Saturday, 30 December 2023

sink the bismarck

Sink the Bismarck and Charge of the Light. Brigade again in Crimea a storm at sea ends it

Inbox

Michael Casey michaelgcasey@gmail.com

Attachments08:44 (2 hours ago)
to ovcsuniv_7infompcpressums.sfflower.sky6930tvrandot-flowersumspressinfopresswhitehouse.gov.usinfo
Only Florence Nightingale can save Putin Wrap up warm wear a Balaclava

It's all over for him a barking dog at the end of a chain WE know the length of his chain

Have Faith the final whistle is nearly here
Jesus loves his Mother Mary and Fatima 1917
Has arrived in Moscow
Where Mary is Evil cannot exist
23 attachments • Scanned by Gmail
 
 

Friday, 29 December 2023

the 3 cousins collection Lec, Boris and Gregorgi written before The Madness of Putin

Lec, Boris and Gregorgi Collection, the 3 Cousins

I’m going to load up the files, just download. Tell your Polish, Ukrainian and Russian friends. Later, maybe Monday, I’ll try to cut and paste the actual words into a page

Ok, remember the boys are Polish/Ukrainian/Russian first cousins

and live in Pololoffoff where the 3 countries make love on the map

they mind their own business and expect others to do the same, any language will

do and US Dollars are accepted too

as I said maybe Monday 7th, in the morning,

if the screaming from my Tinnitus is at bay. and no pain too

then I’ll load up the text but the files are here so tell everybody

Peace and Good Will to all Men

 

Published by michaelgcasey

I've updated this 18th March 2022 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 ... use Google UK to find me, otherwise Posh Americans pop up I've done loads of writing, about 2,000,000 Words worth over 34years now But before I started to write, 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 54 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 54 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 ignore those who just cannot write, pick your own candidate 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 " (c) by Michael Casey" If you include "chats" 3700 samples, all told, 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 20 different languages/translations have been read on the same day via this site, here on Wordpress look fo Translations Galore page, and more 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 or Quick Stories or any other of the books in Translation on my Wordpress This proves to me that the humour does travel I have readers in over 100 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 Coverage but lacking penetration as marketing folks might say 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. And 50,000 plus in Christmas week 2021 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 . Not made a penny from it, free downloads in multiple languages. Reverse Logic, if the world knows me, eventually somebody will pay me But in reality I'll be dead first, and then just 2 pennies to pay the ferryman is enough I've cut the Plaudits, you can read/decide for yourself As for my life, I was born in the shadow of a Brewery, I was a computer operator for a market research company into alcohol sales, 21 years altogether, StatsMR 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.. I did a few other jobs too, working life in reverse so to speak 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 And I asked them to pray for me at least once a day 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 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, the size of your fist, 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. Tinnitus is a curse, just trust me I know, each day I wake up, Tinnitus SCREAMS at me for a full hour till it calms down That's the end of the tidy version of my life 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 21. 21 Door Keys, key to the door 21 on Bingo, hence title, 53,000 words so far I write bullet point stuff mainly now as Tinnitus stops me from getting in the zone to write, story stories. (c) by Michael Casey stuff though my bullet points are better than some "writers" discuss, miaow. That's why I dream of a speed typist, so I could dictate from the sofa https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC to buy ebooks Loads of Korean and Arabic translations downloaded from my Wordpress, 1000s of them Quick Stories in Korean is a big hit. Maybe Kim in North Korea should read my books, instead of wasting his countries resources on what? Just keeping one person in power, him? Instead of joining the real world and opening a string on golf courses. That way we could get rid of Trump too. Into the sunset, as they play golf. 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. we'd marry have half Korean kids, and form a Kpop band with our 4 new kids, with me as manager. And yes this is more for my bucket list, as Tinnitus keeps me awake too much, 6 months of not sleeping till dawn is really killing me Michael Casey aka the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England https://2.gravatar.com/avatar/efda2dca0de5b9269191b7c8b0102473?s=400&d=mm 

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This is it. 7th Feb 2022 The Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Collection of Stories TEXT in full

This is it. 7th Feb 2022 The Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Collection of Stories

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.

High Noon for Three Santas ©

By

Michael Casey

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi have been visiting this Christmas time, they said they only came to see Totoro the cat, as they have so much in common, Vodka. They also need to bring a few bottles home of the new batch for Miss Slapalotoff their old school teacher, just so she has some next to her Kalashnikov under her bed. Totoro of course likes to run about in the woods now that they are so close. Being a Ninja cat she likes a bit of vodka too, so naturally Lech, Boris and Gregorgi love her as if she were a dog. They do bring a bit of shopping for me as well, that’s a Slavic bit, enough to fill all my cupboards and freezer space, as if we were expecting a siege. They did bring some long johns too as they know I feel the cold more. They would have brought some long johns for Totoro too but she has her own fur coat, which has gone very fluffy lately.

All in all we are all happy, they drove the water bowser all through Eastern Europe and through France and Germany so that they could bring the new batch of vodka home in one go. If may be technically illegal, ok totally and utterly illegal, but they say its holy water if anybody asks. As the writing on the bowser is in the Cyrillic alphabet if they say it’s holy water then it is holy water, besides at this time of year they are fully bearded up, just like monks, so would monks lie?

So the boys decided it was time to go, so they climbed into their bowser and Totoro jumped on Lech’s shoulder like a witch’s cat though it was not Halloween. With that they were done, like 3 gunslingers and a cat. They parked the bowser on double yellow lines, nobody would steal it or move it. Then they wandered around the Christmas Market, lots of Polish voices from the stall holders, even though it was called a German market.

As you know Lech is big because he is Polish, Boris is Ukrainian so is big and very tall, he cannot hide, and then Gregorgi is just so very very wide, as wide as the Russian Urals. They are all first cousins where their lands met and merged. So you can imagine when they strode down the street it was like a wave breaking on a beach, or like an ice breaker against the crowd. One old lady grabbed Lech’s coat to steady herself, Lech spun around and smiled. Make way for the lady, so her linked his arm with hers. Never in all her life could she feel such energy, a giant of a man linking arms with her, if only her husband was still alive. So she started to cry.

As she cried the boys looked on, she reminded them of their teacher, Mrs Slapalotoff. So Boris got her a drink of beer, and Gregori got her a sandwich. Tororo climbed down and sat on her lap purring, the old lady smiled. God Bless you she said. They waved goodbye, but not before leaving 2 more beers for her to drink and another sandwich, Slavs love their old people. Maybe that’s why the boys like me, because of my silver hair.

The boys carried on looking at all the things to behold at the Christmas market, people looked back, they were so big and bearded after all, and why was there a cat sat on a shoulder, jumping from each giant to the next. It was so noisy, then Totoro leapt, had she seen a rat in the crowd? No she had heard a woman cry, about all the noise Totoro could hear a cry and a scream. Totoro raced up an alley, a woman was in distress. The boys followed, the woman was going to have a baby, all the excitement and bussle had brought labour on  weeks early, she’s been a stupid woman to visit the market, while she as so far pregnant. But Jezza always called her stupid so she was trying to prove him wrong, so she would have her baby in the street.

The boys immediately knew what to do, so they delivered the baby, but mother and baby still needed to get to the hospital. Totoro had in fact bitten the umbilical cord off before the boys could get a knife from their pocket. And yes the woman’s name was Mary, Mary Theresa. But she would name her baby boy Lech, Boris, Gregorgi, Totoro Cameron, for Cameron was her surname. Next Gregorgi held Mary Theresa in his arms with Lech and Boris in the lead, a human snowplough though the crowds. Tororo jumped from shoulders to shoulders making noises like a rabid cat, the crowds parted and mother and baby were handed over to a standby ambulance.

It felt good, they had done a good deed, Mrs Slapalotoff would be so proud of them, they mused as they had a celebratory beer. No she would slap us for looking at a half naked women, she’d say we should have closed our eyes and delivered the baby that way. They laughed, but it was nice to have a baby named after all of them, but what kind of name was Cameron?

The boys moved on through the market, you bleeding pooh, you dirty bent bastard. Somebody was cursing, not blessing this Christmas season, a small man, ran into them, he was scared beyond belief. 3 large men were after him. One each said Lech, one each said Boris, one each said Gregorgi. Stepping forward the boys blocked the cavemen’s path, they did not like bullies, not at home and not here in England.

Out of the way you fat gypsies jostled the cavemen. Let me shake your hand and wish you a merry Christmas said Lech, let me shake your hand and wish you a merry Christmas said Boris, and let me shake your hand and wish you a peaceful new year said Gregorgi.

