Dr Jill Biden's Trashy Look on Thursday

 https://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-9437787/Jill-Bidens-patterned-tights-spark-furious-controversy-online.html

this s from the Daily Mail their copyright my comment is below

It was April Fools Day on Thursday over here in Birmingham too

Obviously Jill asked my advice, I set go up the Hill with a pail of water

and throw it over those folks who get in the way of RECONSTRUCTION

Ok, the writer's truth, I said you can borrow my size ten kinky boots

and my G string, though you might need to wash it first

or get one of your dogs to slobber over it, to clean it

Recyling is a good thing, as are bikes, ask Pete

But anyway, I cannot spell all of his name

So forget about him, till all the road building starts

So Gill, or Jill, I was mixing you up with my friend Gill

She always said I led people up the garden path

Have you still got a garden after Trump trashed it

with his Covid 19 spreader conventions

But anyway, and no Pete I'm NOT talking about you

Anyway, Gill I mean Jill wanted to prank folks

So she dressed up as an air hostess with a wig.

She told me my drag queen costume that I wear  on Fridays

was too risque for her

I like to show off my bypass scar, with my now add on breast poking through

Now she is first lady she couldn't do that

So I sent her some shoes, and fishnets

They are shrink to fit, by Largfeld, he left me them in his Will

So all Jill had to do was put them in a washing machine for 7 hours overnight

Then in the morning they would fit her

But, and NO I'm not talking to you Pete, the world isn't just you

Who do you think you are, Trump

He's crying now, and he's cycled all over the lawn and squashed chocolate

Left over from the Easter Egg  hunt yesterday

Or it could be "chocolate" left over by the Biden dogs

Woof, step back security, he's not quiet diplomatic enough yet

Back to Jill, so she put a wig on, made from shaved chest hair

That's why it was so curly, or maybe from Joe's arms

And served icecream to everybody

While dressed as an Air Hostess

But nobody reads the news in USA

So I know it was all part of a custom prank

And I in Birmingham, the one to the left over the sea, England

But nobody knows any Geography, hey But, yes you Pete

You're clever, explain it to everybody, where Birmingham is

ALABAMA

Pete, you're such a card, The Joker

Get on your bike

Which means something else in UK

Ask Norman Tebbit, do you know who he is, clever cloggs

The Biden dogs are chasing Pete away

So back to Jill, I've glad you pranked everybody 

Sadly some folks have no sense of humour

But, that's Pete is yelling something now, as he fell in the water

Can he borrow your airhostess costume, as he has no spare clothes

and he can't go wet nor naked to a cabinet meeting

And that explains why Jill has a sense of humour

And why Pete But whatever his name is,  wore drag today

Simple in any Language, and yes I  know  Pete speaks loads

That's why Joe keeps his dogs close, to bark when time is up

And tell Pete But whatever his name is I have readers in 90

places now, I have coverage but lack penetration

He can read my stuff everywhere, in any language

Even in my original English, maybe Jill will read me

to the dogs, it'll stop them biting, or am I barking mad

Danny La Rue, we all miss you

"When Irish Eyes are Smiling"...

BBU Russian Translation microsoft wordDownload

birmingham-is-ballet-c2a9Download

im-setting-up-a-bandDownload

BBU in HebrewDownload

Welcoming Mother Russia

 

 Welcoming Mother Russia

well you must have been bored, or ran out of vodka

so you all read me last night

Try the Lech Boris and Gregorgi stories scattered all over my sites

The Butcher Baker Undertaker site is the main one

Then my Wordpress has the most Translations on

Korean Translations are doing well

I put 5 books up Online in Korean

my comic novel The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker is over there too

just download

In future I hope the world pays the writer

But I'll probably be dead first

Here's just one Lech Boris and Gregorgi Story

 

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Chase a Thief ©

By

Michael Casey

 

Popaloffoff is the name of Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s home village, where Poland, Ukraine and Russia make love on the map. It minds its own business and likes it when others do the same. It does not matter is it Polish or Ukrainian or even Russian territory, it’s Popaloffoff  through and through. Everybody knows each other and any of the 3 languages will do. But American dollars are preferred, that is always best the world over.

 

The Priest in Popaloffoff is called Tolstoy, yes really, he always has a Bible story to tell, it’s up to you the reader to decide which kind of story you prefer, a Tolstoy epic from the writer, or a Bible story from Tolstoy the Priest. Tolstoy the Priest always wears rose tinted glasses, not because he poses like a Pop star, or because the Bible makes him see things differently. But for a far far tragic reason, you see Tolstoy only has one eye. There was an accident or should I say incident, Tolstoy lost his eye when he was a young man, a young priest sent to Popaloffoff to tend the sheep.

