here's my Elevator Ad again

        I've not updated this, so the word total is 1,351,000 words as of tonight. 

    

 ELEVATOR AD May 2017

For my One Million Words of laughter over 30 years of writing.

p.s. I have readers in:- Canada, USA, UK, Ireland, India,Pakistan,Australia,New Zealand,Russia,Poland,Czech,Germany, Austria France,Portugal,Singapore,Nigeria and China, Taiwan, Philippines to name but a few places.

Hello, how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio and all other media

I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.

I met my Shanghai wife in the old people's home, she was cleaning my dad's room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina  from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. Even Totoro our cat is female and bilingual. I am the token male and English speaker in the family.

Now here's a few samples, what I'd like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 19,208 views on Funny or Die for a sample  

1^st chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 8th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 1000 shorts, enough for over a year. I have recorded 207 of them so far, 11 hours plus of audio. I have nearly 300,000 views on Google+ as well but I did not believe it, so I left Google +, and I am not on Facebook either. Just on my sites and on Amazon Kindle, one day people may buy some of my books.

I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them on www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.

My  12 books are on Amazon Kindle

 http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1 

 And https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk  

Here's the samples for radio or print.

LinkedIn Profile  and  CV ©

By

Michael Casey

We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these Profiles?

I am a born leader.

Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.

I created the supply chain structure.

Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.

I optimised the sales among target audiences.

He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.

I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.

Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.

I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.

Means there was a street gang chasing  him after he was at  the bank

I am great at communicating the business message.

He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.

I always try and improve myself.

Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.

I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.

Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.

I am now looking for new opportunities to excel

Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister

I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.

Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.

I created my own start-up company

Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.

I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career

Means he is in jail, working in the library.

So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years old, and they are. Dig deeper.

Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google. Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you laugh, as I Google everybody.

Sadly since I wrote my advert I need to add unplanned quadruple heart bypass to my advert, but I have written 4 more books these past  few years, taking my total to 12 on Amazon, and I have nearly reached 1,000,000 words written.

Let There Be Light ©

 By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children’s laughter be my hope

Let widows’ sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

            

                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

      

  

Sleepover©

By

Michael Casey

Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.

Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters in your house.

Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad? Especially mine.

Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.

Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the chips. So a compromise is achieved.

You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even for suggesting it.

So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.

After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on  their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the big screen.

Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.

So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half waking up and forgetting where she was.

So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.

How do Men Shop? ©

By Michael Casey

There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.

If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all  in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.

This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion.  A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.

As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and listens to the football  while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.

This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why  your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.

The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.

All Things Bright and Beautiful ©

 By Michael Casey

 I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.

Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.

I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”

Cheese and Chorizo ©

By Michael Casey

 The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.

Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were  the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me  where the biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.

Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress  or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.

Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it  disappears.  When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.

So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If  you want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.

From A to B 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 sea man, 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 19th/20th 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.

My other idea is a book of shorts, 40 stories with 40 translations

on facing page plus 40 audio of me reading my stories on usb stick.

Perfect to teach English as a 2nd language, via humour.

I was an Esol English teacher and gained

2 Excellents and an Exemplary on my external Assessment

As I have written 890+ stories this would be a series of 20 plus books

So we could have Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc

This would be a world wide hit, angel investors needed

Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be boastful. I have already recorded 200 of my 890+ shorts, 11 hours plus of audio  so far recorded.

some can be heard at www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 

Cheerio, Michael Casey  

Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com 

  https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk  

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 

 to hear 50+ stories

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 

12 ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books

http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 

p.s. I have readers in:- Canada,USA,UK, Ireland,Australia,Russia,Poland,Czech,Germany, France,Portugal,Singapore,Nigeria and China, Taiwan to name but a few places. 

my mum's birth place and home till she was 12.

Pyrrhic Victories

Pyrrhic victories ©

By Michael Casey

As ever I didn’t know what to talk about, but I just read an email and that gave me an idea, so thanks to the sender who did not sort out the problem but gave me the idea for tonight’s talk. Who knows perhaps the sender stumbles over this and smiles, and boasts that they inspired one of my 2000 stories. A small victory for them perhaps?

Now I had heard of Pyrrhic Victory before, maybe in 1970 in 1^st year Grammar school Latin lessons, in passing by Mr Hanney my Latin teacher. So what is a Pyrrhic victory? It is a victory where you lose so many men that it amounts to a loss, rather like winning a nuclear war and the entire planet is polluted.

We each have our own Pyrrhic victories, some may say me writing my first book was a Pyrrhic victory. Because I forever bored people about it, and they all head for the gents rather than share a pint in the bar. No, I was never like that, now I only write short pieces because I might not live long enough to finish another full length novel. It’s a year of your life after all, I’d rather spend an hour and write yet another short story. Though if ever I meet a speed typist I could rattle off Tears for a Butcher in 3 months. I did in fact discover my next door neighbour is fast typist, but she is moving away, and the other person I know with a typewriter must be 80 years old.