Watching from a safe distance the intended victim saw what happened next, the cavemen’s hands were taken and twisted and the cavemen were spun around and pushed against a shop window. At home we have a word for people like you, it’s a very long word that you would not possible be able to pronounce not unless you have been to the East.

The boys gently pushed the cavemen into the shop window, their squashed faces were seen on the cctv inside. In English we think the word is Nazi Bully, and you can only imagine just how much we hate Nazis and Bullies. So will say this once, being afraid of somebody because you don’t understand their way of life does not give you the right to torment them ever. We could be Gay too, though our wives know we never could be, but we all have brothers and uncles and friends who might be Gay or are Gay. So can you just be nice and not nasty, nasty Nazi Bullies only die in the end. With that still pushing the three cavemen against the shop window Lech, Boris and Gregorgi spanked them just as Miss Spankalotoff has spanked them all those years ago, though that was for calling Dimitri four eyes. Then they released the cave men, the boys then blessed them just as the Bishop does back home in the East. Dimitri went on to help build the rocket for the USSR space missions, he still sends them postcards.

The victim has filmed everything and seconds later the three Slavs were national Friends of Gays. But they only had done what Miss Slapalotoff had instilled in them, Love everybody, a Slav is always your brother no matter what the difference. As they walked further around the market smiles greeted them. They were 3 Slav kings spreading Peace and Goodwill, though now danger was just around the next corner.

A couple of drunken lads had bet each other they could climb the Christmas tree, so they were up it like a flash only their weight made the tree sway and what happens when a tree sways. Rock a By Baby by the tree top, when the tree sways the baby will fall, or so the rhythm goes. Now the two lads were swinging from the Christmas tree they were going to fall right on top of a mother with a baby in a pram.

A scream from the mother, a gasp from the crowd, death and disaster at the Christmas market. Two cheeky lads falling the Christmas tree to their deaths, killing a mother and baby below. But NO. Miss Slapalotov had also instilled team work into the boys. Lech to the left ran and caught one cheeky boy. Boris to the right ran and caught the other cheeky boy. Gregorgi ran to push the mother out of the way. But what of the baby in the pram? Totoro had been sitting on Gregorgi’s shoulder so Tororo leapt and pushed the pram out of the way.

A miracle, 3 Slavs, 2 cheeky boys, a mother and a pram with a baby in, and no deaths, all thanks to them and a cat called Totoro. The crowd erupted, this was what Peace on Earth was all about. Totoro was rewarded with the bottle of milk from the baby’s pram. The boys told the mother that breast was best, and she agreed, today was her first and last ever attempt a formula milk.

So the boys stopped for a few more drinks before coming home. The three Slavs had come from the East to bring Love and Peace and Goodwill to all men. And I think they had achieved it. As they made their way back to the bowser their old school friend the rocket man Dimitri shouted from the crowd. He’d been at the market and had shadowed their every move, he thought they’d been fantastic. In fact he’d phoned the space station to tell Tim Peake the news, as he just loved stories.

When they got to the bowser their was a parking ticket on it, so Dimitri made a phone call, he had friends in high places after all, not just in Space. A policeman to take the ticket away, then a police inspector. What’s inside asked the inspector? Rocket fuel lied Dimitri, flashing his NASA badge, he worked for them now. Ok, said the inspector. When the inspector left, the boys and Dimitri had a toast of rocket fuel drawn from the bowser.

If Miss Slapalotov knew you’d turned into such a liar it would be you who’d have been spanked not us. I’ve been keeping an eye on you stills from Space you know. The boys blushed. Just make sure you add me to the list of people who get a bottle, oh and one for Tim Peake, he’s almost Russian you know.

Lech The Altar Boy and The Ghost ©

By Michael Casey

Lech was an altar boy in Cracow, this writer was an altar boy too but that was in Birmingham in the 1960s and 1970s, they do have one thing in common and that was Ghosts. Lech was big and strong and he’d punch anybody who said serving Mass was for mothers’ boys, he had a Faith as strong as he was. And besides he liked dressing up and carrying candles, it was fun and was very theatrical, especially the orb thing that you put charcoal in and the priest adds incense to, they you get to shake it all about. It was a kind of very smelly high, smoke everywhere.

Lech was always the last boy to finish after the Mass or Benediction or the Funeral or whatever it was, because Fr. Thomas also shared a cigarette with him when nobody was looking. Fr. Thomas had been in the Missions and had come home to Cracow to die, he had picked up a few diseases while abroad and as Cracow had a good hospital the Bishop brought him home to serve in a small church so Fr. Thomas could be close to a hospital. The Bishop also happened to be Fr. Thomas’s friend from 50 years before when they were at school together. Fr. Thomas had beaten a bully, in fact he had knocked seven shades of, well you know the next word, so no need to say it. So Fr. Thomas had saved the future Bishop and that’s why they became friends.

Lech reminded Fr. Thomas of himself, a big strong lad who was afraid of nothing, so that’s why they shared a cigarette when both should not. Fr. Thomas knew Lech would never be a priest, he’d be a father sure, but not a Fr. more like a father of 10. Lech was a magnet for girls, girls of all ages, 16 to 160 years old, they all thought he was so pretty, he’d tempt anybody even some of the statues of the saints scattered around the church.  

It was just after Lech and Fr. Thomas had finished their cigarette one Thursday evening that Fr. Thomas collapsed, Lech caught him in his arms and saw the life slip away from him. Fr. Thomas gasped for breath but as he was dying he said “if I was a father a real father, you would have been the perfect son for me, just promise me you’ll give up smoking” Lech promised he’d give up the cigarettes and Fr. Thomas died with a smile on his lips. Fr. Thomas had died a “father”, with a son called Lech who was as big as and as strong as an Ox.

Fr. Thomas’s funeral stopped Cracow, everybody came , priests galore, and everybody had a good time, Lech was the chief altar boy and he was given the honour of reading the passage from the Bible about Lazarus being raised from the dead and Jesus cried for his friend.

After the burial all the were gathered around chatting, and having a crafty smoke, priest and nurses are devils for a cigarette, but you know that already. Lech was going to join in, but he could hear a voice in his head, promise me you’ll never smoke, it was almost as if Fr. Thomas was standing behind him. He had the cigarette lit in his hand, so instead he stubbed it out and put it in his pocket.

At times of stress or sadness, we may all hear or see voices or shadows, or echoes or reflections, its normal when your mum dies, or when your favourite dog dies, you may hear it bark and so on. In Lech’s case whenever he reached for a cigarette he could hear Fr. Thomas’s voice, he could hear him asking him to promise not to smoke.

Once he looked up from the cigarette in his hand and he thought he could see Fr. Thomas’s, reflection in the presbytery’s kitchen window, he spun around only nobody was there. If it was cannabis he could have explained it, but since Fr. Thomas’s death he had kept his promise not to smoke, he had always heard Fr. Thomas’s voice in his head just as he was about to put any cigarette of any kind to his lips. 

This went on for 2 years, he could light a cigarette but as soon as he was about to put it to his lips the Voice the Advice from a Dead Priest was in his head. Finally he threw his cigarette lighter into the river that ran through Cracow, only as he was so angry at the dead priest he miss-threw it and it hit a girl on the side of her head and she fell in the street.

Karolina was her name and she was a nurse who smoked like the devil, or she did till Lech picked her up from the gutter in the street. She was so angry, yet so beautiful, wouldn’t you be if an oaf, an ox had hit you with a cigarette lighter. Lech took out his dirty snotty handkerchief and held it against her head to stop the bleeding. As he apologised he looked into Karolina’s eyes and she looked into his, what would you do if you were a Polish girl from Cracow and a huge hunk was looking into your eyes. Well tell me, tell me right now, or I’ll stop the story. STOP.

Ok, I stopped the story while I had a drink of water, Girls have you made up YOUR mind, what would you do to Lech? She battered him, but all the time he held his dirty snotty handkerchief to her wound, he had to stop the bleeding after all.  Then she laughed and laughed, then she kissed him more and more. Only a fool would behave in such a fashion taking everything she threw at him, be it blows or kisses but all the time holding a filthy rag at her face to stop the bleeding.

The church was still open so Lech suggested they go back and she could wash her face. He also said she could go to confession to ask for forgiveness for beating him, then they started laughing again. It turned out she was single and that her boyfriend had dumped her when he found out just before getting engaged that she could not have children. Lech was angry and cursed him whoever he was, he even offered to beat the living daylights out of him. Karolina lost her heart to him at that very second.

