The Nature of TV

The Nature of TV ©

By

Michael Casey

Well we watched the last ever episode of Grimm last night and I did say I may write about it or the Nature of TV this morning, in fact its evening and I’ll write this before bedtime. The Nature of Tv has beaten Grimm so where shall I begin? Well Grimm was great and it was a little off beat too, so perfect for all the family. The humour was just below the surface and the action and fantasy was real fun. The timid ok, the coward repair man was one of our favourites. And last week when Hank died my small daughter had to go upstairs so she would not cry in front of us all. So Hank if evr you read this that is the Ultimate accolade, a fan loves you so much she cries.

Which is one of the most important things about good tv, you must like the actors and the story they are sharing with us all.We are told here in the UK that we have the best tv in the world, and we only get the top 10% of USA telly, not the rubbish. There is nowadays far too much Reality TV which they say is natural, but obviously so very badly scripted. I am so old I can remember watching the first reality tv show on British TV many decades ago, it was called The Family, you can Google it for yourself. Decades later when I was working at CPNEC Birmingham doing everything, yes really. I met Sharon Osborne who had her own reality tv show. I was actually in her bedroom, just trying to set up the wifi. She is so very very small too.

Obviously I detest reality tv, I know of it but I would never watch it, not unless it was the final show and it would be replaced by The Test Card. Vacuous People shouting too loudly wearing the latest worst fashion ever should not be watched. They should be, they should be, well use your own imagination. Its just the worst common denominator tv, wannabes, God Help Us.

They should let me sit in an armchair and tell stories straight to camera, I do have 1100 of them over 1,065,000Words. But that’ll only ever happen if I am stark naked and covered in ice cream, then it might become a Format Hit. People would have to phone in and guess the size of my toppings, or phone it and decide where the wafer should be shoved, or if another 1000 pounds of ice cream should be poured over me as I tell a story about the North Pole.

Camera angles are important, in fact my wife was showing me some snaps they took for the fashion company she works for, a slightly different angle can help sell the product. She was modeling some hats today, so I do know a little about the subject via her.

Which brings me to MTV and their ilk, if you are interviewing why are the irritating angles, and merge to Black and White. I grew up with black and white and 2, yes only 2 tv channels on a square box of a tv, yes like what you see in a museum. So please can we just have nice angles, and not jerky angels as if somebody had just Tazered the cameraman, or they ran out of money to process the film.

Good tv angles do make a difference, the look down from above at the murder scene, and then the pull back to reveal more. These and lots of others really do help tell the story. In our house we’ll comment on the camera direction, as well as the timing of the acting. In comedy they say the secret is all in the timing, or as Frank Carson used to say, you’ve heard them all before, but its the way I tell them. He was right, Roger drove him back to the airport one morning after he stopped at CPNEC, he was so funny Roger cried with laughter and nearly drove into a ditch.

So timing makes all the difference, or if you are reading my stuff where I put the commas in makes the difference. There is one famous person who has a tv show but I don’t find it funny because the timing is out by a second or so. Everybody else laughs but because of the bad timing I cannot. Which is sad because the material is good. I talked about this one Christmas when at my lawyer sister-in-laws house, and she agrees with me. Or maybe I’m just a grumpy old comedy writer, who’ll never be famous like them.

In tv drama, less can be more, the phrasing can make all the difference. However as a student of radio plays, 20 years worth. Sometimes the three times repeat method is tiresome in the end. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. In real life its I’ll kill you you bastard, as the wife or girlfriend reaches for the carving knife. But I am a quick runner and the wife cannot throw for toffee.

If you have watched as many films as we have in our family you will comment on the nature of the film during the 3 minute breaks for the adverts. That’s why we record films and skip the adverts or watch on BBC which has no adverts anyway. The 3 mins of ad breaks are perfect for tea making and toilet breaks. Music is a big big deal, as it heightens emotions and when done properly really adds to the drama.

Nudity and kissing in drama does make a difference, but if the man goes into the post office and takes his clothes off and takes his passport photo in the booth before putting his clothes back on, that is funny when he explains that he’s going on a Nudist Holiday.

Alternatively a man, it could be a women but we all have equal opportunities nowadays, so the naked man arrives at the post office and then puts clothes on before having a clothed photo graph in the booth. He explains he was a nudist, but he has been expelled, so he has have a fully clothed so people can spot him as an ex-nudist, the clothed photo is the mark of shame.