 

Tolstoy had and still has a fierce Faith, when the tide was turning in the War, the Nazi bastards were retreating, the people of Popaloffoff feared they would come and destroy their church, and their village. Anything to destroy the Soul of the people. Tolstoy said he’s take the Holy Icon out of the church and stand at the Pass in the mountains and pray that the Evil Nazis went away, went back from where they came from. So in the middle of Winter Tolstoy stood for 15 days holding the Holy Icon aloft. Mary Mother of Popaloffoff  protect us. And so she did, Tolstoy lost two toes and 2 fingers due to frostbite, but the village was saved from the retreating evil. Tolstoy put the icon back in a leather bag and was still saying the Rosary when he heard a motorbike.

 

A Nazi SS man had wanted to see what was at the end of the Pass, so he had taken a motorbike and went alone to see what was what. Tolstoy spun around, you cannot pass, this town is under the protection of the Mother Mary, I have her icon here. The Nazi SS man laughed and drew his dagger. Tolstoy was tired and weak after the 15 days standing in the snow. So she has her eyes on your nothing village. YES said a defiant Tolstoy. So if she has her eyes, then you don’t need yours. Then the Nazi SS man stabbed Tolstoy in his right eye, leaving his dagger in the socket. Tolstoy screamed, his scream set off an avalanche, the Nazi was swept from the pass, only his motor bike remained. Tolstoy’s blood formed a cross in the snow, not an Iron cross, just a Holy Cross.

 

Tolstoy took the motorbike and rode down the mountain to the village, they were safe, the pass was blocked and the retreating Nazi bastards would not bother them. The Blacksmith in Popaloffoff removed the dagger and used a red hot horseshoe to cauterise the wound. He did make sure the horseshoe was the right way up, so the Priest could say it was good luck. And that is why Tolstoy wears rose tinted glasses, so as not to frighten people with his looks.

 

The Icon was returned to the village, and left in a place of honour. As for the Nazi bastard, the wolves had his body for dinner they are not picky who they dine on. So life went on in the village, minding its own business, until Tolstoy was crying from his one eye saying that the Icon was missing. This was over 70 years later, Tolstoy was still the Priest and though a bit slower, he was still loved so much. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi came running. Our icon is missing.

 

Now let me try to explain, an icon is not photo of your favourite footballer, or a selfie of a President and a Dictator, though it can be hard to tell which is which. An Icon is something you treasure, like a wedding ring, or memories you have of your mother. It has value thousands or millions of times greater than it’s worth. As a work of Art and Love and Prayer combined it is in fact Priceless. In fact some Icons if sold would fetch millions of dollars, and Professional Criminals use Art of a way of moving money, like Bearers Bonds.

 

And yes Popaloffoff’s icon was Priceless and worth many many millions, in fact when Andrew Graham Dixon, England’s greatest Art Expert happened upon Popaloffoff when he was on a hiking and food holiday with his Italian friend, he cried for 30 mins nonstop. Tolstoy had to give him a hug and Bless him. Andrew Graham Dixon was so overwhelmed, when he was allowed to examine it, he wondered about the blood stains on the back, so Tolstoy explained how he’d lost his eye and some fingers and toes years before. Andrew Graham Dixon cried even more. Then his Italian friend shared a recipe with the women of Popaloffoff, then everybody got blind drunk, if you excuse the expression.

But now, but now the Holy Icon of Polaloffoff was missing. There had been a bus of tourists, who had had visited the day before, but they were long gone. That’s if it were them, but who else could it have been? Mother Mary of Popaloffoff Speak to Me, Hear my Voice, Hear my Prayer said Tolstoy the Priest, tears still streaming from his one good eye, as he fell to his knees in the middle of the square outside their church. Bori, Lech and Gregorgi sunk to their knees besides him, soon the entire village were on their knees praying. Mother Mary of Popaloffoff was moved, Tolstoy could hear a quiet voice in his head, I am always with you. Do not cry, an Icon is nothing, compared to my love.

Tolstoy shook his head, I know, I know forgive me, but we want you back where you belong, here in Popaloffoff. Mary smiled, Tolstoy smiled, he’d bring her back if it was the last thing he did before he died. WE RIDE said Tolstoy as he got to his feet, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi wondered what he meant. They followed him, to the shed by the church. Inside was the Nazi’s motorbike, still in mint condition. There was no time to argue, Lech and Boris sat on the bike with Gregorgi and Tolstoy squeezed into the sidecar.

