr Slim said he was Jewish, so I told him my only joke I knew. Aren’t Catholics Jews who have gone wrong? Mr Slim laughed and I asked did he know of anywhere that could do with a good honest man as a worker, just like Saint Joseph. So that’s how John, John Doe got  his chance, because of the puncture in the tyre of the Rolls Royce.

John spent 30 years working for Mr Slim, he was a cleaner, a spare set of eyes in the foyer of his casino, but he was much more than that He was the welcome mat. He may have been overlooked by some, but if you don’t wipe your shoes you soon have a house full of muck. John also knew how to make people welcome, to make them smile while they were waiting for friends to catch up. How do you describe a smile? It’s something that that makes you warm. Mr Slim knows that and that is why at his hotels and other businesses he tells the staff a smile is the most important part of the business.

John Doe and Mr Slim became friends, you have to treat the humblest of your workers as well as you treat your own mum and dad. Mr Slim had an idea, every new worker had to shadow John, so they spent 2 days cleaning toilets and floors. Then Mr Slim would have a quiet word with John, if you like it was part of the interview process. John a nothing a nobody was in fact a gatekeeper, rather like Saint Peter who John will be meeting presently after his funeral is over.

Mr Slim may be a guest in our church today but he knows the true meaning of the word catholic, it means universal as you all know. So John was perfect for his casino a universal welcome to the entire universe of people of people. But it did not stop there, John’s talents were spotted by Mr Slim, so John was placed in his new hotels, just as a humble cleaner, with eyes like a hawk. 

Whoever met John were always happy to meet him and his collection of photographs of his 7 children, it was a warm welcome, a home from home. Real friendships emerged, as witnessed by the collection of models crying over the  his coffin. Was John a beau, no he was not, despite his 7 children? He had a heart of gold and this is what attracted the models to him. That and the fact that he access to a chocolate machine 24/7 this was John Doe’s real power, the power of chocolate.

Now on occasion a disgruntled employee would belittle John and state that he was just a glorified cleaner, a nothing, a nobody, a piece of manure.  Let us just say that employee was offered a choice, 6 months cleaning rooms, or the door. He chose cleaning rooms, and afterwards there were no recriminations, he’s here at the back of the church, I won’t name him, but he’s wearing the 2^nd best suit in the church, after Mr Slim’s. In fact he climbed the ladder after doing his penance and is very high up Mr Slim’s organisation, I nearly said bum, but he’s no brown nose. It’s good to laugh at a funeral. My point is though that because of John he is now ½ the man that John was.

John loved talking to everybody, it was fun and a break from all the cleaning, he would introduce people to each other, and three of the models met their husbands because of him. He introduced them to nice men, not just rich boys, but nice boys. And it’s their Rolls Royces that are parked behind Mr Slims. I think I’ll close the church and become a used car salesman, a used Rolls Royce salesman. Faith, I think I’m funny today, but you have got to laugh at a funeral or you’d cry.

Now having 7 children is hard with only one wage, but I can reveal Mr Slim just gave John his personal Costco card, and the use of a minibus for his family. As Mr Slim knows Loyalty should always be rewarded, and what is a bit of food after all. John of course repaid his kindness, and as we all know kindness has his own reward. So three of John’s children  now work for Mr Slim. They did of course spend their gap year as cleaners for him, then they went to Cambridge, Oxford and LSE. Now they are senior management for Mr Slim.  Family is the most important thing after all.

Well you must all be getting hungry, so I’ll finish now, John’s last words to me were that he was glad to be fertilizer though he didn’t use the word fertilizer, he said without muck nothing grows, and where there is muck there is money.

So Pax Vobiscum John Doe, and I’m glad I put those nails in the road, or Mr Slim’s car would never have a puncture, sometimes you just have to help God along.   

Daddy can we go to the Seaside

Daddy can we go to the Seaside? ©

By Michael Casey

Dad can we go to the beach? Please dad we just have to go to the seaside, we’ve never had a ride on a donkey nor had candy floss stuck to our hair, nor had hotdogs with sand in them. Dad we just HAVE to go to the seaside, PLEASE DAD.

You got a cat haven’t you? What more do you want? I nearly died for that cat.

No you didn’t you were just being sarcastic, and then you had the quadruple heart bypass by coincidence, then you felt guilty about saying we could have a cat if you had a heart attack.

More like you put a gun against my head and I had to give in, and it was a coincidence that your friend had kittens. I asked for a Tom so we wouldn’t have more kittens, and what did we get? We got Totoro who turned out to be a she cat, with six nipples. So now I live with 4 girls. I’ll have to start wearing a dress next.

But can we go to the beach?

