Thursday, 13 September 2018

Annie and Bettie get their Man

Annie and Bettie get their Man

Annie and Bettie get their Man ©
By
Michael Casey

Now if you have read The Butcher The Baker and the Undertaker then you will have heard about Annie and Bettie, I don’t think I’ve mixed the names up, but it is over 30 years ago since I wrote the book. However the twin sisters are still impossibly beautiful, and still work behind the bar of The Trader, their dad’s pub. They have now gone through puberty and have complexions to die for, I won’t say any more but imagine English Roses to the Nth degree.

As the whole world comes trough the doors of The Trader they have become experts in People Watching, to be honest growing up in a bar they have a degree in psychology at very least. The Human Animal observed from behind the taps of a bar. Customer service was of course in grained into them, though this does not mean they did not know how to have fun.

Today they were dressed as Pregnant Nuns, Rodney or is it Roger the Traffic Warden had imprinted his love of dressing up and amateur dramatics on them from an early age. So they dressed up and acted out dramas as they served behind the bar, it made life more interesting for them and it helped pass the time. As you can imagine The Trader was a very happy place to have a drink in, very very rarely was there any trouble.

The twins mother was worried that her beauties might do the wrong thing and get pregnant by some BASTARD, so she made them promise at age 7 that they would stay pure, and only ever go to bed with their husband. The twins honoured this promise as they loved their mum and dad so much. It was an easy promise to keep as they hadn’t seen any husband material, so they were not tempted.

However these past 3 years a revelation revealed itself to them, the twins had a crush on the draymen, they saw them regularly for years and they’d have a cup of tea together after each delivery. The draymen were just ordinary guys, nothing special. In fact they both had something that marked them out, you see Ken had a stutter, and Len had a limp, caused by dropping a beer barrel on his leg years ago. Other that that they were perfect, Annie and Bettie had decided that they were husband material.
Ken stuttered away but Annie loved him the more, when she heard on the radio about stutterers being able to sing she persuaded Ken to sing for her. And guess what? Ken’s singing voice was like Johhny Cash, so deep and appealing. She would have gone through a Ring of Fire for him. As for Len he was as strong as an ox, as was Ken, but seeing him limp made Bettie love him the more. He had no limp in her eyes, he was husband material too.

Ken and Len didn’t know it but they were marked men, they had husband written all over them. Now over the years the friendships grew, but nothing happened, Annie and Bettie were good girls, and a promise to a mother is a promise to a mother. However the Urge as the call it in Ireland does come, and that Saturday night, the night of the big match, the Urge would win and could lead to Sin.

The Trader was full and everybody was matching the Man U Villa game on the big screen. Len and Ken were in a corner enjoying the match, Annie and Bettie were sighing, the Urge was upon them. It was a game of two halves and everybody was merry. It was then that it happened. A drink was spilt and angry words were exchanged. Annie and Bettie looked up and stopped the Guinness in mid flow.

Sor sor sor sorry, it was Ken trying to apologize. He was mocked by a giant of a man. Len limped forward trying to be the peace maker. He in turn was mocked. Annie and Bettie felt the urge upon them, Annie whispered to Bettie, tonight is the night I become a woman. Bettie whispered to Annie anything you can do I can do better. Again their men were being mocked.

Sing for me Ken screamed Annie over the noise of the match. Ken knew the song she loved so he sung, Stand by Your Man, his singing was perfect. In seconds Annie had leapt from table to table to be by his side. Bettie was right behind her, Len needed her, she knew she needed him. They were there chests heaving, it was now or never. Annie grabbed Ken and kissed him, his stutter would vanish forever after a kiss like that. Bettie would not be beaten, Len’s limp would never go but Bettie didn’t mind.

Then Annie and Bettie swung around, they were still dressed as pregnant nuns, have you got a problem? The giant of a man laughed in their face, turning to his mates, pregnant nuns are the only girlfriends these guys will ever get. Len and Ken moved forward, they were so angry. Annie and Bettie defused the situation by kissing their men and placing their men’s hands where only a husbands’ hand should be. The whole pub gasped, the match was ignored, was this going to be a Strippergram.

