The Korean Collection to celebrate North/South dialogue

The Korean Collection  to celebrate North/South dialogue

A Korean Christmas Carol ©
By
 Michael Casey

Vincent was a little child in Seoul, he had been learning English at school, so the teacher decided to read a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens to the class as Christmas was approaching. The teacher Mr Michael confessed that he had listened to it on the radio after Midnight Mass at Saint Patricks after he’d thrown snowballs at Danny Moylan. And there was another Vincent there who defended himself with his umbrella. Vincent  laughed at the mention of his name.
So Vincent  fell asleep with the Tale fresh in his head. But Vincent was worried because they had a noisy neighbour called Kim who was always letting off fireworks, one had even smashed their bedroom window. As Vincent drifted off to sleep the world news with Douglas Stewart reporting was on the BBC world service, A Christmas Carol was going to be next but Vincent fell asleep as it began.
The Ghost of Christmas past came first, this was a beautiful Korean girl smiling and singing Kpop songs. Vincent smiled in his sleep. Korea was one big happy family then. Just singing and nice dancing, no marching, just laughter, real laughter and nobody carrying notebooks in their hand.
Vincent was so happy he even chuckled in his sleep. Mr Michael his teacher was right Charles Dickens was the BEST. Well in the English language anyway. Then clouds appeared and walls and noise and stamping and unfriendly fireworks appeared. Half the land sung Kpop the other half, just marched like robots with a smile that was fixed with fear hidden in their eyes. Half had technology  and lights, the other half had no roads, no street lights just dim dim dark life.
One half had food galore and had the Korean Dream and Samsung really was king, the other just seemed sad but pretended to be happy by shouting a lot. They marched a lot too,  to stay warm as their homes were so cold. Only the army mattered, not the people not the poor, not the sick, not the uneducated, not the least of Korea’s brethren. Only the army mattered.
One half got poorer and poorer and sick and turning into skeletons and ghosts. But all the time they cheered for the Emperor in his new clothes. While the people in that half became more and more naked, building a giant Golden Ox which was the name of the nuclear missile, though some thought it was a great hotel. But really inside it was a hanger for the greatest nuclear weapon ever. And still the people in that side clapped and carried notebooks to record the Emperor’s every word. As their clothes fell off their backs and they were more and more naked.  Some even dying as they marched for their Emperor.
Vincent started to cry in his sleep, why couldn’t the Emperor just vanish like in fairy tales. The Ghost of Christmas present was a newsreader shouting and shouting, threatening and threatening. There was no hope and love in her voice, just anger. Wasn’t Christmas supposed to be about Love and Hope and a Future. Vincent screamed and sat bolt upright in his bed he was so scared, his parents came running and comforted him. Then with his head resting on his mother’s breast he fell asleep. His mother switched off the radio, why was he listening to BBC World service, he should listen to more Kpop it was Christmas after all.
Vincent slept on the Ghost of Christmas Future appeared, it was a scruffy monk with mittens, the monk showed Korea, all Korea in ruins, mushroom clouds drifting in the sky. Seoul was in ruins, millions were dead, the North was a wasteland. The Emperor was trapped in his bunker far beneath the Subway, 100s of metres underground. But even the Emperor knew his half  was destroyed  just as much as the  other half. The food would run out and the air would run out, maybe he’d last  3 months, but then he would be entombed, just like an Egyptian King. Nobody would bother to dig him out, but at least HE had felt no pain as the entire country was vaporised.
There was a knocking at his office door, a scruffy monk in mittens  appeared, the Emperor raised his gun to shoot the monk. The monk laughed, I’m dead already, 1968 was the year I went to Heaven. As for you only Hell awaits, I’ve come to show you a vision of Hell. Vincent screamed in his sleep but his mother did not come to comfort him. Vincent watched frozen as the scruffy monk in mittens placed his hand on the Emperor’s head. The Emperor screamed and convulsed in pain, he peed his pants and poohed simultaneously, then he vomited.
The scruffy monk, then said, that is  but a vision, this is what it really feels like, much much worse than being vaporised in a nuclear war. So the monk continued to hold his hand on the emperor’s head, in one second the Emperor felt an eternity of pain. Hell is the absence of God’s Love. The Emperor fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness, if only he could turn back the clock, if only, if only.   
Vincent woke up  sweating, he could not speak.  He grabbed his Rosary, Mr Michael had explained that the Rosary was Mary’s Nuclear weapons. And with the Rosary you could defeat the Devil himself. So Vincent said his Rosary and went to sleep happy and safe. The funny thing was that his radio was still on. The end of A Christmas Carol was being told.  Scrooge repents and leads a good life and knows how to Celebrate the Joy of Christmas.
As Vincent fell asleep a News Flash North Korean was ended all its Nuclear ambitions and Putin himself would visit on  Christmas Day to sign a deal to ship all nuclear material over the border to Russia. And how did this come about ?  The Christmas Disco in Heaven was KPop that year and the 100,000 Korean Martyrs had asked the scruffy monk to Save Korea not just for Christmas but for always.
So he really had slipped out to pay the Emperor a visit. He also visited Putin too telling him to grab his place in History before his heart attack. When Putin heard this he decided to do as the scruffy monk suggested. Though the monk did put his hand on Putin’s chest, telling him he could live till he was 100 if he retired, being President is really stressful.  The scruffy monk also paid a visit to the White House, all he said to Trump was Be Humble when Putin rings you, and then you retire immediately as after saving the world everything else is a waste of your time.
Vincent woke up and it was snowing in Seoul, church bells were ringing, Korea would be One again, as for the scruffy monk in mittens, he got back in time to hear George Michael singing the Ave Maria, Merry Christmas Korea, all and one Korea.

