50 Shades of Michael something to keep you going while I have a haircut

50 Shades of Michael ©

By Michael Casey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***********

this is from 2 years ago, I need a haircut as you can tell from yesterday's snaps, so while I get my head sorted you can "enjoy" this

Pacing Yourself

Pacing Yourself ©

By

Michael Casey

When you have a job you have to pace yourself, your life. You have to get up, to SSS, pooh, shower and shave, though some don’t understand this SSS, they think it’s SS with a stutter, or are you dressing up for some Allo Allo fancy dress party if you remember Rene. The reality is you life is not your own, you are owned by your job. I did do a lot of long hours, 12 hour shifts, even 12 hour night shifts. That’s why I have strong legs, all the standing and carrying.

Now I just carry on with words and nag the rest of the family to watch the clock and be on time for work or school or choir practice. I don’t have to pace myself, my heart does it for me thanks to my beta blocker. I can look up at my pendulum clock on the wall and say tic or tock as I watch it swing. I have a steady slow pace of life. When I feel like it I can write or rather tell you all another story. I am as storyteller after all.

We were in the garden calling our cat and I thought perhaps she’s a Food Reviewer, like Ratatouille in reverse, see the cartoon and you will not be disappointed. So the idea sprung to my mind so maybe tomorrow that’ll appear on my site, once I write it.That’s how the pace of my life works, my tempo. However as you all also know and I bore you all about it, my pain from Arthur my arthritis does come along unexpectedly, as does heart pain etc.

So that is the balance the see to my saw. It can all be so unexpected like parents coming home just when you finally persuaded Jane to, but to never happens as your parents arrived home early, interrupting your pacing heart. So it is with my pain, its pattern its rhythm is totally unpredictable, a bit like Jane but you never ever found out. Again I’ve planted an idea in your mind, without ever being specific, I am a stripper but you are all blindfolded, thank God for that you cheer, but that is the secret to my writing, well I hope. Maybe it is me who is blindfolded and stripping and you are the readers suffering the sight of me naked on the page, or is that just a horrible horrible metaphor. Boris bring us all a vodka fast.

A gentle stride to the fridge to get a drink then I’m back with you, though today I’m limping all day, my neighbours think I’m a character, a character actor practising a walk, like Alec Guinness. But it’s my arthritis. I can start my story any time I like as I have no set bedtime, once written I post it on my sites and wait for the apathy or applause as I see where in the world you all are.

Sometimes I feel like Napoleon, as I inch across the map with my word conquest. Portugal, France, Germany, Poland and Ukraine all in the same day. I think there must be some Christian Brothers forcing students to read my rubbish in an attempt to make them polish their English. Though the Polish do seem to like my stuff the most, so I promise to spend more money in the corner Polish shop. Their mayo is great by the way.  

I am lucky these past years have allowed me to spend more time with my daughters, and educate and confuse them in equal measure. Once a story is finished I shout listen to this and I read it back to them, and my smallest daughter gives me a score out of 10. So they have heard a lot of my 1,000,000 plus words.

I did offer to put some stories on a USB stick for the Polish girl at the deli to help with her English, I have 11 hours of audio too, 200 of the 1300 stories recorded. However perhaps USB stick is not in her vocabulary, the local Polish community come to the store for food and get me reading stories instead. Luckily we don’t have hunting licences in central Birmingham or I could end up mounted and displayed on the wall of the local Polish Deli.

We have a Turkish store and an Iranian pizzeria maybe I should offer my USB stick there, or perhaps they would teach me some new words about pacing myself.

Father Michael S.J.

I ordered a new lab coat for my daughter as she'll be starting her A levels soon and then in 2 years time, with the help of God and 2 Policemen she'll study Medicine at University.

Only the lab coat arrived and it was even too big for me, here are the photos. it made us laugh, despite the pain monster still attacking me today.