Trust me, said Annie, trust me said Bettie with a parting kiss on the cheek for their HUSBANDS. I don’t like BASTARDS the twin sisters said in unison. With that they simultaneously, dropped kicked the giant of a man, before kick boxing his friends to the ground. GOAL.
Villa beat Man U 3 2 in extra time, but in The Trader a giant of a man and his ugly friends were too dazed to notice.

The whole pub laughed at them, Villa and Man U fans united, they did not like bastards either. Mocking a limp, and mocking a stutter, will only get you in the gutter, and you will see stars. Annie looked at Bettie and Bettie looked at Annie, NOBODY would ever mock her husband. With that they pretended to faint, they were caught by their husbands. The husbands took them to bed. They had waited and now they were ready. Their mother had been out shopping, and she fainted for real when Wayne said their twin daughters were upstairs, being touched for the very first time, Madonna was singing the song on repeat.

But Len and Ken were the perfect husbands for her daughters, though they would still need to go to church and the registry office, to make it official. Were the girls right to beat the bully? Well if you have multiple black belts, in fact they are 3rd Dan in some martial art, I forget which, what would you do? Stand by your Man is such a nice song after all.

Wednesday, 12 September 2018

Old Smiles

Old Smiles

Old Smiles ©

By Michael Casey

We ended up watching Suits from the start today, and we all really enjoyed it. No we are not Duchess fans, we’re indifferent to her, but God Bless her and her new bloke, maybe one day he’ll remember where he left his razor. Harry, a beard just does not suit you, and I speak as somebody who had a beard 40 years ago. However Suits did make us smile, all the memories came flooding back, smiles of happiness and laughter.  I did actually work for a major law firm here in Birmingham, and I did hide a copy of my novel, The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker in the Law Library which was next door to my print room, hello to the beautiful Ang if she is still working there.

Smiles come and crack our solemn faces when we see or hear things from the past, we all have the Oh I Remember moment, music is the greatest tool for making memories move us, to tears, to tears of laughter too. At the moment I’m listening to Kate Bush singing The Man with the Child in his Eyes, and I think she’s talking about me. Then I look at the image of Kate Bush and I smile not just because of the song, but because Kate Bush looks a lot like my sister in law, an awful lot. My sister in law never sings nor dances around the kitchen at Christmas nor at Easter in a leotard, she is a lawyer after, though the dog is called Heathcliff, and does bark rather like Kate Bush.

Well I’ve had a bite to eat and a bowl of Cheerios too so I’m all set up the evening, as I talk to you I think of my small daughter’s eating habits, face covered in Heinz tomato soup, and it HAS to be Heinz. If I can find the photo I’ll add them to the end of this piece, photos bring smiles galore. As I speak my daughter has reappeared after choir practice, on the way home she kidnapped or is it catnapped a cat, so she has photos of her and the fat cat as she carries it to the new place. I asked her how she managed to do that, her reply was that she is a cat whisperer. Mum, is a witch  and witches  do control cats, so I imagine it does run in the family.

Bread are singing in the background now, so I’m thinking of bread. My own dirty habit, ok just one that’ll I’ll talk about, the rest you can imagine. Well I used to drink, just cocoa milk and sugar in a giant mug all mixed up, then I’d dunk my folded sliced bread into it and eat the soggy result. This would leave tide marks of cocoa all over my face. So I suppose my young daughter inherited the eating habits from me. Though that was 10 years or more ago for her, and 50 years for me. But it does bring back the smiles.

Photos make us all smile so much, the old fashioned albums, we will be having a clear out soon so I’ll have to decide what to do with all my old albums. I may just take digital snaps of everything and then bury the old photos somewhere. I have so many old fashioned albums. So I may kill two birds with one stone, have a look at all the old memories, and photos are memories, as I record and backup all the old photo albums.