As they roared off they sent a text message to Andrew Graham Dixon, our Lady of Popaloffoff STOLEN. That’s all it said but they knew he would help. In fact Andrew Graham Dixon sent a message to every Art Collector he knew, nobody could attempt selling it on, and if they did Andrew Graham Dixon would know and he had friends in Interpol. This was Sacrilege, then he cried, before having his beans on toast, with lobster and a Guinness.

The trio of cousins did not know where they were going, they were just doing as their old priest told them. When they got to new main road they stopped. Left or Right? Tolstoy took off his rose tinted sunglasses and looked to the Heavens. A tiny voice in his head told him Left, so they went left. The Trio of Cousins wondered what was going on, but said nothing. On they rode, further and further away from the village.

They came across a car with a puncture, so they stopped to help. They had to be good Samaritans after all. They did not have a jack just a spare tyre, so Lech, Boris and Gregorgi lifted the car while Tolstoy helped change the tyre. A family with a baby thanked them, as they were about to go Tolstoy asked had the baby been baptised. No, was the reply, so on the spot Tolstoy baptised the baby, with Lech, Boris and Gregorgi as Godfathers. The family were deeply touched and shouted God Bless You as they rode away.

See a Blessing, said Tolstoy. But Fate and Evil always rears its ugly head, they were running out of petrol. They stopped at the side of the road, and what appeared coming from the opposite direction. A gang of Hells Angels. Tolstoy said, God is Good, as the Hells Angels approached, but he reached into his boot and brought out the dagger the SS Nazi had put in his eye. He’d kept the dagger all those years, now maybe he’s need to use it to defend himself.

The Hells Angels circled and pulled over besides them, Tolstoy took off his rose tinted sunglasses. Perhaps they’d be impressed by his scar, they were. One lady on a bike actually puked. Then the leader of the Hells Angels spoke, Hi I’m Wayne from Fort Worth, we are on a biking holiday, how can we help. They were tourists on a trip of a lifetime.

Tolstoy explained. Son of a Bitch, said the Hells Angels in Unison. Wayne texted his friend in the FBI, those bastards wouldn’t sell the icon in USA, or his name wasn’t Wayne Duke Hazzard III. So the Hells Angels said they’d ride with them part of the way. They had some extra petrol so they’d all be underway. Tolstoy asked could he ride pillion with somebody as he was a bit cramped in the sidecar with Gregorgi. So Tolstoy rode with Mary-Beth.

As they rode Tolstoy asked, did she enjoy being a Hells Angel, she replied it was a bit of fun at weekends, as they had no children. Tolstoy remarked you have the breasts for a great mother, Mary-Beth laughed but there was sadness too in her laughter. So Tolstoy silently prayed for her and all the Hells Angels. Further up the road they went their separate ways. But first Tolstoy Bless all of Them, may Our Lady of Popaloffoff protect you. He also showed them a photo of the icon.

Little did he know, little did the pretend Hells Angels know, what the future would bring. And on they rode, Tolstoy listening to the quiet voice in his head which was leading him to the Icon. It was getting dark, and they would have to stop for the night. But there was no room at the inn, a Beer Festival was taking place, so everywhere was booked out. But they were welcome to stop in the hay loft above cows in the barn.

So they did, and luckily the cows did not complain about the smell, in their leathers they’d managed to get very smelly. In the middle of the night there was a commotion, one of the cows a prize one at that was having difficulty giving birth. The Inn Keeper came out running in his night shirt. He was so worried for has Beauty, for that was the name of his cow. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi knew what to do and they must hurry. So Tolstoy gave them the Nazi’s dagger and they cut the cow out, before sewing the cow back up again. Blood everywhere, but in fact two cows were born, one in fact a bull, that’s why the mum was having difficulty. When the boys had finished the vet finally arrived. He was impressed to say the least.

The Innkeeper was delighted and in the morning made breakfast for all 4 of them, himself. Then Tolstoy said Mass in the carpark for everybody, and everybody said God Bless, and the cows in all the fields mooed in unison. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi wondered would they ever catch the Icon thief, but Tolstoy always said God was Good, and still the little voice in Tolstoys head encouraged him. In fact the voice was getting stronger, so Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon was getting closer to them.

They continued along the road, and there was nothing but fields, fields and fields. Then they noticed a sign, Air Strip this way. They stopped the bike, in the distance was a small aircraft. Fly, Tolstoy Fly was what the old priest could hear in his head. So the floored the motorbike, went as fast as they could go. But it was too late, the light aircraft was going to take off.

