Guy Fawkes Day 2019

Guy Fawkes Day 2019 ,  5th November

you can google it for yourselves

The pain monster really attacked me yesterday afternoon the 4th

It's after midnight now, I took paracetamol and went to bed for 4 hours

I cannot take other pain killers as they don't mix, or/and they would turn me

into a zombie a la USA, so I take the pain to save my brain

Hence I have dark nights of the soul etc

Though sadly most people don't even know they have a soul, discuss

I spotted I haven't finished The Priest and The Playboy though I did in my head, so I may put it on paper soon, the other story needs to be finished too

I have no teacher slapping my knuckles so my time is my own, though I forever say "i'll be dead soon" when the pain really hits home. Yes it's that bad at times, totally random Sine Curve of Pain, on my body and at a  time and place of its choosing. If God gave me my Health back for 40 years then I could reach my childhood target of reaching 100. Though I'd want a young wife and more children, and I'd write bestsellers and donate to Pain Relief charities.
YES THIS PROBABLY WILL NEVER HAPPEN
I'll just wake up dead, just like in my latest Kdrama, Bring it On Ghost.

so here's my "obit" in advance like Nobel:-

Who is this Michael Casey Anyway? ©

By

Michael Casey

If you have seen Carry On Up the Khyber from 1968 maybe then you may understand me better. So find the film on Utube and then come back to me. My writing has lots of influences and variants all mixed in, as well as just plain old daftness. Google Ken Dodd and The Two Ronnies, and Around the Horne and Kenny Everett, Tom Sharpe books too, with Don Camillo as well. Add salt and shake well and have a few pints of Stella Artois too and then you’ll begin to understand. Though some people in my local stores just think it’s that fat fool again, and ever so glad he’s left the shop again. They don’t want to listen and don’t know which tangent I’m referring to.

So I was wondering how do my 60 Nationalities understand me, or tolerate me, and when they are reading The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker in 7 different languages on the same day, or my stuff in English, what are they thinking? Or do they wish I’d go back to where I came from and play a round of golf with Donald Trump instead, instead of polluting their minds in their countries with my rubbish.

Why I this Michael Casey always wearing women’s clothing, should we send him an email offering clothes at a discount from Aunty Sally’s shop in Saudi, or maybe give him a discount from Mighty Mary’s clothing store in Morocco? Why does he boast that he is a bigger bum than Trump, or is there a hidden meaning in what he is saying?

Why is he always looking for a Korean Kpop girl to come and type for him, is he so poor he cannot afford a speed typist or a legal secretary. 48 hours over 12 weeks to write Tears for a Butcher sequel? Or is he just addicted to Kdrama, is he some form of TV addict. Should his mother throw a bucket of ice cold water over him and tell him to Go Outside this Fine Day and play.

But instead what does he do? This Michael Casey  just removes his clothes and streaks all around his neighbourhood, frightening the neighbours, or maybe they just laugh at his lack of accomplishments, and grown men are jealous or is it worried. How would I know I’m just a reader, and thank God this is Radio not TV, or I’d have to borrow that  bucket that the ice cold water was thrown from by his mother. But I’d be puking into it, the sight  of his tight fat fair bum would overwhelm me, I’d just puke.

 Though I would have to lock up my daughters of marriageable age, Mad Dogs and Englishmen showing their bum in the Midday Sun, would turn their heads, and I’d never want Michael Casey as part of my family. Though I do know a Korean Kpop girl who might be interested, I’m joking now, it would be like Beauty and the Beast, which would be an even more improbable Kdrama  in itself.

Improbable that sums up Michael Casey, think of a number, add the number of brothers and sisters you have, divide by 4 and add 3 and then you have the number you first thought of. And if Michael Casey could remember that puzzle from 50 years ago, then you really would be impressed. But you are not, because he always disappoints, a bit like a boyfriend who’s being talking in Metric and like any English girl you want feet and inches. And I’m talking about the size of his extension.

This Michael Casey, and you should all be speaking in a fake Indian accent like in Carry On Up the Khyber throughout as you read this, this Mr Michael Casey he leads you this way but takes you that way, rather like a very bad or drunk dancer. You expect this from him, but you get that from him, when really you wanted the udder, yes you are so very thirsty so you wanted a bit of the udder, goats milk is so very refreshing after all. He misdirects, like a badly trained Policeman, points this way but sends you up the garden path, where you meet Gill with a G from StatsMR, who is this Lady anyway? She is a friend of this Michael Casey, she lays paths and plants roses, she hangs out with workmen bringing them tea, English tea in cups, not mugs, because Gill is a Lady. And  Roses do grow on You.