In church one of the confessionals had a light on so Karolina went inside to have Confession while Lech went to find the first aid kit. Cracow confessions are very quick, to the point and quick. Inside the priest said all you have to do is give up smoking, and then you’ll find a husband. Lech is a nice boy Karolina. I absolve you, and for your penance you must promise never to beat your husband Lech again. Karolina was dumbfounded, how did the priest know all about it.

Lech came back with the first aid kit and tended to Karolina’s wounds, she said you have to go to confession now I’ve just been, so after putting a final plaster on her hear Lech went to Confession. Lech was about to confess when he heard the familiar voice of Fr. Thomas telling him he should marry Karolina, but he should stop throwing cigarette lighters about or he could really hurt somebody. As for having children, Michael Casey the Birmingham writer who translates into Polish, well he asked  Padre Pio for a wife and children, but he left it all up top God. So Lech just leave it all up to God.

Lech left the confessional as white as a sheet, as if he had seen a ghost. He looked at Karolina, I will marry you and we will leave it up to God to see if we have children. Karolina got up from her seat and pointed, Lech spun around and there was Fr. Thomas was walking into the sacristy, he was arm in arm with another Cracow priest, Karol was his name in life.

Lech and Karolina got married as soon has her wound was healed on her head. She only ever had two pregnancies, triplets, three girls, then quads four boys, making 7 children in all. Because when asked in the Bible how many times you should forgive, 7 times? NO 77x 7 times. Karolina forgave him 7 times, and that was enough for both of them.

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”

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi come in from the Cold ©

By Michael Casey

Now it’s hard when building work goes on and there is dust everywhere, when there is cursing galore, and that is just from mom and dad. Builders blush when they overhear such language, but building is a blessed thing, blessed with plenty of cursing. Anastasia was visiting family in the village, when she had a phone call from her granddad, the builders had let him down, now all he had was dust everywhere. This made her own problem small beer, she had bought a brand new car for herself as a graduation present, but it broke down repeatedly. The dealership just laughed at her and called her little Russian Princess. Now as Lech’s, Boris’s and Gregorgi’s wives chopped meat their blood boiled.

Anastasia’s granddad was Denis Nellis, he was very very old now, but when he was very very young he was a sailor on the Artic Convoy to Russia, after the war he married the sister of a Polish Battle of Britain pilot. So he was a man of great bravery, who should be honored and as he had a connection to the village through marriage he was FAMILY. The boys’ wives sharpened their knives, but Anastasia said the Pen is Mightier than the sword, and far far sharper, with a wicked smile. The boys’ wives agree as they did some target practice on the back of the kitchen door.

But where were the boys, where were Lech, Boris and Gregorgi? The Summer of 2018 was so terrible hot, some like it hot, as they say, but Gregorgi had a friend who owned a former Russian nuclear submarine, he had bought it in an army or navy surplus sale. He ran trips to the North, the far North, ½ way to the North Pole. Ice Station Zebra and all that. Some of the crew had gone sick, so Gregorgi had persuaded Lech and Boris to come and have an adventure, or were they little girls? So the three of them found themselves on an ice shelf playing football. The new or rather ex Soviet winter warmer clothes were being sold to the tourists as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi larked about on the ice. The pay was very good after all, and it was in US dollars, perfect, what more did they want.

Their wives could bear it no longer, they dug out the old SW set and setting it to the emergency frequency they sent a message to the North Pole. Come home the dinner is getting cold, family matter to attend to. That was all it said, signed 3 wives. Now the American’s went mad trying to work out what it meant. The Russian’s wanted to know what it meant too. Only the British knew what it really meant. You see Anastasia had a secret, she had just signed on to work for GCHQ, so she had told them about her holiday plans, and having Denis Nellis as a relative had swung the interview for her, that and having a Double First from Downing Cambridge. Or the University of Monty Python as some card in recruitment called it, you see Downing was where John Cleese went, and Michael Winner and this writer’s brother.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi worried for a full minute, before finishing off the submarine’s supply of vodka, their wives could look after themselves, they knew how to use knives and riffles. So as the icicles melted from them they enjoyed their vodka, the trip had been a success and they’d been invited to join the regular crew roster.

When they got home to the village their wives feed them well and took them to bed. They had to make sure everything still worked after the cold of the North Pole. In the morning their wife’s gave them the Eastern look, they explained about Denis Nellis and Anastasia. Then Anastasia explained about the builder saying her grandad would have to face facts and surrender to reality. The car company has said the same, just surrender to life. Now Gregorgi started to twitch, you never say Surrender to a Russian, after what those Nazi bastards did. Lech and Boris weren’t happy either, this was Family. The Scots never say surrender too, go ask the Black Watch if you don’t believe me.

There was just enough time to finish all the food their wives had prepared while they were at the North Pole, then they made love to their wives 10 more times, before they were ready to hit the road. At David Nellis’s house it was like the Nazi bastards had shelled it. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi set to work. The bathroom extension with downstairs bedroom would soon be sorted. The boys worked like slaves, worse than slaves, they worked like men from the East, they worked like family. If you married into the East, then you were part of the East. They only stopped for 5 mins just to send me an email asking that I looked after Still 17 in Warley Woods, it would be reaching perfection too, by pure, 95% pure, coincidence they would be in England to taste it.

When the dust settled Dennis Nellis had his bathroom and new bedroom downstairs. Gregorgi shed a tear, and for once his cousins did not mock him for crying like a little girl. This was family. I had tapped Still 17 and send the postman to deliver 10 litres, so toasting Dennis Nellis sailor from the Artic Convoys they got drunk. What else do you expect?

Now Anastasia had not been forgotten, still hung over the boys decided to go visit the car dealership. The car dealer had ignored Anastasia, even though she was so pretty, and so very very intelligent. But boys will be boys, and they had come in from the cold, and their 3 wives had asked did they want to repeat their performance, once they had sorted out Anastasia’s broken brand new car. So they went to the car show room, now they could have physically turned all the cars over like turtles. Just as Big Sid does in the finale of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker.

However they had seen the Full Monty on Dennis Nellis’s tv the night before, so they just played the music on their Spotify on their iphones so they started to strip. The girls in the car show room giggled and live streamed it on Facebook to their friends, they stopped giggling as more and more clothes came off. Where was the nearest Polish/Ukrainian and Russian food store, these were MEN with a capital M! The car showroom owner came down to see the still drunk cousins sprawled naked over his cars, leaving marks all over the polish, that’s polish not POLISH by the way.

He tried to threaten them but this was no Spring Time for Hitler. Your Cars have one thing in common with us slurred Lech, Boris and Gregorgi, and what is that asked the car show room owner? BIG BOLLOCKS! And with that the boys left the showroom. And did Anastasia get a new car from the car dealer. No, he was going to offer, but the Police closed down his showroom after 100s of complaints, the Police even said he did not have a licence for Erotic Dancers so were able to close him down immediately. But Peter Stringfellow saw it all online and sent Anastasia a brand new car, a much better car. He did offer the boys a job as well, but they decided, The winner wives take it all, it was For Their Eyes Only.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Rescue the Old People’s Home ©

By

Michael Casey

Well as we are all stuck in the snow I’ve decided to share this story, you can believe it or not, its up to you. It’s 1st March 2018, Putin is boasting about his toys of war, as are other leaders. Can we just put these things away and advance science for all Mankind instead? The best of all our people is in its Spirit. So let me tell Putin and Kim and Trump a story about real Spirit. This is the story of how Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rescued 100 old people trapped in a blizzard with medicine and food running out.

Now Popaloffoff lies somewhere in the East where Poland, Ukraine and Russia make love on the map. They make love in bed too but I’m just trying to give you an estimation of where it is. Up in the mountains along a winding road and perched like an eagle looking down on a fast flowing river is an old monastery that is also an old people’s home for locals.  So priests and shepherds live there, the priest paint icons and the shepherds produce the finest vodka anywhere in the world, if you live in that climate you need a good drink.

This Winter 2017/2018 has been bad, today 1st March 2018 the weather is savage. Lech and Boris and Gregorgi got a call on the CB radio, Shepherd down, we are running out of supplies especially medicine. We may have to burn the icons to keep warm. Now to anybody in the East an icon is a Holy Holy thing, its worth more than gold, worth more than beating USA at the ice hockey. I’m  whispering this now but an icon is worth more than Vodka.