Speaking of shame I have to finish now but you can all talk amongst yourself. Its a shame when people talk over your favourite programme, but the reverse is when people are totally totally quiet and gasping or holding their breath. Or even laughing till they cry. Or even silent silent tears. This is proof that tv has worked. I have to go and pick an armchair tomorrow, I’m going to be on tv talking directly to camera, Michael Casey Storyteller will be on Sky.

And if you believe that then you have a lot of Hope or Alcohol in your bloodstream. Nite Nite.

 

In the Shade

In the Shade ©

By

Michael Casey

Today was a sad day for me, I had to buy a new pair of shades, or sunglasses as some still call them. My last pair lasted 4 years, since my last holiday 4 years ago, we were in Malta. I’d go again, if I could afford the Health Insurance on top. Otherwise I’d go back like a shot, we were in San Juliana, which is near the giant Hilton.

I had some RayBans, real ones, they were unclaimed lost property at CPNEC. If you find something then if its still unclaimed after 3 months so they become yours. So all the photos on my book covers have those RayBans in them. In Malta my Arthritis started to attack me, and I did my best limping around.

At the end of our week there I gave my RayBans to the black hotel worker who was carrying really heavy stuff around for days. Obviously as I’d worked in hotels I appreciated all his hard work. The sun was beating down on him and it was a spontaneous thing to do. So now he had shades while he did his hard work and we drove away in a taxi to the airport. He looked a bit like Denbay the bodyguard to Red from the Blacklist tv show.

Having no sunglasses meant that I could treat myself to some new ones after all the years of RayBans. They are the best for my face, so now while waiting for the plane home I mouched around the Duty Free and decided again half on impulse to buy replacement Shades. Again because the new ones actually fitted my fat face they were the design I bought. I never knew proper shades cost that much, but as I was technically on holiday I bought them.

Those shades are the ones you see me wearing on some of the silly photos I post with writing. I hate posed photos that’s why you get the silly ones to match my silly words. My daughter  does not approve, she is developing her strict doctor persona already. By the way for her pure maths mock GCSE I mentioned yesterday, she got an A, she knows she can aim higher and get the Astar. She is taking normal maths too. So cross those fingers and light those candles for her.

Now the obvious question what did I but today to replace the lost ones bought in Malta? I had a look in a couple of shops and in the end bought a cheap pair of women’s sunglasses from Boots the major pharmacy chain here in Birmingham and the UK. So why am I such a masculine man, who makes women quiver now wearing women’s shades?

My girls just looked over my shoulder and are all laughing hysterically, I hate being interrupted in mid stream while I’m writing/talking to you all. As I was saying why is such a hunk as me now wearing women’s shades? Get lost, go away, right now. Not you the readers, I’m talking to Totoro the cat, she was wondering what the 3 human women were laughing at. Totoro may be bilingual but she cannot read English yet, otherwise she’d be laughing too. A cat as a Literary Critic, God help me.

The shades nowadays are weak and for people with narrow faces that have been trapped between lift doors. I did ask one guy in a shop could he squeeze my face, not my spots, my face. Then the shades in his shop may have fitted my face. He just laughed at me, but he did manage to squeeze a troublesome blackhead at the back of my head. STOP. You all believed that bit, either I’m a good liar, or an even better storyteller. Black HEAD, have you not looked at any of my photos? If you can see one, just one black head I’ll give you a pound, a pound of flesh, its the only way anybody will take some, and I’ll lose any weight. Do you think Shylock was really the first Weight Watchers coordinator in Shakespeare’s time?

Where was I, in the kitchen making coffee, but I’m back, yes, I remember so I ended up in Boots, not a shoe shop, I have to say that for any of my international readers. I just spotted Russia looking at my stuff, so hello to them, and I did repost a couple of Russian translations for them. I’m conceited enough to think even the Russians will love me stories, because I’m simple. And if you drink enough Vodka anything is interesting, even Politics.