Now wherever you are in the world reading this I hope it gives you an idea of what to expect. I do also write A to B stories too, which do go via Z as well, but blame the taxi driver who cannot read, but in his head he does have 1000 routes. I have 2000+stories down on paper and more in my head, variety is the spice of life and I hope when you stumble over me and my stories you decide to come back. I also hope you approve that I support the little guy and the far from perfect people, because I do believe that the Person is not the Package their body is held in. The Laughter and Mind and level of Kindness is what matter, not how cruel people see them. We all belong where we are, and there is no going back.

My Lima Love Story 3rd Nov 2019

My Lima Love Story 3rd Nov 2019

My Lima Love Story ©

By

Michael Casey

Sancho Panza was Isabella’s driver, Sancho Panza was not his real name but he had been christened it and it stuck. His real name is, but I cannot even remember and I’m telling his story. You see Sancho Panza was one of the native people, strong incredible strong, not too tall but in his case very very wide. When Isabella went to a fancy hotel he carried everything, just as a mountain donkey does, so one joker decided to call him Sancho Panza, and it stuck. He’d worked for her for 10 years now and he was her Sancho Panza. Isabella apologized, she was a lady after all.

Isabella was from Spanish Nobility who’d conquered Peru all those years ago, and like her name she was pious, but she hid it well, she wanted to appear a carefree European style person. However Sancho Panza could see her saying the Rosary in his rear view mirror. So he was proud to be her servant, he’d join in silently saying the Rosary with her as her drove the Limousine from place to place. Isabella’s family owned a Hotel company hence all the driving from place to place.

Isabella was 27 now and he was 10 years older, but looked much older than that, his face carved from stone. Isabella had a secret, and that is why she had decided not to marry. Yes she had a few suitors, some nice, some kind, some just wanting her family’s millions. Sometimes she come running to the car and demanded Sancho Panza just drove, get away from here, get away from here. Sancho could see the tears in her eyes, but he was just Sancho Panza it was not his place to ask what was making her sad. So Sancho Panza prayed to Saint Martin de Porres to take her tears away and replace them with tears of laughter. Saint Rose of Lima was also roped in. If she chose to be like you Santa Rosa so be it, but please no tears, I cannot take tears. Just let her be happy.

So his life continued, driving here there and everywhere, stopping in the staff quarters and sleeping in the worst hotel bedroom, while she had the Presidential suite. Now to pass the time Sancho Panza placed music on the Limousine stereo, which as you can imagine was excellent. Sancho Panza discovered Andrea Bocelli and was about to switch it off when Isabella entered the car. No keep it on its so beautiful, and that was the first thing that broke down the wall between them. So as he drove Andrea Bocelli sung while Isabella did some paperwork in the back of the Limousine.

Now Sancho Panza had been brought up by his abuelita in Lima, after  his parents died when an overcrowded bus they were on fell off a mountain. So Sancho Panza sent her money and paid flying visits when he could. Isabella was happy, and she noticed him looking at the sign which led to where his abuelita live. My abuelita lives there said Sancho Panza, pay her a visit then I can stay in the car, Isabella suggested. And that is how another piece of the wall came crumpling down.

Sancho Panza’s abuelita was on her knees praying when he entered her house. It was on the tv, this woman in Birmingham Inglaterra asked for prayers, she asked in many languages, incluso Espanol. A butcher has been shot while defending everybody, mira mira a la television, and Sancho Panza could see CNN replaying it over and over. A butcher saved the lives of everybody, including, a grandmother, her daughter in law, her grandchild, and the unborn baby inside her, as well as several other people. But while overcoming 3 gunmen single handedly he’d been shot 3 times.

And that is why an abuelita was on her knees tearing through the Rosary, because a request for prayers had been made in Spanish, by the grandmother herself. In countries all around the world grandmothers were praying in many many languages. You see the grandmother had learnt the Rosary in a different languages when she’d been on Pilgrimages. So united in prayer abuelitas the world over were praying.

So Sancho Panza fell to his knees in prayer. Meanwhile Isabella needed the bathroom so she slipped into the house. When she came to the living room afterwards she saw them praying and CNN replaying the scene, it was an international story today on an otherwise slow news day. Instinctively Isabella fell to her knees, the abuelita passed her a plain wooden set of Rosary beads.