Why do we say cheese in photos, why not say any other word,  like FART, then people would really laugh in all those posed photos. As you know I hate those pompous photos for writers that’s why you get my nonsense instead. Are you smiling now? I will be getting a new bed soon, so should I pose like Burt Reynolds naked on my bed with just my dictionary for company? Would it sell more hard copies of my navel, or novels, or would a cover like that only be suitable on an ebook? It’s so very hard to decide what exactly to choose. Maybe I need a makeover to improve my appearance, but I am as hairy as a bear, so people may think a naked Michael Casey on a bed looks too much like Paddington or Tubacca.

Are you all ok now, none of you are smiling just heaving into a bucket. Well I could go on but my aches are becoming a pain so I’ll leave it for tonight. I’m glad the wifi is back, it means I can annoy you all. I hope you all have stumbled over the translations just download them, though I’m far better in English.  And with that I’m going to practice posing naked on the carpet, though I’ll have to hurry the vicar is coming later on to show us his new mittens.


Tuesday, 11 September 2018

State of Play 11 sept 2018

State of Play 11 sept 2018

Well Summer has gone, the kids have gone back to school and I am all alone in the house, just with my donkey  for company. Justin Timberlake has dropped by to do the weeding in the garden for me, he’s such a nice boy. We sing all his songs together as I sit drinking lemonade while he pulls weeds. I have in fact got access to loads of more music, like Spotify but no  ads, so I’ve very happy about that. No doubt word association and influences from all the new music will wash through my mind. 500 hours worth of music so far. More modern music will dance past my tinnitus to sooth and move me. A  248 pound or so dancer, or should I say private dancer, as Tina might say.
As ever Trump blunders forward, so forgive me if my pieces on Trump bore you, his boorish behavior is beyond the pale. The Office of President should be respected so they say. But if the office holder is a jerk, pardon me for not respecting the office, as he clearly does not. Life is a two way street.
I have to go and get salad cream for my daughter, once Justin has finished the weeding, he’d be so much quicker if he stopped using the hoe as a microphone stand. He’ll never be as good as Freddie Mercury, he started  to cry when I told him this, but I gave him some Shepherd’s Pie and he soon cheered up. Which reminds me Justin has to wash our dog Fido once he’s finished his Shepherd’s Pie, yes I share the Shepherd’s Pie with Fido, he’s such a good dog. Fido didn’t finish his pie, that’s how I had some left for Justin, waste not want not. I just trimmed the bite marks off and gave Justin Fido’s left overs.
Well I’ll finish for now, I may write a new none Trump piece later…

Here’s some Translations for all you Linguists out there.
I remain as ever an impecunious writer, Michael Casey
BBUMar2008.en.zh-CN (1)BBU in HebrewBBU in Arabic300 وBBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU GermanBBU in KOREANBBU French50 Spanish ExamplesKOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive 2015The Polish Translations아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015Spanish BBU아직도 살아있는 2015





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Monday, 10 September 2018

Pantomime Panic



Pantomime Panic ©
By 
 Michael Casey

As you all know I love stories, I’ve followed stories all my life, going back to watching the tv with my dad over 50 years ago. I cannot believe as the final curtain is now perhaps a sniff away, that people still believe what they want to believe, and will deny the obvious. Reality is banished by Fantasy, and please don’t tell us the Truth, we are enjoying this self-delusion because we enjoy the transitory joys of money, in fact we love money. In fact let us build and worship a Golden Calf.

Pluto flashed by, melted ice dripping from  him, Einstein was a lap dancer drinking the ice dripping from Pluto, as Pluto sped past. Snow White was an alcoholic waitress drinking seven drinks at  a time. The Wicked Witch of the West was a spy for the East, clicking those red shoes together. The fat boy said he was really slim and people believed him, they were too busy watching the kneeling game. Sport was still king and people bet on it, as everything else was fake. Reality was Fake, and nobody trusted it.