from 2017

Michael G Casey에게 이메일 michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
당신은 사랑에있을 때 결코 혼자가 아닙니다 ©
으로
마이클 케이시
사랑은 함께하고, 사랑은 미소,보기, 터치
또는 한숨 쉬다, 왜 당신이 서로를 선택했는지 정말로 알지 못한다.
그럼에도 불구하고 당신이 죽을 때까지 함께
사랑은 당신의 몸을 따뜻하게하는 볼에 부드럽고 온화한 키스입니다.
마음을 쓰게되어 기쁘게 생각합니다.
키스는 더 많은 것을 이끌 수 있지만 나는 열정을 안전하게 잠그고 떠날거야.
침실 문 뒤에서
열정은 사순절을 위해서조차도 포기하지 않을 것입니다.
너는 따뜻한 포옹에 거짓말을하고, 잊어 버린 것을 기억할 것이다.
은혜.
속삭임과 약속이 만들어지고, 미래를위한 계획과
그녀는이 방법으로 그녀의 머리카락을 넣어, 당신은 그것이 그녀에게 어울릴 것이라고 생각하니?
그 다음 킥킥 웃음과 그 이상의 포옹, 밤이 끝날 때까지
갈빗대에서 발굴하면 그를 움직일 수 있습니다.
그럼 당신의 하나가 완성, 당신은 그의 차가운 발로 참아!
그러나 당신이 떨어져있을 때 당신의 마음은 여전히 ​​하나입니다.
생각 반은 결석 한 당신은 여전히 ​​하나입니다.
침대 밑에있는 양말과 네가 한 말대로.
그의 “장난감”은 흩어져 있었고,
그가 돌아 오는 몸의 보온과 따뜻함.
그가 당신을 흥분시킨 후에 당신을 차게하는 그의 차가운 발은 아직 결석하고있습니다.
생각은 당신을 미소 짓게합니다, 적어도 당신은 잠시 동안 편안함을 느낍니다.
그의 미소와 leers, 적어도 당신은 미소 지을거야
잠시 동안 평화.
그러나 그의 마음은 여전히 ​​당신과 함께합니다. 사랑은 항상 거기에 있습니다.
너의 공정한 머리카락처럼 밝은.
눈을 감고 그는 여전히 거기에있다.
그는 당신의 얼굴을 가로 질러 손가락을 연주했습니다.
꿈을 꾸고 귀에 속삭이는 것을 기억하고 따뜻하게 해주세요.
그가 과감하기 전에 어깨에 키스. 사랑의 온기
당신의 피로 솟아 오릅니다.
꿈을 길게, 깊은 꿈을, 당신의 남자는 수면 중에 수고를합니다.
너는 별거 다. 너는 아직도 날씨가 무엇이든간에 너와 함께있어. 너를 위해서.
그가 당신의 마음에 갇혀 있기 때문에 결코 분리되어 있지 않습니다.
때로는 그가 시도 할 수도 있지만, 절대로
당신의 사랑을 위해 우는 것은 언ying은 것입니다.
그가 항상 떨어져 있어도 마음을 채운다는 것을 항상 기억하십시오.
종료
 from1998 maybe?


