18th July 2020 afternoon all

I did start writing something yesterday but...

so thanks to Isreal, Syrian, Saudi and Hong Kong

for being some of my bemused, befuddled and smiling readers today

JUST  when you thought lockdown could not get any worse

you found me

i've past 2900 pieces here on the main site

2000 are stories  I think, the rest may be like this

but you'll have to read everything to find out

Teacher, can we count the grains of sand instead

I'm not that boring, don't answer that.

Ok, if it makes you all better, repeat after me

Michael Casey you are just fat and silver haired from Birmingham

What about the Writer bit?

Silence

You know how to hurt my  feelings, I may just walk through the desert

I mean dessert, whipped cream and strawberries

Image that a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham totally

covered in strawberries and cream

What's that sound

Not of Silence

Just people smacking their lips, no, the sound of Boredom

You really know how to hurt my feelings

I'm going off for a cry

I may just watch Beethoven Virus my Kdrama about an orchestra

I 'll come back later

as punishment read a chapter of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

and which character in it is closest to Me?

You could all put me on TicTok  or whatever its called

2,000,000,000 users and none has heard of me

You could punish them

But don't look under your bed, as I may be hiding there

me and Tororo the cat

reading Don Camillo, he is so much better than me

so with that book recommendation I'll finish for now

it's nearly 4pm here in England

I had open the window, one of my girls was wearing

horrible perfume. If only they used Ck1 then I'd

let it be, cos we could all wear it androgenously

Heaven's Devils

Heaven’s Devils ©

By Michael Casey

Rodrigo was a bad man, a very bad man. He had lied and cheated and killed his way all over Central America, but he was good at his job. He was a killer for the cartels. Obviously he was going straight to Hell, the hottest part of Hell itself, but he neither cared nor believed. He was BAD with a Capital B, Michael Jackson could sing and dance and prance as much as he wanted but compared to Rodrigo, he was just DEAD with a capital D. Jackson was not Bad, he was Sad with a silly voice and bad dance moves, and he was DEAD. Rodrigo was the MAN and his moves left a trail of Death all over Central America.

Rodrigo had no friends, but he did have one cousin, Miguel was his name, and he too was a bad man, a very bad man, who like Rodrigo lied and cheated and killed his way all over Central America. They used to send postcards to each other, with cartoons written on the back showing how many and how they had killed their latest victims. The postmen just assumed it was children scrawling things. But to the FBI it was evidence.

Rodrigo and Miguel were tasked to kill a priest who condemned the drugs trade from the pulpit. So obviously they sat at the back and enjoyed the sermon, they would slit his throat after the Mass and steal the offerings too on the way out. Only Fr. Camillo had other ideas, he was not stupid he knew when death was calling him, and today after Sunday Mass was the day. But the thing about Death is that it is not the Master, there is only one Master, and today the Holy Ghost was in town. Now the Holy Ghost was faster and quicker than any assassin, so Rodrigo and Miguel had better watch their backs.

Now who or what is the Holy Ghost? Well the Holy Ghost was a retired CIA assassin, he knew Fr. Camillo from high school, and every day Fr. Camillo had prayed for his dark and evil soul. If the thief on the cross could be spared and Saul could become Paul, then the Holy Ghost could be saved too. And so he was, the Holy Ghost became plain old Sancho, he was Fr. Camillo’s invisible bodyguard. Any time the cartels sent a hit man to kill Fr. Camillo the hit man disappeared off the face of the earth. In actual fact, Sancho cut their ear off and posted it back to the cartel. As for the hit men, they just retired to Miami, thanking God they were still alive, though slightly hard of hearing. They grew their hair and enjoyed all their ill -gotten gains.

Rodrigo and Miguel were about to strike, when Sancho hit them first. They awoke to find themselves tied up chickens ready to go in the oven. Fr. Camillo blessed them with Holy Water, Sancho who had been drinking relieved himself on them. They were about to swear, but Sancho hit them with two Bibles across the face. There will be no more swearing ever, Repent or Die, with that Fr. Camillo threw a bucket of Holy Water over each of them. Now the Holy Spirit the real Holy Spirit works in most strange ways, Rodrigo and Miguel had come to kill, but now they would become savers.