The question is would you want me as your priest?

https://www.amazon.com/MichaelCasey/e/B00571G0YC  to buy my books only 3euros/dollars each

Pain and Prayer sadly a much repeated part of my life....

Pain and Prayer ©

By Michael Casey

Let my Pain be my Prayer

Let my Screams be the Chorus

Let my Pills be the Verse

Let my Winces be my Supplication

Let my Pain bitten lips be my Hope

Let Sleepless Eyes be my Testament

Let my Aching Limbs be my Mantra

Let the Ringing in my ears be my Peel of Prayer

Let the stabs of pain in my heart reach high heaven

Let the fog of pain in my brain be lifted by God’s Grace

Let me down from my cross because you have already been on yours.

 yep the pain monster came calling again

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1549535242/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_1

Influencing the Writer

Influencing the Writer ©

By Michael Casey

I was having a lazy day today, the pain monster came last night so I thought I deserved it. Last night was good on tv as The Lady in the Van was on the telly, its a famous play by Allen Bennett. I do in fact have a copy of the book, it’s on my garden wall waiting to be taken away by passing scholars, or tramps in need of tissue paper. I’m sure Allen will praise me for my recycling efforts. I bought the book cheap but never got around to reading it. Then the play was on the telly last night, the film version with Dame Maggie Smith, she got an Oscar for the Prime of Jean Brodie.

So now the book is on the garden wall awaiting recycling, but I’ll keep an eye out for the rain as nobody wants a mushy book, in all senses of the word. Speaking of words Allen was interviewed in a documentary and the foul words he used en passant, if he used more of such words then he might attract a more working class audience, if I might steal some of the style in some of his stuff. I did email him once but I don’t remember did he reply, though I do send rather a lot of emails.

As you can see I am influenced by what I’ve seen on tv or read in the Press or on the radio, but then again a look out the window can provide an idea. Though lots of material I choose not to write about. Yes really. Today I bumped into our dog walker, I asked why he and his wife was so thin, recently both of them have lost a stone+ each, or 10kilos if you are handicapped by metric. See I add a throw away line just to annoy people, or to see if they are awake.

Our dog walkers are a form of clock for me as a I look up from the keyboard as they walk past. It turns out his wife has also been doing step ups, no she hasn’t been polishing her doorstep which was big in the 50s, no she has used the step up method. And no this is not a form of contraception for tall people, love should have no barriers. I could go on and on I do have a Doctorate in BS after all, I know you know already.

I’m still chewing now I had to grab a bite so I had fish fingers a la Birds Eye, they are the best you know, with a squirt of BQ sauce on top, wrapped in a slice of whole meal bread. I am Gordon Bleu you know, and where my 3 girls, they were at an Italian restaurant eating boring pasta. Meanwhile upstairs pussy, our Totoro the 4^th female in the family was fast asleep on a duvet. I’m sure she’ll give me fleas one day.

I’m waiting for the kettle to boil now and I wonder does Boris my Eastern European Everyman understand the style, or does he think Bloody Foreigners, I’m not letting my daughter go to England, or certainly not Birmingham. They are strange people, as he rehangs his Putin calendar on the fridge, chest exposed.

As I talk to you I wonder was I really Ronnie Corbette’s and Joyce Grenfell’s love child, would that make me Gerald Wiley? Life is strange and you have influences all over the place. Coffee is warming me now and I’m glad I resumed drinking it after a year or was it two break. 50 years plus a coffee drinker. Only instant, Kenco Rappor, do you think I could afford anything more? It is my guilty pleasure.

I pause for a sentence, perhaps Allen Bennett will knock the door and proffer one. Only its just the mad christian people, knocking at my door on a Sunday, have they got nothing better to do? I have a good mind to tell them to Allen Bennett off, I am a man and I have history, I know how to swear, I find it clears the air, and gets rid of unwanted callers at your door. I bet Allen is writing all this down in his notebook, under never to be used. I hope he falls off his bicycle.

