From A to B from SatNav to Blocked sink a piece from 2013 I'll try and write a new piece tomorrow

From A to B or from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues.

In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He'd done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.

Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.

Bus drivers know their route, so once they've done it a while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange directions.

Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.

So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant seaman, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai

Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19^th/20^th Century 100years and more ago.

Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in English.

She’s  busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.

A Glimpse of Stocking a piece from Ash Wednesday

A Glimpse Of Stocking ©

By Michael Casey

Well yesterday was Ash Wednesday so I hope you are all still there, you may have given me up for Lent. I think we need a little levity so that’s what I’ll try for today. There may be pauses as the pain demands attention like a spoilt brat, or a North Korean leader, I’ve thrown in a political joke just for the journalists reading this. You think I’m a girl mentioning the pain, I’ll throw a few adjectives at you or even a metaphor if you are not nice to me, I’ll tell my Polish fans to come and hack you. 7000 plus hits in less than a week from Poland, maybe only they find me funny. So move to Poland, you really are so cruel, I’ll come a live next door to you. I knew that would shut you up, call yourself a sub editor, emphasis on the SUB.

Now that we’ve sorted out who is the boss shall I begin, and see I’m posh I use shall. We wish you used more deodorant. Silence in the ranks, I look like the Elephant in the Jungle Book, or is that just the smell. If any of you mutter anything again I’ll send you to Donald for a spanking.

Now spanking is a key word in English, those naughty boys, the SILENT naughty boys smile at the very mention of the word. If you have seen the Carry On Films then I need say no more. What I want to talk about today is how values have changed so much. Personally I think it’s all in the mind, what? It, it is all in the mind. You don’t have to lay it all on, or swamp everybody with it, it not IT, there is a difference. You know it, or shall I shout  IT, and I mean IT and not IT. Sometimes the Press pack are so deliberately boring. Donald give them a really  good spanking from me. I know MATT the cartoonist has whipped his crayons out already and you have a queue, or Line as they say in USA of journalists waiting to be spanked by Donald.

Ok I’ll leave that idea in your mind and I bet it’ll appear somewhere in cartoon form within a week, I am Mr Cartoons made from Words after all. Now where was I, yes I’m sat here talking to you all, and I have to confess I get Russian readers too, Putin reads me, yes he does, his MAD magazine got stuck in the post somewhere so he started reading my column, Nelson his press secretary put him on to me.  That’s what a bushy eyed man told me by the frozen peas in Aldi yesterday, or he may have been asking me to putin the peas into his basket. I just wish I was a linguist, LINGUIST, you lot are so slow sometimes.

Yes, what I really want to talk about today is the wanton use of sex in the media. In days of old a glimpse of stocking was classed as shocking but now anything goes. I think I saw it performed at the Good Old Days on tv. What is amusing us all at the moment is a feminist deciding to flash or half flash, her upper bits, I won’t use any words as it may upset nanny. I can hear the sound of the cane in the distance, Donald is spanking the journalists in the distance. They should have saved the DC Digger Metro Edition, not because its second hand bargains were the best in the whole of USA, and the supermarket coupons inside were always for the best shops. But because if you stuff it down the back of your trousers no amount of spanking by teacher will hurt.  

So rather than talk about the level of nudity, let’s look at this sideways, and sometimes you have to because the way things are published. Should I, moi Michael Casey from Birmingham England, should I have a shirt split to the navel to expose my quadruple heart bypass scar. Should I wear see-through pants, as you call trousers in USA, should I expose my short fat and hairy legs to show off my scars. The scars run from my socks and stop at my, well too high to mention, only my nurse has examined those regions. In today’s world the   Stars show everything, only a butcher shows more, laying in his shop window, and if the Stars were naked in a butcher’s shop window could you tell one piece of meat from another? And no I’m not suggesting the butcher lies naked in his shop window only holding his cleaver.

What if in the future the circle turns full circle. You wear a suit with cut outs exposing your elbows, just your elbows. The screams from women in the street as they faint with shock. Exposed elbows, terrible, shock horror. Somebody take him to Donald’s office for a spanking, he must be a terrible journalist or some such thing. Then even worse a suit with exposed knees, otherwise totally totally formal but the knees exposed, the utter depravity of it, exposing your knees in public. The absolute worse of the worse would be shoes, patent leather shoes with the big toe exposed and wiggling for the whole world to see. Off with his head, somebody call the executioner, what Mr Pierpont is on holiday. Donald will have to give him a double spanking instead. Where is Pierpont? Oh, he went on a Nudist holiday to Brighton in England.