feel free to tell all your friends in Korea and Japan and China and anyplace else.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
my books are only 3USD or less on Amazon so buy all 13 of them plus  4 Translations.
And yes I’d love a spot on the radio, reading my stuff between records, any form of music you like,
Or you could get a KPop star to read my stuff out in Korean.
Perhaps I could become a cult, just like Gangham Style but far far fatter and older with silver hair, I have my own shades, I love Ray Bans by the way.


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.


 This was published in Korea in September 2017, before Kpop saved the world, so did I predict it?
아직도 살아있는 2015

I want to sleep with You.

I want to Sleep with You  ©

By Michael Casey

Before you all get the wrong idea, what I mean is that I just read a piece in the newspaper about Hästens Vividus which is the most expensive bed in the world. One of my dreams is that when we finally move house I'd like a new plush bed, though the one I've just read about costs as much as my house, so I really do need to win the lottery or for all of you to buy all of my books on Amazon.Your purchase will send me to sleep, unlike my writing which should make you laugh.

Beds are nice comfy things, where you sleep and make love, and scream in my case scream in pain these past few years due to my Arthritis. But there is nothing nicer than a nice warm bed, and a nice warm lover besides you. Or if you are too young for that a teddy bear or your dog or cat sleeping on the duvet at your feet.

When we were kids we used to pull back the curtains of our bedroom and bounce up and down on the mattress doing a show for our neighbours at the bottom of the garden. Once we spoke to our neigbours over the garden fence, they asked who the stupid people were, so we denied all knowledge 3 times, just then  our other neighbours’ cock crowed.

Beds take a lot of knocks, so the leg broke, not the same bed we were dancing on, but another one, we were a large family after all. So what do you do with a broken bed, we could not replace it just for that reason. So a baked bean tin was used in place of the broken bed leg, though when we wanted beans on toast the bed lost its substitute leg. So we then used a 100 year old iron,the old fashioned one that you heated up to iron your clothes with, one of those ones. And it was a perfect replacement leg, luckily we had an electric iron to keep our clothes pressed with.

Headboards are an add-on and the bed shop charges for one of those, if your headboard breaks then you have to suffer, or just put an extra pillow on  your bed, and hope it does not slide off the wall behind your bed. In hotels you have really big and majestic headboards, these can cost 100s of pounds, and if ever I really do get my fancy bed a headboard can cost 50% of the cost of the fancy mattress. The headboard also acts as noise insulation for snoring and other noises that come from beds. Though I’m hoping some fancy bed company sends me a fancy bed in the future, I could be a bed tester.I tend to wake up every 2 hours like Dracula rising from his grave, I am like clockwork in that regard.

I have of course broken a couple of beds, because because because, I am just so heavy. 110 kilos or 245pounds if you are American or 17.5stones in English. I weigh more that a heavyweight boxer, and I am 5feet 10inches or 178cm in French.I look much much lighter as its all compact tight fat, not wobbly fat, that’s why I am a George Clooney look alike.

So a bed just has to be strong. I did have one that lasted 25 years, but its replacement a metal one just wilted under the weight.Imagine a giraffe that’s fallen over after having too much grass,the green grass in fields, giraffe’s don’t do drugs, they always say NO. So my metal bed legs just gave way. We put the old bed frame in the street and a passing Polish guy picked it up and hammered it back into shape. He was only half my weight.

So my next bed was a nice wooden one that you assemble, only it had a tiny crack in it. That bed was really nice and pretty to look at, it coped with my mass really well. That is until one night there was a loud big BANG, in my bed. It woke me up,the crack over the 2 years I had it just got bigger until it snapped and one side of the bed gave way. So in the morning I took the bed downstairs and used it to form a garden fence, it still looks pretty at the bottom of my garden, like a fancy stile.

