And the Oscar for 2018 is

And the Oscar for 2018 is ©

By

Michael Casey

I didn’t know the Oscars are on tv tonight, it popped up as a news item,then I knew. But I didn’t get an invite so how should I know? What should I wear, I have nothing Black or White or Rainbow coloured. I do have red coloured chinos with a bright red jumper, I look like a shaved Santa as I said to my Polish neighbour this afternoon. Oh I forgot I have a bright red zip up anorak too to complete my ensemble.

I just won an Oscar myself, I was interrupted by my daughter wanting outdoor gear for a walk she’ll be doing as part of her Duke of Edinburgh Award. So I won an Oscar for parenting. I also broke the budget too, so I’ll have to make sure I get cheap deals in the supermarket to cover the deals. A low budget production for parenting, now that’s the Hope always, but it always feels like the Titanic. But at least my daughter will have waterproofs for her walk.

Where was I? On the red carpet wearing my protest colours, of toothpaste and coffee stains down the front on my winter woolies. I’m wearing my slippers too, I wear slippers around the house to save our carpets, so I’ll feel at home on the Oscar Red Carpet. I will try to shave and at least comb my silver locks. I will try and steal some Wayfarer Ray Bans from some of the stars, providing they have a big head. Yes I know they all have large egos but I have a wide face so I need bigger Ray Bans. Look at my book covers for details.

Creative Oscar for the best use of bad language is a good category that should have an Oscar on its own. Swearing when used creatively is very funny, and can also be very effective. In Apocalypse Now now a swear was written on a bomb, and in the story somebody was on a charge for writing the curse on a bomb. So which is more obscene, the bomb that kills or a written word on the bomb? Think about it. I can remember discussing this with Janine Bird many years ago, so hello to her if she reads this.

What other Oscars do I like. An Oscar to mothers for screaming at kids for being on the wifi all the time and not putting out the rubbish. I’m sure everybody all over the world could connect with that one. This would go hand in hand with the Oscar to kids who beg for the wifi not to be switched off. Imagine the drama and the utter intensity of it all. You could even break into a Bollywood dance routine, Please Please Please Keep the Wifi on. Then a cruel sadist, normally a dad switches off the wifi. Silence descends on the household, except for the sound of gentle sobbing, the kids are wifiless.

Slapstick I is good when its done well. Look at Charlie Chaplin, I did ask Robert Downey Jnr on Facebook years ago when was he doing Chaplin 2 but he was not impressed. Our paths have not crossed since then. He has since done Ironman, he really is a great actor, and thanks to Elton John he got back in the groove years ago. I was tempted to send Robert Downey Jnr a new message when Ironman came out. My father was a blacksmith you see, so I used to joke with my kids that my dad made Birmingham’s Iron Man statue up in his bedroom in the old people’s home, just to pass the time away.

To my point though, a great routine is really great whether Chaplin or Ironman does it, physical comedy that runs and runs. You could say Jackie Chan should qualify for such an award. An Oscar for it should be given, they gave awards for a silent film years ago, so why not Slapstick. I’m of an age where I saw the Marx Bros and Laurel and Hardy on tv as well as all the 60s stuff and up to the present, so my breath is very wide. Or would this be classed as too old fashioned, they can only have one silent film after all. I’d say classic comedy pieces last forever so why have an Oscar for it. By the way if I bump into Robert Downey Jnr having the bumps knocked out of his flying suit by my dad at the old people’s home I’ll have a word with him. Though my dad died over a decade ago, so it might just be a cobbler banging his suit on a last, instead of my dad. Or am I talking cobblers.

I can also remember misdirection in a routine, Who’s on First in Abbot and Costello when talking about baseball. Linguistic Acrobatics is the fancy name, well worth an Oscar two. I try it in a line or two when I’m talking to you, its fun for the writer and more fun for the actor when they get it right. In Stardust where DeNiro negotiates the price with that English comic you have a fine example of linguistic acrobatics, great film by the way.