There are many Pyrrhic victories in life, you meet a professional model but decide you prefer the charm of the old fashioned girl. And yes that kind of happened to me more than 20 years ago. But then you finally have to admit the old fashioned girl does not want you either. So everybody laughs at you.

But God is good, so you look at the picture of your dead mother as you stand by the fridge with tears in your eyes and make a heartfelt prayer. I give up you take over, as you pray to Padre Pio. You have lost all the battles, Pyrrhic and otherwise. But soon you meet the future wife, who everybody says is 10 times prettier than the professional model. And then you are called a dirty bastard, nobody believes you fell for her because she made you laugh, she is just so much younger than you.

But you’ve heard my true life story before if you’ve been reading some of my 2000 stories. Ambition can be a Pyrrhic victory at times too. You work so hard to get that job, to study for all those exams to get you that place at university. But does it make you happy? A guy I went to grammar school with ended up as an accountant, he hated it. He really wanted to change and become a History teacher instead.

Near where I live there is a cramming school, but do they realise 5000 apply for grammar school but there are only 500 places. My wife forced my big daughter to cram to get a grammar school place.  I told her not to bother as the local girls school used to be a grammar school anyway and was still so very good, top 1% in the entire country perhaps. So my girls went there, though my big daughter did become a maths wiz due to the Chinese cramming for the grammar school place. But grannie was accountant for Shanghai bus company, so it could have been in the blood anyway.

They say that students from the 3^rd world work so very hard to achieve, but are not accepted in the 1^st world and when they return home they are no longer accepted back home either. So that’s a Pyrrhic victory I suppose. Life is like that, you finally get the girl but then discover you wish you had not bothered. Or  all she did was give you the clap. We can all chase after dreams that are no good for us in the end, they are all Pyrrhic victories.

You would not believe how hard I worked and saved for this house, yes really. It was after I reached my ambition that I stumbled into the writing, and is that a Pyrrhic victory because it consumes me so  much? I’d say no, but others have said yes in the past. These words are my way of saying, Death where is your victory? Because they are my legacy to my girls, if ever they read them all. Writing can be so very very tiring especially in the beginning, now it’s very easy, getting Rupert Murdoch and his gang to publish and  pay, now that is impossible. So why does anybody do it?

You write because it’s your thing, if I was a hunk I’d have a string of Oriental girls, if I were a painter I ‘d be painting walls, just like Banksy, if I liked cars I’d tinker with cars. We all have our  thing, whether it is morally good or bad for us and society. What matters is that it makes us feel 100% I imagine that’s the excuse druggies use. I have never used those things because I have an IMAGINATION, and I don’t want to destroy it with any substance.

You could say my physical pains make me take refuge more in my imagination, but you’d be wrong. My imagination is my greatest toy and joy, the past 5 years of zigzag of pain have been a pain, in all senses of the word. However I hope pain inspires me to try and leave as much behind as I can, before my heart stops or a stroke gets me. I’m being realistic not morbid. In theory you get 20 years after a bypass, I’ve had 3.5years, but statistically 50% live 10 years, so you do the maths yourself.

There  is a silver lining of course, if you have been following me for years, insert joke of your own choice, in theory your suffering will end when mine does. No more stories from the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham, the one in England. Before you all cheer, you are all so cruel, I’m going to tell Julian and Sandy about you. The thing is I am very determined, very determined indeed, I am from Kerry Ireland stock. So I may just decide to live till I am 100, as I used to proclaim as a child. Now whose Pyrrhic victory would that be?

Readers and Dreams

United States
France
United Kingdom
Portugal
Poland
Germany
Thailand

Above are the readers for today, it's been too hot for me, and a few stabbing pains to chest, only skeletal muscular pain, still enough to make me scream, I'd become a hedonist if I had the energy. ha ha.

I spotted that The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, Tales from Old Forge and Singing Anvil from 2007 is on Google books still, BUT the blurb is totally wrong so I've informed them. In fact as that paperback version is no longer available  I asked them to remove it. If you want to read my stuff Amazon worldwide is the place to go.

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

the old paperback version I produced when I was still at Pinsent Masons Law Firm, yes really, only in their print room, they ARE very nice people. That was 2007, and now its 11 years later , 2018 and a million words further on and 16 books on Amazon. 

I bet Ang in the print room would be surprised.

I spotted folks are trawling through my words, I put 500 pieces online, and even uploaded 100  stories in one post, so thats 600 pieces to read and be bemused by. Though there must be 2000 pieces to read. 

