Wednesday, 3 April 2019

I'm setting up a band IN FULL FINISHED



I’m Setting Up a Band ©
By
Michael Casey

The Pope was cursing, he had had enough, those Heathens were just that Heathens. He just wanted a quiet life, all alone with his Rosary, maybe it was Divine Inspiration, or maybe God was playing a trick, it couldn’t be a dream it was more like a living nightmare. But this is what happened.

Donald Trump said he’d resign immediately if Putin did too, he did have his fingers crossed behind his back, and Fox did show his fingers. Francis, Pope Francis was watching the BBC, for the sake of his sanity, when he heard Donald Trump make yet another lie. Francis looked up at the Cross on the wall, Lord if Trump and Putin both resigned now that might be a good thing. But it’s more likely that I resign too, and what would the 3 of us do then, form a Rock Band like in the Blues Brothers.

Francis liked that film, especially when the Nun hits the boys with a ruler for swearing. Francis smiled, Rahm Emanuel is leaving Chicago soon, perhaps he should be our manager. There is always a Jewish manager in pop bands, Francis smiled again.

Now God works in mysterious ways, and as he was tending to a junkie who had just entered the Gates of Heaven, washing his feet and kissing his track marks and then putting his a white suit like a 60s band member, well God thought it would be a bit of fun. So a dream, the same dream entered Putin’s and Trump’s mind. The next day simultaneously they invited the other to Birmingham England, God loved the surreal so it just had to be Birmingham. The Press corps thought Trump was on drugs, but as they laughed, and Jon Sopal led the chorus of REALLY? The news came in that Putin had just made the same comments. In actual fact, when they checked the announcement had been made simultaneously.

Was Putin on drugs too, was there Collusion? Trump winged it, I had a dream last night, much better than what’s his name’s dream, yes Queen, I mean King. In the dream it said meet Putin in Birmingham. Barron my son said he’s like to look at the Pre-Raphaelites, whatever they are. He wants to meet Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades too, he’s in Birmingham. Though it’s more likely the Secret Service will just shave his head and make a wig for that loser, Jeff Bezo, that’ll teach him and his failing Washington Post.

I like that idea myself, but Jeff’s wig would be no match for my mane. And that’ll teach Casey to respect THE PRESIDENT, Trump reached for his phone to tweet that bit. The entire  Press Corps reached for their phones to read what he had just Twittered. Jon Sopal ran from the room laughing and in search of a fresh pair of trousers, he’d just pissed himself laughing. There was a rush for the men’s room, Trump was left alone rambling.

In Russia Putin said he had had a dream too, he was naked and riding a horse through woods, the trees swayed and turned into displays of watches hanging from every tree branch. It was a metaphor to remind him that as great as he looked on his horse one day his time would be up. Just as Autumn leaves fell, as the watches started to drop off Putin  realised he only had so much time, his secret heart problem would in the end kill him. So he would meet Trump in Birmingham, he knew what Pre-Raphaelites were and he’d enjoy looking at them. He might even bring an Easter egg to the museum, a jewelled one. He’d get to taste Cadburys chocolate eggs too, what more could any Russian want?

The Pope was asked was this Divine Intervention, he just joked was that some American singer. But in his heart Francis knew what he had to do. He must go to Birmingham and jump out of a Confessional and persuade the two of them to resign immediately. Maybe then the world would stand a chance, he would trick them by saying, if you both resign I’ll resign too, and we can form a Rock Band. He’d had a phone call from Theresa May the night before, after she’d stopped swearing he said maybe she could resign and become a lead singer in a rock band. She laughed, if you get Putin and Trump to do it, then I’ll do it. Francis got her to say it 3 times and he recorded it, Nixon learnt everything he knew about taping from his old priest after all. All Francis had to do was to sneak into Birmingham cathedral, and then pounce, he’d record everything with his bodycam and then upload it to the Web. Then both Trump and Putin would have to resign. And to keep his bargain with God so would he, and Theresa May could be the lead singer. In Paradise the junkie laughed till he cried, am I still on drugs Lord? Yes, it’s called God’s Love, the only drug worth having.