But then Luck shone on them, the light aircraft turned around, it was heading towards them, it had been taxiing to the end of the strip. Now they had a chance. A chance to play chicken. Lech headed straight for the plane. The pilot thought he was mad, and so he was. You never steal from Popaloffoff, and never from a church in Popaloffoff, and Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon belongs in only one place, Popaloffoff.

Tolstoy stood up in the sidecar and took the Nazi dagger from his boot, then he prayed, guide my hand Mary of Popaloffoff. He threw the dagger into the engine as Lech passed underneath the light aircraft. 70+ years ago the icon had saved village, now he would save the icon.

The plane stopped, and the engine caught fire, luckily they had a fire engine at the strip. Unlucky for the pilot and his 2 passengers there were Police galore hiding. All 3 bad guys were arrested. You see Andrew Graham Dixon and Wayne had both contacted Interpol and the FBI immediately. It turned out Art thieves were on a road trip, but now it was the end of the road, or rather the end of the airstrip for them.

So Tolstoy was reunited with his beloved Icon, and several more were rescued. As for the dagger, Evil had been turned to good. One of the Policemen knew of a motor bike museum, so the Nazi’s motor bike was retired too, after it had been turned from Evil to Good. Then Tolstoy and the boys were given a helicopter ride home with the icon.

Tolstoy held the Icon of Mary of Popaloffoff aloft and then sunk to his knees in praise. It was decided to put a laser alarm around the icon, the strange thing was though that Tolstoy could walk through the laser without setting it off. Our Lady of Popaloffoff knew he was a friend after all.

There was the sound of thunder, coming down the mountain when she comes, singing ai ai wippy ai ai hey, as she comes. This was 9 months+ later you see Mary-Beth did have breasts for children. She had twins, and every other biker chick had had a child too. Mary-Beth liked to ride a bike, but, well, you know. So Tolstoy baptised all the babies, and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi suddenly had even more Godchildren. They all had new leather jackets too, on the back was the image of Our Lady of Popaloffoff with the Logo “Our Lady of Popaloffoff Angels”

 

 

 

 the writer Michael Casey with bypass scar from 2015

BBU Russian Translation microsoft wordDownload

birmingham-is-ballet-c2a9Download

im-setting-up-a-bandDownload

BBU in HebrewDownload

Tinnitus is:-

 Tinnitus is:-

make your own list

but being awake till 7am before sleep finally comes

I could go on, but I'll let you all finish your Cadbury's Easter Eggs

so I hope you all liked the April Fool

Patrick in The Butche The Baker and The Undertaker has

April Fools Day for his Birthday and the story in the book

is a true story I inserted years later to have a big hook

Otherwise 1st daft everything

Though I did only have one typescript

So as copy typing to Computer is slow and boring

I actually expanded and rewrote the book a couple of years later

So would that be 2nd draft, or 1st draft again but 3 times bigger?

You decide, I don't have the energy today

If ever I get that copy typist, she'll type as I sit on the sofa

behind the computer on the desk

Then in one daft I'll write with her fingers in one draft

Tears for a Butcher, I would lose the will to live

if I did do 13 drafts like Jeffery Archer

I speak as I write and it's done

The only difference is HE has a MONET on his wall

I do have readers in 90  countries now

HE has £300,000,000

I have nothing, except saggy knickers, I must buy new ones

so here's something random to read, this fine day

  first 3 stories from The Final Cut of The 19th Hole

Revenge on the Joker©

By

Michael Casey

 

So this joker is the worst, so we are going to give him something to remember. Can’t we just kill him and have done with it asked a voice from the darkness, the flash of his blade giving his position away. No, we are going to have fun with him then M will give him something he really really deserves. A bullet between the eyes, asked another hopefully. You Yanks are so brutal said a voice in the ceiling, before descending through an air vent. It’s something big and I know why we all want to do it, but this operation is a British show. Mad Dogs and Englishmen go Out in the Midday Sun and all that, Coward. The Americans bristled. Noel Coward, I should explain. I’ve heard of him, A Talent to Amuse. I found a copy of the book in a toilet when I was on a mission. It was a great book, especially as there was no toilet paper.

 

First of all we have to spring El Chapo from a Super Max, then he’ll “bake a cake” for us. Then we’ll slip him back inside. Once the cake is ready we deliver it to this Joker. You’ve all seen his photo file. He’s gonna get what he deserve if I might speak American for a moment. And the horse’s head, we’ll be leaving that on his bed. We’ll take photos and post our message, then other Jokers out there will be warned, you don’t mock us ever.