So when the message came on the CB radio Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had to do something. The Blizzard could go to Hell, in fact it could kiss Gregorgi’s fat ass, and his ass was fat, very fat indeed. They mounted their snowploughs and drove to base. Grit was poured to over-brimming on all three trucks, and a trailer was attached to each. Not forgetting a case of vodka in each cabin. With a blessing from an atheist they departed.

Only a fool, a madman, and a believer would even attempt it in this weather, but that would describe the Trio. In Popaloffoff they got the message that help was on its way, then the CB died. So they huddled together and prayed. A few of the icons were near the fire for when the firewood ended. Now as I said before Saint Michael considers Lech, Boris and Gregorgi to be his friends. As for the icons they have special powers too, but more of that later.

Driving in a blizzard is no fun, the Trio laughed and joked and cursed at each other over the radio. They were on a mission, a mission from God. They were not Blues Brothers they were Slavic cousins, and they were better drivers. Slip sliding away they went, round and round a garden like a teddy bear one step two step and a tickle under there. Good job there was vodka on the seat beside them. It was barely above freezing inside the cab, though they had their furs to keep them warm. That bear had nearly killed them 10 years ago, but they had sworn an oath to high Heaven that if they did not die they would repay the favour. So now wrapped in that bear’s clothes it was time to repay that debt. Popaloffoff was calling them, I saved your 3 lives, now you must save the least of my brethren.

It was logical, well logical to a fool, a madman and a believer, they were each and all of those things. They had visited Popaloffoff when they were kids and it had made a big big impression, so now, they had to do it, they just had to answer the call. Slip sliding away, the trailers sliding like a puppet on a string.

Disaster almost struck. Lech was leading his plough veered to the left, then magically it shot to the right along the mountain road. Boris and Gregorgi swore they saw an angle appear and push his truck back on the road. Was it the vodka, it was hard to tell through all the snow. It was Saint Michael himself, he had skin in this game, as did all the angels and saint on the icons.

After that save, like a diving ice hockey player in the Olympic final, Saint Michael was joined by a multitude of angels. If their icons were burned it did not matter, saving the lives of a Trio such as Lech, Boris and Gregorgi did matter.

Now the road to Poploffoff is very dangerous and you an slip off and never be seen again, or until Spring comes and the snow melts. The wind howled and the snow fell. The vodka was drunk as the Trio drunk through the blizzard. How they stayed on the road nobody would ever know, but if you were an angel looking down you could see snow angels in the snow to the left and to the right as angels pushed the truck to keep it on the road. Hundreds of snow angels made in the snow by real angels. But you don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m drinking vodka?

The fire was burning low so the priest with tears in his eyes put an icon on the fire. Then he closed his eyes, he did not want to see his sin. 100 people and more huddled around a fire with their eyes closed, begging the angles and saints to forgive them for their sin. The angles and saints were crying, not for their icons but because they were humbled to see such Faith.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi drove on the perilous road, slip, sliding away. They cursed each other more, to encourage each other more. Then a tragedy, the vodka was finished. They fell silent, not long to go now, they had to concentrate more, the road was at its most dangerous now. Saint Michael called for reinforcements, a wall of angels their wings outstretched with swords drawn lined the road. Nothing would prevent them from getting to Popaloffoff now, only the Devil himself had come to see what was happening, he had smelt the scent of burning icons.

While Saint Michael hacked at the Devil with his sword Lech’s truck went over the cliff. It was hanging half on and half off the road. Boris and Gregorgi slammed on the brakes on their trucks. He would be dead in seconds. Only then 3 enormous bears appears and pulled the trailer and truck back on the road. The bears disappeared to be replaced by a golden angel, a beautiful golden angel.

Nobody said anything they drove in silence up the mountain road to Popaloffoff. They entered the courtyard and ran to refectory where everybody had been gathered. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi handed out medicine and food and unpacked the supplies. A madman, a fool and a believer had saved the day.

The Trio looked about and could see the icons that had been put on the fire. But when they took them out they noticed something, they wiped the soot away and the icons were perfect, intact. Babushka asked the trio to follow her to where she had been painting a new icon. She turned the icon around, and there Lech, Boris and Gregorgi could see a golden angle with 3 bears on it.

I need a drink they said in unison. So they had a drink, a real good drink. In fact they were given the recipe for Popaloffoff vodka, so if you wonder why Lech, Bori and Gregorgi are in Warley Woods or any woods for that matter its is because they are attending to their still. Oh, and before I forget, I have an angel on my wall as I talk to you all. And as for golden angel icon with 3 bears on, that is on the wall in Putin’s private office, as well as a few bottles of Popaloffoff vodka. Pope Francis has been invited to Russia you know, maybe Putin will give him a photocopy of the icon, or just some Popaloffoff vodka.     

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Save Christmas ©

By

Michael Casey

The cousins had decided to buy and trade a few old Army Surplus materials. Putin has updated his army so there was a lot of old kit being thrown away. So obviously the enterprising cousins decided this was their chance. There were all kinds of everything for sale at rock bottom prices, such as Arctic gear, and even parachutes and an ancient flame thrower or two. Junk to you or me, but to the cousins it was an opportunity.

Sometime what is discarded becomes the most important thing, like a broken heart healed by love, or the dream of a dead mother on the feast of Saint Francis, that comes to heal and strengthen. But I’m talking about the Slav cousins, and their wives just laughed at them, they were just so stupid, but that made them love them the more. So as the wives sharpened their knives ready for the Christmas preparations, which meant death for some of the animals, but it for good purpose, to celebrate the feast of Christmas.

Amongst the junk was an old military radio or two, so the cousins’ children were allowed top play with one. To their surprise they were able to contact some other children, so soon there was a radio friendship. It turned out that they had discovered School 76 in Novablizt, which was a fair distance from where they all lived. It was a boarding school for children of army officers, really they should not be talking to outsiders. But it was a military frequency on an old channel, so that’s how the wall came down.

As Lech, Boris and Gregorgi rummaged through their treasure their children were enjoying the radio. It turned out that the parents of School 76 were in reality Space Engineers, they would not say more than that, but it was interesting to say the least. Now Christmas was approaching fast and the cousins had managed to sell boots and coats and the like, so they were content, they had at least made some money. There was the Christmas feast on the horizon and their wives were glowing, happy and so deeply in love. However when all the cousins’ children explained all the anticipated fun and love that they would have to the children of School 76 they were met with sadness.

You see at School 76 the parents would be working far away, launching satellites into space for the highest bidder. Christmas was lost to them, duty came first, if only they got to see a fake Santa, it would be fun amongst all the books. Now Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were saddened when they heard this, Christmas without even a fake Saint Nicolas, this was too much.

Their wives looked at them and all the children looked at them. We need to talk to your fathers said the three mothers. So the three mothers took the three cousins to the 3 bedrooms. It is always best to discuss things in a comfortable environment. 6 hours later, the mothers emerged smiling, and the cousins emerged too. It had been decided, the 3 mothers would sacrifice their 3 cousin husbands for Christmas. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would bring Christmas to School 76.

Now School 76 is not on any map as it was classed as Military even though it was just a boarding school. So a map reference was sent and Lech marked it on a map with Rudolf’s nose, that was all the map they would need. They loaded their snow plough with items they might need, and what could they bring the students? Boiled eggs painted and some English chocolate, Cadburys of course, and some Oranges. There was some vodka too, but that was for any stray teachers or caretakers. It was the thought that counted, there would not be any other gifts as such, or so was the plan. You see the school was in a remote area and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi may have to walk in the last leg.

When School 76 heard the news they erupted. They would not only get one fake Santa but three. Carols erupted from School 76, but the could not tell the teachers, the caretaker staff as it was still technically called a Military establishment. So with a final kiss to their wives, who were probably pregnant by now, what do you think they were doing for 6 hours, knitting? So Lech, Boris and Gregorgi set off to bring Christmas to School 76. As they dove away a fancy 4×4 passed in the opposite direction, paths had been crossed.

In the 4×4 was Mikhail Mikhailovich who you will remember was the Spaceman who had a visit from the Archangel Saint Michael, by sheer chance he was driving through Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s village.Now there is no such thing as coincidence, there is only the will of God. Mikhail Mikhailovich went into the inn and had some food and a rest, he was going to plough on and get home for Christmas himself but then the Heavens opened and it was a Whiteout, a mountain of snow had fallen. So he just knew he’s be spending Christmas there, Mikhail Mikhailovich was soon telling tales and enjoying all the company. His eyes popped open wide when he heard what Lech, Boris and Gregorgi were up to, he had studied at School 76 himself in his youth before he became the world’s greatest Cosmonaut and then the world’s greatest storyteller.