Francis had a problem, he couldn’t get a flight to Birmingham, everything was booked, all the world was coming to Birmingham. Luckily he had a friend with a balloon, Richard Branson was his name. Richard explained his balloon would not be fast enough, but he had a friend called Musk or something. Now this friend loved rockets, so if they strapped a rocket to the basket then they’d get there much faster than 80 days. Francis gave Musk some scented candles as a thank you.

Richard flew the balloon at night, and landed at the Oratory, Benedict had asked Francis to return a book of Newman’s he’d borrowed.At the Oratory Francis would catch a black taxi driven by Nanjit Tanjit, who Nanjit Tanjit, he’s a character in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, you’ll have to do some research. And then under cover of darkness Francis would sneak into Birmingham’s Saint Phillips’ cathedral. In the morning Trump and Putin would light a candle for Peace.

There were no confessionals in Saint Phillips as it was an Anglican cathedral, very small but very nice. This writer used to hide in there during his lunch break for 3 years, the Verger who looks like Jeff Bezo thought I was Holy, I was just sitting down, away from the heat of the Print Room at Pinsent Masons law firm. Francis just hid for teh night in something just as small as the Confessional, the toilet at the back of the church behind the double doors.

In the morning Francis all in crumbled white readied himself. The Secret Service and the FSB had checked the cathedral, so Trump and Putin were all alone, just a remote camera showing live pictures only. Francis had written “out of order” on a piece of paper so nobody had bothered to check the toilet. As they postured for the cameras Trump and Putin spoke. Well NO COLUSION, smiled Trump, yea but I still want the Presidential Suite as soon as your tower in built in Saint Petersburg. Deal done smiled Trump and they shook hands. The candles were lit and they bowed their heads. Don Camillo would have given both of them an almighty kick up the arse. Saint Petersburg, they had changed the city, the heir to Saint Peter was angry.

Francis jumped out and grabbed a lit candle, the pair of presidents, which is a metaphor, jumped back. We thought we saw a Ghost they exclaimed. The Holy Ghost sent me, now you both have to resign immediately and join a Rock Band, the pair of presidents, still a metaphor laughed. If Theresa May is lead singer and flashes her legs then we’ll do it. Ok we will they both joked like a pair a presidents, even more a metaphor. Francis paused, if you 2 resign then I will too, so long as Theresa May joins the band? YES YES YES they said simultaneously. Francis was uploading this to the Holy Friar website, in second the whole world heard the news. Then he played the tape of Theresa May, including the bit where she was swearing like a trooper.

And that is how the Golden Politicians were born. Francis too resigned on the spot. He wasn’t going to flat share the Vatican with Benedict and his piano. He was hitting the road Jack and he wouldn’t look back. In Parliament Mrs May punched the Speaker, which many had thought would happen, but Mr Bercow just smiled, our views may be at variance, but to forgive is divine, so I forgive. Mrs May had come to her senses by now so she French Kissed the life out of him by way of apology. The kiss lasted a full nine minutes, they say being Speaker is a dangerous occupation, but now History would say otherwise.

If you have wondered why Mr May always looks so happy and slightly bewildered behind his Biggles’ glasses well the Speaker can explain things for you. With a parting Vsign to her own back benchers Mrs May left the chamber, now the Speaker looked happy and very very bewildered behind his disordered papers. He had to order a pint of Stella Artois be brought to the Chamber to revive him.
The new band members met in an upper room, the old Waterworks Jazz club venue. They had a pint of Stella Artois each, though Pope Francis has a glass of wine too. Donald said he did not drink, but when Theresa gave him the eye he was putty in her hands. So Donald had 17 pints of Stella Artois and a packet of cheese and onion crisps. His lifetime thirst was over. Stan the caretaker tapped another barrel. Then then the new band moved to the Bell and Pump room to rehearse. Theresa now liberated was the leader of the pack, and dressed all in skin tight leather she now felt so so liberated.

