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 ELEVATOR AD June 2017

For my One Million Words of laughter over 30 years of writing.

I’m Irish so the p.s. comes first.

p.s. I have readers in:- Canada, USA, UK, Ireland, India,Pakistan,Australia,New Zealand,Russia,Poland,Czech,Germany, Austria, France,Portugal,Singapore,Nigeria and China, Taiwan, Philippines, Brazil, South Korea, Vietnam to name but a few places.

Hello, how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio and all other media

I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.

I met my Shanghai wife in the old people's home, she was cleaning my dad's room. I was positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina  from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, in the Queens Tavern a straight bar in the Gay Quarter, now we are married with 2 bilingual daughters. Even Totoro our cat is female and bilingual. I am the token male and English speaker in the family.

Now here's a few samples, what I'd like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple idea. I have gained 19,208 views on Funny or Die for a sample

1^st chapter of Tears for a Butcher which will be my 8th book.

Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts 300 and Not OUT was very funny.

 In fact I must have 1200 shorts, enough for over a year.

21,000 Polish readers in March 2017 just by word of mouth.  

I have recorded 207 of them so far, 11+ hours plus of audio. I have nearly 300,000 views on Google+ as well

but

I did not believe it, so I left Google +, and I am not on Facebook either.

Just on my sites and on Amazon Kindle, one day people may buy some of my books.

I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them on www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com  

I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.

My  14 books are on Amazon Kindle

 http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

 And https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk  

Here's the samples for radio or print.

LinkedIn Profile  and  CV ©

By

Michael Casey

We’ve all been on Facebook and LinkedIn, we get to know people and make “friends”. On LinkedIn it’s more about connections and maybe business connections. So we have to rely on the Profile, my LinkedIn profile tells my story, as I am a writer. But how accurate are these Profiles?

I am a born leader.

Means he was the firstborn boy in a family of 11 girls.

I created the supply chain structure.

Means he decided to use a clipboard and notepad instead of just his memory.

I optimised the sales among target audiences.

He chatted up all the girls, he was kind to seniors and went to church.

I was inventive and creative in gaining new sales.

Means he designed a flyer and went street to street delivering them.

I was never afraid of going the extra mile for the business.

Means there was a street gang chasing  him after he was at  the bank

I am great at communicating the business message.

He just would not shut up, so the boss got him to tidy the fruit outside the ma and pa store.

I always try and improve myself.

Means he has no friends so he reads a lot.

I created the new scheme to optimise the business cash flow.

Means he took the store’s cash and put the money on a horse.

I am now looking for new opportunities to excel

Means he got fired, cops not called as the owner married to his sister

I created a great new idea for centralising purchasing delivery.

Means he was a guard for the money delivery company, crash helmet and visor.

I created my own start-up company

Means he stole the money from the cash delivery company and started his own company.

I am now on a learning sabbatical before resuming my career

Means he is in jail, working in the library.

So when you read those LinkedIn profiles or reading a CV or resume think what do they really mean. Check the photos out too, the reality can be far different. Just like actors, photos can be 10 or 20 years old, and they are. Dig deeper.

Me, I google and check people out, as far as you can on Google. Google me(michaelgcasey) and my sites and think for yourself. I am on a sabbatical myself, no I’m not in a library, thought we have plenty of books in the house, no it’s called arthritis, which comes and goes and makes me scream sometimes. But at least I can sit here and make some of you laugh, as I Google everybody.

Sadly since I wrote my advert I need to add unplanned quadruple heart bypass to my advert, but I have written 4 more books these past  few years, taking my total to 14 on Amazon, and I have reached over 1,170,000 words written.

Let There Be Light ©

 By Michael Casey

Let my tears be my words

Let the candle light be my eyes

Let the flowers in bloom be my lips

Let their scent be my blood

Let the wind be my breath

Let clouds be my mood

Let children’s laughter be my hope

Let widows’ sighs be my conscience

Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight

Let the bees be my wisdom

Let the trees be my strength

Let my patience reach to the stars

Let me be always remembered in your prayers

            

                The Dead and The Living (c)

                           by

           

                     Michael  Casey

     I first saw a deceased when I was nine years old, my father said not

  

     to worry as the dead are the same as the living, only the  laughter

  

     has left them, the sparkle has gone from their eyes, the worry has

  

     been lifted from their shoulders, and their voice has vanished  to

  

     eternity.

     In paradise the sparkle will return for it is the  twinkle  of  the

  

     stars, the laughter will return too for it is the morning breeze and

  

     the turning tides are their sides shaking with laughter.