I actually drove past them, will they be safe? They are like Polar Bears replied the three wives, besides we’ll kill them if they don’t come back, as they brandished their knives. Besides we are all pregnant so they will not abandon an unborn baby at Christmas. How many weeks are you pregnant asked Mikhail Mikhailovich? About 15 hours not weeks came the proud reply.Mikhail Mikhailovich blushed, this was like one of his stories, but true.

Mikhail Mikhailovich took out his satellite phone and recited another story so that Radio Russia would have a new story over Christmas. Then the military radio crackled, it was Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. Well we are 20k short of our destination, the snow plough cannot go any further so we will walk. We have skis and a sledge, it will be fun. Everybody looked out the window and saw the snow, it was deadly dangerous.Mikhail Mikhailovich took the microphone, hello I’m Mikhail Mikhailovich can I help in any way? We love stories replied the 3 in unison. I was meaning help in getting to your destination? We think we will be ok, we have vodka to keep us warm and multiple layers too, we have got old USSR army kit, so we should be just fine.

Mikhail Mikhailovich looked about him, these fine people deserved their own Archangel, so he took out his satellite phone. In seconds he was talking to Chuck from the USA, his friend Tim Peak who was back in space again, and Petrov a fine Russian cosmonaut. Mikhail Mikhailovich was talking to the Heavens Above AKA the Space Station. Hello guys, do you want to test that new thing you have. In seconds it was decided, it was a method of tracking Polar Bears, but now it would be tracking 3 polar bears called Lech, Boris and Gregorgi.

The only problem was their was no radio tracking device on a collar, just a vintage USSR radio. Looking around again, Mikhail Mikhailovich rung his good friend Esther, the mother of the zillionaire space satellite magnate. Shalom he began, and then Mikhail Mikhailovich explained, Esther would help he knew it. Ester put her cards down she was playing poker in Vegas, the winner chose which Charity got the pot, 10million had been raised just through her poker habit, if you can remember back to the Malta story. A phone rang in the situation room at the Pentagon, the ring tone was If I were a Rich Man sung by Topol, an actual one off recording just for a ring tone.If you are zillionaire then you can have such things.Sorry said the zillionaire turning to General Jim Mathis, mom insisted on the ring tone. In seconds all was explained and Esther went back to her poker, she wanted to win.

The zillionaire looked around, I wasn’t going to show you this yet, but a friend wants a favour. So with General Jim Mathis looking on the zillionaire brought up the satellite image. It was not perfect but through the snow Lec, Boris and Gregorgi could be made out. We’re guiding them through the snow to School 76. So the zillionaire spoke to Mikhail Mikhailovich and then he guided the three cousins.

In deep deep snow they went up and down and around and around , and this way and that way, leaving a trail as they dragged their sledge. High in space the zillionaire and brought a couple of other satellites into play, it was Christmas after all, they were not the three Magi, but they had friends in high places, very high places. But then disaster, the radio broke down, at minus 20 even a thirty year old USSR radio had to come to the end of their life.

All we can do is watch and pray, said General Jim Mathis as he looked up from the book Esther had sent him, first edition of a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.So watching from on high they all watched and prayed. Three cousins, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi would go around and around until the cold killed them. From space they tracked their route, then the zillionaire spotted a pattern. Marked in the snow was PAX VOBISCOM, or Peace Be With You. Then through the snow the satellite could see a sledge drawn by enormous reindeer, there was a giant of a man on board. The giant waved at the sky as if he knew the satellites were all watching him.

Santa Claus himself had come to rescue them, if the Archangel Saint Michael had saved Mikhail Mikhailovich why shouldn’t Santa Claus save three Slav heroes called Lech,Boris and Gregorgi. And that is how Christmas was saved by Lech, Boris and Gregorgi or rather how Santa Claus saved them. School 76 had the best Christmas ever, 3 fake Santas plus the real thing. Now if you think this story is far fetched, just watch Norad track Santa this and every Christmas. And if you still don’t believe me, why are there photos of the Real Father Christmas locked in General Jim Mathis’ safe with a signed copy of a Christmas Carol on top. Marked 25 levels higher than TOP SECRET.

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi’s big misadventure ©

By

Michael Casey

The boys got off to a late start, they had left the magazine in the toilet, and they needed the magazine. What am I on about? Well the magazine belonged to Ivan and Ivan had given it to Lech with words of advice. Ivan was a very very old man and magazines was all he had in his life, because he was so very old. Lech was young at the time and as Lech and Boris and Gregorgi carried Ivan home Ivan had said Lech could have his magazine because he knew he’d be dead soon.

The magazine was an old National Geographical one, in French. Lech just put it in his pocket and carried on carrying Ivan home with his 2 cousins. Ivan was right, he was dead soon. Ivan was 97 and the final 15 pints was too much for him. Ivan was found dead in his chair by the fire with a big smile on his lips, 2 days later.Everybody assumed he’d been sleeping off the booze, but when he didn’t feed his dogs people heard the howling and came to see what the trouble was. There was no trouble, Ivan was dead, as stiff as a poker, but with a big smile on his lips.

His funeral was a great occasion with holy relics held in front of his coffin. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi dug the grave themselves as was the custom, you dig your friends and neighbours’ graves. Later in the day Lech looked at the magazine in French, but could not understand as it was not an Eastern language, but he enjoyed the pictures. Round things of all shapes and colours. And what am I talking about? Truffles of course. It was an article on truffles. Lech put the magazine on top of his wardrobe next to his riffle, and promptly forgot all about it.

The snow was deep, and they had nothing planned so they were watching tv together, together with a large supply of alcohol, they were boys from the East after all, not girls from the West. Up popped and item on truffles, they would have dropped their beer glasses but luckily they were drinking from bottles so they did not, it’s a sin to waste good alcohol, ask your mother if you don’t believe me. Lech stuttered, ok he dribbled, so much money for those things. Ivan gave me a magazine with pictures of truffles in before he died years ago. Lech reached up to the top of the wardrobe, only he accidentally pulled the trigger, CLICK. They all ducked instinctively. Lech was from the East so of course there were no bullets in the riffle. He ws not an American after all.

Together they looked at the pictures in the magazine, all the varieties and the price you could get just for small amounts. A small amount was as valuable as gold. As they flicked through the magazine a piece of paper fell out. It was in Ivan’s handwriting, it was a map and a message, we have truffles too, if you can find them. And that was all it took for the lads to think of having an adventure up in the mountains. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi the truffle hunters, not as dynamic as Indiana Jones, but it could make them a bit of money.

Lech needed the toilet, so still clutching the magazine he left the others to throw some things together, they would be going truffle hunting. They climbed into the snow plough and had gone 3 km before they realised they’d left the magazine in the toilet. They needed the magazine to help identify the truffles. So they returned like fools for the magazine before setting off again. They drove 50 km into the mountains before the road ended. Now they would have to walk and climb. It was fun and a nice stretch of the legs, this was no Duke of Edinburgh Gold stroll, this was a nice men of the East walk, they did not have any Irn Bru they had 70% proof vodka.

Looking at the piece of paper they reached spot on the map where the truffles should be. The only problem was that truffles are under the ground. And there was snow too. That did not deter them, they had their knives. So they dug through the snow and started digging for truffles,only stopping for the occasional drop of vodka. Lech’s knife has a history, he won it from Boris in a bet. So Boris was beaten by his dad, Lech’s uncle, the beating was a long one. But Lech bore it and never told his dad how he’d lost his knife.

Gregorgi had bets with other kids as to how long the beating would last, in fact Gregorgi signaled to Boris to be cheeky so the beating would continue. Boris took his queue. Finally beating over, Gregorgi collected all the money and gave it to Boris refusing any commission. So Boris bought an even better knife and in fact he bought two. He gift wrapped one and left it in his dad’s boots. Boris’ dad nearly cried for joy, all he said was you know I love you dearly. Of course dad replied Boris, and if anybody says otherwise I’ll skin them alive with my new knife. Like father like son.

So the boys hacked about for truffles, they even tried to understand what the French writing said. Then luck appeared, a wild boar came running towards them, it started rooting in the earth where the cousins had cleared the snow. Soon the boar had found various truffles, they had to wrestle the boar so it did not eat them. So they fed it bread with 70% vodka soaked into it. A drunken wild boar and 3 Eastern cousins truffle hunting with a National Geographical magazine in French plus a scribbled note from a long dead 97 year old man called Ivan. Of course this happened, this is the East, they don’t do walks in park, well can you all just shut up muttering and let me get on with the story.