They rehearsed all the ABBA back list, it was the one thing they all knew. Francis was a great base guitarist, and Putin just liked to stand at the keyboards, he was great, but Classical was more his forte,but everybody just loves ABBA. Put what about Donald? Well he put on a kilt and no knickers, and reached for a guitar. He knew that girls loved to sleep with rock musicians, so he had secretly learnt how to play. The servants had assumed the noise in the attic was his kids, but no, it was the Donald. He’d paid Mick and Keith a lot of money to come and teach him back in the 1970s. And he’d been practising for decades. Property he knew, but strutting with a guitar he was even better at, but nobody knew. Except a few ladies who’d signed non disclosure agreements.

So they played, while Rahm Emanuel their new manager made calls as only a Chicago mayor or former mayor can. He’d left Chicago safe in the hands of a Black Lesbian Mayor, now Rahm Emanuel would face his biggest test. Getting the biggest paying concert ever on the road. The Stones were  delayed so while Mick stopped prancing they could step in and seize their stage. Two Presidents, a Pope and a Prime Minister. What a line up, Rahm Emanuel decided to call them The Four Golden Peas. He rung Esther his dear friend and asked could she arrange security and the finances once he funnel them to her. Security was easy her son made military satellites, and knew many tough guys.

The money side of things was kind of not legit, you see all the money would be going to Charity. The first charity being  Médecins Sans Frontières, MSF or Doctors without Borders. Those bastards, the politicians had started more wars between them so they should give back something.

So Médecins Sans Frontières, would be first. Rahm had set himself a target, One Billion US Dollars. And to help things along, Fr.Dan was going to hear Confession with El Chapo and when he finished every cent he had stashed away would be going to Charity, real Charity not his favourite hooker called Charity.

Fr. Dan knew how to hear Confession, he would beat the ____ out of El Chapo while they were along in his cell. Then he would use Voodoo and put the fear of God into El Chapo, finishing with the words, God Doesn’t Love You Any More. This would break any man in 30 mins tops. Screaming for mercy El Chapo would reveal all. Then Esther would use her Russian Money Laundering Connections to launder the money, and it would end up sparkling clean in each Charity’s bank account. Besides with Putin in the band, no questions would be asked.

Rahm Emanuel smiled, he should have been in the real Blues Brothers but he was just too busy, though he did do one day’s work on the film. It was Rahm Emanuel who drove the car at the Neo Nazi Bastards, so they had to jump for their lives. Not a lot of people known this, Rahm is modest about his film driving career.

The first gig arrived. It would be at Birmingham’s NEC Arena, the one that looks like Spider landed. Rahm Emanuel smiled, Fr Dan had IMed Chapo had talked, in fact he sung like a canary, when a multi black belt Jesuit asks you a question then you answer. Fr.Dan had used Voodoo too, Chapo had peed himself in under a minute. The guards were watching the Concert live in their rest room, so Fr.Dan was left in peace to hear Confession.Rahm was too busy to count the zeros, it was 15,000,000,000 USD.

Esther smiled, her dear friend Mrs Murphy would be so happy, but now she was busy moving the money. In and out of Government’s own bank accounts as well, to make it all sparkling clean. Esther has her list of Charities and smiling she went about her work. Meanwhile Artist Differences had reared their ugly head. Theresa decided to let it all hang out. So she stripped naked and demanded they all did the same. Stripped back music, was different, maybe kissing Bercow had confused her. Give me your tie Donald. So Theresa wrapped his red tie down below. She was like Cher with her modesty half covered but with her behind hanging out. Then she grabbed Donald’s lapel badge to cover her left nipple and Rahm gave her his badge for the right nipple.