So there I was in Boots and I looked at the prices and I knew what was in my pocket, so I then looked at the designs. The one that grabbed me the most was the Theresa May’s husband style of glasses but in shades form. It was actually in men’s column on the display, I tried them on and they fitted my fat face, so it was all decided. I even looked in the lipstick mirror above and pouted my best pout, with my women’s shades on. I liked them, they are not really like Mrs’ May’s husband’s glasses, but if we stood besides each other you would say is that Michael Casey’s older anorexic brother, well compared to me. And who is the women in the background, with the great legs wearing the hippy coloured shoes, if she clicks them together will she be in Kansas or back in Downing Street?

So I paid my tenner and removed my spare sunglasses and put the new ones one. The spare pair makes me look as if I’ve lost my Labrador. The I walked back down the high street, just concentrating on trucking right, with just the right wriggle to my bum. Only my shoe got caught in wriggly spearmint, so I kind of did a moonwalk as I tried to rub it from my shoe. Some black school kids observing my moves came over to teach me how to moonwalk, so I thanked them and continued trucking down the street.

As I walked I was looking at my own reflection in all the shop windows, over the road I’m sure I saw a man in tweed doing the exact same thing, or maybe it was just my imagination. I did tell you Mr Bean was a Queen, yes really was at Queens Oxford, where one of my brothers went. But I digress, so of course I went into Aldi, as I do every day, its part of my exercise and sociology experience. I got my stuff, not as much today because I’d ruptured the budget to buy my shades.

At the checkout I asked the new pretty girl cashier what did she think of my shades, she said she liked them. I said that’s because they are women’s but obviously I am liberated and wear anything for a woman. She laughed, if she knew about my collection of women’s clothing in my cellar, and how I dress up at weekends and cruise down Broad Street with David Walliams also in drag, then perhaps she would have had a different opinion. I told her they cost a tenner at Boots, so she’ll be paying them a visit.

So back home I ran for the mirror and did all my best looks, Zoolander has got a lot to answer for. I was still wearing my new shades when my girls came home from school. Do you notice any difference I asked with my best look from Zoolander. You shaved, oh that nasty blackhead from the back of your head is gone. You combed your hair. So they did not notice anything. They can get an A is pure maths, which is like as hard as a A level 2 years early. But they cannot notice what is right in front of them. They’ll never be writers that’s for sure.

And why do I wear shades? Because 40 years ago I started while still a teenager in a computer room, with smoked glass to keep the heat from attacking the computers, for years we were in the as same room as printers and their ink and dust. But at least we had smoked glass to protect the computers from over heating. So if you are in that environment for 21 years, then when you leave the room the daylight hits you. Hence the shades, so now you know, I am no poser. However if anybody provides me with some real RayBans for fat faces then I am willing to pose as a center fold in SunGlasses Weekly, the mag for film fans.  

    

The Washing Line

The Washing Line ©

By

Michael Casey

Ok, are you ready? I’ve had a shower, ok a sheep dip, I am big and hairy with lots of nooks and crannies, crannies, not Grannies, are you all deaf, DEAF. If I could hang my body hair on a line to dry then I would, like a Golden Fleece, ok a silvery old man’s hairpiece, no I don’t have a wig, its all soft and silvery. If ever you get me in your bed you can stroke it, MY HAIR.

See you all think one thing when I am saying the other, Gill was right, you are all going up the garden path on your own. I hope Gill is well I’ve not seen her in maybe 10 years. Now did you all take the one hour challenge? Did you write a story called The Washing Line in just one hour. If you did not then STOP, don’t even look at the screen, just walk away, walk away from the keyboard, SECURITY I have an idle journo here, can you come and collect him.

Yes female journalists exist, and without the spacing you have journalistsexist which gives you SEXIST, but I stumbled over that so I put it in, which if you mistype is PUTIN. Ok I’ll stop with the discoveries in mistyping, a guide for dislectics, yes I left it there mistyped just for the clever dicks to bitch about.

There is thought behind these pieces,or do you think I just sit here and rattle them off. And yes Rattlethemoff, is a Russian Nudist and Concert pianist and part time ballet dancer. Which reminds me there is a real ballet dancer in my next novel Tears for a Butcher, but I may never write that as it would take a year. Not unless I can get Nick from the today programme to take dictation, he got plenty from Alex Salmond after all.  