The boar fell over dead, probably too much rooting, but by now they had sack full of truffles. They were hungry and it was a pity to waste a boar, so they skinned it and made a fire, they had found some shelter by an outcrop of rocks. It had been a good day trip but now the snow began to fall heavily. Of course they don’t look at the weather forecast on an App, they just go where they want when they want, they were Men of the East. They were thinking could they find more shelter, when they heard a snap and a scream of pain.

A mountain bear had been caught in a trap. The trap had caught it on the neck but had not killed it. They were going to shoot it to put it out of its misery but they remember when they rescued the people in teh old people’s home. So they fed the bear vodka soaked in bread, then together they removed the bear trap. They felt pity for the bear, so Lech took his belt off and tied it around the bear’s neck, the other two followed, 3 strong leather belts tied tight around the bear’s neck to stop the flow of blood. Then they rubbed boar fat from their dinner around the wound to seal it, then wastefully they poured a little vodka around the wound too.

They could hear a noise, they followed the noise to a cave, 3 small bear cubs were inside, this was the mother they had saved. Now what would become of the bears? Gregorgi knew what must be done, so he picked one up and put it in his rucksack, the others followed. Mother bear was unconscious now, she might not make it. Gregorgi took his mobile out and pressed the distress button. He also took out a crumbed picture of an icon from his wallet and put it on the belts. They had done all they could for her, now they must save the babies.

There was an old log below their campfire.They climbed inside and attaching their braces to the log the pushed off. This was Cool Runnings Eastern style, down the side of a mountain. Now 3 Eastern men in a log, was no gentle English story about a men in a boat. This was 3 growling bears in ruck sacks racing down a mountainside, with 3 Eastern men for company. Now the crumpled picture Gregorgi had left on the mother bear was a picture of the Black Madonna, so was she guiding the cousins down the mountainside.

Back in the cab the snow plough started immediately, the amount of time they spent tinkering with its engine was more than love. They headed home,ringing the zoo to ask dd tey want 3 bear cubs. What a stupid question. But what of mother bear, a mother alone on a mountain, bleeding with only 3 belts tightly fastened keeping her alive. Boris rung his friend Olga, he told her to save the mother bear. Olga had a helicopter you see. Olga flew though the snow and scooped up the bear in a net.

Yes mother and bear cubs all lived happily ever after. As for the dead boar, its death had saved the mother bear. The zoo called the mother bear Olga, and the baby bears were called Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. And what about the truffles, well Olga scooped them up too and as she flew to the zoo she dropped them from the sky to Lech’s garden. They were rubbish truffles not worth a penny, but the Black Madonna had saved Lech, Boris and Gregorgi, the baby bears I mean. Or so the cousins thought. A month later a French chef was visiting from Paris, he nearly fainted. The truffles weren’t worth any money. But chef did leave his 4×4 behind instead as payment for the truffles, and you know what on the dashboard an icon of the Black Madonna.  

Lech, Boris and Gregorgi Check it Out ©

By

Michael Casey

So your small girl is a big girl now, leaving home to go to University. I nodded trying to hold back the tears, the boys understood and put protective arms on my shoulder. She’ll miss Totoro the cat no doubt, but her little sister will send updates on the cat’s progress to her studying bigger sister. She may even miss her old dad, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England. I began to sniffle, but the boys understood, they were Popaloffoff’s finest, they visited me often just to see how Totoro the cat was, or so they claimed. But now the family was scattering, they knew what they had to do and do it they would.

The boys left me as I looked through the photo albums of my treasure soon to be far away in a different part of the country and I wouldn’t be there to protect her. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi went to the still hidden in the woods, the Vodka wouldn’t be ready for 3 more days. More than enough time to check out my daughter’s new home and University.

As they drove their tanker down the motorway they phoned home, their wives all agreed, they had to do what they had to do. And if only they hadn’t been so spontaneously the wives could have prepared a gift. The Butcher’s Choice, a step by step guide on how to butcher pigs along with a lethal knife. They did not expect my daughter to become a Home Butcher and chef like them, however it also taught knife skills that a single girl might need in a hurry, and I don’t mean when an unexpected dinner party arrives.

When they arrived at the University town the boys sat on a bench next to a drunk, so they asked the drunk all about the city in exchange for a tiny bottle of their fresh vodka. So that’s how they got the low down on the city, ask a tramp, they know everything. So first of all they went to the local Gay bar, and had a pint of Guinness each, by way of a change. The clients all thought Christmas had come early, or the were a Strip Act. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi laughed, we’ve done that before but only at a car showroom, the memories made them smile. Sorry but certain things are only for our wives eyes only.

They explained that their friend, the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England had a pussy called Totoro, and that his daughter only got a cat 4 years ago as he promised her and her little sister a pet if he had a heart attack, or they could have a dog if he died. And now she was going to their city to Study. Is she Gay asked the clients? We don’t think so, it’s not something you ask somebody, of course she not, here’s her photo, so the boys showed my daughter’s photo. A few sighs went up, they were quickly silenced as the boys gave them a look. You see if she comes here she’ll be safe from BASTARDS, explained the boys.

They had another Guinness each, this time on the house. In exchange they handed out a Holy Picture of the Icon of Mary of Popaloffoff. If you put that in the window, she’ll know she’s safe here, the owners of the club promised they would, wiping away tears as they did so. The boys left the Jester, they were no fools, they had found the 1st place of safety for my daughter. They did take the boys’ photo too and would place that next to the Holy Picture. Faith and Brawn, nobody would ever dare to even think of playing games there, a new symbiotic relationship.

They went around town to sandwich bars, and coffee shops explaining the situation, at each place they handed out the Holy Picture of the Holy Icon of Mary Popaloffoff. Each place took their photo too and would display it next to the Holy Picture, something was happening, Mary of Popaloffoff was doing her bit but they were doing theirs too. The boys saw themselves just as cuddly Slav Bears, from where Russia, Ukraine and Poland make love on the Map. But to a University town in England, they were strong men from the Circus. One so strong, one so tall, one so very wide, not the kind of men you see in the back streets of a small university two.

They were hungry now, so they went to Greggs only the machinery had broken and they may have to throw the food away. If we fix it, can we have free food? So a deal was done. In the East, you have to fix things, 2 metres of snow, who’s going to come and fix your plant, Father Christmas? So in one hour they fixed it. The staff were mightily impressed as were the queue of people who were all dying for what only Greggs can supply. Our Lady of Popaloffoff and the boys own photo was soon installed by the door.

This had not been their plan, they just wanted to make sure my  daughter would be safe. Now over 200 Holy Pictures of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon were everywhere. There was a man walking with his nose in a book, he walk straight into them, spilling hundreds of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Holy Pictures everywhere. He bent down to pick them up, then he began to cry. It was Andrew Graham Dixon the greatest Art Critic in England, and friend of Popaloffoff, the boys each gave him a bear hug and kiss on the lips, like old friends do in the East. Andrew Graham Dixon took a copy of my daughter’s photo, phone to phone transfer and  said his Italian friend had a restaurant in the town, so should she want a job he was sure he could persuade his friend.

So the lads were pleased, but now the most dangerous part was to be done. The drunk had told them about the bad side of town, so now they must confront it. They banged on the door and waited, 3 large men with Rotts appeared, the 3 men laughed at them. You are those bleeding poofs we saw in the street picking up all those rubbish leaflets up, and then kissing that bloke on the lips, bleeding poofs, just get lost or I’ll set the Rottweilers on you.

Now you never ever ever speak to a man from Popaloffoff like that, or to anybody, straight or gay or any which way. And to say that a Holy Picture of Our Lady of Popaloffoff Icon was rubbish, was just too much. Lech looked at Boris and Boris looked at Gregorgi. They cursed the bad men with the worst word you can use in the East. NAZIS. After that the Rottweilers attacked, but punch on the nose had all 3 run away like puppy dogs. NAZIS Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  again screamed. In seconds those 3 hard men were no longer hard men, they were very scared men.

All were going to ask, was that you turn this girl away if she comes to your club your place by accident, tell her to go home and put her in Mr George’s taxi, he is a nice man we met him today. But to say the Icon of Popaloffoff is rubbish, and then to set the dogs on us. That is to much. Being called Gay does not matter, one day one of our sons may say he is gay, or one of our daughters may say she is Lesbian. WE WOULD STILL LOVE THEM AS THAT IS OUR JOB TO LOVE THEM ALWAYS WHATEVER THEY ARE. We are from the East and we love our Motherlands just as we love our own mothers and daughters.  With that Lech, Boris and Gregorgi spat in the Nazis faces.