I need another coffee so I’m going to leave it there for today, I was going to add just one word after “off his bicycle” it would have been so much more dramatic. But Allen would say it was a stunt, so I controlled myself and let the crude comic alliterative possibilities alone, sometimes you have to do that or people think you are just a …

 ps. I forgot about the book as the rain fell, so the Lady in the Van is all mushy

Making a Decision a piece from last year while I write a new piece for you

Making a Decision ©                   

By Michael Casey

Its hard to make a decision, its easy to make a decision, I cannot make up my mind, that’s my decision. I just cannot make up my mind what to do. If ever you have a big decision, those words have been in your mind and on your lips. Whether to have a boy of a girl on you lips that’s another kind of decision, mainly influenced by the party you are attending, but I’m not going to talk about that, your love life is your own affair, if affair is the right word too.

I remember when we bought our first car, a Skoda, it was all we could afford and I had decided it was perfect for our needs, just the 2 of us and baby soon to arrive. In fact I think my wife was pregnant when she passed her driving test, though emergency stops as part of the test were somewhat interesting. Picture the baby flying out as she hit the brakes.

My wife said she preferred another car so we investigated a Suzuki this or that, it was not as good. We went and looked in car showrooms and sat inside cars, and so forth. We looked at another model of car as well which I cannot remember until finally we settled on the Skoda. I had done all the research already but in the interests of Democracy I repeated myself and the wife got the Skoda.

It’s crash test figures were the most important, because we had a baby girl now. My dad helped with the car too, like he always did in life. He left me a bit of money in his will which meant we upgraded to the Comfort model of the Skoda. Dad always said have a bit of comfort in life, and so as he died he gave us comfort, in the shape of Skoda comfort. I am not even a shadow as good as my dad, but I try my best.

Other decisions in life are not as hard to make, what shall I have for dinner, as you walk around Aldi looking at the food on display. We all eat what we like and we may try something different if we see somebody else eating it, or picking it from the freezer. We may eat the same thing over and over till we get sick of it. Then we pick something else and eat that, until we get sick of it.

In England we have the traffic light system of foods nowadays. This is a system of 3 colours, green, brown or red. It tells us what is good, not so good or bad for us. It shows fat, and saturated fat and salt levels. To be honest I never knew it existed 2 years ago, but post unplanned quadruple heart bypass I’m trying to save my heart, with cKd too I’m trying to save my kidneys as well. Makes me sound like a high end chef all these hearts and kidneys. My Arthur my Arthritis is just my bastard, so I take cod liver oil for that.

So as we walk around Aldi or Waitrose if you are lucky enough to live in Harborne, we all look at labels and chose the healthier options, on the ward for Heart Patients salt is totally forbidden by the doctors. You will be surprised just how much salt is in food, I speak as a person who never used to sprinkle salt on any meal, though I have to confess I ate far too many processed food items, if you work shifts you just throw in food and eat it without reading anything. Maybe you should all not follow my example, its your decision.

Choosing a wife, a girlfriend or a lover is a difficult decision too, as is the male choices. So why do we all make these decisions? Nobody else would have me, we were drunk at the Christmas party, and we ended up in the storeroom, or the disabled toilets etc. So something provided the spark and it was a spontaneous decision, then either it continues or its the worst thing that happens in your life, and one of you finds a new job in the New Year.

Or every year at every Christmas party you end up in the stock room with a different girl, so after 13 years its 13 different girls who have had the benefit of your, your, whatever, whatever you want to call it. I won’t tell you my friend’s name or any of the girl’s names, 13 is an unlucky number so I’ll say nothing, besides John is a Judo Back Belt 5^th Dan, he calls me Mary.

Deciding where to live is very hard, we are thinking of moving house at the moment, so we have to consider the location in relation to the girls’ school. What you can afford makes a big difference, and some areas are Hot as they say in China, so if you blink you miss a chance and the house you want is snapped up. South facing properties are so much nicer than any others, you come and view a house only to discover its always dark due to the angle it is built in relation to the sun. You may as well be in the shadow of a mountain.

