Man Up a film with Simon Pegg 2014 was on tv tonight so go watch it

Man Up a film with Simon Pegg 2014 was on tv tonight so go watch it

I hope  you all enjoyed a rest day from me, Thursday I'll start with Simon Pegg and see where I go, wait till the afternoon for that. I need rest now,and a cure for tinitus in one of my ears...

my translation site is~:

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com

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

and yes what I said I'll do in the previous post is what i'll do,

I like my silly photos instead of the pretentious ones holding double chins.

The Birmingham Pain Centre

The Birmingham Pain Centre ©

By

Michael Casey

This is an alternative reality story, or a Donald Trump truth story, if that is not a contradiction in terms, and yes it has nothing to do with Donald, he is busy polishing his shoes with a tooth brush, his new General insisted.

Well The Birmingham Pain Centre, is a dream, which I hope I can magic into reality with the help of God and Two Policemen as my mum used to say. Let’s just fast forward to the opening ball, or gala, picture the scene in a barn of a bar. Journalists are everywhere, they were told it as a free bar and their editors will also be there, so it will be a perfect afternoon’s drinking session.

An Abba tribute band is playing in a corner, what more could they want? Yes Subway are providing the food, they have set up shop in a corner with models making the sandwiches, they will of course get out of bed for any free publicity. And why are journalists’ balls bigger than anybody else’s balls, because they write it up for themselves, so it must be true.

Sean Spicer is guest of honour, he’s in England to voice over the new Yoga Bear in Space movie. To be honest journalists have no balls, ask Kate Adie and the Sky lady, why because they get shot off in all the dangerous places they visit. Lynx has a concession in another corner, it’s a spray that lasts 10 days, made especially for hard pressed journalists, it even takes the smell of beer away. Obviously this is the busiest place in the bar, ok I’m lying, but everybody but everybody will pay a visit.

The editors are doing each others’ crosswords, and editors know many a cross word, which reminds me of a future story from Tears for a Butcher where there is a scrabble competition. But I digress. Also in attendance are several judges and lawyers galore, lawyers galore I said, not liars galore. The law knows about bars, the legal bar, the alcoholic bar and behind bars, they also know about barmaids down the Trader in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, but I digress, I was just product placing from The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

Now you may be asking what would this bunch of reprobates be doing on a Tuesday afternoon down the pub,it is Tuesday isn’t it? Elementary is on tv so it must be Tuesday. Well wait, stop, Hugh Grant has arrived, he’s sitting in a corner heckling. I did tell him to get some cream for his heckling but he just would not shut up. The journalists as one have turned their back on him. He is now gently crying as he mouths the songs the Abba tribute band is singing. He’s ringing a friend, Nick from radio 4, but John answers the phone as says Nick is on holiday in Scotland with his best buddy Alec. Hugh just says, just tell him I rung, before wiping his nose on his sleeve.

To the sounds of corks popping the meeting is called to order while the Abba tribute band has a Subway sandwich made by models. This is the inaugural of The Birmingham Pain Centre, or the Birmingham Pain for short. Now I could say that folks made jokes about Birmingham being a pain, a right pain, but I won’t tar MU supporters with that brush, I want their money after all, I want everybody’s money. That is my mission, my position, my missionary position.

The Birmingham Pain will promote the study and relief of pain, everything from acupuncture to the Karma Sutra and everything in between. If it takes away pain, then its part of the Birmingham Pain. Obviously the first place to start is Curry’s we need to have a computer full of knowledge. Better still we get IT students in Birmingham to build a computer from scratch. 3 in fact, a live, a backup and a spare. Having worked in a computer room 40 years ago, safety and backup is everything. If we could get folks to donate kit or money to allow the Birmingham IT students to build the servers as the fancy name is the so much the better.

Stop let’s get back to the surreal a moment, what is that Judge doing, a High Court Judge caught singing And The Winner Takes it all. His chums in full regalia singing Super Trooper, somebody hold back that Daily Mail person, he’s not allow up on stage for Health and Safety reasons. The Daily Mirror boy promised a big donation if we kept him off the stage, I’ll accept “bribes” from anybody. Hugh Grant has cheered up he has got his vegan Subway sandwich, and a giant fizzy drink, Moet in Subway cup.