 

Now breaking into a Super Max is very hard to do, it’s like asking Special Services to sing all the Barry Manilow back catalogue pitch perfect. Obviously the Italian Special Services could do it, as they are all Opera lovers. But the Yanks and the Brits had a plan. They hijacked a tour bus and parked it outside the Super Max. Then they went through the sewers, El Chapo inspired that bit, till they reached the recreation area. They did have a play with the weights, on the way, they are very fit people after all. Then putting their masks on they waited, a hijacked news helicopter gassed the entire facility. LSDEEEEE, in the air, fairies and goblins everywhere. It was such a stroll in the park then. They did take selfies too as they moved about, resisting temptation was the hardest bit, there are some really really nasty people in the Super Max, so to accidentally on purpose snuff a few out was so hard not to do. So instead they ta-tooed them with a rubber stamp, “FBI Informer”, that’d make for great entertainment in the recreation yard. Special Services do have a sense of humour after all.

 

El Chapo was placed in a body bag and carried away. They left a note sellotaped to the toilet stamped on toilet paper “Back in 24 hours, dead or alive, love and kisses a friend” with a phone number. They left a note saying “Back in 24 hours, dead or alive” because they did not want to get the staff into trouble. It was the Brits who demanded “love and kisses a friend” just as a bit of reassurance. Then they departed, through the front gate in the prison governor’s nice new expensive car. Obviously they trashed the car, they were impressed by the leather seats and DAB hifi. And guess what was playing on the radio? The Barry Manilow hour, they all smiled and left it on, they were off to Italy next so they could sing with the Italian Special Services now.

 

The governor rang the number once everybody awoke from the drug induced trip. He smiled as a voice replied, the boys are having a bit of fun, the kind of smile you make when the executioner says “this won’t hurt me” as he put the noose around your neck.Now I cannot tell you who answered the phone or he or one of his many many friends might just have to take your cupcakes away. Though some call him the Monk.

 

El Chapo was put to work, “baking a cake”, he knows so much about mixing and bagging after all. As he was pulled out of a bag, a body bag he realised this was not a family situation. The Special Services are a family, but not the kind El Chapo would like to marry into. So El Chapo was stripped naked and steam cleaned. Then in fresh new whites he was set to work “cooking”.

 

Meanwhile Blue team was in Italy, again the Brits thought “Blue team” sounded nice. Now all they had to do was steal the Pope’s personal Rosary Beads. Now is this a metaphor? Well we shall see. First of all they climbed over the garden wall which is very tall, you ask Tom Cruise he broke his best finger nail when he did it in one of his films. Then a Brit dressed as Liberace started playing Benedict’s piano, the old Pope was thrilled.They ended up dueting all Barry Manilow’s tunes, good job the Brit had leant them in the Governor’s car.

 

The other member’s of Blue team stole robes from Benedict’s closet, then processed through the Vatican till they reached Pope Francis’ room.They headed for the bed but it was empty, then in a corner on a camp bed they found Pope Francis, he was not alone. Don Camillo and Totoro was in bed with him. Don Camillo is a book I should add, and Totoro is my cat, she does travel far and wide every night.

 

We came for your Rosary, Blue team explained, it’s in my trouser pocket over there gestured Pope Francis. I thought you might want to kill me, the world is so mad now. We love you we would never hurt you, as Danny produced a battered plastic Rosary from his own pocket. It’s missing a few beads, it deflected a bullet, so it saved me. The Pope smiled. Here in my desk I have a few Rosaries. So then he passed a few out. Then he Blessed the Rosaries and Blue team. Anything else asked the Pope? Can we have a few more blessed Rosaries? Where shall I send them? Just throw them out your window at Midnight, somebody will catch them. The Pope smiled and went back to reading his Don Camillo, having to hunt Totoro out the way as he got back into his camp bed.

 

Then they hijacked a plane to get back to England, when Special Services go on a road trip they really do know how to have fun. El Chapo had finished baking the horse’s head. It really was a cake in the design of a severed horse’s head just like in the Godfather. You see while El Chapo was on the run he learnt to bake as a way of passing the time. He had all the Delia Smith books too, maybe one day this writer’s daughter will have a day with Delia, but that is fantasy. As for El Chapo it was his demands for quality baking materials that gave the game away. The FBI tracked down the baker’s needs to where the stuff was being sent, if you like they were following a trail of white powder, baking powder. And that was how El Chapo was caught.