So I’ve given you examples of how I see the Oscars should be. Can you ask Robert Downy Jnr. To fly over some left overs to me when the Oscar parties are over, I’ll get him discount with the cobblers for his suit tone up. I have to finish now its late and I need to sleep, but do have a great Oscar’s night whatever colour you wear, in the end we are all naked and the only performance that matters is how we treated the least of our brethren.

  

Welcoming Sweden and Everybody Else

Welcoming Sweden and Everybody Else ©

By

Michael Casey

I ventured out further up the road today, the ice and snow is too much for me nowadays so it as nice to take a trip up the road to the shops. My daughters demanded chocolate and Polish buns if I only went as far as the Polish shop at the corner, luckily I went to our posh supermarket instead. Their buns are very nice too, and chocolate for Mother’s Day was on offer a full week early. I also spotted a couple of still fresh sandwiches at 1/4 price, so obviously I got them for my dinner. Half price cappuccino was also available, so all in all a nice Sunday’s shopping, and a proper escape from the house after all the snow.

Now I’m chilling with John Denver and his Rocky Mountain collection, he was a big friend of mine 40 years ago, so I decided to free him from the cd box and let him sing. He is on my computer hard disc now along with 100 other CDs. A cd is a thing that welcomes us home, we hit play and kick off our shoes. We sling the dinner in the oven and relax on the sofa. That was my life in my computer room days. Mind you the MSG in processed ready meals, even if it was just breadcrumbs on kievs may have been bad for my heart, though I probably just inherited my heart from my dad, and the arthritis from my mum. Its nice to be a close family, but its better not to inherit the diseases. At lease my Ckd was not inherited, that’s all my own.

Now speaking of chilling I just spotted Sweden joining my reading club today, so hello to whoever they are. If you are a Nobel family member I’m not worth a Prize, and as my dad used to say is there any money attached to it? Otherwise it was rubbish in his opinion. Talk is cheap but money buys bread was his motto. Anyway hello Sweden, even if you are a lowly hotel cleaner having a look at the internet on the hotel’s front of house computer. I was hotel worker for 3 years.

No today’s title is Welcoming. What makes you feel welcome? Hotels and companies pay millions to Advertisers and Brand people and Designers to make us feel welcome. Why? Because if we feel welcome then we will come back.It is no good if people feel as if they were robbed or mugged almost if when they go somewhere they never want to return. Remember you’ll tell 10 people that Michael Casey was such a rubbish host and you’ll say all manner of bad things about him. But if Michael Casey was a great host, you’ll only tell 4 people.  Hotel’s know this, it is also common sense, that’s why they train you to be nice. They do also pick nice people to start with. Empathetic people. Nobel only discovered what people really thought of him when he read his own obituary, and then he changed. So Hotels are aware of this in advance.

In different cultures they must feed you well or they lose face. Arab cultures are noted for their hospitality, as are the Irish. I once heard that in one culture the host’s wife was offered as token of respect. You’ll have to Google that to see if that is an urban myth. If you reversed that idea I doubt if any guest female or male would accept me as an offering. It may explain why nobody comes visiting to our house, for fear of ending up in bed with me,as a token of hospitality. Or it could just be that our tea and biscuits are really rubbish. There is no Trip Adviser rating for our house, so I’ll never find out.

Moving on, in Sweden its their vegetables which make them famous, the swedes in Sweden are truly outstanding. Abba was a famous fruit and vegetable salesman, he used to sing cockles and muscles alive and alive o, but then his children grew up so they sung songs as they pushed the barrow around selling swedes in Stockholm. At Christmas stockings were filled with swedes for all the Swedes. My mother said if she go an orange then she was really happy, this was 1920s Kerry Ireland. So imagine that the Swedes followed then same path, but with swedes in a stocking.

The salesman’s children had an idea, so the girls wore the stockings, they were the Swedes in stockings as opposed to swedes in stockings. And the boys grew beards so they did not look like the girls too much. Then they pushed the barrow through the streets broad and narrow, singing  Swedes come and eat your swedes, we have various sizes just for your needs, Swedes come and eat your swedes. It was so catchy they should have won a prize, but not a Nobel prize.

