We need a bigger house now
Its that time in my life that I need a bigger house, as does the
whole family so feel free to buy loads of books then we could move
house. Thanks
THIS IS MY ELEVATOR AD AS THE AMERICANS CALL THEM
Hello , how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio and all other media
I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the
blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did
change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to
Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and
caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said
me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years
listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8
changed my life, and improved my intellect.
Today after 20 years of radio and 29 years of writing, 49 years in
total I think I’m a good writer, and thank God so do others. Yes I’m 57
now, in my head I’m 20, though my wife would say 12.
I met my Shanghai wife in the old people’s home, she was cleaning my
dad’s room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina from the
Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. I
am the token male and English speaker in the family.
Now here’s a few samples, what I’d like to do would be to read my
shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90
seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained
17,755 views on Funny or Die for a sample.
1
st chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 8th
book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not
OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 800+ shorts, enough for over a
year. I have recorded
207 of them so far, 11 hours plus of audio.
I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them on
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.
My 10 books are on Amazon Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
and
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is my site.
Here’s the samples for radio or print.
LinkedIn Profile and CV ©
By
Michael Casey
We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and
make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe
business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn
profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these
Profiles?
I am a born leader.
Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.
I created the supply chain structure.
Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.
I optimised the sales among target audiences.
He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.
I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.
Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.
I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.
Means there was a street gang chasing him after he was at the bank
I am great at communicating the business message.
He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.
I always try and improve myself.
Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.
I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.
Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.
I am now looking for new opportunities to excel
Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister
I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.
Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.
I created my own start-up company
Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.
I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career
Means he is in jail, working in the library.
So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume
think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality
can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years
old, and they are. Dig deeper.
Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google.
Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a
sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of
books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and
makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of
you laugh, as I Google everybody.
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
The Dead and The Living (c)
by
Michael Casey
I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old, my father said not
to worry as the dead are the same as the living, only the laughter
has left them, the sparkle has gone from their eyes, the worry has
been lifted from their shoulders, and their voice has vanished to
eternity.
In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the twinkle of the
stars, the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and
the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter.
I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living,
though I find the deceased are always more polite. My father also
had a few words to say about the living.
He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul , yet
they think their existence is everything, that they know everything
because they experience many things with their senses.
What the living don’t acknowledge is that their time is short and
when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls continue without
them, without their strong, without their weak, without their
beautiful or even ugly temporary form, to where I cannot say, only
that it is a better place.
Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin, the soul was free
THE BEGINNING
Sleepover©
By
Michael Casey
Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids
invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not
always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were
doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2nd time
I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the
story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting
something different.
Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of
invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my
room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are
stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have
daughters in your house.
Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates
everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up
the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad?
Especially mine.
Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their
friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that
you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees
the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.
Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t
eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have
to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and
flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the
chips. So a compromise is achieved.
You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to
build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see
Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the
ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch
that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy
murderer even for suggesting it.
So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv,
while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never
tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies.
Let’s hope William and Kate are told.
After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what
were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just
a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on their
dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the
big screen.
Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in
your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a
mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has
been used to save somebody’s legs.
So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you
sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife
and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it
must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half
waking up and forgetting where she was.
So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm
everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour
from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a
look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let
the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your
teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.
How do Men Shop? ©
By Michael Casey
There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it.
But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my
shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A
man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old
pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes
which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a
man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of
trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist
size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends
over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he
checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be
able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man
will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the
buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.
If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and
then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the
same all in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters
and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll
go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave
all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and
his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters,
before going back to the pub.
This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop,
men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any
passion. A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about
it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains
suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all
uniform.
As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be
tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs
mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the
woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children
with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into
his ear and listens to the football while she is choosing. Men know 5
colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a
woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30
words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.
This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card
and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls
with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago
what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch.
So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the
wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and
match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the
husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing
around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other
questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the
wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why your side was
relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.
The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to
record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to
return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s
your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she
could buy cheap £100 shoes.
All Things Bright and Beautiful ©
By Michael Casey
I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget
the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays
and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even
have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal
my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has
bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my
wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from
wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver
sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.
Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough,
if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on
occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter
I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders
48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown
Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did
say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice
light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more
accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black
and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least
another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though
a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of
our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.
I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail.
We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the
pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we
do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look
for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our
troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope
springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the
Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”
Cheese and Chorizo ©
By Michael Casey
The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they
are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you
they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo.
Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how
your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.
Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls
got some but I got none. They were the ones I really like, its always
the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha
song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar
to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3
girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision
my small daughter showed me where the biscuits were, a new hiding
place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a
biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.
Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house
in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone.
However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word
from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then
your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe
and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe
either, they can cut them down to make a dress or even a handbag. And
as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You
only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just
says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and
yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.
Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to
wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai
girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word,
but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my
girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way
it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire
items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll
decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so
it disappears. When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I
walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s
my clothes.
So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have
daughters. If you want your favourite food safe in your side of the
fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters.
If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then
life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.
From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink ©
By Michael Casey
Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate
continues. In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ,
it was beneath his dignity. He’d done the Knowledge and it was all up
there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it
30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.
Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping
egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a
chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.
Bus drivers know their route, so once they’ve done it a while its
automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up
with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from
all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes
because that can lead to strange directions.
Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on
the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I
can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes
brush? But that must be 45 years ago.
So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going
further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their
home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more
importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only
Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea
man, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.
Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart
from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do
is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But
my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she
wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide
one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the
husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And
on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay,
use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all
you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working
we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down,
in English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she
only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double
the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the
true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s
blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take
the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over
my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight
on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just
find it, no Sat Nav required.
My other idea is a book of shorts, 40 stories with 40 translations
on facing page plus 40 audio of me reading my stories on usb stick.
Perfect to teach English as a 2nd language, via humour.
As I have written 800+ stories this would be a series of 20 plus books
So we could have Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc
This would be a world wide hit, angel investors needed
Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come
close and not got a cigar many times in my life, so I decided to try
you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds with Michael, could go
nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be
boastful. I have already recorded
207 of my 800+ shorts, 11 hours plus of audio.
some can be heard at
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com
Cheerio, Michael Casey
Email
michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to hear 50+ stories
10 ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books
http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1