Where was I? Now if The Birmingham Pain was affiliated to Birmingham Medical school, maybe my daughter could get in in 2 years time, ONLY JOKING, besides I want her to go to Cambridge. The idea is to fund research, not waste it on buildings and PR. The idea would be to give scholarships and funding. And talking about affiliations, who knows more about pain? MU, that’s who, by which I means their Physios, every elite sport Physios, IF you tapped into their knowledge of pain relief it could aid general research. You could also hold medical conferences at Premier League grounds, that way the reach would be all over the country, obvious The Premiership donates this free on wet Tuesdays when the facilities are empty, the WAGs could hand out the Subway sandwiches.  

Stop that’s disgusting, a Teetotal journalist, somebody fetch a priest, what he is a priest, a priest and journalist? I don’t believe you. This is FAKE news, from the Gutter Press. A priest and a journalist and Teetotal too, it’s just not true, I just don’t believe it. What’s his name. Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. No that’s me but I just had to visit the lavatory, so give us a second and I’ll tell you his name. Don Camillo yes that’s him. I have a Dream is playing the tribute band is just so good, its true honest guv, its true. I read his book just before my triple with turned out to be a quadruple heart bypass. I just hurt myself then stretching too much,no not stretching the truth, just stretching, yes really, 2.5 years on and still pain from that and the old Arthritis.

And that is why I have decided to set up The Birmingham Pain Centre, because I know more about pain than James Bond, remember the line from the film? Yes millions know much much more. So if you buy the books I can give you lots of pain, oodles of pain, I’ll share it with The Birmingham Pain Centre. Why have journalists and judges in the story because they would be on the board, very bored, working for zilch, but if a bar wants to provide a free lunch that’s where the annual meeting would be held. Pro Bono lawyers would do any law that’s the dream laid out before you. I am in my missionary position waiting for you, if you are smiling then you may be tempted to HELP.

None of this can happen till people buy the books, though most of you may think my writing sucks. It will never have Charity written on the book, and really you don’t need to buy a damn thing. Because I give you the idea on a plate. Do your own pain relief, thief my idea, in fact you can take the idea and use it in every country of the world. So if you are in Germany or Egypt, today’s readers in German and Korean were from those countries. Wherever you are please let’s set up a pain relief foundation, affiliate like football does. Use every scrap of knowledge, technology and medicine combined. Pain is no joke.   

Family Laughter

Family Laughter ©

By

Michael Casey

Well its time for a family laughter story, something happened today that has inspired this piece,but it will stay a joke in the family, I may share my embarrassment on another occasion. I have plenty of material all I have to do is stop and pause, and pause could become paws which would lead to another animal story.

Jean the family cat from over 50 years ago was a tv critic, why do I say this? Because she used to sit on the tv in the evening when it was switched off, in those days they were boxes like microwaves. Jean was not a contortionist or anything like that, LCD or LEC tvs were not even dreamt of, you had a square surface big enough for a cat to curl up on top of. After a nights viewing it was hot, so as far as the cat was concerned the more tv we’d been watching the better. Her tv criticism was based on heat, not quality, rather like some of today’s reality tv programmes.

Jean also knew how to rattle a door handle to indicated she wanted to leave the room or the house itself. She was black with green eyes, so she looked the perfect witch’s cat. She was also very religious, lik emy own mother. Jean always knew when it was Sunday, she’s appear, probably just jumping of a witch’s broom and sit expectantly by the back door. No she did not go to Mass, not even the Black variety, no she was waiting for the giblets from the Sunday chicken. So she was religious in her attendance of our back door on each and every Sunday for the 20 years we had her.

We also remember Jean because we watched my sister as a toddler, push Jean out of the way so that she could eat her KittyCat. Yes we still tease our sister about it 50 years later. Being a little sister in a large family was fun for us, if not for our litter sister. We had a corner cupboard and inside it were all the jumpers, so my eldest brother thought it would be fun to make her wear all of them, one on top of another. When our mother returned from shopping with her faded red leather shopping bags my little sister was bright red in colour, and was wearing maybe 13 woolly jumpers, half of them knitted by mum herself. My little sister could not get her arms down due to all the jumpers. I remember my mum saying “you’ll kill the child” as she tore the jumpers off.