Tragedy struck the wheel fell off the barrow, so they thought they would starve. They stopped to cry outside a pub, and lamented they’d met their Waterloo, while they nipped inside to use the loo, they had an idea. So seizing the stage, they sang for all they were worth. My, My we’ve been to the loo, we’ve lost our barrow, no more swedes for us, please let us sing for our supper.

And after a lot of practice, they became a band. The rest is a mystery to me, as I’ve never eaten swedes. So Sweden welcome to my world of words. John Denver is singing about Old Shanghai now, and my Shanghai wife has fallen silent now, I think she just ate her swedes.  

Things that make you smile

Things that make you Smile ©

By

Michael Casey

We all need things that make us smile, especially if we are in a very busy and hard working environment. My own life is siting here watching the world go by and writing a new story most days. It would be very easy to be full of self pity, I can’t go out and earn money as I don’t have any stamina any more. Arthritis and post quadruple heart bypass and CKd does that to you. So you have to accept your limitations and try and stay happy.

I stay happy by writing or rather by talking to you all. I look up from keyboard and see Mrs Candyfloss had pass by, she looks as if she has a Candyfloss stuck to her head hence her name. I have the dog lady and the dog man passing by, so they are company for me during my day at the keyboard, in between my trips to the toilet. Speaking of which my toilet paper review was rejected by a toilet paper supplier. I had used the song Oh Fatty Bum Bum and said their paper was average, I only did the review in the hope of winning a 50quid prize. But they rejected the review, I did do another review for another item and that was accepted, but I did not win any prize for that either. So this is the exciting life I lead.

Sometimes walking down the street the smell of cannabis hits you, and makes you want to puke. And the other day the smoker was on the other side of the street so strong was his Skunk. Even normal smoke makes me sick as I’m a life long non smoker. So you may be smiling now,laughing at my discomfort.

Listening to the News is a big thing for me, though Brexit which you know will end in tears really is boring now and I speak as a Political Junkie. Politics is my drug, heart medication is my other drug, it has to be or I’d be dead and you’d never hear or read any of my stuff again. Are you smiling now? Wishing I’d forget to take my meds and you would all be spared me talking to you.

When I listen to the news I remember Drop the Dead Donkey, a satire about the news, though reporters still play the same game inserting certain words, maybe for a bet as they report for the 8^th time in a day the very same story. I suppose it stops them from getting bored. Some of the words used are just Corny, 4^th year English puns, but maybe I am jealous they get to report, all I can do is Heckle my tv or Radio. Radio news is much better than tv news by the way.

Today Mrs More has more than enough on her plate as Roger Moore her much loved Manx poodle is possible lost alone on the moor, Dartmoor, never to be found, see she frowns as the latest news is announced. Such similar words and phrases are used by bored reporters, who should know better, but are auditioning for Drop the Dead Donkey or is it Fox News?

Miaow I hear you all say, but I have to amuse myself as well. Shep Smith though on Fox really was a favourite of mine. Though I have lost Fox now, not unless I hunt the Fox on Utube, and a fox down a tube is hard to find. Though having said that I did have 3 foxes in my own back garden a few months ago. Remember we have a big wood just up the road.

When its windy I can see women trying to keep their umbrellas from being blown away, why women use umbrellas I can never understand. What’s wrong with a big woolly hat? Or an anorak with a hood? Fashion. A girl will never use a hood. A beret worn at an angle is very fetching, very French. I bought my daughter a real French beret and its great on her.

Though I still smile as I think of Frank Spencer, in a comedy called Some Mothers Do Have Them, this was very physical comedy. Then years later the star went on to do Opera he stared in Phantom of the Opera, so when he does that we all wonder will he finish with the catchphrase from the comedy show, Oh Betty. You can all google this and you really will laugh out loud. And he did all his own stunts in this 70s show, Some Mothers Do Have Them.

There are many things that make us smile, like when you see a once hated boss who you should have punched. But now you just smile. Because he is no longer part of your life, he has no power over you. Its the Political equivalent of seeing a Politician with his trousers down by his ankles and showing his bare bum. Though some may say that that’s what Politics is all about. Trousers down and being an ass.