Glitter me she commanded, and then she was spray painted in glitter,the perfect Glam Rock look. The Pope stayed clothed in white, but he wore silver high heels. Donald and Putin were sprayed in glitter, Donald lost his trousers but put a kilt back on. Putin just put some very tight shorts on to highlight his accomplishments, of course he was bar chested too.

With that Francis started to play, And The Winner Takes it All, and Theresa May strode out and hit the stage. Overwhelming Applause. She did grab her husband and give him the kind of kiss you’d get arrested for if you did it in public. They lashed the crowd with ABBA hits, and everybody was amazed  and Donald Trump showed the world his class and more as he spun around in his kilt, knickerlass to the world. Putin stopped the show with his piano playing, he inserted a few Russian classics.There were no flies on him, and certainly no shirt required, he played his heart out. On the top of the keyboard were Cadburys cream eggs which he scoffed as the show went on.

Francis disappeared in smoke, like holy orders gone mad, but his Bass was unbelievable. Back home Benedict was a little jealous, he was stuck in the Vatican and soon they’d be a 3rd Pope. When they ran out of Abba songs Putin to sing, Russian traditional songs about combine harvesters and wheat yield. But he knew nobody would understand, so he cried as he sung and as the others jammed around. It was an absolute hit, everybody in the audience was crying. Esther was laughing all the way to the bank. 40,000,000,000 USD had been stolen from locked up drugs barrons, as Fr. Dan had toured the jails. Many many charities had benefited. Even Spangle Shoes for Prisoners would get 10,000USD.

What more can I say. Theresa May was a Rock Chic, she wiggled and sung with all her heart. She was free from all those BASTARDS, now she could give her husband everything she had. Her husband rung Beds4Politicians and ordered a new divan set, he knew he’d be needing it. Covered in Sweat and Naked before the Audience, was the title of the Live Triple Album, Rahm certainly knew a good title. That made 100,000,000 USD for Charity. The true figures were never released to the Public nor to Governments, Esther and Rahm didn’t want too many nosey parkers into their business. They’d give the finger to those kind of people.

At the end of the concert Rahm gave each member of the band a crisp dollar bill. After expenses this is what you get. A dollar each, the Pope looked at the reverse. IN GOD WE TRUST. Pope Francis cried, he cried like a baby. Then he woke up, it had all been a dream. But when he woke up under his pillow was a fresh dollar bill with Love Rahm written on it.
Theresa May woke up her new divan set, Beds4Politicians, was broken,  her husband was gently smouldering, tea and crumpet for breakfast dear. I’ve had the strangest of dreams she began sitting up in bed, a crisp dollar bill with Love Rahm was under her pillow, and why had she got USA flags stuck to her nipples. And what was irritating her down below, she pulled out a red tie, her husband never wore red.

What of Trump and Putin? They awoke in The Plough and Harrow, they were in bed together, naked with each clasping a dollar bill signed by Rahm Emanuel. Now am I making this all up, or is this a Dream within a Dream. Donald did say at the beginning that he had a dream better than a Queens…..   
   



 




Tuesday, 2 April 2019

hello China SAR + Barron Trump

hello China SAR + Barron Trump

hello China SAR + Barron Trump
about to go to bed, my shoulder clicking away and paining away like mad.
MY desktop tower by my feet is playing up.
Hope the cat didn’t sneak in and spray it.
Spotted China on just, and lots of Spanish translations being read.
So if China or Barron Trump, who’s supposed to be a computer whiz, are feeling generous they could send me a new desktop tower. 3mhz and 1TB would be fine
yes I’m cheeky but I worked in a hotel for 3 years so it’s good to get something.
Stay happy, my brother was as  tall as Barron Trump at the same age.
He was Don Quixote and I was Sancho Panza  according to our priest 50 years ago.

Monday, 1 April 2019

michael casey the april fool, and fool for every other day too

Michael Casey the April Fool, and fool for every other day too.