Then there were Police everywhere, they had been watching the club, and knew a knew loads more drugs must be there with 3 Rottweilers to guard everything. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi had speeded up the process. In fact there was a reward, but they insisted it went to the Drugs Rehabilitation Centre.

So that is how the boys spent their day. And yes the Chief Superintendent himself kissed the boys of the lips, much to the shock of the PCs, but he had a Russian wife, so he knew about the Culture of the East. There was one other thing to mention, inside the Holy Pictures was a tiny chip, and they would give my daughter an App, it would show her all the Safe Places, and guide her safely home, whatever the darkness.

When Santa’s Angels Came to the Rescue ©

By Michael Casey

Santa was sad, even  he had caught Covid 19, he thought he was safe at the North Pole, but no, he caught Covid 19. So how could he get on his slay and deliver presents, besides which, what about all those grandparents who were sheltering and may not see their grandkids this Christmas. It was all so sad, Santa just wanted to cry and ask for a cuddle from his mom. He sniffled and Rudolf pushed his  fleece back to cover him more, Rudolf was worried too, nobody had a clue what to do. Rudolf sneaked out of the giant igloo and would have cried, he had to hide his tears from Santa, a reindeer must always be strong. Rudolf looked to the skies, overhead a shooting star passed by. But it was not a shooting star, it was the Space Station.

Rudolf was inspired, the Dragon Capsule had filled the space station with men, so they could take turns to help him. Rudolf flew skyward, his red nose flashing, SOS, SOS, SOS, which as you know means Save Our  Santa, Save Our Santa, Save Our Santa. The spacemen thought they were seeing things, but the Monk was reading a Christmas Carol to them from the comfort of his study. And as they excitedly said Rudolf was flashing them, he took the photos of Santa from beneath his 1st Edition a Christmas Carol. In an instant, he knew what had to be done, the three cousins from Papaloffoff would have to go to the North Pole and help Save Santa.

Now how could a retired USA general get Russia to help. The Monk rang a number and then did not speak, he just tapped his thumb on the phone, in Morse Code he asked a friend for a favour. Could Vladimir get the three cousins to the North Pole. Now Vladimir was just a janitor, or so he claimed, but he had fingers in many pies. So when he heard morse, of course he’d help. No words had been spoken, nothing had been said, just tap tap tapping, on his special phone that his friend had given him years before. One day we’ll save the world with this phone the monk had whispered. The phone was stuck to the back of a icon of Mary, a gift from one super power to another, from brother to brother.

The Monk smiled, he had the exact same icon on the wall in his  private office, you see icons have power, because they are painted with love and prayer. The Monk went back to bedtime stories for spacemen. Meanwhile, a helicopter descended on Popaloff, and with little discussion the three cousins were away.  Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  were given Artic weather kit and told to dress quick. Alexi Goodenoff whispered, these orders are from on high, you have to Save Santa, he saved you now its your turn to save him. All dressed in white with googles on, a bottle of vodka each they transferred to a plane. You can drink the vodka now explained Alexi Goodenoff, for what they were about to do was insane, and only a madman a fool or a man from Popaloffoff would dare do it. James Bond himself would say I should cocoa if asked to do such a dangerous thing. The 3 cousins would jump from a plane straight onto the North Pole ice shelf,  they would have skis on and only Rudolf’s flashing nose would be their beacon. Santa needed help, and only they would do.

Now back in Papaloff, the icons glowed, the love, the power the prayer was  there with the boys. You can take a man out of Papaloffoff, but Papaloffoff  is always in the man. So the power was pulsing through them, as was the 2 litres of vodka they had each downed in one. It can be very cold at the North Pole after all. With that Alexi Goodenoff pushed them out of the plane as it slowed and came in low. Rudolf flashed and with his mates they dragged the slay behind the. It was close, but Rudolf was a pro, they caught the three cousins as  they fell from the sky. With a belch, and a bump and a fart, Lech, Boris, and Gregorgi were safe in the slay. Two litres of vodka each, was a great way of relaxing, so they instantly fell asleep. They awoke to find themselves in front of Santa, they hugged. Santa was wearing a space suit, to make sure he did not spead Covid 19 to them.

So you see boys I just don’t have the energy, what with all Covid 19 and all that. So Rudolf thought you could help, and because the Elves caught Covid 19 too, I don’t have any presents either. But Love is all you need, slurred the 3 cousins, who had not yet sobered up after the 2 litres of vodka each. We should just give everybody Angels this Christmas, that’s enough, Angels we have heard on high. As they said this a mother cried, and her tears spilled all over the floor like pearls, so it was decided by the King. This Christmas everybody the world over would be a special angel from Santa, or rather Lech, Boris and Gregorgi.

The cousins were told all they had to do was stick the Angels to the windows, no climbing down chimneys as they were all too big, besize Santa has magic powers that allowed him to get down chimneys, and sadly with Covid 19, it might be best not to enter the world’s houses. Again a mother cried, and on high stars shot by. This evil pest, Covid 19 was doing it’s very best to hurt everybody. But the boys from Papaloffoff were on a mission, and as they flew through the sky, icons in the East began to glow, in the North, in the South and in the West. In Churches and in book stores, and in private collections hidden in bank vaults, the Icons, the Holy Icons were coming alive. You see this was no tale like A Christmas Carol. Tonight Prayer and Hope and Love would descend from Heaven above, and Covid  19 could go to Hell.

Norad tracks Santa every Christmas, but this Christmas Santa seemed to be very erratic, popping up or is it Popaloffoffing up here there and everywhere, until finally Santa seemed to split into three. Norad did not understand, but  the Monk and Vladimir the janitor knew, and as they each drunk their cocoa, with vodka in, they smiled and the icons in their rooms glowed. You see, a mother’s tears this Christmas time had all her prayers answered.

At each house an Angel was stuck to a window, Angels we have heard on high, singing gloria in excelsis deo. Andrew Graham Dixon the greatest British art expert was in the bathroom shaving when there was a knock at the window, he opened it so see Lech throw an Angel at him. Then a few minutes later Boris was there with another Angel, then a few minutes more Andrew Graham Dixon had a third knock, it was Gregorgi with a third Angel, Gregorgi did steal a stay can of Guinness that was sat on the window ledge. Andrew Graham Dixon looked like Santa with shaving foam all over his face. He laughed, it must have been the pudding.

So on, the boys from Papaloffoff flew, 3 parts drunk still, but still delivering Angels everwhere. Now you won’t believe what happened next. Yes, they fell asleep, and 3 became one, or rather all three of them were back in the slay. In the morning the world over people delighted in seeing angels at their windows. Perfect angels, icon like angels. Now the thing is, as Mary looked at her angel, she began to cry, if only grandpa was here. And grandpa looked at his angel, if only I could see my granddaughter Mary, she’d love this angel. And so she did, and so grandpa did. As they both said it simultaneously a hologram, or perhaps a Holygram appeared. Grandpa was really there with Mary, and Mary was really there with grandpa. You see the power of love, and pray, icon style. Mary really was with her grandpa in his house, and grandpa was with Mary in her house.

Now this happened the world over, just think of me and I’ll be there, reach out and say my name with a prayer and I’ll be there. So by the power of Angels everybody was together, even though they were apart. That’s what  icons do. Now maybe I was wrong about the 2 litres of vodka each, perhaps it was not vodka after all. Maybe just maybe it was Holy Water, so the three cousins had breathed Holy Water everywhere, and it was a Blessing so Families could be together.

There is one footnote. When Andrew Graham Dixon checked his three Angels, because he was a friend of Popaloffoff that’s why he got three, he discovered they were in fact long lost treasure. Three Angels, a set that belonged back in Saint Petersburg, so after he cried with delight he returned them to Vladimir the janitor in Moscow. Who gave him permission to film anywhere and everywhere he liked, because if you know the janitor, any door can open.

Worth more than Vodka ©

By

Michael Casey

Now some things are worth more than Gold, like friendship, or a gun if you are a hunter, but to be worth more than Gold? For Lech, Boris and Gregorgi for anything to be worth more than Vodka? They were visiting me the other day, they said it was just to see if I was looking after Totoro the cat properly. They had a new still in Warley Woods, so to kill to birds with one stone they popped by. Their friend at NASA who knew Esther’s son the satellite guy, he’d started to send them texts with news from the stills. Some billion dollar technology, being used to make sure the Vodka was just right. Don’t ask me how, ask that nice lady Dr who created the Smiley image of a Black Hole. Only somebody as bright as her could explain, I cannot, the only black hole I know I’m sitting on.