So you have to decide what is the most important factor, location as regards shops and school. It must be close enough for me to walk to the shops, that’s very important. Can I get a bottle of milk for our cereals, and a loaf of bread.

You find the perfect house only to discover that the local gossip lives next door, so you breathe a sigh of relief you did not sign your name on the contract. A friend nearly had his colleague buy the house next door, you may get on with your workmates but right next door would be too close for comfort.

So what have I decided after thinking about all these decisions, I think I have to do the lottery and then buy a large detached house with garage by the girls’ school, and if I buy the house we can have a Labrador called Camembert.

Or become a gigolo to a Chinese/Japanese/Korean billionairess just for the sake of getting a big house. I told my Shanghai model like wife this and she just laughed and laughed, if you listen carefully you can hear her laughter above the sound of the vacuum cleaner. And that’s how we first met, she had a vacuum cleaner in her hand. I wonder will I meet my billionairess with a vacuum in her hand, then I’ll clean up.      

Biography of Sorts August 2017

Biography of Sorts    August 2017

I'm Michael Casey sometimes listed as Mr. Michael G Casey

so check both till you find all 14 books
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
I started writing a long time ago. 1987 to be exact.
It took me a year to learn how to write. I spent 20 years listening to BBC Radio 4 BEFORE I picked up a pen. I used to read by the yard too. I hope I write for ears if that doesn't sound too pretentious. That's 50 years loving words.
My Face is on all the books so you know who to blame I am not the Monk of the same name.

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to HEAR my words.
Yes I only do things in one take.

Stop Press, for those of you who wished I'd stop writing, well it nearly happened. I had an Unplanned Triple Heart Bypass in Jan 2015, and I didn't even know I had heart problems. 6 months later I learnt I had 4 grafts, so is that a Quadruple? Anyways Thanks to Birmingham's City Hospital and our Queen Elizabeth hospital I am still here with you. Though I'm still getting pain as it takes a long time to heal, and just for fun my Arthritis plays up too. I have given up eating meat and I don't eat frozen food any more. So I've lost nearly 10kilos, and I eat salmon and chicken all the time now, which is boring. But the alternative could be pushing up the daisies. I write 2 or 3 new pieces a week on my site so have a look there. And yes I write about pain as well, for without pain in our life we have not experienced all of life. Though I'd love a break from all the pain, as would all of us. Its Dec 2016 now i'm still writing as often as possible its good for the brain, and the tv news says coffee is good too, so I may drink more of my Kenco Rapore with milk. I've nearly reached 1,000,000 WORDS after 30 years of writing, my kids can put it on my tombstone, along with a new copy of microsoft word that I can use in the next life for a few thousand years.

Biography

I've been close but no cigar most of my life, such as having a play accepted by a professional theatre back in 1989, the play was Shoplife. Life is not a straight road, its more a long and winding road. I can even remember being at grammar school when Monty Python first came out. And look what happened to them. One of my brothers was actually at the same college and University as John Cleese. Another brother was at the same college and University as Mr Bean. Though not at the same time. As for me I went to work. Our dad by the was a Blacksmith then sweated for 40 years in a steel works.

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is a slow burner that really does catch fire, and the best place to be when a book catches fire is, down the pub, The Trader in the book. Hidden in the cellar since WWII is a hoard of whisky, whisky galore you might say. When the street of shops in the book is threatened the shopkeepers can and will resort to anything. Such as a Poet and Undertaker using blackmail. When Patrick finds his one true love, and breaks the bed to prove it what does his priest do? The priest makes him organise a fete for the children's home, now that he has made a baby he has to take responsibility for it, and the children's home fete. The priest too uses a little blackmail, so the local police stop all traffic and detour it so as it passes the children's home 3 times, just in time for the fete. The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is a fun book for all the family with an explosive ending.
So buy it. Amazon Kindle books can be downloaded to Kindle, PC and Laptop. So you have no excuse, or does the writer have to persuade you?