 

The Special Services all stood back, El Chapo had impressed them, now they impressed him. First they tasered him, then they chipped him, then they tat-tooed him with very rude tats all over his body. If ever he escaped he’ll show up in seconds on satellites, and as for his body, everybody but every would sing at him.They had put the words to Barry Manilow’s Mandy all over his body too, nobody would ever call him El Chapo, they would just sing MANDY to him.

 

They called UPS and had him delivered to the Super Max, inside the package with him was enough drugs to add 100 years to his sentence. They could have delivered him back themselves but they had other things to do.

 

So now the end is nigh. The horse’s head and Rosary beads were to be delivered. The Joker as to be pranked. There he was asleep in his bed. As silent snow falling, the horse’s head was placed on the bed with Rosary beads. Then they all screamed. HAPPY BIRTHDAY,JOKER.

The Joker awoke screaming and then fell back with a heart attack, M stepped forward and gave mouth to mouth, M seemed to enjoy it, it went on for half an hour. M was a female Special Services girl. Do you think any special services guy would give me mouth to mouth, I should cocoa, I repeat I should cocoa. So it was left for M to save me. M was a Korean girl, and her name was MANDY. The guys then shot me with those kids’ rubber sucker guns, right between the eyes.

 

And that’s the first story in my 19^th book, I always feel protected, it’s the Rosary beads, or the Special Service watching me from the shadows. And General Mathis if you are reading this how about telling your friends to buy a copy or two. Stay safe all of you everywhere.

 

 

You Can’t say that ©

By Michael Casey

Well I found my story down the shop. The trouble is though that I love wit and language, and others don’t, or not as much. So if an American hears this “it’s been 6 weeks since I had a drink and a fag” what does it mean? Over here in England it means “it’s 6 weeks since I had a drink and a CIGARETTE” so immediately we are divided by language. And then you have all the other baggage.

I spotted somebody coming out of the voting place and I said “you must be Nigel’s friend” and immediately he cursed to high Heaven as if he was denying Christ on the night he was taken in. He even said “he found what I said was offensive.” Yes Brexit divides that much, and one trick pony Nigel will have his day when the results are announced tomorrow. Nigel has screamed “FOUL” when asked what are his Policies should he go on to contest National Elections, even though it’s a vital question. I should remind everybody Nigel failed 7 times to get elected in National Elections. I offer no opinion here on Brexit, I’m just stating the obvious, which must be stated. Basically a Political Vacuum allows any form of Populism to appear.

I don’t want to dwell on this, let’s keep it light. When Rich came back to work when his dad died 35 years ago the lads did not know what to say. I just told him he looked like the cartoon on the Kellogg’s Rice Crispy box. He was wearing a handkerchief around his neck. So this broke the ice. Then we got back to reality. When my mother died, and then my dad nearly died just 8 weeks later it was my turn to get support from the lads. So I know it’s good to show friendship.

Another example is when people don’t know what to say, so it’s best to say “give us a hug” human contact, a hug really does help. That is why instinctively we touch somebody we like. Silence may be Golden after an argument, or we bite our tongue, I have too much experience of that as well.

One example is a bad boss you put up with because you have toddlers and need to feed them, whereas the boss is all talk, and no action, just hides in the Concierge room. Or another boss is about to punch you after a failed night shift, when the team leader goes home “sick” and you are left with the pieces and this particular boss to face in the morning. And yes I really did have to restrain this boss, I have very good grip after years of screwing magnetic tapes onto computer tape readers, one finger on my right hand is even bent slightly inward. I’m not just a smile and 1000words, and the lads I worked with were amongst the best in the world, and great characters too.

Speaking of lads, you cannot say “I Love You” to the lads they would laugh, and stand with their backs to the wall. Yes people used to be that non PC, everybody is more open compared to 40 years ago. The lads would just say give us a beer, and whisper in your ear, we all know and we all don’t care, so long as you get the beers in. It’s all about equality, tolerance is the wrong word. Life is all about equality. It’s about gay, straight, black, white, green, faith or no faith accepting each other. Which is why I think UK is the best place to be as we get on, most of the time.

I was classed as the strange one because when I worked Sundays I’d use my lunch break to dash to a church for Mass, none of the lads had any formal faith. Beer was their faith, as it was for our lodgers. It’s when people don’t practice what they preach that we get problems. The trouble is the Twitter world, people just don’t listen, life has no depth on Twitter, Everybody just reads the headlines. As I’ve said before I browse on 3 national newspapers daily plus BBC and SKY. So we all need a bit of depth.