Sadly people read but don't buy, because Internet is Free.

Maybe Rupert Murdoch will pick me up on the way to a Lady Gaga show, I am wearing a dress and  kinky boots, plus a blonde wig, he may mistake me  for his lady wife, and before he pushes me out of the car he'll be smitten by my words. And then he'll publish me, but more likely his Foxes will hound me, that's his Fox news people. I doubt if even he wears fox any more, the pelt would never match the colour of his eyes.

That fancy house and ex- old people's home finally sold, so my fantasy about living there will never happen, even if I did win the lottery. 

I'd be happy with more days and nights without pain. And you'd all be happy with me bitching less about it.

 You can all donate to Birmingham Medical school to create a Pain Relief Centre, or Arthritis UK. If you donate £100 Million I promise never to mention my pain again. I'll just put P in the corner, and as you all know I do pee in a corner. Imagine Rupert Murdoch reaching for his cheque book, that'll shut that Bastard Casey up, as he signs a cheque with a flourish. Hopefully Mark Z does the same thing, and a whole variety of rich people whom I've annoyed via these posts. Then the accountant for Birmingham University Medical school wakes up one morning with the bank manager banging on his door.

 There is £1,000 Million in donations, or One Billion. Do you all hate me that much? My windows nearly shattered then with the roar of Yes, just shut up Casey about the pain. They are also covered in spit, not unless Totoro our cat has been out killing again.

So that's just one of my fantasies, the rest I'll keep in pectore, thank's for passing  by today and any day. I must go and have a fantasy, it's too hot for anything else.

 

Morning all Sunday 5th Aug 2018

I'm creaking like an old ship today, pain in shoulders, that click, and hip hurts, and chest and the hiss of Tinnitus. feel tired too.
Yes there are millions far far worse, mustn't grumble etc.
Back in 2013 I had none of this, my daughters can barely believe when I was just fat and fit.
So now you know.

I hope you enjoyed Lech, Boris and Gregorgi's latest adventure yesterday.
I enjoy writing about the lads. Perfect cartoon material.
And yes there really is a Still 17 in Warley Woods, but only me and the foxes know where it is. or maybe I am making that bit up?

During WWII prior to Dday the USA army hid in the woods, and my sister's street had a road pushed through so tanks could pass. My dad used to get drunk during those times too. You can see where inspiration for the stories that are in Butcher Baker Undertaker come from. Though its called Old Forge and Singing Anvil in the book, as its a magic kingdom so to speak. It also refers to the fact my dad was a blacksmith then steelworker.

Enough of explanations, just read the book. If you are a non English speaker on my Wordpress site are Italian and Spanish translations, just seek it out. South Korea is reading on my Wordpress so hello to them too.
 https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com/author/michaelgcasey/

I don't think I'll write anything new today, as today is turning into   a pain day. I don't dose myself up on pain killers as I want to save my brain, and my man boobs are big enough now. Long term use of Paracetamol gives you man boobs. Did you not know that?

Sing a song for me at church today, even if the bar at Cheers is your church.
I nearly forgot I tried LECH Polish beer yesterday, it was strong but I did not like the taste. I drink very rarely, Stella Artois is what I like. hic

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

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi come in from the Cold

 Lech, Boris and Gregorgi come in from the Cold ©

By Michael Casey

Now it’s hard when building work goes on and there is dust everywhere, when there is cursing galore, and that is just from mom and dad. Builders blush when they overhear such language, but building is a blessed thing, blessed with plenty of cursing. Anastasia was visiting family in the village, when she had a phone call from her granddad, the builders had let him down, now all he had was dust everywhere. This made her own problem small beer, she had bought a brand new car for herself as a graduation present, but it broke down repeatedly. The dealership just laughed at her and called her little Russian Princess.  

Now as Lech’s, Boris’s and Gregorgi’s wives chopped meat their blood boiled.

Anastasia’s granddad was Denis Nellis, he was very very old now, but when he was very very young he was a sailor on the Artic Convoy to Russia, after the war he married the sister of a Polish Battle of Britain pilot. So he was a man of great bravery, who should be honored and as he had a connection to the village through marriage he was FAMILY. The boys’ wives sharpened their knives, but Anastasia said the Pen is Mightier than the sword, and far far sharper, with a wicked smile. The boys’ wives agree as they did some target practice on the back of the kitchen door.