Oh just for the record Donald is a She, in these days of gender equality anybody can be called anything they like. Donald is the President of the Bad Grammar Corrective Ink Party. A private members club for Journalists in DC. What were you all thinking, I told you it’s all in the mind.

don't lose your cool

me exposing my 14 books on Amazon

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Something with soul

http://www.theseoultimes.com/ST/index.html

Front page of the newspaper today.  Link to my story K Pop.

I just wish more newspapers did the same., and published my stories

 the picture was chosen by the newspaper to go with my words.  K POP saves the world.

Yuri of Grils' Generation   her name is Yuri Kwon Yuri 

SO YOU CAN GOOGLE HER

The writer Michael Casey tonight 14th Sept 2017 my usual glamorous self

 hello Mexico 

Hello All, especially Mexico reading my stuff tonight hello to you.

Yo hablo espagnol como un burro hablo frances, hace 40 anos gano A en en exam de espagnol, pero  yo visito Espagna solo una vez, yo pasar una semana en Barcelona, cada dia en el bar de tapas, otras vez  digma la trabacadora . Lo siento es mucho mas facil habar que escribir Espagnol. Antes de va a Barcelona en 1999 you estudia cada dia por sol 15 minutos, pero por 3 meses en entonces  va a espagna. Todo es eso, si ustedes va a  mi otra website hay mucho mas cuentos comicos. Buenos por estudiar ingles. a la otra website ha mucho traductionesy tambien Google hache traduciones automaticos.

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com


https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

have fun enjoy all my stories, I am the undiscovered writer from Birmingham.  You can pray for my health if you cannot afford to buy any books.

Hasta Luego.

Miguelito el Gordo  amigo de Sancho Pancha mi nobre de jovenes. 

K-Pop saves the world

K POP saves the World ©

By

Michael Casey

As I flagged yesterday I’ll write something about Pop Stars today, I’ve even changed my usual Font. I did think of one thing and then another, then I had a splat idea. Its the Jackson Pollock school of writing after all, as we lie in our beds the Angel of Death approaches, and the Dove of Peace is just a tiny tiny mustard seed in comparison. I am talking of the looming nuclear war in North Korea.

Read these two links before I resume, with a fresh coffee in my hand.

 http://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/world/north-korea-threatens-to-sink-japan-reduce-us-to-ashes-and-darkness/ar-AArUtCD?li=BBoPWjQ&ocid=mailsignout 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzJvBgsFjvQ&list=RDEzJvBgsFjvQ&t=4 

The 1^st is a worrying news item,  the 2^nd is K Pop.

I’m listening to REM as they sing “Everybody Hurts” I’ve chosen their Automatic for the People album as the backdrop while I talk to you all. Sorry Justin and your Beavers I’m not going to mock you, you do a good enough job on your own. And Snoop you walk your own dog, Eminem go back to school, but Justin dear Justin, I taught you everything you know, now its time to use your 20/20 Vision.

Instead I want to talk about Music, if it be the food of love play on. I wish I could lip sinc the entire film Moulin Rouge as I love it so much. My favorite scene is where the black guy punches the count and save Nicole Kidman. But I digress as ever, but I have such great legs so I should be in a dress. So today’s idea is K Pop for Peace.

23 million people in North Korea are being led by somebody who could be a fat rapper, who has spent everybody’s 50cents on Nuclear Bling, who could poison his own country’s water supply when the mountain where the testing is done collapses around him. In the South everybody has everything, they even have FOOD. So what are we to do to avoid the 1^st Strike from USA, or a very close 2^nd strike if the Panzi, which is a Chinese word for Fat or Pig, tries to get in first. The Logic Of Madness, this is actually a simple concept if you put yourself in the shoes of the madman. This is where the madman kills everything he loves, such as his own family, and then everybody just cannot understand why. Sadly we see such cases in the newspaper from time to time.

The Dear Leader loves nobody, he is corrupt and just loves his own position. So why will he listen to say a fat guy with silver hair in shades from Birmingham? He has not looked in the mirror and changed, he has not had a road to Damascus experience, he has no Soul. He hacked our NHS, it was only saved by a young guy who is now in Jail in USA for something, its due in court soon. A comedy about North Korea, not very funny in the artistic sense resulted in Sony being hacked. People forget Koreans are very clever, even if just in the Military sense in the North.