After an hour the abuelita had to get up, her knees were hurting on the concrete floor. As she leant on Sancho Panza and Isabella to get herself up she knocked them both over, so Isabella landed on top of Sancho Panza. Their eyes met and lingered, they both blushed. Something stirred inside Isabella, she felt it but did not understand. She had never thought of Sancho Panza as anything but a loyal driver, though friendship was growing due to Andrea Bocelli, no at that instant a Mustard Seed had been planted. They got to their feet and both avoided eye contact, they both looked the tv, and beside the tv were statues of San Martin de Porres and Santa Rosa. A statue cannot talk, but the abuelita noticed, and though it was a mad idea she would start praying for it.

As they drove away they both avoided saying anything, Isabella had literally fallen for Sancho Panza. And there it would have ended. The next month Sancho was driving her back from a dinner and dance at the very poshest hotel her family had just opened when Sancho spotted the tears falling in his rear view mirror. He’d seen her sad before, it always seemed after she’d met some suitor, but now the tears would not stop.

So Sancho Panza stopped the Limousine, you are too beautiful to be crying, look at the beauty in the stars, look at that shooting star. Sancho Panza’s heart was breaking, to see her crying after his 10 years of driving for her. The dam broke, I thought he’d be the one, I thought he would understand. Understand what? I cannot have children, and she cried even more. This was too much for Sancho Panza to bear, he got out of the driver’s seat and went and sat in the back beside her.

I am just a burro, I am a donkey called Sancho Panza but this burro is proud to be your servant, and maybe your friend, a real friend someday in the future. But today I tell you under all these stars and in front of Almighty God himself, no man is worthy of you if any man thinks all you are is a baby making machine. You are a beautiful woman who deserves better. Isabella stopped crying for a second and kissed him on the cheek.

Sancho Panza got back into the driving seat and drove her home in silence. Had he said the wrong thing, would she sack him after 10 years?

In the morning came the answer, his abuelita had a knock at the door, it was a furniture van. A total change of furniture and a new bathroom. The delivery man handed the abuelita a hand written note. Forgive me, but your grandson was so kind to me I had to thank him in some small way, please accept this humble gesture. It was signed Isabella, your grandson’s FRIEND.

Sancho Panza smiled when Isabella got back into the car, you were too kind I did not do anything, I just stated the obvious. Isabella found herself leaning forward and kissing Sancho Panza on his cheek. Have you been drinking joked Sancho Panza. No, but thank you. And with that no more was said.

Now up in the mountains where Peru meets other countries there was another new hotel. They said it was bandit county, but they had a fast car, and Sancho Panza was a good driver. But that night, not even Saint Martin de Porres nor Santa Rosa could save them. After a successful opening Isabella decided to return to Lima for an important morning meeting, this meant travelling in the middle of the night.

Nails in the road brought the Limousine to a halt, Sancho Panza managed to avoid slamming into the mountainside. He then had to do things should never have to do in front of his Lady. There were four of them and it was all or nothing, one had a riffle so Sancho Panza hit him first. He was like a bucking burro kicking and fighting and scratching. Lock the car stay inside Isabella is all he screamed, she screamed but did as he said, she clutched her Rosary to her.

I will not describe what happen, but it was horrible and bloody. Isabella threw her money out of the window and they decided they had had enough, Sancho Panza had been defending her honour, not her money. Over his dead body would they hurt her in any way. Isabella threw her money out the window in a final act of desperation. As they left they threw rocks and one lucky shot hit Sancho Panza on the head. He fell bloodied into her arms.

Isabella found a flare in the boot and fired it. 40 minutes later help came. Sancho Panza apologised, did I do the right thing? Isabella cried, no you did not. This was the man she would marry, but was she good enough for him? Sancho Panza spent a week in hospital, his granny visited every day, she was driven in a limousine owned by Isabella’s company. Isabella visited, she was shaking all over. Sancho Panza can I ask you one thing, just one thing? Yes. Would you marry a girl like me, who could not give you children of your own?

Sancho Panzo replied only a fool would turn down a girl for that reason alone. Isabella licked her lips, then Sancho Panza will you marry me? Sancho Panza opened his arms wide from his hospital bed. That was his answer.

Isabella and Sancho Panza’s wedding was the biggest that year in Lima Peru. And what is Sancho Panza’s real name you may well ask, well it is Miguel the same as this writer telling the story. Sancho Panza and Isabella accepted that they could never have children of their own.But the abuelita did not, she prayed just for one pregnancy, just one pregnancy she begged for as she knelt on her Aixminster carpeted house. Isabella thought she deserved some comfort as she prayed.

So after a year of prayers everybody was amazed when Isabella announced that she was pregnant. Saint Martin de Porres and Santa Rosa answered the abuelita’s prayers, just one pregnancy was all she had. Isabella had baby boy whom she called Martin, she also had a baby girl whom she called Rosa. She had twins you see as sometimes prayers are answered twofold. And as my own mother and all Peru’s mothers will tell you, never underestimate the power of the Rosary.  