Where was I, being hung out to dry on the washing line, Ronnie Corbett on acid, you are so cruel, he only ever had pear drops, and I am a pineapple chunk kind of guy. See 356 words already, that Editor can go and take a flying leap, after I finish the test piece, write 1000 words on The Washing Line, and he’s making me do it on a typewriter. The one Rupert Murdoch left in The Sun’s safe roof where all the naughty files are kept. So how did our leader at the Daily Sploge find this Michael Casey anyway, the SOB.

So here’s my piece for the editor, and if he doesn’t like it he can give Michael Casey my job and my one inch column.

The Washing Line is a very ordinary thing, its in every back garden, but what is on the washing line is evidence to who we are and what we do. On my washing line there are lots of girls knickers in a multitude of colours, then besides them are my flags, so big in contrast to the girls’ knickers. I do live with 3 girls after all, the wife and our two daughters. My pants decorated the washing line in Shanghai when I first went there nearly 20 years ago. We used them to navigate our way back to the mother in laws house. In fact in Shanghai you have a giant bamboo pole with you bright blue acre size pants hanging from them. Rather like a national flag.

So that is my memory from Shanghai. Looking up and seeing my pants on a pole on the ten floor of the tower block where they lived.

In the olden days people hung their washing on hedges, maybe that’s how the first laundry begun, a farmer’s wife with a steam and a stone, and her husband busy planting hedges as business expanded. They got a bigger stone when the village got bigger. And when the farmer’s own family got bigger they bought a windmill, to make flower but also to hang the washing from the sails on the windmill. Yes Don Quixote was a pain, tilting at the windmills and stealing the washing as his lazy servant Sancho Panza never did the laundry. But Fr.Brain, now Bishop Brain did used to call me Sancho Panza maybe 45 years ago. So I have a soft spot for Sancho Panza, the laundry thief, and now me wishing to be 1% as good as the Author of that book, the book thief not the laundry thief, I got missed up.

Don’t tell the Editor that I sneaked off to the kitchen for a tea, don’t tell Nick on Today either, he’s such a gossip, he’ll tell anybody who cares to listen, why does he always wear ear warmers all the time? Did Alex Salmond buy them for him, it can be cold in Scotland.

I can remember looking out the back bedroom window and see birds on the washing line, watching not part of it, just observing, is the sentence that came to me back then 30 years or so ago. On a washing line you can be a sentry while the other birds have their dinner of words, or is it worms in Michael Casey’s back garden.

Then when the coast is safe you can drop down and eat some words or worms whichever taste the better. As for Totoro she is asleep in/on or under a selection of 4 beds, she’s had dinner with at least 4 different owners. She has two bells and the Best Bitch medal around her neck, the birds would hear her so they are off the menu. Besides our gay neighbours at the bottom of the garden have recently installed fairy lights, so Totoro is intrigued by them, the lights that is.  

Close pegs are very dangerous things that hold your clothes to the washing line. The quality of pegs is not strained, that surfeiting they break and a spring goes in your face and gives you a scratch.

You’ve been scratched by your cat, or is it the wife, your friends all ask as you are down the pub, they examine your face and take photos and put them on FB and Twitter. In an hour it trends, washing line injury, or problems with the washer woman?  

Somebody even rings up local radio. BollocksTalkFM the new radio station for the Islington Crew. Several Sky and BBC Press Preview listen laughing as they listen, drinking green tea in the green room before the Press Preview starts. Thankfully a bottle of Polish Vodka has infused the green tea.

First item on the Press preview, in the Daily Express, front page picture of a washing line. Are clothes pegs dangerous, new EU regulations, are they trying to tie us up with red tape before Brexit, or should we hang them out to dry. The anchor just looks at his watch and says, I use a hair dryer myself.

Well Mr Editor I broke my best finger nail writing this for you and its well over 1000 words. So can I have my one inch column back or are your giving it to this new Napoleon, Michael Casey from Birmingham, the centre of the washing line universe.

our back garden and beyond watch for buzz lightyear

The Pearl of Great Price

The Pearl Of Great Price (c)
By
Michael Casey

I was hunting around on the computer and the Internet today and it reminded me of several things. The Pearl Of Great Price, The Widow's Mite,and the story of the search for the lost one dinare coin.
You can ask your own Priest to explain it to you.
Remember I was a Reader for 5 years and an altar boy for 8 and I've attended Mass all my life, I have slipped a bit these past 2 years, Pain and so on makes it difficult to attend. But if To Work is to Pray, then maybe To Be in Pain is another kind of Prayer. You can Discuss that with the bloke in the queue at the chip shop.