So the boys stocked up my cupboards with enough soup and beans to last a siege, then whistling Tchaikovsky they were gone. They were gone until darkness fell, they were panting, and Lech had something under his sheepskin. It was a baby with the umbilical still attached. Quick ring a doctor, he almost looked scared. I reached for the phone, but at that very moment Nurse Vicky came in for a cup of tea. Vicky was a retired midwife, sometimes God sends you things. Put him back under your coat she ordered. Then she grabbed tin foil from the kitchen and a pair of my old winter long johns. Then she wrapped the baby and ordered Lech to resume his warming.

I’ll call the ambulance now, the child looks ok, but what about the mother, she could be bleeding to death somewhere. Where did you find the baby? In the woods. So the mother could be in danger? Asked Lech, Boris and Gregorgi their Slav sense of family coming to the fore. We have to go, to look for the mother. They headed for the door, Vicky interrupted, the mother could be anywhere, but you forgot one thing. Give me the baby now. So Lech carefully passed the baby to Vicky who then it against her own enormous bosoms, and smothered the newborn in love and warmth.

The blue flashing light of the ambulance flashed outside, the boys disappeared over my back garden fence. This is more important than any vodka, we must find the mother. The warmth from the still had saved the baby, but now the mother must be found, the mother must be found. Their NASA friend sent texts but they had never replied, that was the deal. But now in their Black Hole of worry for the mother, they just had to. But what message should they send, could they send?

Three Kings looking for Mary. He’d understand he was clever. So they texted it. Three Kings looking for Mary. The baby was safe and warm at City Hospital, what Vicky had forgotten was more than most knew. The baby was called Michael, she didn’t tell me, but as it was a boy and it was my house, so it was small Michael. The Police said the mother could be lost in the woods, but was probably long gone, so no search till daylight, just in case.

For the boys, NOW means NOW, they were all fathers, what if it were one of their daughters? They had to look, they had to look. They were Slavs, a daughter in trouble had to be loved, had to be loved. At Nasa a message to a restricted number flags up big time. All the Spy agencies were on the case. And what did Three Kings looking for Mary mean?

Their friend knew immediately, it’s my 3 friends from school back in the Homeland where Russia/Poland and Ukraine make love on the map. They are looking for a mother obviously. Who is Mary then? Mary was a new mother, so they are looking for a new mother. But why look for a new mother? Probably because because they found her baby. It’s an abandoned baby. It must be that. Lech, Boris and Gregorgi knew he was clever, he did work for Nasa after all.

Lech’s phone rang, it was Nasa. Could their friend help find the mother. Their friend looked at array of top Nasa and spy agency people looking at him. Well I left the East to work here, prove to me you have a heart. The man in the suit took out his phone and showed a picture of a new born. This is my first granddaughter she was born yesterday in England. The man in the suit said two words. DO IT!

And that is how billion dollar satellites were used to find Mary and help the Three Kings bring her offerings. As the woods were dark and only heat would show up in space the new super dupper satellite was tested. It spotted the bulk of the boys easily. A search area and grid pattern was assigned and the satellites put to work. The girl from the Black Hole discovery teams poked her head around the corner, what’s going on. They told her, so she found a space and opened her laptop and did some space magic.

A few foxes in woods were spotted and a few stray birds flying past. But what if “Mary” the mother had fallen, her signature wood be smaller. The lady Dr worked away at her laptop. Lech Boris and Gregorgi were hunting frantically but not very successfully. They found a bloody bag and waved to space then phoned in the news. This was added to the plot. This went on for two hours the woods were so big after all. Saint Jude help us screamed Lech and Boris with Gregorgi echoing their prayers.

In the Space Station the Russian crew told the rest what was going on, they all said Saint Jude’s prayer. Friends in higher places were needed. Then not one, two, three or four, but five sparks of life and light came up from Space, including the Space Station. Saint Jude does not mess about.

The Black Hole Dr Lady jumped up, there she pointed at the wall size screen. In Polish/Russian and Ukrainian the Nasa people and Spooks screamed instructions to Lech, Boris and Gregorgi. The Three Kings have found Mary flashed all over the world’s satellites. The old joke used to be why did the Americans  get to the Moon first, they had more German scientists than the Russians. But now, but now the Three Kings from the East had found Mary lost in the woods.

The girl really did need medical attention, and her name really was Mary. The Spy people had a helicopter on standby and Lech, Boris and Gregorgi  waved and it descended into the black hole and took her back to the light. But what about their still, it would be lost, and the Police would be nosey etc. GCHQ in England knew what was going on, that’s their job, Prince William will tell you that if ever you meet him by the coffee machine. As luck would have it the new head of GCHQ was call Havis McTavish from a very long line of Scottish Whisky makers. Do you think he’d let anybody know what had happened the night before. I should cocoa, I repeat I should cocoa. GCHQ slapped a D notice with a 30 year rule on everything.

Nobody or nothing would ever know what happened. A man had found a baby and given it to Michael Casey the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham,the one in England. His dear friend Vicky a midwife had taken it to hospital. Then another man out walking his dog had found the mother. Full Stop, Period as the Americans say. Or as  Intelligence sources say. MIND YOU OWN BUSINESS.

There is a p.s. to this story. The man in the suit came to England to see his new grandchild and obviously he’s so high up he gets Police escort. The Police handed him, a brown paper bag with a 2 litre bottle of fresh Vodka in it. Tied to the bottle on a luggage label was written in Polish/Ukrainian and Russian, with love from The Three Kings and baby Michael. I heard that Havis McTavis from GCHQ also got one, Prince William told me at the coffee machine, he delivered it personally.

Be Kind to me, and tell Polish/Ukrainian/Russians to read my stories

The 3 first cousins are from Popaloffoff and any language will do, any USD dollars are accepted too. Peace and Goodwill and lots of Vodka to Everybody

Published by michaelgcasey

I've updated this 18th March 2022 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 ... use Google UK to find me, otherwise Posh Americans pop up I've done loads of writing, about 2,000,000 Words worth over 34years now But before I started to write, 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 54 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 54 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 ignore those who just cannot write, pick your own candidate 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 " (c) by Michael Casey" If you include "chats" 3700 samples, all told, 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 20 different languages/translations have been read on the same day via this site, here on Wordpress look fo Translations Galore page, and more 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 or Quick Stories or any other of the books in Translation on my Wordpress This proves to me that the humour does travel I have readers in over 100 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 Coverage but lacking penetration as marketing folks might say 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. And 50,000 plus in Christmas week 2021 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 . Not made a penny from it, free downloads in multiple languages. Reverse Logic, if the world knows me, eventually somebody will pay me But in reality I'll be dead first, and then just 2 pennies to pay the ferryman is enough I've cut the Plaudits, you can read/decide for yourself As for my life, I was born in the shadow of a Brewery, I was a computer operator for a market research company into alcohol sales, 21 years altogether, StatsMR 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.. I did a few other jobs too, working life in reverse so to speak 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 And I asked them to pray for me at least once a day 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 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, the size of your fist, 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. Tinnitus is a curse, just trust me I know, each day I wake up, Tinnitus SCREAMS at me for a full hour till it calms down That's the end of the tidy version of my life 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 21. 21 Door Keys, key to the door 21 on Bingo, hence title, 53,000 words so far I write bullet point stuff mainly now as Tinnitus stops me from getting in the zone to write, story stories. (c) by Michael Casey stuff though my bullet points are better than some "writers" discuss, miaow. That's why I dream of a speed typist, so I could dictate from the sofa https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC to buy ebooks Loads of Korean and Arabic translations downloaded from my Wordpress, 1000s of them Quick Stories in Korean is a big hit. Maybe Kim in North Korea should read my books, instead of wasting his countries resources on what? Just keeping one person in power, him? Instead of joining the real world and opening a string on golf courses. That way we could get rid of Trump too. Into the sunset, as they play golf. 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. we'd marry have half Korean kids, and form a Kpop band with our 4 new kids, with me as manager. And yes this is more for my bucket list, as Tinnitus keeps me awake too much, 6 months of not sleeping till dawn is really killing me Michael Casey aka the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England https://2.gravatar.com/avatar/efda2dca0de5b9269191b7c8b0102473?s=400&d=mm 

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Phoney War

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...