They were shackled and told to read the Bible, every day Sancho fed them and Fr. Camillo blessed them, the Holy Spirit did his work too. That is the real Holy Spirit and the Sancho the retired assassin. Sleep deprived and forced to change, this was no road to Damascus, this was Central America. How many months it took I do not know, but I do know, light began to shine in their hearts, a tiny tiny light, but Fr. Camillo could feel it. The Holy Spirit was at work. Sancho had to go away with his donkey Panza for supplies, so with a wave and reminding the prisoners that there would be a 1000 question Bible test when he returned he disappeared like a Ghost, a Holy Ghost maybe.

Now an ill wind blows no good, and fools rush in where angels fear to tread. The cartels had not received any ears lately so they dispatched an entire squad to kill Fr. Camillo. Would they manage to finally kill Fr. Camillo? In the jungle whistles broke through the animal sounds. To Rodrigo and Miguel it was obvious what was about to happen, they smiled. The old priest would get his comeuppance. But as they read their Bibles, the gentle breeze of the Holy Spirit fell upon them. The Padre Pio prayer card which had acted as bookmark, fell from their Bibles, Padre Pio’s face gave them a hard stare. As Mrs Casey would say, don’t give me any cheek or I’ll slap you in the puss with the mop bucket. They had had enough of murder, it was now time to save. This was their Damascus moment.

So like any good assassins, Roderigo and Miguel broke free from their shackles and slipped away.

The assassination squad numbered 10, but 10 divided by 2 is 5, and 5 to 1 were easy odds as far as they were concerned. As Fr. Camillo prayed they took action, then 10 became 9, became 8, became 7, became 6 and then Panza the donkey came to the rescue. Panza distracted the assassination squad while Miguel and Roderigo with the returned Sancho finished off the 10. All of whom were tied up like chickens ready for the oven.

Don’t think you’ll not having your Bible test, after supper will be you final test. They spun round it was Fr.Camillo who had finished praying. They followed him into the jungle, there on the ground was another 10 men, how come to assassinate him. They were the advance party, I sorted them out myself, they were such amateurs. So they tied those ten up and dragged them to join the others. 20 men sent to kill just one priest. Roderigo and Miguel bowed their heads, you love God so much and the send so many killers to get you.

Fr.Camillo blessed them and they all had supper, afterwards Sancho gave them their 1000 question Bible test. So what happens now? Well said Fr. Camillo, Sancho has some friends in the CIA they could use men like you. But we aren’t killers any more, you know I think we could become Christians, real Christian, do you think your boss would accept people like us. Of course he can, but listen to Sancho. So Sancho explained the CIA or the friends of friends of the CIA needed bodyguards, not close protection ones, but invisible bodyguards to protect special people from a distance, and maybe sometimes to intervene. They would become Ghosts, Holy Ghosts if you like.

Roderigo and Miguel took all of 2 seconds to say yes. But don’t you need more than 2 sometimes? Well yes explained Sancho, after I cut off all those ears and previous assassins are official dead I stay in touch with the “dead” so to speak, and they do me favours occasionally. What about these 20, they are the worst of the worst. Well you could help us re-educate them. So after they had cut both ears off all 20 assassins, they chained them up and Bible school began. Fr. Camillo was left alone after that the cartels gave up on him, the Sicorro was blowing after all.

Now where did Roderigo and Miguel go? Well if you remember Mrs Murphy likes to visits lots and lots of churches and some are not in nice places. And her Jewish friend Esther has a zillionaire son who makes satellites for CIA etc. Well a satellite is all fine and dandy but Esther worries about her friends, her close friends. So it makes Esther sleep easier knowing that the Holy Ghost Protection Society is only a heartbeat away.