China BBU-converted
оисках индийской принцессыWydanie polskie Still Alive 2015win Wiersze dla wszystkichThe Polish Translations아직도 살아있는 2015페이지 1 Quick Stories KOREANMichael Casey The Polish TranslationsPolish Edition of Still Alive 2015polish Guardian AngelThe Polish Translationsshoplife spanishСтраница 1ЭТО МОЙ ЛИФТ ADインドのプリンセスを検索するには – Copyインドのプリンセスを検索するにはページ1 Quick Stories in Japanesebbumar2008-en-zh-cn-150 Spanish Examples50 Spanish ExamplesBBU FrenchBBU GermanJapanese elevator AdvertBBU Russian Translation microsoft wordmy new bedBBU in Arabic300 وBBU in HebrewBBUMar2008.en.zh-CN (1)The Polish TranslationsKOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive 201550 Spanish ExamplesBBU FrenchBBU GermanBBU in KOREAN아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015Spanish BBU
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Strange Dream

Strange Dream ©
By
Michael Casey

I had a funny dream the other night, my daughter said it was “stereotypical YOU”  I just thought it was weird, is my daughter calling me weird? Well the dream revolved around us house hunting, we found this really great place and we were trying to work out would everything fit. So there was a strange shaped bedroom and I was wondering would a bed fit into the space. So I cut a bed that belonged to the owner in half and shoved it into the space provided.

Now how I managed to cut a bed in half, I don’t know, it wasn’t made of cake nor cheese. We really loved the house, and it was just right, like the baby bears porridge. Just call me Goldilocks instead of silver locks if you like. So then as we talked to the owner we did not want him to find out that I’d cut one of his beds in half. Only he was livid and then wanted to screw me on the price of the house, because he knew I wanted it so much and I had just been a bad magician. No Paul Daniels was I, you come into my home and saw my bed in half.

But it was an old bed, and I’ll give you a good price for your house. But you sawed it in half. And he kept on saying, but you sawed it in half. He had a ball in his hand and kept on squeezing it and passing it from hand to hand. Just like in that old film where the commander of a ship does the same with his balls, metal balls that is. The owner of the house kept on repeating himself.

I was going to buy his house and he was bitching about an old bed, it wasn’t even an antique. And how did I manage to cut it in half? Magic  I said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. Magic,Magic, Magic you stupid fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham the one in England, he spluttered, it was too large a line for any writer to put in anybody’s mouth. But the owner had to say it because I am putting words in his mouth, and it is my dream after all.

That bed belonged to Paul Daniels, he was born in it, I was going to put it on the Antiques Road Show, now PUFF it’s broken. Not even magic could fix it you stupid fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham the one in England he again spluttered.

He was so exasperated he reached for his pills, or was it Pils and took an aspirin too. Only instead of putting the aspirin in his mouth from his left palm he shoved his ball in his mouth from his right palm. Then he began to choke. I did think should I let him choke, and get a better deal from his widow. But I had done first aid training at the CPNEC many years ago, so my training kicked in. I had also seen Mrs Doubtfire on tv the night before.

So I grabbed and squeezed him, but entirely in a masculine way, he went redder and redder, when a 248 pound man squeezes you even a brown bear would go red. Then I slapped him in the stomach, maybe a bit too hard. He had hurt my feelings after all. The ball popped out and his wife slapped it straight out the window with a tennis racket, she’d just come home from practise and reacted instinctively.

Her husband fell to the ground in pain, but still alive. She looked up at me disappointed, she whispered, if you let the bugger die I’d have given you a discount on the price of the house.

And did we buy the fantastic house? Well I woke up like a Vampire as I do every 2 hours, so I don’t know. Normally it’s impossible to get back into your dream, there is no rewind on dreams. I’m just curious, no joking please. I am curious why I had this dream now. Perhaps a dream dictionary would explain. And no this is not an April Fool for  1st April 2019 But at least it’s another story to add to the 2000 or so, just be good enough and buy some books on Amazon, or am I just a fool to keep on writing these without any reward?







Triple or Quadruple?

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