Fast food and fast life, leads to shallow life. Stop and sit and watch New Amsterdam on tv, it always makes me cry, and the ensemble acting really does deserve an Emmy. Now I’m finishing on a fictional hospital show, based on a book I believe. My point is that in this show you have people at their best, doing their best. How Can I Help is the catch phrase so to speak. My favourite character is a bear of a man, who is a Dr and the Shrink. He is also gay, what really shines through is his compassion, he is a giant teddy bear who loves to help. And that is what I’d like to be remembered as, somebody whose words help. Who brings laughter to the screen in front of you all, you might think I look stupid, is he gay or what? No, I’m a boring straight guy, who may never get discovered, not even by a Korean Kpop girl singer. I’m just being read on the toilet by some Russian guy while he waits for his constipation to end, and then he can drive Putin to meet Trump.

Ignorance is Bliss ©

By Michael Casey

I will not believe until I put my hands in his wounds

Here place your hands in my wounds

Now I believe

Better to believe and have Faith rather than wait, have trust

The earth rotates around the Sun

Galileo Galilei should be locked up for heresy

The moon is made of cheese

Neil Armstrong faked it

At least the trains ran on time under Mussolini

It’s all lies about Hitler and the Jews

Assad loves everybody, he gassed nobody,

he’s a doctor he’d never hurt anybody

Car exhausts never hurt anybody, they are just stupid kids anyway

Smoking is cool, that’s why it’s in all the 1950s films

Radiation does not hurt

Sunshine is good for you, get a tan

Some meds give you great tans as a side effect, so take meds

Eat fat and don’t exercise you won’t have a heart attack

It’s all a lie to punish farmers

Speed does not kill, let people drive as fast as they like

Guns don’t kill, let everybody have a gun and an assault rifle too

Why shouldn’t I have 10,000 rounds of ammo in my house

Why should I lock ammo and guns away separately

The 3 year old deserved to have its face blown off by a 5 year old

It’s my right, there were just stupid toddlers

I can talk on the phone and ignore my kids playing in the kitchen

It’s not my fault I they scald themselves, I warned them once, 3 years ago

Arms races don’t cause wars, selling arms is great for the economy

Pollution does not kill

Global warming does not exist

Who cares if a few islands in the Pacific disappear,

they are only small anyway

It’s great to have more sunshine

It only snows in the Rockies, it’s great for the skiers anyway

A bit of wind is good, it blows the cobwebs away

Vaccinations are BAD, they make you sick

Measles is no big deal anyway

Bill Gates is a fool wasting all his money on vaccinations for poor countries

Poor Countries don’t matter, what did they do for ME anyway

I could have sold him Manhattan at half the price

And on it goes, STABLE GENIUS IGNORANCE

Now a commission to prove The Earth is Flat

Will USA finally wake up to the total ARROGANCE of IGNORANCE?

It really is heart breaking that a Fool is in charge of USA

People all say yes, for Power, whatever happened to Love of Country?

The Fool has taken over, and nobody has done anything

Every day is a wasted day

A lie if you repeat it often enough is believed

But rather everybody is deceived

Liar, Liar burn in Fire

Everybody must run to defend the TRUTH and the Planet Itself

So let’s all run BONE SPURRS permitting and Defend Planet Earth

Or are you going to sit it out, while others go to war to save our Home, Earth

 

 

Easter 2021 me, humpty dumpty

I’ve updated this 1st April 2021
I’m Michael Casey from Birmingham England, the fat silver haired writer in shades.
Beware of Others with the EXACT SAME NAME, they are not me, and would not want to be me …

I’ve done loads of writing, about 2,000,000 Words worth over 33 years now
But before I started I LISTENED to BBC Radio 4 for 20 years, from the age of 10 or younger
Frank Brown our lodger, went back to County Tyrone and he gifted us his Bush Radio.
He’d be nearly 100 now if he is still alive, so say a prayer for him
50 years in love with words, and I still look so dashing.
I have a picture in the attic, just like Dorian Gray
I’ve also had an interest in Politics for 50 years
with my dad heckling the tv and Politicians.

I almost immediately had a hit, a play called Shoplife was accepted but not finally
produced by a Theatre.
The Kenneth More Theatre, so thank them for sparing you all. This was back in 1989 yes, 30 years plus ago, the play was written in 1988. So since then I’m more than good enough, as a writer. Anything else…..

I also had other high praise, so I ignore all the nasty negative people who use too much alliteration.
I also ignore those who just cannot write.

Today’s world has much print, but a page will not refuse ink, as my dad used to say.

I tend to write Comedy as I’d rather make you laugh than cry
I have written over 2000 short pieces of writing, yes 2000
If you include “chats” 2800 samples,
the chats do NOT go into my books when I compile them.