So finally I tried Argos and they had a 700pound bed frame, luckily it was reduced to 150quid. It weighs a ton and would not fit up my stairs until I removed all the packaging.I could barely lift the sections together but somehow I managed to put the jigsaw together. This is the bed I am still sleeping in, it looks quite posh too. It will stay in the house if ever we finally move as I do not have the strength now to take it apart.

I have bought a new mattress to go with it, and my advice is not to skimp on the mattress, the mattress should cost at least twice as much as the bed frame. So a cheap 100 quid bed should have a 200quid mattress on it. Don’t forget duck pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets. See you all want to sleep with me now, or rather not with me but in my bed. If I roll over I’d kill you as I’m so heavy, I am in fact 3 times heavier than my wife.

A good bed and mattress such as the Hypnos brand is a thing of beauty that’ll last for years and bring you much pleasure whatever you are doing in it,even if its just sleeping, so don’t buy a second hand BMW, but a great bed instead, and get a bus pass. Then you’ll have a greater appreciation of life and loving, without adding to pollution, though you may add to population.  

from 2016

Sitting on a Bench

Sitting on a Bench ©

By

Michael Casey

We had a few April showers so I sneaked out to the shops and I thought I’d take a look at my new route too. This will be longer, so I will have to stop for a rest in future, or even use the bus. I noticed there was a new bench in the churchyard. We have 5 churches where I live, plus the obnoxious who bang on doors, and you wish you had a chamber pot to throw over them. But that’s too much information, we also have a Spiritualist church, or does that not count as it’s for the dead, and not the living.

So I parked myself on the bench and tried to work out how many minutes it’d take to get home via this new route. I did read the plaque on the new bench. In Loving Memory of John Thomas Beddall, so as I sat I told him I’d be a regular on his bench in the Future, but I would say a prayer for him every time I used his bench. I assume he lived to a ripe old age, so I hope I can emulate him. And even if I don’t maybe  in the Future when I get to the Pearly Gates or even to the Other Place, and no I don’t mean the House of Lords, he can save me. Just before I’m tossed into the Pit a voice will ring out, he used my bench and he prayed for me, so I chose to save him. And my Eternity will be spent sitting on a wooden bench with my Heavenly sponsor.  

See as random as that is, my soul is saved. Or I get an idea for a story just because I needed to rest my weary ash, which reminds me of a toilet shaped novelty ash tray we once saw in a sea-side trinket shop. Continuing, as you sit on a bench in the churchyard the world stops and you can admire the flowers in the shade of a tree. Though a lady once told me they once thought of taking the tree away in order to may more space for car parking. This is progress, but who knows what King may have been discovered if such a thing happened. Though in my area, it would have been a Burger King, not a King of Royal blood.

As I sit and contemplate I think I’ll enjoy my new life, my new route, so long as the weight of the shopping does not overcome me, you never gave it a thought when your own mum did the shopping with leather shopping bags, 50 years and more ago. Before Plastic Bags were even invented. Then I think of the advice my lawyer, my sister in law lawyer once gave. Get yourself one of those trolleys on wheels.

But having a trolley is like having a red jump suit, like a criminal, though in this case just a trolley which would indicate I’m old and knackered with one foot in the grave. Even if that is the case on some days, my pain days I don’t want to advertise the fact. So I think about how many journeys I’ll make and much load I could carry.

Or should I just bit the bullet and climb into that red jump suit or rather drag a trolley that says, OLD AND DONE FOR, all I need now are the Fairies from Peter Pan mocking me. Forget I DO BELIEVE IN FAIRIES, instead it should be, I DON’T WANT TO BE A TROLLEY DRAGGER, dressing in drag would be more favourable, and maybe a bit of fun. But to admit old age and infirmity had caught up with me, that is the question, Shakespeare you can shut up too, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi have been showing him their still in the woods. A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, or all you can drink till you fall over, Shakespeare get out of my sight or I’ll shove that quill where your Love’s labour will be Lost.

If I could find a manly trolley, like an Audi Quattro, maybe I wouldn’t feel as if the gravedigger had started to dig my grave. A trolley with huge wheels and a spoiler on, and go faster stripes, like those cans of larger. I could even say I was being sponsored by a larger firm, I did work for a Market Research company into Alcohol Sales for over 20 years after all. That’s why I have that angel on my wall,it was a leaving present.