***

I decided to repost this 3rd Nov 2019

Bring it on Ghost Kdrama

 

Bring it On Ghost

 michaelgcasey  Uncategorized  02/11/2019 0 Minutes

Bring it On Ghost is my latest Kdrama, very funny, comedy horror

I found this link, you can ghost hunt for more yourselves

https://www.viki.com/tv/31699c-bring-it-on-ghost?locale=en

the  more I watch the more I love them

Introduce Kdramas to your life

here’s 3 of my books in Korean as a thank you to Korea for giving me so much joy

they remain my copyright

페이지 1 Quick Stories KOREANBBU in KOREANKOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive  2015

Ghosts get a Fright of their Afterlives a Lech, Boris and Gregorgi story

Ghosts get a fright of their Afterlives ©

By

Michael Casey

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were a bit unsteady on their feet, well the new batch of vodka was very fresh, still slightly warm when they tested it. They had used new ingredients, potatoes, in fact it was more Irish Poteen than Eastern vodka, it had a kick and a half. Brian down the allotment had a few potatoes left over so the boys took them away, and thought what use they could make of them.

The new still in Warley Woods needed a bit of maturing, so if they made some poteen it would help flavour the inside of the still. Go ask a brewer if you want any more information, they used to say if you want to know the time ask a policeman, there was in fact a retired policeman who was a friend of theirs, he always knew the time. When a batch was ready, that’s why his face was always so red, sampling fresh home brew. But he did have perfect timing, he always turned up in time to arrest naughty boys, Tom was his name, Sergeant Tom, he always knew the exact time a new batch was ready in a still.

There are laws about home brew and stills and amounts you can make for home consumption, but Tom was 1/2 Eastern, from Poland they said. So his views on amounts were more Eastern than Western. When his nose led him to the boys still, any other Policeman may have said I am arresting you. Tom just said give me a glass and then told them to add a bit more of this and that. A firm friendship was formed. 

They say back in this writer’s dad’s closest town the still was using the chimney back to back with the police station. A young and stupid policeman informed his sergeant, so the sergeant had the wet policeman transferred as far away from Castleisland as possible. When the sergeant retired all 20 public houses gave him a bottle, that was 1930s Kerry for you.

But back to Tom, Tom and the boys are firm friends, lubrication is necessary, so let sleeping dogs lie was Tom’s philosophy,and dogs certainly lay down and slept after sampling Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s home brew or still water. At Mrs Black’s funeral the bottle was punished and all her old dear friends were in attendance, the sandwiches were laid out on the pool table and there was a table with home brew and still water, plus fizzy pop for any stray children. Just in case there are any non drinkers reading this, still water is not posh water, its water that’s been in a still, as in vodka or poteen, now do I make myself clear, you’ll tell me you are a vegetarian next, God help us.

Mrs Black herself enjoyed the after funeral feed, sitting on the side of the pool table she enjoyed the turnout. She hated how they had dressed her corpse, and sewed her lips together, she had enjoyed talking so much when she was alive. They all seem really sad that she had died, those Eastern boys were so kind too, the lips were loosened and the talk was good. Yet she could not join in, as her lips were sealed, well sown together, they had lost her false teeth so sewing her lips was the compromise. It was a good funeral, as good as many she had attended, she wondered what would happen next.

The angel came to take her to Heaven, only she was not ready, the angel said he had 5 other spirits to take home. Mrs Black replied she just wished to try the spirits at her own funeral then she would depart willingly. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had had plenty of spirits now, they swore they could see angel and some shadows next to it. Mrs Black hearing this stood right in front of the boys and begged them to cut her lips open. So drunkenly the boys whipped out their knives, this frighten the crowd. But they explained and the crowd just laughed. #

It was hard to cut Mrs Black’s lips free, you try cutting thread with a huge knife if you don’t believe me, and if you’ve been punishing a bottle and its the lips of a ghost. You don’t want to cut yourself, nor cut the head off the ghost do you. Eventually Mrs Black’s lips were free, then she picked up a glass and toasted herself. She passed the glass back for the other spirits to share, the angel had nothing, not because it was boring, but because angels are tee total and never jump in where fools rush in.

Now it must be the magical properties of Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s still but all the ghosts appeared before the crowd, they were afraid. Well apart from Tom the policeman, he’d wasn’t afraid of anything, well except spiders. The boys had spirits in them, beside the Holy Spirit had a soft spot for them too, after all the Good Works they did, so the boys were not afraid. Just stay where you are everybody advised Tom, there room for all.