This is me taking over the world

 as you can see from the map this is me taking over the world with my words.
it's a snapshot it does not show all my readers
So Media, and Rupert how about giving me a bit of help with filling in the map. Have you got any crayons? I need a house, a car and a puppy dog, we can negotiate the rest.
The house is for the family, the car for my daughter who’ll be 17 in the Spring so she should learn to drive now. And the puppy dog is for me and all of us.
Thanks

https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC

Michael Casey
the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England

Lech The Altar Boy and The Ghost

By michaelgcasey

Sat, 03 Mar 2018

• 2 reads

 

Lech The Altar Boy and The Ghost ©
By Michael Casey

Lech was an altar boy in Cracow, this writer was an altar boy too but that was in Birmingham in the 1960s and 1970s, they do have one thing in common and that was Ghosts. Lech was big and strong and he’d punch anybody who said serving Mass was for mothers’ boys, he had a Faith as strong as he was. And besides he liked dressing up and carrying candles, it was fun and was very theatrical, especially the orb thing that you put charcoal in and the priest adds incense to, they you get to shake it all about. It was a kind of very smelly high, smoke everywhere.
Lech was always the last boy to finish after the Mass or Benediction or the Funeral or whatever it was, because Fr. Thomas also shared a cigarette with him when nobody was looking. Fr. Thomas had been in the Missions and had come home to Cracow to die, he had picked up a few diseases while abroad and as Cracow had a good hospital the Bishop brought him home to serve in a small church so Fr. Thomas could be close to a hospital. The Bishop also happened to be Fr. Thomas’s friend from 50 years before when they were at school together. Fr. Thomas had beaten a bully, in fact he had knocked seven shades of, well you know the next word, so no need to say it. So Fr. Thomas had saved the future Bishop and that’s why they became friends.
Lech reminded Fr. Thomas of himself, a big strong lad who was afraid of nothing, so that’s why they shared a cigarette when both should not. Fr. Thomas knew Lech would never be a priest, he’d be a father sure, but not a Fr. more like a father of 10. Lech was a magnet for girls, girls of all ages, 16 to 160 years old, they all thought he was so pretty, he’d tempt anybody even some of the statues of the saints scattered around the church.  
It was just after Lech and Fr. Thomas had finished their cigarette one Thursday evening that Fr. Thomas collapsed, Lech caught him in his arms and saw the life slip away from him. Fr. Thomas gasped for breath but as he was dying he said “if I was a father a real father, you would have been the perfect son for me, just promise me you’ll give up smoking” Lech promised he’d give up the cigarettes and Fr. Thomas died with a smile on his lips. Fr. Thomas had died a “father”, with a son called Lech who was as big as and as strong as an Ox.
Fr. Thomas’s funeral stopped Cracow, everybody came , priests galore, and everybody had a good time, Lech was the chief altar boy and he was given the honour of reading the passage from the Bible about Lazarus being raised from the dead and Jesus cried for his friend.
After the burial all the were gathered around chatting, and having a crafty smoke, priest and nurses are devils for a cigarette, but you know that already. Lech was going to join in, but he could hear a voice in his head, promise me you’ll never smoke, it was almost as if Fr. Thomas was standing behind him. He had the cigarette lit in his hand, so instead he stubbed it out and put it in his pocket.
At times of stress or sadness, we may all hear or see voices or shadows, or echoes or reflections, its normal when your mum dies, or when your favourite dog dies, you may hear it bark and so on. In Lech’s case whenever he reached for a cigarette he could hear Fr. Thomas’s voice, he could hear him asking him to promise not to smoke.