Sport was supposed to knock down walls, and build pride in Team and Country, but there was more money to be made in building walls, so let’s  build them Higher and Higher, let’s touch the surface of the moon rather than talk to one another. His faith is not my faith, his colour is not my colour, his difference is not my mirror. Let’s just hate one another, let’s have an arms race of hate. 

Goebbels smiles approvingly from Hell, is you just repeat it often enough, people will be hypnotized by the Lie. Their own Love of Money, is the root to all their evil. Nobody will stand up to the new Emperor nobody will dare say he has no clothes. They have too much to lose, and the first thing they lose is their Pride, and when pride is lost a Fall surely follows.

Darkness falls across the Land, John is crying, though he spoke nobly from beyond his grave. The Keystone Cops are what the emperor requires, the cardboard cutouts he can blow over.  The Nation has fallen down a rabbit hole into a world only Alice would recognize. Off with his head, off with his head, is all that can be heard, the Emperor wants total control. Rules do not matter, a pig wearing lipstick is the new judge in the Emperor’s world.

When will the three little pigs stand united against the wolf as he huffs and puffs, and tries to blow the whole world down. Straw men stand in the way, each saying Not I Lord, as they dip their fingers in the trough, not I say the gatekeepers, not I say the jailers, not I say the brothel keepers, not I say the money changers, not I say the  sacrifice sellers in the courtyard to the big house. We’ll take a lie detector test, they all suck up to the Emperor.

The three little pigs move to the house made of sticks as the Emperor smashes the straw house away. And again everybody prostitutes themselves so they can  stay by the Emperor’s side. Outside the fat boy polishes the Emperor’s new car, maybe he’ll be allowed to drive it too. If the fat boy smiles enough, and lies enough the Emperor will be flattered enough and not notice the bomb hidden in plain sight, but the Emperor is always right, the fat boy is a good boy now, see look at the selfies the Emperor took.

The Press protests but the Emperor says they are all liars, and why does he always repeat words 3 times? Because the Emperor is brain washing his adoring public, Goebbels smiles from heaven, he must be in heaven with the angels now, so perfect is the propaganda. And on go the lies, more and more lies, photo-shopped from the day of the inauguration. Soon the house of sticks is blown away, this is perfect house of cards creation.

The wizard of oz puts in an appearance, the little dog laughs to see such fun and the dish runs away with the spoon. But the Emperor denies it all, and closes down all the newspapers that speak the truth, they are all liars anyway, and he repeats it thrice. Pinocchio his PR spokesperson issues denials after denials, as his nose gets so big  the press room has to be extended to fit his lies and his nose.

Finally the three little pigs realize only a brick build nuclear fallout shelter will be strong enough to protect them from the emperor. As they retreat from all the lies, damn lies, and statistics only then does everybody else realize that this vision of hell. Dante’s Inferno has been replaced by the Emperor’s vision, or rather delusion upon delusion, as the band plays on as the Titanic hits the rocks. Will they all drown, cursing themselves, for believing in this false god, this false emperor? 

This has just been a passing nightmare, a horror show of a pantomime, the emperor will say Judas, we are all Judases. But in the real world we can all wake up and make a new choice, raise our voice, all our voices to heaven. We can start to love one another again, we can heal all the emperor’s splits and hatred. For a nation divided will fall just as the Roman Empire fell, so in November go out and vote for Love thy neighbor, and banish the Emperor into the darkness from whence he came, before the Light of Liberty is quenched in the sea of selfish selfies. 




relief

well I'm glad to say our wifi is back, in our house so much going on , we need the wifi, I'm sure even Totoro our cat has her own device. been in pain for a few days and then hurt myself again today. I cannot sling things around like I use to in my print room and hotel days. the slit up my chest with my pirate scar has put paid to that. So I do what I can do, and so should all of you. Kids are starting school everywhere, so make sure you encourage them with Love, so long as they do their best the result will always be their best. no matter what the examiner or grade says. As my own dad said "I have no education, I cannot tell you which subjects to pick, just do what you like but do your best" Actually dad was very clever, not just a Blacksmith and steelworker. And as you know Oxford and Cambridge opened their doors for my brothers. I'm just the fat guy who writes, 1,360,000 words so far, 10th Sept 2018.