My first book ,a full length comedy/drama is The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
You can read translations of it here on this site
Up to 10 different languages/translations have been read on the same day
via this site, here on WordPress
And in over 90 Countries world wide too
so you have no excuse, find your own language
and read
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker

This proves to me that the humour does travel
I have readers in over 90 countries now, just to repeat myself
From Nepal to American Samoa and all places North South East and West
Or its just a hit man on the run,
or whatever Unknown Region Means
It may also mean that only non English Speakers like my stuff

I did get 21,000 readers in 3 weeks for the Polish version of In Search of an Indian Princess.
which is basically the final 3 chapters of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
all by word of mouth.
If you add up all the downloads from my WordPress + 13,000 when somebody stole the file.
I have had more copies than Boris Johnson’s Churchill book distributed.
Maybe 40,000 copies .
Though Boris earns more than any of us.
Not made a penny from it, free downloads in multiple languages.

I also had a low budget film producer take a look at
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
back in 2013

Book Publishers have said I’ve made the commissioning editor laugh

Radio People say they like my style

So close but no cigar is the story of my life, so all you power people, do something useful
HELP ME REACH FOR THE SKY from my position in the gutter looking at the stars

As for my life, I was a computer operator for a market research company into alcohol sales
21 years altogether
Call centre guy, like everybody once in their life
I was also a Trainee Betting Shop Manager
I was a concierge and 10 other roles at Crowne Plaza NEC Birmingham for 3 years.
Spent 3 years at Pinsent Masons Law firm in Birmingham
I even hid a copy of my comic novel “BBU” in the Law Library at Pinsent Masons, well just for a day..

and I was an Esol English teacher in an Islamic school, for a year, I knew I could teach.

I got Excellent, Excellent and Exemplary on the external assessment, yes really

beside which I’ve had a Shanghai connection for 20 years now, including 2 bilingual daughters

and being a hausfrau a long time too, I’m a great dad, as I’ve had lots of time with my daughters

I can always make somebody talk or laugh, I am an 18 stone George Clooney look alike

Laugh or Die so to speak

I believe my short stories could be used to teach English, just package them up correctly

or App them

Or a Tale a Day from Michael, a story telling App

What else, I was brawn and brains, I used to be as strong as an Ox, now I just smell like one

We have a cat called Totoro, my daughters wanted a pet I said they could have a dog if I died , or a cat if I had a heart attack. A few weeks after that in Jan 2015 I had an Unplanned Quadruple Heart Bypass , it was supposed to be a triple but it ended up a Quadruple, 33% extra free so to speak. Now with an add on Hernia pushing through my bypass scar, it hurts when I laugh, so don’t make me laugh

I also have arthritis and other hindrances that hobble my body and give me pain galore.
But my mind is free, though having read my stories you may wish I didn’t bother
But I’ll ignore you, and carry on regardless. I do get heckled by my own Tinnitus these past
3 years+, so I have music on all night long to drown it out.
I sleep with Miley, Taylor, Eric Clapton and Will Young,
maybe I should buy a bigger bed, or just get a better mattress.

That’s the end of the tidy version of my life, if you want more come and buy me a Stella Artois and all will be revealed. Though 12 pints a year is my ration.

To finish here’s the list of my 20 books, so far:-

1.The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker
2.Shoplife
3.Essays and Plays
4.Blogs 2011
5.300 and Not OUT
6.Shorts 2013
7.More Shorts 2014
8.Quick Stories
9.Still Alive 2015
10.Undiscovered Words 2016
11.Still Smiling 2017
12.Altogether Now
13.New Horizons
14.14 Up
15.15 Down
16.Sweet Sixteen

17. 17 Again
18. 18 New Views
19. The Final Cut of the 19th Hole
20. 2020 Words
    I’ve started book 21, 21 Door Keys, key to the door 21 on Bingo, hence title
    https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC to buy ebooks

Tears for a Butcher will be the sequel to BBU, and it too will be 600pages, however I really need
a speed typist to put it down, while I sit and dictate like Barbara Cartland, and hopefully my speed typist would be impressed.
ok, that’s your lot,

I forgot, I also have a PODCAST now
https://open.spotify.com/show/1wSSIExkhsR97u1jqj0iiR

In future I’ll write then record to my Podcast too

p.s. Don’t forget I have readers all over the world in over 90 Countries now
and on some days up to TEN different translations of
The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker are being read, on the same day,
so Media groups do get in touch
email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
or send a message via WordPress

1	Michael Casey

aka the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England

A