Once he looked up from the cigarette in his hand and he thought he could see Fr. Thomas’s, reflection in the presbytery’s kitchen window, he spun around only nobody was there. If it was cannabis he could have explained it, but since Fr. Thomas’s death he had kept his promise not to smoke, he had always heard Fr. Thomas’s voice in his head just as he was about to put any cigarette of any kind to his lips.
This went on for 2 years, he could light a cigarette but as soon as he was about to put it to his lips the Voice the Advice from a Dead Priest was in his head. Finally he threw his cigarette lighter into the river that ran through Cracow, only as he was so angry at the dead priest he miss-threw it and it hit a girl on the side of her head and she fell in the street.
Karolina was her name and she was a nurse who smoked like the devil, or she did till Lech picked her up from the gutter in the street. She was so angry, yet so beautiful, wouldn’t you be if an oaf, an ox had hit you with a cigarette lighter. Lech took out his dirty snotty handkerchief and held it against her head to stop the bleeding. As he apologised he looked into Karolina’s eyes and she looked into his, what would you do if you were a Polish girl from Cracow and a huge hunk was looking into your eyes. Well tell me, tell me right now, or I’ll stop the story. STOP.
Ok, I stopped the story while I had a drink of water, Girls have you made up YOUR mind, what would you do to Lech? She battered him, but all the time he held his dirty snotty handkerchief to her wound, he had to stop the bleeding after all.  Then she laughed and laughed, then she kissed him more and more. Only a fool would behave in such a fashion taking everything she threw at him, be it blows or kisses but all the time holding a filthy rag at her face to stop the bleeding.
The church was still open so Lech suggested they go back and she could wash her face. He also said she could go to confession to ask for forgiveness for beating him, then they started laughing again. It turned out she was single and that her boyfriend had dumped her when he found out just before getting engaged that she could not have children. Lech was angry and cursed him whoever he was, he even offered to beat the living daylights out of him. Karolina lost her heart to him at that very second.
In church one of the confessionals had a light on so Karolina went inside to have Confession while Lech went to find the first aid kit. Cracow confessions are very quick, to the point and quick. Inside the priest said all you have to do is give up smoking, and then you’ll find a husband. Lech is a nice boy Karolina. I absolve you, and for your penance you must promise never to beat your husband Lech again. Karolina was dumbfounded, how did the priest know all about it.
Lech came back with the first aid kit and tended to Karolina’s wounds, she said you have to go to confession now I’ve just been, so after putting a final plaster on her hear Lech went to Confession. Lech was about to confess when he heard the familiar voice of Fr. Thomas telling him he should marry Karolina, but he should stop throwing cigarette lighters about or he could really hurt somebody. As for having children, Michael Casey the Birmingham writer who translates into Polish, well he asked  Padre Pio for a wife and children, but he left it all up top God. So Lech just leave it all up to God.
Lech left the confessional as white as a sheet, as if he had seen a ghost. He looked at Karolina, I will marry you and we will leave it up to God to see if we have children. Karolina got up from her seat and pointed, Lech spun around and there was Fr. Thomas was walking into the sacristy, he was arm in arm with another Cracow priest, Karol was his name in life.
Lech and Karolina got married as soon has her wound was healed on her head. She only ever had two pregnancies, triplets, three girls, then quads four boys, making 7 children in all. Because when asked in the Bible how many times you should forgive, 7 times? NO 77x 7 times. Karolina forgave him 7 times, and that was enough for both of them.