Such fun when you were young and innocent in the 1960s. My brother made it up to my sister a few years later.When he went to Oxford he bought our little sister a tricycle with his student grant. We had not quiet finished with our little sister, we decided she should be a circus performer. Contortionists were amazing on Billy Smarts Circus or whatever was on tv at the time. So as we had a wardrobe with a small shelf area we decided to squeeze our little sister into it.

The space was 3 feet off the ground on the left side of the wardrobe, then there was a hanging side with a small mirror at the top on the right. I can see it now. We manage to jump and push our sister into the space and then me and another brother squeezed her into the space. My brother was pleased with the result so he decided to make economical use of the space, by closing the wardrobe doors.

Only the economical use of the space meant that we could not open both wardrobe doors again. The pressure of our sister squeezed on a shelf inside prevented the latch from opening. We kind of panicked. But eventually by both of us leaning against the door we were able to get the latch open. But we did learn about the economically use of space. As for my brother he ended up going to Cambridge were he changed subjects and did Economics. Yes I don’t need to make things up they just happen. I have just remembered another 2 stories about cupboards that happened 20 years plus ago, such is memory.

I’ll just say that sometimes the trapped person is calm but the potential rescuer panics. So I’ll finish for today as the pain monster is attacking me. As I said to somebody only the other week when my boat comes I will found The Birmingham Pain Centre it will benefit as much as I do. Now I have to reach for the paracetamol, I may be in the gutter but I hope my stories make you all laugh to the stars. 

The Green Mile is the Last Mile

The Green Mile is the Last Mile ©

By

Michael Casey

I was going to talk about the Green Mile but as ever this has morphed into something else. I watch films and enjoy them, it is only afterwards do I give or realise the English Literature or Latin context of them. What? I hear you all say, I realise why I enjoyed the film so much and which of its elements made it such good viewing. I am not a film critic with a chart, but afterwards I do colour in my colouring book with my opinions on the film, emphasis on children’s colouring book. I am not Barry Norman. All I’ll say is watch The Green Mile.

Now today when I looked at my chart it showed that Serbia has joined the ranks of my readers. So how have I managed to corrupt Serbia? My chart also shows me which stories are being read, but not which in each country, not unless I haven’t yet discovered which button to press.

So its a choice between a comic piece about politics which is chapter9 of my novel or a serious piece where I predict that North Korea will suffer, and only for the vanity of its leader, when his people could be just as rich as its southern cousins. Such a massive gap, comedy at its best, yes my opinion, and WW3 because North Koreans have allowed themselves to be treated like sheep.

History is full of comedy, mishaps and mess-ups, too many spurious connections that have led to war. Idiots or Donkeys commanding brave men, as some World War One battles are recalled. I spotted that Serbia now has its 1^st Gay/Lesbian P.M. so that perhaps proves just how much the Serbian ethos has moved on. I doubt it was her who stumbled upon my piece M.P. Married to a Person, Married to a People, chapter 9 of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Not unless the British Council and Tony Blair’s old organisation is teaching the use of comedy in Government Affairs, and by affairs I don’t mean affairs.

As we grow as people, take Serbia having a gay P.M., and yes I really do agree with her, its what she does as a politician not who she takes to bed with her that she should be judged by. As we grow we are more accepting and less judgemental. Some day fat silver haired writers in shades from Birmingham may even be socially acceptable, but I think the world is not quiet ready for me yet.Maybe in another 1,000,000 Words time, but not yet. I’ll never enjoy the fruits of my labours, I hope me girls do, when they have finished squeezing me into the recycling bin outside. Ealing Comedies were an influence.

Perhaps Serbia makes its kids use my stories to teach them English, such a punishment could be use worldwide too. Imagine I would be such a hate figure, broken English worldwide, that Michael Casey I hate him echoes throughout FB chat rooms.

Only Donald Trump likes me, he’d send me to North Korea to discuss opening a chain of hotels, North Korea is really really beautiful. Trump hotels and resorts with old bunkers used as bunkers on his golf courses. In exchange for all the North Korean fissile material, and a list of locations, the Donald will give the Dear Leader the cheese concession at every course. So golf would save the day, and Trump and the Dear Leader could ride into the sunset in a golf buggy.

The alternative may be too horrible to bear, so going the extra mile is worth an effort, otherwise it is the Green Mile for all of us.