So what are we to do?

Pack up all your troubles in your all kit bag and sing, yes sing. All you Rappers and hard men out there, why not sing for Peace. I dare you to have a Dream, like King and yes like Abba. Pop stars always say in answer to what is their one dream, world peace, that was until one DJ punched the pop star, be realistic the interviewer shouted.

So Snoop follow your dog’s lead, 50 Cents lend us a penny, no not for a pee, just show us your sparkle, and all the rest of you out there in Hard Man Wrapper Land. Your time has come. Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country. And the answer is sing Take me Home Country Roads and all the John Denver hits. Yes, all you hard rappers out there, Sing Country. And may Buddy Rich rock and roll in his grave. As for all you gyrating girl singers there is room for you too, as I sit here talking to you Love Hurts plays again, so you Ladies can sing that and shake as only you can shake, while I finish my Lemonade.

Then here’s the clever bit track back from Sony to North Korea and let them hear the music. Let them have a Soul, let them dance. All of North Korea’s public address system is taken over by music. First the rappers singing country, they will be the storm troopers of love. Then Let the music sing let the music take over. Surround North Korea with K POP the only language they understand. From South Korea, from Japan and from China too, not forgetting a few Russians.

Constant K pop, the music of fun and laughter and very pretty girls, not forgetting Gangham Style. Broadcast at them on every radio frequency, on every IP address, take over the North Korean nuclear program with K Pop Music, and not forgetting Abba. The Dear Leader presses a button and all he gets is every tv and computer coming to life with K Pop, and then the population have something to really cry about.

Cry with happiness because K-Pop has saved them from the starvation of the spirit. This should be a cue for a Rapper to sing something good, but are any of you good enough? I’ll have a sip of lemonade while you reach for your dictionary. But I’m sure King would know what to say. Or do we just ask the King, Elvis to say a word now. Yes maybe Mr Gangham Style himself should start singing in the Ghetto. North Korea needs to leave  the Ghetto and enter the sunshine. Sing Rappers sing, Take me Home Country Roads, in Korean.

  the wisdom of a fool

List of my books, written by me, Michael Casey

The fat silver haired writer in shades. from Birmingham

1.The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

2.Shoplife

3.Essays and Plays

4.Blogs 2011

5.300 and Not OUT

6.Shorts 2013

7.More Shorts 2014

8.Quick Stories

9.Still Alive 2015

10.Undiscovered Words 2016

11.Still Smiling 2017

12.Altogether Now

13.New Horizons

14.14 Up

Flu jab soon

Flu jab next week, but I have some bug already making me so tired, perhaps I just need to drink Iron Brew, the Scots pop.

I have an idea for a story about Pop Stars or pop culture, if that's not a contradiction in  terms, I was going to put it down tonight but I'm too tired despite 2 naps today.

So that's what you can look out for tomorrow. Thanks to my Polish readers, you all seem to like my stuff.
SO WHY NOT  ANNOY YOUR MEDIA SO I CAN APPEAR DIRECTLY IN POLAND IN POLISH. you could get a Polish actor to read it out on the Radio, or a magazine to Print it in Poland.

We are still hart heartedly hunting for a house, IF we find one I cannot carry a thing, as my scar tissue is still so sensitive after 2.5 years+ and my arthritis is no joy either.  So the plan would be to grab a troop of Chinese friends to help us move house. Either that or I go to the Polish shop and borrow a few lads for a day to help carry things. I used to be 1/2 as strong as a Polish guy, who are 4 times stronger than the average English guy.
 Or in plain English I used to be as strong as an OX, now I just smell like an OX.
That's about it for today, the pain monster stayed away last night, I just woke every 2 hours, which is normal for me. So  tomorrow Thursday I'll try and write my next story, number 1300 + , in words I have now reached 1,164,853 Words   or 33,244 words  of my next book 15Down, if I finish it.

I also entered 20 competitions tonight with Bauer Media, I hope I win some, then I have Christmas presents for my relatives. Bauer are in Poland too, so tell them  to read my stories on the Radio.

Let more Polish people suffer the words of Michael Casey from Birmingham England.

https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

List of my books, written by me, Michael Casey

The fat silver haired writer in shades.