You would not like it. Here look out the front window, can you see Mrs Candy Floss Head, the lady whose hair is in such a state, she walks past our house every morning, see it really does look like a candy floss stuck to her head, why would you want to go to the seaside just for that.

But what about hot dogs, stay there I bought some from Aldi I’ll have them ready in 5 mins, just scatter cushions on the floor we can pretend we are at the seaside.

See are my hot dogs great? You want ketchup, why do you always spoil your food with ketchup, and you waste it, leaving it all on the plate. Did I tell you granddad had 6 hamburgers one after another when we were at Rhyl seaside in the 1960s.

Yea but at least YOU were at the seaside.

You  were at the seaside, you went to the new beach they built in Shanghai when you were visiting grannie a few years ago.

That doesn’t count it wasn’t a real English seaside. Besides they have sharks in Shanghai, they don’t have sharks, real sharks  at English beaches. You are just breaking our Human Rights by not taking us to a beach.

Listen I promise to take you to a beach, before I die.

You’d die just top spite us.

But as I said before the quadruple heart bypass, if I die you can have a dog. You’d be so happy to have a dog, you could call it Michael after me.

We’d call it Fart, that would remind us of you, Fart the dog has a good ring to it.

Now do you want drinks? Hot chocolate in the morning, why wait till bedtime.

You want to make sand castles. Well that would ruin the carpet, but next door are building an extension so we could sneak into his garden and play in the sand. Really, yes really. But put a hat on and sunglasses so his cctv can’t recognise you.

He’s probably moved to South America and he’s buried his wife under the patio, we only saw him  in the taxi when he went away. So you don’t want to play in his sand?

Of course we do its more exciting, imagine finding a body half buried in the sand. Does that mean you both want to work for an undertakers, or more likely you want to be CSI, anything gory, you are a horror story writer after all and big sister wants to be a doctor, and loves doing makeup, so she could be a mortician. That’ll look good on your passport.

I’ll tidy up while you go digging, you could become archaeologists I suppose, the next Howard Carter.

Did you have fun, no, because you found no body, just a dead rat. I hope you didn’t bring the rat into the house. You nearly did but it might make Totoro sick, so what did you do with the rat? You put it in  number 59’s treehouse, you really hate that boy so it might give him a scare. You are really evil sometimes I don’t know where you get it from. Don’t look at me like that. I only burnt my brother with a red hot poker once. That’s why he always peed in pop bottles thereafter cos he knew I always drunk the dregs before returning the bottles for the penny deposit so I could buy chews.

You want to go on the rides at the seaside fair. I thought of that already so put cushions on the floor, go upstairs for all the pillows too. Now what? Close your eyes. Then I spin them round and around until they are totally dizzy and I push them to the floor. On the hifi I play Monkees very very loudly, to imitate the atmosphere. I do this for half an hour until the girls feel sick.

I grab them just in time and hold them over the garden wall, they puke all over out other neighbour’s front wall. We don’t like her as she is stuck up and never speaks to us. Though if she finds out whose puke it is she might have a lot to say to us.

Have you enjoyed your day at the seaside I ask? You want a souvenir? I point to the camera in the corner of the room, I have filmed everything. We all have a strong coffee with some nice biscuits which I stole from mum’s stash of biscuits. If she asks we’ll say Totoro ate them, she is  a naughty cat who can and will open cupboards.

WE laugh at everything. See their 1^st and best ever visit to the seaside, what the neighbours will say I don’t know. We won’t be here as we are moving house, I’ve bought a new house right by the seaside at Cromane Lower Kerry Ireland. Nite nite everybody, it’s all in the writer’s imagination.   

At the Beach

At the Beach ©

By Michael Casey

Well I’m feeling very Summery right now, I stumbled over Spotify and the Eagle’s Long Road to Eden album, I’m thinking of the beach a spit away from where my mum was born, literally. I’ll add the photo of the stone building she was born in at the end of today’s piece. She lived there till she was 12 with her family of 9, we never knew it was a house as it was used as a cow shed when we visited, Uncle Danny told us one day.  He ended up in Boston Mass and his son is a cop there. But what about the beach, you can google it and you will see for yourselves it is one of the most beautiful places on God’s earth. So google Cromane County Kerry Republic of Ireland, it’s opposite Inch where Ryan’s Daughter was filmed, and down the road from Killorglin and Puck Fair, which takes place on 10^th 11^th and 12^th August every year. You can even walk down the road and spot my cousin David’s house, he owns the land now. He isn’t called Casey, so I’m respecting his privacy.