 

Let There Be Light

Posted bymichaelgcasey17/07/2020Posted inUncategorizedEditLet There Be Light

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

****** this is what the world needs right now, and Prayers of any variety

mask up to save your life and everybody else’s

another repeat I’m worse than the BBC ______That Special Moment

Posted bymichaelgcasey16/07/2020Posted inUncategorizedEditanother repeat I’m worse than the BBC ______That Special Moment

this is 3 years old I think

That Special Moment ©

By Michael Casey

Christmas is coming the  goose is getting fat, well it is 28th November so forgive me for mentioning Christmas, though I do believe Christmas should be kept in December, and not August as some retailers may prefer. We had Harry and Markle on tv yesterday on about special things, I’m not going to talk about them, but how did Harry fall in love with the leader of Germany I’ll never know, as English people are notoriously bad with languages. My own speciality is bad language, so don’t vex me. Though I can stumble along in French and Spanish and one of brothers was a bit of a linguist, and another did live and work in Paris for 4 years. Not forgetting the Shanghai wife and our bilingual daughters. But I’ll leave Harry alone with his American/German phrasebook. The Windsors  are from Germany after all.

So what makes a moment special? In actual fact it’s the Future or is it the Past? When in the future you look back at your past you only then realise just how special the moment was. I think in real time you are too busy to realise how good a time you are having. It’s when you go to bed and you rewind your day that you realise how good it was as you thank God when you say your prayers. That’s if you pray at all, I bet only 15% of people actually pray. Forget the Christmas Christians or other faiths, the ones who actually have faith in their life, not those who attend because they have to. These are the believers of all faiths and none.

But you can argue the philosophy of prayer next time you are down the bookies smoking a splif as you share a can of Guinness with your local vicar. Or whoever leads your prayers. Now one special moment is when the Queen’s horse romps home and you have had a bet on it. You win 700 quid, or 2 weeks wages in money terms. You did lose double that 2 months before, but now you are triumphant. Luckily the vicar though seeing double because of the splif decides to intervene, so he grabs your winnings, no metaphor intended and puts them down his pants. So you chase him out of the bookies and up the road to the village green, where you try to debag him.

The little dog laughed to see such fun and the dish ran away with the spoon, so says the nursey rhythm. In reality people are wondering why their trendy vicar is being attacked and having the pants torn off him. A tear appears and ten pound noses flutter from the vicars torn pants.  The vicar continues running away, as Michael Casey Trainee betting Shop Manager stands in the door of the bookies and wonders will every day be like this. Smiling Paul the bookie in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker  would be taking bets by now on how long before the vicar would be knickerless with just the odd 10 pound note to hide his modesty. 

The vicar’s pants come off and tenners float everywhere, the vicar has just his union  jack underpants on. The crowd are impressed by all his bulges. The vicar’s assistant appears still wearing vestments, she takes off her cassock so the vicar can hide his bulges. Then she turns on you to lash you with her tongue. She used to be a bingo caller before the call came, but now she’ll lash you unmercifully for daring to disrobe a vicar in public.

As she whips you with her  tongue a strange thing happens, you realise she is the one for you. You are being chastised by god’s helper, by god’s little worker. So as you finish collecting your 700 winnings you look deep into her eyes, and then and then and then and then  you puke all over her. Splif and Guinness combined with chasing the vicar and tearing his clothes off to get your money back has upset your stomach. Or it could have been the two spicy kebabs as you watch the race meeting from Ascot in the bookies’ shop. So the vicar’s assistant is covered in your puke.

Her face goes red with anger, you say it matches her red hair, and you just love her Edinburgh accent.  She punches you in the stomach, which was a mistake so you puke all over her again before you collapse on top of her. Now at this point God intervenes, he knows she has a really bad temper and had hoped the church would hide it. She has now been twice blessed, or is it twice puked over. As you lay on top of her saying sorry you use the 700 in notes top wipe your sick off her.

Six months later at your wedding to the Scots lass all this is remembered as a turning  point in both of your lives. A passing fire engine had hosed you both down, as for the 700 in the new plastic notes, that was given to the local children’s home, as a penance for being sick over the vicar’s assistant. The Scots lass had looked into your eyes and saw that you were the man with the child in his eyes, Kate Bush was her favourite singer after all.