So I was wondering should I be a Sermon Reviewer, or just hold up a score card like in Strictly Come Dancing. Or should we all have a button in the benches and press it when we'd had enough of a boring sermon.
A sermon, can meander and end up confusing folks. Its not a change for the priest to bore the flock, who may head for the mint sauce,or even the wolf. Nor to show he went to seminary for six years, he is a Dr or PhD, or something, a BORE. Yes a BORE, a Sermon is for one thing only, to Share and Explain the Word of God.
Not bore us with his personal life, we know he lives alone, apart from the his housekeeper. Who would marry him anyway, people mutter outside when they have a post Mass fag.
Now if any of this hits a cord with you, then you have to tell your Priest to his face. Some priests are like Marmite, people either Love or Hate it, ditto the priest.
So what can we do to help them, maybe all get up and light a candle simultaneously. The extra money from the candles can buy Stella Artois for the priest and his housekeeper. So after dinner the whole congregation in church and start ringing the church bells. The priest comes running out to see what is happening.
i was having my dinner, and the Stella Artois was nice too.
Glad you liked it, but WE would like to have OUR dinner on time, so keep those sermons short!
So there you have it, a humble priest who keeps his sermons short is indeed like a PEARL OF GREAT PRICE.

Life Lessons

Thursday, 4 May 2017

Life Lessons

I wrote this for my daughter, the future Dr.Casey.....

Life Lessons ©

By Michael Casey

I was talking to my dad yesterday, yes I talk to my dad, doesn’t every 16 year old girl? He was telling me about his struggles, he doesn’t call them struggles as that would sound Pretentious and he despises Pretentiousness as much as We hate double Latin last thing on a Friday afternoon, after a hard week at school. My dad actually did have double Latin on a Friday afternoon when he was in 5^th Year, he hates all this Year Whatsit stuff as well, if it’s so Modern then why does it suddenly become 6^th Form after all the years of Struggle. But at least We don’t have double Latin on a Friday afternoon.

I said it would be inspirational if he went into schools gave a speech, dad just laughed and said only if the English teacher wore stockings and suspenders and a short skirt and was 25 years younger than him. Or was that the French teacher marrying the student, and then becoming the President. 

Or am I mixing something up that I half heard on the news, I never pay attention to the news, does any 16 year old girl? The bit about the stockings and suspenders is true though, as dad has such a booming voice you always hear him clearly. He showed me a picture of mum once and said that’s why you are here, but that’s another story so I’ll draw a veil over that.

Dad stopped picking his nose, but at least he doesn’t wipe it on the wall as my little sister over there used to do, when she was in Year8, sorry I mean when she was eight months to 88 months old. Anyway I said Life Lessons, so dad just raised his leg and farted, he said it was a family tradition as his dad my granddad used to do that. 

Then he asked how long, how many pages, how long if it was read out. I suggested 3 pages worth. He ignored me and went hunting for the remote control but I knew he might rattle something off in the morning. It’s his mental exercise, writing, 1,060,000 Words so far he told me, so that makes him very mentally exercised, with a brain as big as, Kim Kardasian’s ARSE.

He didn’t say any more, but he wants a change from Translating into Polish for his 21,700 in just 3 weeks Polish fan base. So I just crossed my fingers and hoped Dad would come up with something. Dad being dad was suspicious that I wanted him to write an essay I could memorise for my GCSEs. His ESol English students had tried to pull that trick years ago, they were only learning English as a foreign Language, so when they wrote something that was too good, it was obvious not all their own work. 

But that I suppose is the 1^st Life Lesson, don’t try and memorise the perfect essay and pass it off as your own, Like a Politician’s speech, as cut and paste or memory cut and paste STANDS OUT, and you will be caught. Your teacher knows you, so if it doesn’t seem to be like your work then it isn’t. Though I did think of getting my little sister to write an essay, when she’s not wiping snot on walls she really is a good writer, better than dad she always tells him. But he always tells her, that’s the  way he wants it to be, then he lifts his leg and farts, and sings Nobody Does it Better, from the James Bond film.