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com  & 

http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/

Now my book of blogs has many funny pieces in it, here's a taster of what you get if you buy the book.

Stuffing Tony
By Michael Casey

Stuffing Tony, what am I talking about, no not our tame turkey whom we've decided to eat, nor anything else. Tony is in fact a soft toy, he's my small daughter's favourite, the one she loves the most. He's a white tiger, he was in fact he was her sister's Birthday tiger from a few years ago, but she cried until she owned him. Tony is a very washed out bleached kind of tiger. Tony has been through the washing machine a couple of times, he was very very dizzy when he came out. Yesterday Tony got a brother, his brother is a ginger tiger, now christened Ginger. Ginger makes us laugher because Ginger is how English people call my wife if they cannot pronounce her Chinese name.
Tony is one of 40 stuffed toys the girls have, they live up a corner behind the sofa which is just behind me. They are allowed out to form a class when my small daughter plays teacher, afterwards they climb back into their Iceland bags and go to sleep. There is a problem with Tony though, he's lived in the fast lane and lost a lot of weight. So following strict instructions, today I have done a stuffing transplant, which is like a heart transplant but much more important and dangerous. Today without any sedative I have made Loony Chick donate some stuffing to Tony. I took the scissors and make an incision in Loony Chick's behind, I then proceeded to remove the stuffing. I had previously made an incision in Tony's neck at the back, it was then a process of removing from Loony Chick and stuffing Tony.
The whole procedure lasted 20mins, Tony now looks very plumped up and proud, as the leader of the pride should look. As for Loony Chick, he, she or should I say it now looks as if he'd had a few dodgy kebabs, very slim, but at least the head still looks plump. When the girls come home from school we'll decide what to do with Loony Chick, should we stuff him with chopped up old clothes, or bubble wrap? Or should he face the death sentence and be sent to a Charity shop, I know it sounds cruel, but since he came back from Shanghai in 2009 he'd mainly been a cushion.
These are the very serious things a modern parent has to deal with, luckily I know how to sew, and I have a special relationship with all the toys. Now that Tony is full and looks like a weightlifting Tiger I hope Ginger won't be jealous, otherwise one of them may have to end up in a zoo, or the closest equivalent, in one of the 13 charity shops near our house.

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com

www.michalgcasey.typepad.com to hear me read my stuff


www.michaelgcasey.tumblr.com to hear me read my stuff


http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/
are places to read my stuff, comic in the main.

I would love a spot in a newspaper or magazine, print or online.
I would love a spot on the radio too, 90 seconds with Michael
where I'd read a blog out on the radio every day. I have 1300!
So if you agree with me that it would be a great feature do get in touch

I also think a book of my stories with facing page translation plus my audio
attached would be a great way to teach English via humour to foreigners
I have enough material for a series of 20 books.
So angel investors get in touch
My shorts/blogs are 90 seconds long.
My 12 books can be bought here on Amazon Kindle,
DON'T FORGET KINDLE BOOKS CAN BE LOADED TO PC AND LAPTOP NOT JUST KINDLE.

p.s. I have now written over one million words.
1,151,939  according to my count. I only write short stories as I might not finish a full comic novel which is a year of your life. Though if any law firm out there allowed me to borrow a legal secretary.

I could come and sit behind a legal secretary and dictate it.
In 12 weeks I could finish Tears for a Butcher the follow on
 to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
otherwise it will just rattle around my head, with out a conductor to control it.
Sir Simon Rattle was the Birmingham conductor, hence that joke.

Otherwise I write nearly every day now and when I have 100 stories or so I  compile them into another book and launch it on Amazon Kindle.
Poland seems to love my stories then most, so a big thank you to them. I have to buy some eggs at our local Polish shop now, so while I do that you can buy and read my stuff.