So it was like being struck by lightning, or rather 2 shades of vomit.  The vicar  had lost his pants, the children’s home had gained a donation, you had lost your addiction, or rather the contents of your stomach, but gained a wife. And she would be a Verger no more.

Yes, looking back a really special moment.

i just got new shaving gel today

Welcoming ROMANIA hello everybody here there and everywhere

Welcoming ROMANIA  hello everybody here, there, and everywhere

well what have I done to deserve all your attention?

I hope you like what you are reading

I did not do a Romanian Translation but

nearly every other language is on my Wordpress

my Postman is from Romania/ Russian extraction

my Central heating guy is Ukrainian with a Romanian wife

So if you know them perhaps that's how you found me

There are 2900 pieces of Silly English if you just stay here on this site

But I'd rather have a kebab and chips myself

But if you are in lock down don't worry

Have a good rest and read for fun

I am a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham ENGLAND

with bad dandruff and smelly feet

so obviously you are all better than me

no arguement there

I only argue with stupid people trying to sell my overpriced broadband

at my door, so don't ever be a cold caller, when I'd stood naked in the door

shivering with cold, don't be bold.

You have all just vomited, the mental picture in your head was too much

p.s. Hello to Syria, Phillipeans, Korea and American Samoa as well

have not got something better to do, like watching the old Dr Who

OUT이 아닌 300Downloadkorean-translation-still-alive-2015DownloadKOREAN Quick StoriesDownloadkorean-translation-still-alive-2015Downloadbbu-in-koreanDownloadall-for-koreaDownloadoutec9db4-ec9584eb8b8c-300-1Download

Arabic Altogether NowALL for KoreaKOREAN Quick StoriesWydanie polskie Still Alive 2015Wydanie polskie Still Alive 2015 – Copywin Wiersze dla wszystkichVietnamese Translation The Butcher The Baker and The UndertakerTURKISH tRANSLATION OF bbuThe Polish TranslationsThe Polish Translationsspanish-bbuSpanish BBUportuguese-bbu2019abcportuguese-bbu2019abcportuguese-bbu2019PORTUGUESE BBU2019polish Guardian AngelPolish Edition of Still Alive 2015Michael Casey The Polish Translationschinese translation BBUchina-bbu-converted-1China BBU-convertedChina BBUbengali-translation-of-bbuBengali Translation of BBUbbu-russian-translation-microsoft-wordbbu-italian (2)bbu-in-arabicbbu-germanBBU UrduBBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU ITALIANBBU IndonesianBBU in KOREANBBU in Indian HindiBBU in HebrewBBU in HebrewBBU in ArabicBBU in Indian HindipersianBBUPORTUGUESE BBU2019В поисках индийской принцессыWydanie polskie Still Alive 2015win Wiersze dla wszystkichThe Polish TranslationsThe Polish Translationspolish Guardian AngelPolish Edition of Still Alive 2015Michael Casey The Polish Translations페이지 1 Quick Stories KOREAN아직도 살아있는 2015ページ1 Quick Stories in Japaneseインドのプリンセスを検索するにはインドのプリンセスを検索するには – CopyЭТО МОЙ ЛИФТ ADСтраница 1shoplife spanishJapanese elevator AdvertBBU GermanBBU French50 Spanish Examples50 Spanish Examplesbbumar2008-en-zh-cn-1BBUMar2008.en.zh-CN (1)BBU in HebrewBBU in Arabic300 وBBU Russian Translation microsoft wordBBU in KOREANBBU GermanBBU French50 Spanish ExamplesKOREAN TRANSLATION Still Alive 2015The Polish TranslationsSpanish BBU아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015아직도 살아있는 2015   

It is nice to see every day where you all are as you read my stories

It is over 80 places worldwide

I’ve covered all the major language groups and you can all buy my Original English

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

I only read emails in ENGLISH with a decent subject line and I never click links

Junk emails just get deleted unread

Now curl up in bed and read my stories

Pompous Old Fart or POF for short

Posted bymichaelgcasey15/07/2020Posted inUncategorizedEditPompous Old Fart or POF for short

Pompous Old Fart or POF for short ©

By

Michael Casey

Hello Dear, as my dad a steel worker and father of six always used to say. Or My Darling Young Man as my Uncle Henry in Kerry used to say, he was a farmer and father of 5. I’m telling you this because Language really does give you away, Google https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00c7q4l and Around the Horn.