1.The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

2.Shoplife

3.Essays and Plays

4.Blogs 2011

5.300 and Not OUT

6.Shorts 2013

7.More Shorts 2014

8.Quick Stories

9.Still Alive 2015

10.Undiscovered Words 2016

11.Still Smiling 2017

12.Altogether Now

13.New Horizons

14.14 Up

The Student's Study

The Student’s Study ©

By

Michael Casey

Well it had to happen so it has, I have had to share my study with my daughter. Ok, its not a study its just me up a corner of our front room with a computer perched on a steel computer trolley thing. Its a bit like a giant cheese grater, I grate the cheese, the words to provide ingredients for my stories. If and when I make money I’ll have a desk like Charles Dickens had, I even have his picture as my screen saver.

For now we threw away an old 2 seater sofa to make way for a pine desk for my daughter to sit and study for her A levels at. Its not  really pine its cheap board with a veneer on top, but its a pulled square metre in size, so the future Dr Casey case study for her A levels behind me. If you have seen a previous picture then you’ll have seen her by my side at the piano, now she is behind me studying away with the aim of getting into Cambridge to do Medicine. My dad would have and will be so proud should she achieve this. Her uncle my brother was at Downing Cambridge back in 1975, and her other uncle is a Queensman from Oxford. A Queensman is not the female equivalent of a Kingsman, if you have seen that great film.

In a way I feel like Liberace now, we are back to back all we need is sparkly clothes, and music. We have music as we both like music while we work. I have 90 cds that I’ve bought over the years, mainly 20 years ago, and spotify is fun too. But now I have to suffer her music and she has to suffer mine, she may switch on her headphones and I lower the volume on my speakers on my cheese grater PC trolley. There are holes in the shelves to make it lighter, hence the cheese grater description.

In the next room abandoned in a corner is an old speaker, my biggest brother use to play Cream music through it while he was studying to get into Oxford, 50 years ago. I cannot believe where the years have gone. 15 years ago I met Eric Clapton while I was working at CPNEC Birmingham, so the circle was complete. Not unless Eric needs a backup speaker for his garden shed, I’ll swap the speaker for his back catalog on CD and USB stick, and I’ll throw in my back catalog of 14 books. A bargain.

Behind me my small daughter has migrated to the study table while her sister rests, my “study” has now been colonised by my daughters

But as we are looking in opposite directions we don’t disturb each other, hang on my small daughter has just started to chant the Periodic Table song, she shouts when did you learn it last, 1972 I reply, before your mother was born.

Luckily I am a very fast writer, hence the typos, so I’m normally done in one hour as far as the creative process is concerned, thereafter the noise of daughters’ does not matter. Though they might say the farts of father persist. Time for an ice lolly, so you have a cuppa while I devour my lolly.

Well I had my lolly and my big daughter put out the dustbins, its her job to make her realise Life is about the unglamourous things too. I remind her does she really want to put her finger up a strange old man’s behind to do rectal examinations, this is the Life of a Doctor after all. I just read that sentence to her, it was met by stony silence. The guard has changed now, she, the big daughter is sat at the desk doing her A Level homework. We are interrupted by little My in search of Polly Pockets, I never suffered this before, now it is my future. Perhaps I’ll have to write my stories earlier in the day to avoid study room congestion.

The printer at my feet is spitting out paper, I am a paper loader and handler again, just as I was back in 1978 at Stats MR, but now I have a daughter to help, just by passing the pages over my shoulder as they come off our printer. To be honest I am so proud, proud enough to cry, my dad would have been prouder still, and as for my mum, a Nuclear Bomb of Love is being detonated every day in Heaven. Her granddaughter planning to be a  DOCTOR.

The printer spews out more paper before I can be too sentimental, before I count my chickens before they are hatched, lets see where we are in 2 years time when the A levels are taken. I need a banana to ground me, so while I unzip a banana, you have an apple, we have Gala apples in our fruit bowl. Some Hippy music is playing in the corner, I couldn’t listen to it for long, so I’ll hurry with my banana.

So you get the picture, my inner sanctum is defiled by daughters, but they will achieve great things where I will not. My small daughter can write the International Best Seller , “My fat dad the writer”, I just hope she does it while I’m alive. Then maybe I get the Dickens Desk as I write on into my 90s, but really the only thing that matters is that my girls are happy, even if they just work in Woolworths.