Maybe that’s the compromise, pretty girls would stop me in the street to take selfies with me and my deluxe shopping trolley. They could tell me about the PhD studies they were doing, and they did a bit of modeling to help pay the way. Then they’d take one final selfie of me and my shopping trolley before heading off to Birmingham University, or did she say Cambridge, I cannot remember all the flashes distracted me.

So I’ll have to think about it. Me on my new bench with my heavenly sponsor who I’ll be praying for every time I sit and rest my weary bones. In the end we are all a collection of bones, but if you mix with the right ingredients we become something really useful, as useful as a shopping trolley or a bench in a churchyard they remembers a life well spent.

I want to be a radio star, a love story

Audio Player

127.I want to be a radio star a love story

click link above, this is my heart’ s desire, if only.

http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com   to HEAR me read my stories.

Around the Horne and Other Jokes

Around The Horne and Other Jokes ©

By

Michael Casey

I ended up listening to Around The Horne the BBC comedy show from the 1960s, I suppose I heard the repeats on BBC Radio4 in the 70s perhaps. BBC Radio 4 being my University. As I talk to you my small daughter is watching The Gilmore Girls on Netflix. It is very good, but for me the comic timing is off by a second. Remember I’m a Radio man, so timing is everything and you grow up listening to timing. Groucho Marx’s timing was great, I grew up listening to him in his films on tv in the 1960s, and he knew all about timing.

If you’ve watched too many old black and white films as a child you learn about timing. Then you get a colour tv and you refuse to watch anything in black and white any more. The Oscars should have done the same when we had that black and white silent film, The Artist, very self indulgent, but that’s Hollywood for you. They say its all about Art, but it’s really all about self indulgence, telling the audience what they should like. It’s all about Money not Art, though the audience will say this is rubbish and I won’t watch it Oscar or no Oscar.

That’s enough of the serious or pseudo serious, what I want to talk about today is the Joke. A joke must breath and a tale must be told, it should not be shortened or stood on, nor interrupted by an idiot, this is the best bit when X Y Z happens. So ruining the joke for the rest of us. Its like a noisy sister talking over Dr Who at Christmas, though Dr Who scripts got so bad that Dr Who became boring and not a must view. Now we have a girl with a gang, so we’ll see if it can be saved.

You have sight gags, that was the fare of Buster Keaton, or Laurel and Hardy. You have telegraphed gags, you can see what is coming, the man will fall into the hole in the road. Only he does not but knocks the girl into the hole instead. Then he tries to help the girl out of the hole and he falls in himself and round and around it goes. When done properly it is entertaining and it can be stretched and extended with more and more people falling into the hole, and so on. Or it can be totally boring. It all depends on the style. If I could draw cartoons I’d draw one now to illustrate, that is a real regret of mine, I cannot draw cartoons. I try and draw cartoons with words instead.

Another form of joke is the circle or word play. Who’s on first if you go back to your Abbot and Costello. Or Stan Laurel trying to explain until he starts to cry, and Oliver Hardy just looks straight down the camera lens. In England we had Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker a double act for years, Ronnie Barker also wrote a lot as Gerald Wiley. His speciality was word play, puns and sound alike words, as Shakespeare himself used to do as well. The thing with wordplay is that it must bounce, it should not fall flat, or it would be like a trapeze artist always slow and dropping the spangled dressed girl. Like a very bad Cirque du Soleil.

Words are like the ball in a tennis match, Wimbledon is coming soon, so you can see the metaphor. Serve and return, serve and return, a long or short rally then a point won, that’s how word pay should work if it’s done well. Sometimes its like a squash game, very fast and sweaty and exhilarating. There are different styles too, remember Uncle Buck talking to the child, John Candy was great in that. And yes I’m a slimmed down version of him, but with a British accent, and yes you can hear me here www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 

Dave Allen had a great style,we all grew up with him, the world over. Storytelling at its very best. As I speak Michael Rows the Boat Ashore is blasting from the tv in the room behind me. I hate that song, my brothers and sisters used to sing it to me to make me cry. When I was in China one of my mother in law’s friend’s son said he knew English so he stood up and sung it too me. I resisted the temptation to punch him, or cry. I told him the story and we laughed instead. Years later I met him again in Shanghai and he asked me did I remember him, I told him how could I ever forget him. This is a true story, but you can see the best comedy can come from true events. He now works in the diamond trade, and yes I’ll aways be a rough diamond.