And that’s the 2^nd life lesson, don’t cheek your dad, or he will turn the other cheek and fart, leaving you gasping for breath. The 2^nd Life lesson is always have enough toilet paper in the bathroom, and when you finish wipe both sides of the seat and flush. If you finish a roll then replace it properly. Dad cleaned bathrooms in a 4 star deluxe hotel, CPNEC Birmingham, when he wasn’t talking to millionaires in the foyer. So a fully ready toilet is always a must.

Things will go wrong, and in dad’s life they did. In everybody’s life they do, the question is what are you going to do about it? What if you were in that toilet and there was NO toilet paper, what would you do? Text a friend? Though text is a good word, as this is in fact the 3^rd copy of this text I have in my hand. What happened to the 1^st 2 copies? Well I didn’t have a phone with me to text anybody, so I improvised.

So that is the 3^rd Life Lesson, always print on super absorbent paper, and remember paper can really really cut, a paper cut is the worst thing, ever, so if you do have to improvise at least you’ll always have some paper, some text with you, should you not be able to text a friend. But if people remember Life lesson 2 then YOU won’t need life lesson 3.

Life Lesson 4 is follows on from Life Lesson3, always but always have copies. Physical copies can be destroyed, or put to other uses as we’ve already discussed, such as mopping up spills, coffee spills on the English teacher’s desk. If she insists on wearing stockings and suspenders to school what does she expect, a marriage proposal from the French kid hoping to be President?

Dad backs everything up in cyberspace to multiple accounts, they are free so get 17 of them and get all the free hard drives in space. Then email everything to yourself and your 17 free email accounts. Files and CUT and PASTE in FULL. So that when you set fire to the house because you were on the phone and not watching the chip fan. By the way this is not enough either, so buy a pack of usb sticks and make copies galore. By copies galore at least 7. 7 being the number of times you, well use your own imagination, dad wrote this for me not you. 7 times you….

Why is dad so strict about this. He was a Computer Operator when he was still a teenager 40 years ago. Then computers were as big as wardrobes and a disk drive was not a usb stick, it was as big as a washing machine, with 0.1 of a gig or less on it. And if something went wrong you really really really knew about it. So Lesson4 BACKUP, especially now that A levels and degrees and PhDs beckon. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Lesson 5, you will get you degree and be the best of the best. But now you will be even more unemployable. As you know I am ½ Chinese, but say I went back to Shanghai and said I have a degree in this or that. They would laugh and say look out the window, and as you look the will say, we have 200million people just as qualified and 150million better qualified.

So Life Lesson 5 is stand out. And I’m not talking about the English teacher in her stockings and suspenders. A repeated thing is called a Chorus by the way, so the English teacher in stockings and suspenders is the Chorus. Or the Amen at the end of a prayer, that A MAN, may be the answer to the English teacher in stockings and suspenders PRAYERS.

If you are pretty you stand out and you are remembered, so subliminally you get a head start. People judge you in 20 seconds, when my dad worked in a hotel he must have met 100,000 people and spoke to that many, lots of micro-conversations. In his prime he could sum somebody up in 30 seconds, just as a good policeman or bouncer can.

What can you do to get an edge, well you could dress like the English teacher, repeat Chorus everybody. Or you could have style? Style may be just one item of clothes, like Theresa May’s shoes. Or a colourful scarf, or a scarf with unique broach on it. Something that makes people look twice. Yes un-brushed teeth with last nights’ kebab stuck to it makes people look twice and  remember you too.

Do you know you colours, have you done a Swatch, Gold and Black is not a good selection by the way. And yes if you are wondering, my dad is Gay Dad. No, stop laughing, he has a Shanghai wife, you’ve all seen my mum, and 2 bilingual daughters and a bilingual cat called Totoro. This means he knows about FASHION. He wrote the script for Zoolander.

So ask yourself, if a fat farting silver haired dad in shades can know about Fashion, why can’t you? Fashion is a tool so use it.

Life Lesson6 is Personality, this is the most important thing of all, people look at you first that’s why the Fashion, is 5 and Personality is 6, if you look like a dog’s dinner then you won’t get a chance to show your personality. Personality is the most important thing. If you can make somebody laugh then they will like you. 

They will say where is Mandy, Brandy or Barry Manilow? If you can hold an intelligent conversation then people will want to listen to you. The looks will fade, but the twinkle in your eye or the laughter and light will not. If you look great that’ll last for 10 years, or 30 if you have Chinese blood, or if you are a fat silver haired dad in shades, then Forever, Fame I want to Live Forever Fame. Chorus again please.