**********
I did get 21,000 Polish readers in 3 weeks just by workd of mouth when I posted the finale of
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker online in POLISH, so I hope you all like this too
https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC(link is external)


30 years a writer now, but 20 years preparing before I started. = 50 years

Dubai and all that

Dubai and all that ©

By

Michael Casey

I just watched Piers Morgan’s 2009 Dubai documentary again, he is good at that kind of show, but otherwise he is like Marmite to me. Though we will never meet so I hope he is not offended, if ever we do meet he might say Michael I hate your stuff, and I’d probably cry. Or I might just kiss him passionately and we could end up in Jail in Dubai before being deported. Though as much as I like the idea of questioning his rampant Macho looks and vibe, by kissing him, just to ruin his image, it would be a joke too far. I have never kissed a man in my life, and that’s not a lie. If he were Korean and female then I might be tempted. But all this is so much hot air, my usual Prologue as Frankie Howard used to say.

Dubai looks fun and I would love a visit to the 7 star hotel, especially as I worked at CPNEC Birmingham for 3 years fetching and carrying and all manner of stuff. So to be on the receiving end would be very nice. Though highly unlikely, especially as my daily heart and pain medication might fall foul of the strict laws in Dubai. But God Bless them, you must respect the person whose House you are in. So I would not complain.

If I were lucky to visit Dubai I would try the full Arab dress, but then I’d go skiing at the indoor ski centre they have there. It looked so much fun in Dubai, otherwise the heat might be too much for a fat boy such as I. The images I saw did remind me of Shanghai, they love their shopping too, Dubai is a shoppers Paradise and it did remind me of Miami too. I was in Miami once so you could see the parallels.

So what could I do or say to get my free trip to Dubai? What can I offer or sell? If I were a horse could I sell myself that way, Arabs adore horses, though I am so large I’d not be a horse but an elephant. I could boast my dad was a blacksmith, which is true. But the only kind of Smith I am is Wordsmith, would Dubai people or Sheikhs be impressed by that?

Dubai has reinvented itself and in Piers’ documentary he explained the Future was not Oil but Tourism+. Now could Dubai start an English language school for the entire Arab world, and use me and my words  to help teach English. Does my humour writing work in Arab countries? It worked with fellow Muslims when I was an Esol teacher, but with Arabs? I don’t know. I’d have to work via wifi to Dubai with the occasional visit, or perhaps they come to Birmingham on field trips to practice their English.

Somehow I don’t see that happening either. There was one sentence that did strike me the most when Piers was talking to the guy who had bought Man City, the Sheikh said Family not Billions was the most important thing. Now if Dubai has that in its heart then it will always prosper. They say money sticks to money, but hearts sticking to hearts, and Dubai families sticking together, now that is the greatest treasure, worth more than all the grains of sands in Dubai even if they were diamonds. True diamonds are family love, in Dubai or anywhere else in the world. 

May God Bless all of Us. 

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Rescue the Old People's Home

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Rescue the Old People’s Home ©

By

Michael Casey

Well as we are all stuck in the snow I’ve decided to share this story, you can believe it or not, its up to you. It’s 1^st March 2018, Putin is boasting about his toys of war, as are other leaders. Can we just put these things away and advance science for all Mankind instead? The best of all our people is in its Spirit. So let me tell Putin and Kim and Trump a story about real Spirit. This is the story of how Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rescued 100 old people trapped in a blizzard with medicine and food running out.

Now Popaloffoff lies somewhere in the East where Poland, Ukraine and Russia make love on the map. They make love in bed too but I’m just trying to give you an estimation of where it is. Up in the mountains along a winding road and perched like an eagle looking down on a fast flowing river is an old monastery that is also an old people’s home for locals.  So priests and shepherds live there, the priest paint icons and the shepherds produce the finest vodka anywhere in the world, if you live in that climate you need a good drink.

This Winter 2017/2018 has been bad, today 1^st March 2018 the weather is savage. Lech and Boris and Gregorgi got a call on the CB radio, Shepherd down, we are running out of supplies especially medicine. We may have to burn the icons to keep warm. Now to anybody in the East an icon is a Holy Holy thing, its worth more than gold, worth more than beating USA at the ice hockey. I’m  whispering this now but an icon is worth more than Vodka.

So when the message came on the CB radio Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had to do something. The Blizzard could go to Hell, in fact it could kiss Gregorgi’s fat ass, and his ass was fat, very fat indeed. They mounted their snowploughs and drove to base. Grit was poured to over-brimming on all three trucks, and a trailer was attached to each. Not forgetting a case of vodka in each cabin. With a blessing from an atheist they departed.

Only a fool, a madman, and a believer would even attempt it in this weather, but that would describe the Trio. In Popaloffoff they got the message that help was on its way, then the CB died. So they huddled together and prayed. A few of the icons were near the fire for when the firewood ended. Now as I said before Saint Michael considers Lech, Boris and Gregorgi to be his friends. As for the icons they have special powers too, but more of that later.