They say that story telling should be a circle or reach a linear conclusion, I disagree. Writing is as unique as you or even me, and so is joke telling. Its getting the audience to listen and want to hear more, that is the secret. How you dress up, does not matter, it’s always the words that count, and never count the words, don’t be so boring. There is no formula, its is not maths, MC=4C, which none of you smart alec maths wiz could fathom. A joke takes as long as it takes, just make sure people don’t yawn as you tell it. You should get a good laugh when you finish, and if you are lucky they’ll buy you a pint of Stella Artois when you finish.

And what does MC=4C mean, you can really annoy the Maths Geeks with this formula, and get free Stella Artois for a month. Well MC=4C means Michael Casey equals 4 Chinese, because I used to weigh as much as my wife, my mother in law, and my 2 children.

You can leave the Stella Artois at the door.

Advert for the Butcher the Baker and the Undertaker

Advert for the Butcher the Baker and the Undertaker

The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is a comedy drama about a street of shops in

Old Forge and Singing Anvil

Interconnecting short stories that build and build with laughter. Here's a flavour

Wayne buys a derelict pub and his wife is pregnant with twins , things could not be worse , Mrs Murphy comes to the rescue with a loan , and 2 sets of twins the builders work for nothing , God looks down and helps too , Wayne discovers a hidden cellar underneath the cellar , its full of 40year old whisky left over from the war WWII , the pub was where the local black marketeer left everything . Wayne and family are saved .

The Undertaker has a feud with the traffic warden for putting a parking ticket on his hearse.On the way there' a Jazz funeral , a teddy bear called Patrick , a dog called hairy Amjit who has a mind of his own . The Undertaker’s son leaves the business and Percy is at a loss , his son returns with a Prodigal Son plea for forgiveness , "Father forgive me , I now know that computers are not for me , there is no love in computers , but in our business there is love and compassion .

The Undertaker tries to blackmail a bent builder who is going to demolish the street of shops where they all live . Peace is restored so the Undertaker becomes the election agent for the builder and takes him on a tour of all the rest homes , so that the builder ends up getting into the Houses of Parliament . The dodgy bookie Smiling Paul has a bet on the election and wins 1million pounds. The Undertaker is furious until her hears that Smiling Paul had a road to Damascus experience and gave away all the money to help save the Chinese restaurant business of his Chinese friends . So Smiling Paul becomes a man of honour , and gets a stunning girlfriend on the way , because the Chinese must honour him .

The writing is funny and tongue in cheek , if some readers see it just as a ma and pa book then good , but if they step back they will see that I'm gently poking fun at my characters . Such as Big Sid the butcher who is like a year around Santa . Patrick the baker is trying to have a love life but all the street knows his every move . His mother is relieved when finally he meets the right girl , a virgin , who turns out to be the only daughter of the man who saved the bakery many years before , to Patrick's mum its a miracle and the will of God .

Bible belt people , simple honest folk will love the book , and forgive Patrick's stupidity because , heck he's a good boy . The New Yorkers and California will love it too because they'll just laugh at the other side of the tale , The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is for everybody , and in translation it will find a bigger audience.

 I finish with a poem from Percy the Undertaker

The Dead and The Living (c)

by

Michael Casey

I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old ,my father said not

to worry as the dead are the same as the living , only the laughter

has left them , the sparkle has gone from their eyes , the worry has

been lifted from their shoulders , and their voice has vanished to

eternity .

In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the

stars , the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter .

I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living ,

though I find the deceased are always more polite . My father also

had a few words to say about the living .

He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet

they think their existence is everything , that they know everything

because they experience many things with their senses .

What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short and

when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without

them , without their strong , without their weak , without their

beautiful or even ugly temporary form , to where I cannot say , only

that it is a better place .

Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin ,the soul was free

THE BEGINNING

Thats all , now make me an offer

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