Politics is not for Grown Ups

Politics is not for Grown Ups©

By

Michael Casey

Well its Saturday 29^th July 2017, I have to give up on my dream of a bigger house for now. Maybe I’ll win the lottery or all my relatives die and leave me some money. A bigger house made of tombstones. Would I be in tears then, forever living in a memory? Life is full of setbacks but I never give up, never. I could remind you of my past mishaps and misunderstands which have led me to where I am now.

But more important things are happening in the world.

Donald Trump will finally lose his virginity, men not just missiles will be in harms way as the quaintly say. He will be ordering men to die, and women too. The North Korean boil will have to be lanced. Two men so similar in many ways will fight to the Death, for one of them will have to die. If we are lucky air strikes will destroy all North Korea’s nuclear stockpile. If we are lucky the 20,000 artillery pieces can be taken out by just 2 or 3 neutron bombs or whatever new toys they have. If we are lucky the Navy Seals can decapitate the Dear Leader, and his several doubles. If we are over the battle will be done in 3 days, half what the Israel did. If we are lucky.

You all know that If you are Lucky, does not exist in war, and what is it all for. So a despot keeps his throne. So China can send 200 or is it 400 trucks a day over the bridge to North Korea, we all saw it on Sky News. For what a few RMB? If the North Koreans were promised, food, a tv, a mobile and solar panels on their roof maybe they would not dance in such wonderful choreography for the Dear Leader. But if dancing is all you have got then you dance.

As for Trump, 310 million Americans won’t be pleased if they cannot see the event on Fox tv. So is Trump just pandering to his base, foreign wars to cover his lack of domestic accomplishment? Its an old old trick in Politics. Sadly I fear another Hitler moment is here, America was “late” to the 1^st two world wars but will they be the first to arrive at WW3? Hitler had to be put down, ask everybody that suffered. But now in this 21^st Century we are depending on an old fox, to be a Churchill or a Roosevelt, and remember Truman had to be told what the “Bomb” was and it was he who had the weight of History on his shoulders. Twice.

I would rather speak of nice things to cheer myself up, my dream of a bigger house has to be forgotten for today. But compared to what might be on the horizon, let’s hope its not a flash, I should stay happy. Perhaps God will intervene and The Dear Leader has a heart attack, and the North Koreans can have that tv, mobile, and solar cells on the roof, and become as rich as their southern cousins. Though some may wish the same Fate on our blond bombshell, pick you own sides, for in the end you DO have to pick.

And why did I title this Politics is Not for Grown Ups? Did I forget my path? No, Really No. In the end what we all do is for our kids. Everything is for our kids. Not for our vanity, not for our wealth. But for our kids well being. A taxi driver once told me the trouble his teenage daughter was growing up, but finally but finally, she gave him a huge hug and thanked him for looking after her. Then she realised. Then she realised.

So on this Eve of War and I do believe it will come, if we are doing it to save the lives of millions of our children, then it will have to be done. Life is not a Popularity Contest. For sometime you need a Truman.  

In Limbo

In Limbo ©

By

Michael Casey

I’m in Limbo right now, and in pain, ok I’ll shut up about the pain.In Limbo because my girls are out with their aunty having fun and fast food. They are rice eaters after all, so a chance to have fast food is a change from the Chinese diet they get from mum. I’m here waiting and having a think, yes I do think, if you just watch my writing you think its too fast, as I hit the paper with another idea, 1300 coming up I think, 1,100,000 words or there abouts.

Thinking has been a big part of my life, if you work funny shifts and strange hours, with even stranger people, and I’m not just talking about myself, then you have time to think. You are in perpetual Limbo, its a Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday afternoon and its your 3 days off on the shift pattern. Everybody else is working, except you, you did your 3 days 3 nights 3 off this week, now you are in Limbo.

So you get to think, this was before the writing arrived, I was 28 or so when it did. As you are like a lost piece of luggage waiting to be collected you have time to think, about everything and nothing. You are in Limbo Land, and no I don’t mean on a beach dancing to music and getting drunk as you slip under a wire. Its time to dream and time to hope and even to pray. Or just listen to BBC Radio 4 all day, and I did a lot of that, 20 years worth, 8 till 28. Hence my posh Birmingham accent, or accident as my wife called it when she first leant English.