There you will laugh and enjoy British Humour from 50 years ago and more, and it will be worth it, and if you don’t laugh never come back to my page again.

So let us begin, I am POF an influencer and sage from another age, Old Age, you little snot, speaking to me like that. I’ll have you know, we know already. You were in a Paint Commercial 30+ years ago, when colour tv first reached the UK. Mr Spangle the silver glow man, you and your can of Brighten Up, the paint for all occasions. Jealous, it’s no use putting your tongue out, this is Radio.

Ignore those noise off, them and their Potty Mouths, they should sit and pooh, there are so windy. More like food poisoning after dinner made by you. There is no such thing as a free lunch, free of food poisoning. Cheek, I was on the cover of Food Dinner, or was it diner? Advertising Anti Acid tablets, before tablets were invented, you are so Old Moses must have shared his tablets with you.

Just ignore those little FARTS, literally, now we are all alone I can give you the benefit of my Wisdom. I am POF and I will guide you with such Wisdom, you’ll be amazed that  your little small lives could have evaporated without ME!

Now first lesson, I am your Leader, more like a little bleeder, get back to that toilet you stink, and literally too. So let me begin once more, I have barricaded the bathroom doors.

Yes, without me you are so incomplete, just take my advice and your life will always be full of rice, the kind you get from your  local take away, the one you love so much, Took’s Touch. Buy a subscription online, just follow the banner below, and not only will you get me in your inbox every day, but 10% off Took’s Touch whenever you are in Old Forge and Singing Anvil, my abode. More like a smelly commode. Pardon them while I superglue the bathroom door, but we need more Andrex, USE YOUR FINGER. These Plebs don’t deserve toilet paper, my own dear mother God rest her, used a blade of grass to wipe her **(* back in Cromane Lower Kerry.

I’m using a boxing commentators close mike now, those Plebs won’t annoy us anymore. So where do I begin? Yes, here’s a vacuous quote, from Big Bert the Belly the alcoholic darts champ from down our boozer. Some times you have to throw up, before you grow up. Some times you hit the Bull, while others just  talk BS, sometimes it’s a double, sometimes a triple, I’m talking about Darts now, not my drinking. But if you just keep on pointing your arrow, if you don’t get your face slapped, then you’ll hit the target. And if you are in Target in USA, we don’t have it in UK, though Disney is everywhere, then you can buy all the baby products you need, as too much pointing your arrow will result in babies.

So I’ll leave you glow in the relevance and import of such a quote, as I count the new subscriptions flooding in from Fools, which is my pet name for you all. The T word calls his fans Fools too, but I used it first, before his hair suddenly went Grey, and I have to teach him to spell his colours too. G R E Y. I can offer you all a signed by me Tee shirt too for 99 quid, but I’ll accept dollars. It has my face on, with a link printed below where can send me more of your money.

What other gems can I give you, wait while I finger the influencer’s guide to scamming, 2.99 on ebay slightly used. It says here I should just ramble on and on and on, just look sincere and straight down the lens, blush occasionally, as if I’m modest and honest.  I could go on but all this is so boring, did I switch off the mike, or was I caught out like in Truman show last night, where he escaped. You’re so stupid anyway, never underestimate the ignorance of your audience, the T word told me that, as we sat watching tv for 8 hours a day.