I’m getting home sick now, yes I was born in Birmingham a couple of miles from where I am sitting now, but my heart is in Cromane Lower, blame my mum for that. If only I could find a driver I’d go back, it’s over 20 years since I’ve been back. Last time my mum was sick 2 days before the holiday so she could not come. Then the next year me and my sister went back, parents included, it was the final grand tour, dad was determined to meet and greet all his brother’s 10  children. Some places were impossible to find, you start at the back of beyond and then go to the back of the back of beyond, like navigating a maze within a maze of  back roads.

We covered a lot of ground, the year before me and my sister did over 1000 miles in two weeks, with only a picture postcard with a map of Kerry on as a guide. You visit 2 or 3 relatives a day and eat at every house, with dad pressing money into every palm. He knew it was the last visit, he had a few Guinness in small bars, such as the bar in Ballyheigh with its great long beach, not forgetting finding bars in Scarthaglen.

The story about Scarth is that a young Policeman noticed blue smoke as illegal Poteen was been distilled in that house next door to the Police station.  He told the police sergeant, who promptly had him transferred to the back of beyond, he didn’t want to be deprived of his own supply. Who knows perhaps the young policeman emigrated and became chief of police in Boston or Chigago. This would be in the 1920s or 1930s.

The footnote to the story is that Scathaglen was one of the widest streets in the whole of Kerry, so the police sergeant used to walk up and down the middle of the road, and then retire to the police station, he’d just made sure that all the pubs had closed at closing time. He’d done his duty, and were all 20 pubs closed? Well let’s say when he retired he got a bottle of whisky from each and every bar in Scarth. Now if the details are wrong you’ll have to take it up with my dad.

The next year my mother died, and my father almost died, he was in fact given a week to live.  It’s all in Padre Pio and Me by Michael Casey which you should be able to find on the Internet. The tales my father told me over and over again are part of my soul, which is much much more than DNA. When I was writing my comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker the spirit of the policeman became the police sergeant in my book, the priest who made a boy organise a fete for the children’s home as a penance for getting his girl pregnant before marriage was maybe the Jesuit Fr Michael who married my parents. So you can see how the Love given to me became characters in my book.

 Percy the Undertaker was no doubt inspired by our local undertaker’s dignity and care, I have also been an altar server so I’ve been to many funerals. As for my mother she was like many pious mothers, so she sometimes was a sole mourner at a funeral for some unloved person, who was asked to come to the grave by the priest, to pray for their soul. Then mum would sit in the jump seat of the hearse and the undertaker would give her a lift home afterwards.

One of the main characters is Big Sid the Butcher, a larger than life Falstaff kind of person, full of joy, but much more.  When I finished writing the book it occurred to me that really Sid was my dad, somebody so full of love for his children. I did not want to put my dad in the book but he was there after all, what’s in the blood is in the blood. In Tears for a Butcher which is the follow up novel Big Sid has a huge part in the finale, all I need is a legal secretary then I’ll write it.

Back on the beach at Cromane Lower you can walk to the end past the Tank and to the spit as they call it, it is a peninsula after all. I always used to, its 30 mins or more from mom’s place to the end, while the dinner was on you could get some exercise. If you look over the water you can see Inch and the Dingle peninsula, there used to be a dolphin called Fungy too. Then there is the bar that’s also a book store, I bought Daniel Yergin’s The Prize there, all about the oil industry. Great read.

I’m going to finish now, it’ll be interesting to know how many of you go to Ireland for a holiday now, it really is the most beautiful place on God’s earth. You can send me a postcard, if you are clever you may even find mum’s old place, it is on Google Earth, I can find it in a couple of mins just by walking down the beach. You may even read my books on Kindle while sat on the beach at Cromane. If you pop into the church you could light a candle for  the Casey Clan. Good Luck.

Time to Burn Books

Time to Burn Books ©

By Michael Casey

As a child I read by the yard, I must have read most of the History books on the shelves by my desk in Class One at Primary school. I read all the Alistair Maclean thrillers too I spent many happy years as a reader. I even read the Bible in Mass on a Sunday. Though as a catholic a reader is just that a reader, not anybody with special training to preach. So reading has been part of my life. Nowadays I read the newspapers online, so I’m still a reader. When I write a new story I read it back out loud and the girls give me marks out of ten for each new story, yes it’s a form of punishment for them.

So with the reading bug inside me my girls have grown up as big readers too. We have 3 bookcases in the house, and now after years of reading there is no more room in the house for any more books. So it’s time to burn the books, you will all be horrified, am I a Right wing or Left wing dictator?  Or just a demigod of a dad? When I say burn books I would never burn books. Books are special and cost money. Hudson’s in Birmingham used to be a rabbit warren of a book shop and I have happy memories of it.