In Limbo Land you walk the streets while everybody else is at work, you take the dog on a 5 mile hike to pass the time. You dream of living by the woods and throwing the ball for Patch or is it John Noakes. You dream of having a 60 acre wood as your back yard, if only the shifts don’t kill you first, 14 years of shifts is no fun, especially if 50% is nights. Its like walking through a scene from The Living Dead, and that’s how I felt due to the constant changes to sleep patterns. The first day off was always the recovery day.

This explains my life for those 14 years. Years later working in an hotel was even more physical. My neck size went up an inch to 18.5, and my chest went up 2 inches to 46, my stomach also went up two inches as the food at CPNEC Birmingham was always great. I imagine it still is, if they want to come and take me there to give a food revue now that I’ve morphed into a full time impecunious writer.

I did have Limbo times at the hotel until everybody decided I could help everybody else while I was waiting for the peaks. This was great fun, though very tiring, 12 hour shifts standing all day with 3 hours travelling on top. Yes, really. I did love it though and if you have 2 toddlers to feed anybody’s work ethic is very high.

So much for work, I don’t do any of that any more, I am now a hausfrau. I’m in Limbo right now hoping that this house that arrived out of the blue can be ours. Otherwise we’ll have to forget our bigger house plans. You are in Limbo for a few hours or days as you wait for the owner or vendor in posh speak to decide do they want your offer. All in all this past year of house hunting has been exciting and horrifying in equal measure.

Vodka martini shaken not stirred, or beautiful on the snaps but you couldn’t kill a Spectre on the inside. Has potential, if you demolish it and start again. Great area, if you don’t mind wearing body armour. You have to read the adverts to believe them. You always have to go to the area, or google earth the surroundings before you bother looking at it. If no measurements are given even though the photos look nice on the Wide Angel photos, to make things bigger, then its because the house was built for the 7 dwarfs.

So Limbo is a strange place be, not as bad as awaiting trial, or queuing at the registry office to record a death, or waiting for your new wife to undress on your wedding night. Then you know something nice will happen. But Limbo is like waiting for your lost property to be returned to you, only the watch they have in Lost and Found is the fake one, not your real Omega, no matter how shaken or stirred. You don’t even know how long you will be in Limbo, your watch is lost you cannot judge the time. You are too tired to hum, your mind just drifts, like watching Politics.

Then Limbo ends, What Trump is President?  

Humility

Humility (c)
By
Michael Casey

Well I was trawling the news on the Internet tonight, and I stumbled over a piece on MSN news. A lady in USA  ran out of gas as they call it  and went looking for a petrol station. A good Samaritan helped her out and tipped the money from his wallet into her hands. Later that man's mother I believe was sick and needed a nurse. The booked nurse did not turn up, but a substitute turned up. It was the lady who had been helped by the Good Samaritan. They got talking  and realised HE had helped her, now she would help his mum.  Time passed and His mother died and instead of flowers they asked for donations. These donations were given to the nurse to help HER with her  further nursing studies.
There is a video on MSN I think, where the nurse  got her reward.

I read this stumbled upon story and was touched by it, as I hope you all were. Brought a tear to my eye.

Maybe I complain about my pains too much, I'm too eloquent in my pain.

Then as a random look I searched for a house on the Internet. We could have bought the wrong one over the weekend. On too steep  a hill for my heart. Then what appeared before me? The perfect house, maybe? So I rung my wife and we agreed to tale a peek.Nobody was in, we couldn't force our way in for a look. We wanted to ask a neighbour about the house that was for sale.Only they would not open the door. Perhaps me and my Chinese wife looked too strange. Then riding towards us came a friend on his bike,  He is the Godfather to our big daughter, his wife is the Godmother to our other daughter. So I said we are going to buy this house, he nearly fell off his bike but came and chatted.
Then  as we were about to walk away the  owners arrived. So we doorstepped them and they were gracious enough to allow us to look at the house.

We immediately made an offer. So will we finally find a new house that'll be my final home, this is where I'll live till I die. This is where my daughter will study whiles she does her A levels then studies Medicine. This is where me and my smaller daughter can finally have a dog called Camembert. This is where the wife can park in comfort.

So tonight I feel very humble, but am I humble enough to deserve this house, this home.
Below is where my mother was born and lived till she was 12 years old. She used to joke about me wanting a house and there were many Mansions in Heaven. Well mum if you are listening the house we saw tonight is good enough, so can you twist a few arms in Heaven. As ever its up to Mum.

All our Mums.