So I hope you all enjoyed today’s broadcast, Mary T is coming over for tea, I’ll break it to her slowly, the Entire World already knew what she wrote, but it’s always best to get it off your chest. I hope you are all feeling so much better now, don’t forget to buy all the books, I know you won’t but miracles do happen. Maybe Birmingham is Ballet will be picked up by Matthew  Bourne, did I email  him today, I’ll check my diary, after I evict my lodgers from my bathroom.

birmingham-is-balletDownload

2nd wind

2nd wind

well I was up at 6am had some toast and a potter

looked at you all on my PC and went back to bed

now it's later and I'm still tired

Perhaps I'm slowing down and will die

you'd all be spared my words then

I'm still hoping my life will begin

But these past few weeks old ailments are creeping up on me

I'm watching a 2008 Kdrama about an orchestra

so music and Kdrama combined

my 2 favourite things

I may have a rest from writing new stuff and test you all

would you still come to the site

if now new stuff was available for a week

would cobwebs grow in my cyberspace, not a metaphor

I could write a new thing about Things I Hate

Taz on security taught me how to spot a dodgy person from a mile

If you look at mug shots, there is a "bad boy" look

But maybe I'm getting cynical in my old age

Though some confuse my open heart look for stupidy

You learn far more by pretending to be stupid

And then you can catch people out

Pain does ruin lives, but Opiods turn you into an American

So I never take enough pain killers

Besides with my kidneys I cannot take a load of stuff

So there you go

And that's why in the main I chose Comedy or Humour writing

For my own amusement I read all the newspapers

Politics mainly, it' s my addiction

So boring, goes back 50 years to me and my dad watching together

Here's another random post but be warned there may be a gap

till the weekend

Best comic Obiturary of  me wins a prize

Black Humour rules ok, and  that's not Chris Rock

black humour is humour based on sadness

here' a serious piece from 9 years ago

A Life in a bag ©

By

Michael Casey

One of our neighbours died the other day, she was an old lady with white hair, the kind of nice old lady you see in the street. She used to have meals on wheels, I could see another nice lady deliver them to her door. I could see the old lady’s children and grandchildren come and visit. But now she is dead.

I’ve grown up with death, so I have no fear of it, its another journey, perhaps even like jumping into a swimming pool, you just have to hold your breath and jump right in. We had an undertakers at the bottom of our road, and as an altar boy I served at over 30 funerals, the Funeral Mass is the one with the best reading, Lazarus and all that. Jesus loved Lazarus so much that he raised him from the dead, Eternity will be like that for all of us. Well apart from the atheists, who just won’t believe it, so they’ll stay in some sort of waiting room, Florida perhaps?

When somebody dies its like a punch in the stomach, your dad cannot be gone, you love him too much, it can’t be true; it is and you pine like some sick dog for hours.

I have never cried for my mother, she told us all no crying, so that’s what I did, I obeyed her.

You have to clear up after the dead, their home, their possessions have to be sorted and even divided. As you go through the house, the flat, the one room bed sit you see their life fall before you. Are they really like that, did they really do this, all kind of everything are revealed. A secret drinker, a collection of spicy videos, or just 6 Bibles all lined up; the dead have no secrets, they are as naked as the day they were born.

I’ve had to clear up, and help clear up several times, we had lodgers you see, so we had to act as family and tidy everything up; sometimes even finding forgotten Wills and then following them to the letter. Sending Home a couple of bodies, people want to rest in their own clay; when my time comes there are 3 local cemeteries where I could end up. Burial is best, I don’t want to be burnt, I’m big the fire brigade would have to be ready.

As I look out the window I can see a life being tidied up, everything is still raw for them, you see this, you touch that, a photo or some treasure brings the memories flooding back. When the tears are over you still have them, I tell my kids our love is in them, mum and me made them, they are part of us, so they’ll never lose us. As the possessions are taken from the house over the road a life ebbs away, the character of the house is changing, I’ve seen all this before, I’ve cleared up, I know how it feels.

A chair or an old radio is taken away, its useful and you’ll remember  gran/dad/mom/your brother when you use the thing, but the thing is full of love because of who it belonged to.

Finally you’ve finished and the house is empty, the house is dead, soon the house will be sold. Soon the life of the owner is gone, the house is empty, but once the new owner and family arrives the house will have a new life, it’s a home again. Then new life is restored, all that remains are a couple of carrier bags found forgotten in a pantry, you give them to the charity shop, at least somebody will get a bargain.