Driving in a blizzard is no fun, the Trio laughed and joked and cursed at each other over the radio. They were on a mission, a mission from God. They were not Blues Brothers they were Slavic cousins, and they were better drivers. Slip sliding away they went, round and round a garden like a teddy bear one step two step and a tickle under there. Good job there was vodka on the seat beside them. It was barely above freezing inside the cab, though they had their furs to keep them warm. That bear had nearly killed them 10 years ago, but they had sworn an oath to high Heaven that if they did not die they would repay the favour. So now wrapped in that bear’s clothes it was time to repay that debt. Popaloffoff was calling them, I saved your 3 lives, now you must save the least of my brethren.

It was logical, well logical to a fool, a madman and a believer, they were each and all of those things. They had visited Popaloffoff when they were kids and it had made a big big impression, so now, they had to do it, they just had to answer the call. Slip sliding away, the trailers sliding like a puppet on a string.

Disaster almost struck. Lech was leading his plough veered to the left, then magically it shot to the right along the mountain road. Boris and Gregorgi swore they saw an angle appear and push his truck back on the road. Was it the vodka, it was hard to tell through all the snow. It was Saint Michael himself, he had skin in this game, as did all the angels and saint on the icons.

After that save, like a diving ice hockey player in the Olympic final, Saint Michael was joined by a multitude of angels. If their icons were burned it did not matter, saving the lives of a Trio such as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi did matter.

Now the road to Poploffoff is very dangerous and you an slip off and never be seen again, or until Spring comes and the snow melts. The wind howled and the snow fell. The vodka was drunk as the Trio drunk through the blizzard. How they stayed on the road nobody would ever know, but if you were an angel looking down you could see snow angels in the snow to the left and to the right as angels pushed the truck to keep it on the road. Hundreds of snow angels made in the snow by real angels. But you don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m drinking vodka?

The fire was burning low so the priest with tears in his eyes put an icon on the fire. Then he closed his eyes, he did not want to see his sin. 100 people and more huddled around a fire with their eyes closed, begging the angles and saints to forgive them for their sin. The angles and saints were crying, not for their icons but because they were humbled to see such Faith.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi drove on the perilous road, slip, sliding away. They cursed each other more, to encourage each other more. Then a tragedy, the vodka was finished. They fell silent, not long to go now, they had to concentrate more, the road was at its most dangerous now. Saint Michael called for reinforcements, a wall of angels their wings outstretched with swords drawn lined the road. Nothing would prevent them from getting to Popaloffoff now, only the Devil himself had come to see what was happening, he had smelt the scent of burning icons.

While Saint Michael hacked at the Devil with his sword Lech’s truck went over the cliff. It was hanging half on and half off the road. Boris and Gregorgi slammed on the brakes on their trucks. He would be dead in seconds. Only then 3 enormous bears appears and pulled the trailer and truck back on the road. The bears disappeared to be replaced by a golden angel, a beautiful golden angel.

Nobody said anything they drove in silence up the mountain road to Popaloffoff. They entered the courtyard and ran to refectory where everybody had been gathered. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi handed out medicine and food and unpacked the supplies. A madman, a fool and a believer had saved the day.

The Trio looked about and could see the icons that had been put on the fire. But when they took them out they noticed something, they wiped the soot away and the icons were perfect, intact. Babushka asked the trio to follow her to where she had been painting a new icon. She turned the icon around, and there Lech, Boris and Gregorgi could see a golden angle with 3 bears on it.

I need a drink they said in unison. So they had a drink, a real good drink. In fact they were given the recipe for Popaloffoff vodka, so if you wonder why Lech, Bori and Gregorgi are in Warley Woods or any woods for that matter its is because they are attending to their still. Oh, and before I forget, I have an angel on my wall as I talk to you all. And as for golden angel icon with 3 bears on, that is on the wall in Putin’s private office, as well as a few bottles of Popaloffoff vodka. Pope Francis has been invited to Russia you know, maybe Putin will give him a photocopy of the icon, or just some Popaloffoff vodka.