OK, I didn’t write this dad did, he puts stuff down to embarrass me.

Life Lesson 7 is never be embarrassed, what would you do if a naked man suddenly appeared. The English teacher would just slap his bare arse and say, Kindly Go to the Art Studio, the Still Life Class does not start till after assembly. 

You will have kids, even Sarah, and they will pooh and puke everywhere, so you have to cope with it. I live with dad, he does not pooh and puke everywhere yet. BUT I DO KNOW HOW TO COPE WITH BEING CONSTANTLY EMBARRASSED. So have a catchphrase and use it on all these occasions. Such as I used to work in a 4 star deluxe hotel, and smile.

Dads make you take the rubbish out, to do this to do that. And they are a right pain in the PIGU, this is a Chinese word you can look it up, I’ll spell it for you. P I G U But what I never realised was its his way, their way of saying I LOVE YOU. It’s to teach me, to teach you, all of us of the value of work, real work, physical work. 

Dad has cleaned toilets, he’s swept floors, he’s ran computer rooms, worked in a major law firm, he’s taught English as foreign language. He’s even written over a million words, please buy the books, he says he’ll buy me a Range Rover if you do, and try saying that if you are Chinese.

The point though is that Dads try and protect us. 

STEP AWAY FROM LECTERN

AND DO TAI CHI DISPLAY.

Dad taught me that Tai Chi too, he had to visit 99 Chinese takeaways, visiting all the food and relatives we have, just so he could pass on that Tai Chi. He put on 10 kilos in 3 weeks. But he said he did it because he loved me.

So the 8^th and Final Life Lesson, and 8 is lucky in China be HUMBLE enough to realise that you don’t know all the answers, the old sack of farts in the corner, the fat man with silver hair and shades has lived a life and many many things were sad, too sad to mention, that’s why dad, my dad only writes comedy. 

A Comedy of his many Errors, but if you do buy all his books, he really will buy me a Range Rover, for my dad keeps his words, all 1,060,000 of them safe in cyber space and on 17  usb sticks.

EU Ends at Christmas

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

EU Ends at Christmas©

I have followed News and Politics for 50 years now, since I was a child watching the news with my dad. If my life had taken another path I could have been a History teacher or Journalist so now read on.

 

EU Ends at Christmas©

By Michael Casey

Ok, I’ll get the Politics out of the way first, as I said yesterday, I’ll repeat today 3^rd May 2017, The Brexit will fail by Christmas. If you have a guy who buys everybody a round down the pub then everybody is happy. However if he is leaving to be a Political Commentator in Never Never Land, and I don’t mean Trump’s USA. 

Then everybody will try and get him to pay for another round before he goes. Legally according to our House of Lords nothing has to be paid. Morally and wishful thinkingly, that’s another matter. But everybody is always friends till it comes down to money. By the same token you cannot expect somebody who does not use the bar anymore to follow the bar dress code, nor pay any fees.

It is not Mara Laga or whatever Trump’s hideously tacky looking place is called where fees are suddenly doubled to 200K a year. You cannot try and dupe people into paying double just before they leave to pay for the new toilets in the old bar. That is just taking the piss, literally. Ultimately the common man, will say screw this Common Market, it’s just a racket where the accounts were not even accepted for 20 years.

It was supposed to be just about trade, not banning wonky shaped vegetables. The only wonky shaped vegetables who should be banned are these Euers, which rhythms with Whoers the Irish pronunciation of Prostitutes. Because if Britain was stupid enough to roll over and pay the  now claimed 100Billion then we would no longer be a Nation of Shopkeepers, as Napoleon dismissed us, but a Nation  forced into Prostitution by the EU.

Now this is just a talking point for you all, it May or May not be my own opinion, but if you back a Brit into a corner, they will fight their corner, and as I predict say Adieu C’est Noel la fete d’emancipation de L’Angleterre. On Verra.

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I expect all my EU readers to hate me now, but if you don't realise that this is what the common man thinks then... Have I been a big enough Devil's Advocat for you?  Or is it perhaps like enjoying all the free mainly comic writing but never buying any of the books.....

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael%20Casey/e/B00571G0YC 

just in case you do want to buy at least one book....