So the ghosts had a few jars while the angel plucked on its harp, angels don’t have watches after all. Then as darkness fell it really was time for the ghosts to go to heaven, Percy the undertaker came running in, he’d found Mrs Black’s teeth. So Mrs Black the ghost grabbed her teeth from Percy the undertaker, and went happily into the afterlife. Lech belched, followed by Boris’ burp and Gregorgi’s rasping fart, so that sent the ghosts scurrying off to Heaven.

********

this is my 10th Lech, Boris and Gregorgi story I stumbled over just in time for Halloween

Michael Casey Writer and Totoro Ninja Cat

 michaelgcasey  Uncategorized  31/10/2019 1 Minute

Michael Casey Writer and Totoro Ninja Cat

you can find several Totoro stories if you search my sites

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.com/

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Stripping in Public

Stripping In Public ©

By

Michael Casey

Well I missed my dental appointment yesterday, I was too tired due to Tinnitus and I had been up till 4am the day before so my body needed a rest. My small daughter had been on a trip to Italy so we waited up and then we got talking, her coach has not arrived till 2.30am. It was her first time to Italy and she had kept me up to date via text messages. Once home she was full of news, it was nice sharing it, and she had visited some places I had visited 20 or 30 years ago.

So today it was the Flu Jab, I’m of the age and weak health that it’s important to have it, so I made the effort to get up. I had a shower too, I did not want to stink out the nurse in the church hall when she gave me a jab. The local GP does a mass inoculation in the church hall for all the oldies, which now include me. So I put my fresh clean shirt on and my 3 jumpers with a coat on top and started down the less steep hill. I did have to have rest on the way, there was a chill in today’s air.

On arrival there was a gap in the mass ranks of the oldies arriving for the flu jab. So I thought I may as well have a bit of fun as I peeled off my clothes. So first I took off my woolen gloves, an waved them about, I followed with the pull and reveal down my back of my bright blue coat. Then slowly and seductively I peeled of my 3 jumpers. I could have been a stripper, if only I had an opportunity in this life. Gypsy Rose Casey,if only I didn’t have all my scars on my body, post bypass. The audience, my audience looked stunned. It was 1.30 on a cold afternoon, a Tuesday in a church hall, 6 medical staff and a young doctor were being treated to a stripper, an 18 stone very hairy stripper . Then the doctor said take your shirt off, so I was totally topless. I told him my chest hernia was like having a breast but without the fun. The 5 or was it 6 other female staff looked on agog, a stripper amongst them, so big fat and hair, with a cowpat of hair all brown on my shoulder, this being my birthmark.

All too quickly it was over, apart from one lady who sat with arms crossed throughout, maybe she was disgusted, or he nipples were too cold in the church hall, I decided not to ask.

Then in reverse I stripped, returning my clothes to my body. I did not get a pneumonia jab this year, one is enough for life. 7 more years I told them, if statistical probability was right, post bypass. Though I would love to screw the Pension fund by living till 100.

Then to their relief a final rush of pensioners arrived for the last 30mins of jab time. So I pottered down to the church and said a prayer, hello God remember me? Its a lovely arts and crafts designed church from 1880 I believe.

I spotted the nice lady I had spoken to 2 years ago maybe, and she held on to the shopping trolley full of donations for the needy. Either because she was afraid I’d steal it, or to prevent herself from swiping me, or throwing condensed milk at me.  It was the Born again Hippy as I had called her when I threatened to include her in a story when we last met. And yes she had read it, though she was such a nice lady she refrained from passing opinion on it, save for holding the shopping trolley, which could be a metaphor in itself.  

So I annoyed her with conversation but she did reveal her interesting past, on air ambulance returning sick people who had been taken ill abroad. She can also pronounce Welsh words correctly, and her dad was in the RAF hence she was schooled in 16 schools. All at the back of the church, while God looked on, maybe he wished I’d talk to him more instead of annoying his flock, the Mistress Tree Hugger.

An old man popped in to look at the church after his jab, he reminded me of Padre Pio, his son in law was Palestinian so I said I had Arab reader, so he should look for The Fat Silver Haired Writer, as this google search will find me, or The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. They went away bemused, but I did guess right the son in law was a doctor, but not of medicine.

Then it was time to go, at the bus stop a guy in purple hair was listening to his head phones. So I said you must be listening to Prince’s Purple Rain, and no he did not punch me in the mouth, he just replied that was exactly what he was listening to. So that was my day, from stripping in public to being psychic.