But where were the boys, where were Lech, Boris and Gregorgi? The Summer of 2018 was so terrible hot, some like it hot, as they  say, but Gregorgi had a friend who owned a former Russian nuclear submarine, he had bought it in an army or navy surplus sale. He ran trips to the North, the far North, ½ way to the North Pole. Ice Station Zebra and all that. Some of the crew had gone sick, so Gregorgi had persuaded Lech and Boris to come and have an adventure, or were they little girls? So the three of them found themselves on an ice shelf playing football. The new or rather ex Soviet winter warmer clothes were being sold to the tourists as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi larked about on the ice. The pay was very good after all, and it was in US dollars, perfect, what more did they want.

Their wives could bear it no longer, they dug out the old SW set and setting it to the emergency frequency they sent a message to the North Pole. Come home the dinner is getting cold, family matter to attend to. That was all it said, signed 3 wives. Now the American’s went mad trying to work out what it meant. The Russian’s wanted to know what it meant too. Only the British knew what it really meant. You see Anastasia had a secret, she had just signed on to work for GCHQ, so she had told them about her holiday plans, and having Denis Nellis as a relative had swung the interview for her, that and having a Double First from Downing Cambridge.  Or the University of Monty Python as some card in recruitment called it, you see Downing was where John Cleese went, and Michael Winner and this writer’s brother.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi worried for a full minute, before finishing off the submarine’s supply of vodka, their wives could look after themselves, they knew how to use knives and riffles. So as the icicles melted from them they enjoyed  their vodka, the trip had been a success and they’d been invited to join the regular crew roster.

When they got home to the village their wives feed them well and took them to bed. They had to make sure everything still worked after the cold of the North Pole. In the morning their wife’s gave them the Eastern look,  they explained about Denis Nellis and Anastasia. Then Anastasia explained about the builder saying her grandad would have to face facts and surrender to reality. The car company has said the same, just surrender to life. Now Gregorgi started to twitch, you never say Surrender to a Russian, after what those Nazi bastards did. Lech and Boris weren’t happy either, this was Family. The Scots never say surrender too,  go ask the Black Watch if you don’t believe me.

There was just enough time to finish all the food their wives  had prepared while they were at the North Pole, then they made love to their wives 10 more times, before they were ready to hit the road. At David Nellis’s house it was like the Nazi bastards had shelled it. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  set to work. The bathroom extension with downstairs bedroom would soon be sorted. The boys worked like slaves, worse than slaves, they worked like men from the East, they worked like family. If you married into the East, then you were part of the East. They only stopped for 5 mins just to send me an email asking that I looked after Still 17 in Warley Woods, it would be reaching perfection too, by pure, 95% pure, coincidence they would be in England to taste it.

When the dust settled Dennis Nellis had his bathroom  and new bedroom downstairs. Gregorgi shed a tear, and for once his cousins did not mock him for crying like a little girl. This was family. I had tapped Still 17 and send the postman to deliver 10 litres, so toasting Dennis Nellis sailor from the Artic Convoys they got drunk. What else do you expect?

Now Anastasia had not been forgotten, still hung over the boys decided to go visit the car dealership. The car dealer had ignored Anastasia, even though she was so pretty, and so very very intelligent. But boys will be boys, and they had come in from the cold, and their 3 wives had asked did they want to repeat their performance, once they had sorted out Anastasia’s broken brand new car. So they went to the car show room, now they could have physically turned all the cars over like turtles.

 Just as Big Sid does in the finale of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. 

However they had seen the Full Monty on Dennis Nellis’s tv the night before, so they just played the music on their Spotify on their iphones so they started to strip. The girls in the car show room giggled and live streamed it on Facebook to their friends, they stopped giggling as more and more clothes came off. Where was the nearest Polish/Ukrainian and Russian food store, these were MEN with a capital M! The car showroom owner came down to see the still drunk cousins sprawled naked over his cars, leaving marks all over the polish, that’s polish not POLISH by the way.

He tried to threaten them but this was no Spring Time for Hitler. Your Cars have one thing in common with us slurred Lech, Boris and Gregorgi, and what is that asked the car show room owner? BIG BOLLOCKS! And with that the boys left the showroom. And did Anastasia get a new car from the car dealer. No, he was going to offer, but the Police closed down his showroom after 100s of complaints, the Police even said he did not have a licence for Erotic Dancers so were able to close him down immediately. But Peter Stringfellow saw it all online and sent Anastasia a brand new car, a much better car. He did offer the boys a job as well, but they decided, The winner wives take it all, it was For Their Eyes Only.

stories galore

stories galore
well I loaded 100 pieces of me so that should keep you all busy.
I've had a few ideas emerge today  so Lech, Boris and Gregorgi will be paying us a visit soon
its still way too hot here in birmingham
but the boys will entertain us a little latter.
a conversation with a tradesman sparked the idea for today's story which I'll write later.
a second or two of talking can give me enough of a spark for
a story, that's the way it works.