I have to eat now, as ever and maybe take a pain killer too, if my man boobs get any bigger maybe I'll join Stormy Daniels and make a film.

just in case you forgot too many pain killers give you man boobs.

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





Sunday, 9 September 2018

Missing WIFI

somebody switched off the wifi so i had to decamp to my sister's, me and the kids and the pain killers. hopefully my wifi provider will sort it

kids need computer for a level course work and gcse course work, and i need it too to annoy you.
though i'd settle for pain relief, had a few days of pain, too much pain,

i know its shortening my life expectancy, but at least that means you'll have less of me to read.




Pain in the Night ©
By Michael Casey
Well I just had to get up such is my pain, other pains are available, but I can only speak of mine. I’m writing this from the very edge, if I cannot get to sleep because of the pain then I may as well tell it into another story. I had my quadruple heart bypass 15 months ago now, and I’m still screaming in pain.
I was fit and healthy until the surgery, or so I thought, but without it I’d now be dead, more than likely. So what gets me screaming, the Beatles or am I a Stones man? You get a dull pain in the centre of your chest, and it gets bigger, it’s like a craw hammer pulling you apart, as I was telling the nice lady the other day. Then just for fun you’ll have a stabbing feeling right to the heart, like stabbing yourself with your pencil. This is due to the fact that you’ve been split open like a Kentucky Fried Chicken so that the surgeon can work on you.
I hope I’m not putting potential heart patients off the alternative could be death or major heart attack. I was talking to my priest, he did try and hide in Aldi to avoid me, but anyway he said that at our age it could be 3 years before recovery. I’ve just jumped out of my seat as I had a twinge. The whole of my left chest is a danger zone, one touch or even a lick from our cat would be enough to make me scream. My heart team guy said just consider what has gone on in there.
I now have a party trick, if I put an ice cube on my right nipple it is really really cold, but on my left nipple I can hardly feel a thing. I don’t have any nipple tassels so get that idea out of your head. What else can I do, I can convulse in pain and scream at the same time. Muscular Skeletal pain it’s called, I get it in my left side, though my pet name for it is BASTARD, I was recovering really fast from my bypass surgery when that came along.
Arthritis joins in for fun, it’s a race around the track for all my pains, up down and around, which does sound like a song title. Which part of the body gets it first and where will it share to. I can be limp and then not limp at all. I can have it in my shoulders and then my hips, but never on my lips so far.
I have paracetalmol for my heart and a slap on pain killer for other bits, the paracetalmol gives you man boobs after a bit, so you end up stealing your daughter’s bra. Movelat is for other areas and is fast acting, which is just you want as a freezing pain slides down from your shoulder to your heart. Then you have another pain, but that’s just constipation, which you get as a result of all the pain killers.
Now I am recently getting a pain in my knee and my leg scars have joined in just for fun, while you folks think I’m just a pain in the arse.
So try and keep on smiling when you can hardly think and breath due to the pain. I’d also like to know what did they leave in my chest, as sometimes when I move I can feel as if I’m being st
abbed from the inside. Or maybe it’s a pacemaker, or it’s somebody’s remote control, I’m told in the future I’ll have fun at airports because of the metal stitches inside me.
I didn’t intend sharing all this with you, but its either that or stay tossing and turning in bed, and screaming at the moon, the local wolves have started to complain I’m putting them out of a job.




Thursday, 6 September 2018

1989 by Taylor Swift

1989 by Taylor Swift

listening to this today, very good.

If she needs a backing dancer I am available








Portuguese Translations

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...