No book should be ever burned, maybe used a toilet paper as a last resort, but books should be treasured. You should give them to a Charity Shop, or to a jumble sale but never never burn them. So why did I use the title, time to burn books? To get you attention, also because books are “burnt” now, as in burnt to a disc or to a device. Kindle books are what I’m talking about. Technically the word burnt is wrong, but technicians can argue about that.

So Kindle will be coming to town, or to our house. My small daughter asked for one because she has no more space  on her bookshelves. The cheapest one is the same price as 10 books, that’s real books. So once you have paid that price you have a platform to read you books on. Can I recommend 10 great ebooks

https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1  yes my ten books which are on Amazon worldwide.

I’m told there are load of free books too, the Classics, so I’m happy about that. Then for a few quid you get loads of new books. If I read by the yard my girls read by the kilometre, my small daughter if she does not become a horror writer could become an editor as she reads so fast. The joke about editors is that if one was at the dentist and somebody drops a magazine, and it flutters to the floor, before it hits the ground the editor will have read it.

So I’m full on anticipation for the future and Kindle, to kindle means to set on fire, and kindling is used to start a fire. So it’s a good name for a reading product because it sets minds on fire, it fires the imagination, and sparks make all the difference in the world of learning. So I’ll get back to you all with news of the Kindle when it arrives next week. I will of course hide the charger and cable from Totoro our cat, for she loves to nibble cable. Totoro will no doubt hear many many tales, do you think Puss in Boots is available? 

August Approaches

August Approaches

As a new month approaches I’ve deleted older posts, and I’ll be writing new stuff soon

Quiet Moments

Quiet Moments ©

By Michael Casey

We all have quiet moments, even if we have to wait until the kids are in bed asleep. As I sit in front of the computer I can hear the sound of cars splashing or should I say surfing through the rain. The clock is gently ticking on the shelf beside me, as I type the sound of the keyboard overtakes the sound of the clock and I can no longer hear it, it’s an old clunky keyboard that suits my sausage fingers. I may put some music on in a minute but for now I’m going with the theme to see where it will lead me.

The street outside is empty, who wants to walk in the rain, maybe only Barry White and Love Unlimited, which picks the music I will play in a minute or so, funny how choices are made, a random thought leads to the music you will listen too. My small daughter loves Barry White too, because she’s heard me play him, so she has adopted Barry White, not literally, she is so small and Barry was so big, but you have a mental picture in your mind now, a cartoon of a tiny child and big Barry.

I look over to my plant corner and I’m happy to see that my orange plant has started to bud again, the geranium has lost its flowers but new buds have started to grow, then there is my limy/yellow plant which is doing just fine. Totoro has left them alone, for the moment so they should create a nice display. They say you should look away from your screen and give your eyes a rest for at least 5 minutes every hour. I did actually go “blind” for a day about 8 years ago as I was constantly on the computer at work controlling the high speed printers, you can find the story in one of my books no doubt.

If you just stop and listen it’s like being in a waiting room, the tick of the clock and the pendulum swing, very peaceful, until you think of Miley Cyrus and her wrecking ball. If you were in a waiting room and you started to laugh out loud as the image came to mind people would stare at you, but you are safe you are at home. While I think of it there is a comedy version of wrecking ball with a bearded guy on Utube.

You scratch an itch and  it is as if every sound is magnified,  like some Art House film, that nobody watches but wins awards, time seems to drag, it’s an illusion, time is constant ask Einstein, but if you are all alone waiting then time appears to drag. In my hotel days we mentioned Time on a course, with regards to guests feeling that we were taking too long to sort a problem. So 2 people were sent to walk to the far end of the hotel and back again. Then you had to say how long they had been. The answer varied so much, apart for me, I knew it exactly, because it was part of my daily security patrol, so I knew exactly how long that walk would be.

A quiet moment can work wonders, it gives you time to pull yourself together before you face the world. But, you do need to fill time too or it appears to drag, as some people thought on the course. If you fill time then people won’t realise they are waiting, and then when they get the answer to their question they are relaxed and less likely to complain.

Prayer is quiet time, it’s a moment to talk to God, though lots of people don’t do that nowadays. You can get out of the habit, or your pain is so unbearable that you lose your Faith, or you just stop going to Church. Personally I think any kind of conversation is a prayer no need to formalise it or to go to a building whatever you call it.

 Perhaps all you need to do is sit and listen to the ticking of a clock, look at the beauty of the flowers in the pots, look out the window and see the birds flying by, hear the chatter of the magpies. Listen to the falling rain, which literally is the water of life, live one moment at a time, for all life is divine. And then put that Barry White record on, for God loves us Just the Way We Are.