     

     I treat the deceased with the same courtesy as I give to the living,

  

     though I find the deceased are always more polite. My father also

  

     had a few words to say about the living.

     He said that the living are only the caretakers of the soul ,  yet

  

     they think their existence is everything, that they know everything

  

     because they experience many things with their senses.

     What the living don't acknowledge is that their time is short  and

  

     when I lay their bodies to rest then their souls  continue  without

  

     them, without their strong, without their weak, without  their

  

     beautiful or even ugly temporary form, to where I cannot say, only

  

     that it is a better place.

  

     Percy the undertaker placed the lid on the coffin, the soul was free

                          THE  BEGINNING

      

  

Sleepover©

By

Michael Casey

Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house, and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the 2nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.

Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters in your house.

Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully, what about your room, dad? Especially mine.

Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.

Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the chips. So a compromise is achieved.

You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden. Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even for suggesting it.

So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes, just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.

After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits is switched on  their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the big screen.

Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave. Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.

So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am, when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo, she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half waking up and forgetting where she was.

So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them. So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book. As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear, its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.

How do Men Shop? ©

By Michael Casey

There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.

If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all  in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.

This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion.  A man gets home and puts his shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.

As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and listens to the football  while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green, yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.

This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace, so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks your view, so you miss seeing why  your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and down the country.

The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.

All Things Bright and Beautiful ©

 By Michael Casey

 I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”. They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.

Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders 48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white, blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair. As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.

I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”

Cheese and Chorizo ©

By Michael Casey

 The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling, but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.

Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got none. They were  the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me, I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me  where the biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.

Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles, which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress  or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER. You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr Who, but Dr Hu.

Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that item, so it  disappears.  When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.

So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If  you want your favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.

From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink  ©

 By Michael Casey

 Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues. In the old days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He'd done the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.

 Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for good measure.

 Bus drivers know their route, so once they've done it a while its automatic, they know what they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes because that can lead to strange directions.

 Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.

So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea man, I sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai

Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th Century 100years and more ago.

 Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay, yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the wife has to do is copy them down, in English.

 She’s  busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve, she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.

My other idea is a book of shorts, 40 stories with 40 translations

on facing page plus 40 audio of me reading my stories on usb stick.

Perfect to teach English as a 2nd language, via humour.

I was an Esol English teacher and gained

2 Excellents and an Exemplary on my external Assessment

As I have written 1200+ stories this would be a series of 30 plus books

So we could have Mandarin/Japanese/Urdu/Spanish/Hindi/Russian etc

This would be a world wide hit, angel investors needed

some can be heard at www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 

Cheerio, Michael Casey  

Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com

  https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk  

www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com

 to hear 50+ stories

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

14 ebooks and 3 Printed on Paper Books

http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

The Official 1000th piece of writing well here on Blogger anyway from march 2017

The Official 1000th piece of writing well here on Blogger anyway

 

 

The Official 1000th piece of writing well here on Blogger anyway

The Official 1000th piece of writing well here on Blogger anyway (c)
By
Michael Casey

Should there be fireworks, should there be a 1000 gun salute like in some tinpot state far far away should there be this  or should there be that? See this could be a poem, should it be could be the title.

No, lets just have a chat, what would you do to celebrate 1000 somethings. The 1000th time you farted, but who keeps count, only little brothers. The 1000th time you had a pint of Stella Artois, the barman keeps a count, and throws you out when you have had too many.

Why do we celebrate things anyway, is everything made up by brewers and cake makers. See I've thrown in a bit of philosophy for you. We celebrate things to break up the monotony of everything. To stop us getting bored we have a break from the routine and have a celebration. Michael has cut himself shaving so we'll celebrate that, Barry has farted  so we can celebrate that, as he always farts we are always celebrating. So instead we switch to celebrating when he hasn't farted.

See its all an artificial thing, just as artificial as Mandy's boobs,  she went away on holiday for a week and came back with an enormous chest and pretended nothing had changed. Well it had, her chest was enormous, and she soon had lots and lots of new boyfriends. Then we placed bets on how soon it would be before she was pregnant. Cruel but every so much fun, us girls are like that aren't we?

So should I explain how I started writing and why I carry on, why won't I stop and so on. Well its the only thing I can do now, now that my health is where it is. I was a:- computer operator, a MARCH Assessor, a call centre operator, a temp, a print room person at a law firm and at city hall, an ESOL English Teacher, a hotel worker where I did 10 different jobs, Jack of All trades at the CPNEC Birmingham. So those are some of my day jobs throughout my life as well as being unemployed and spending 40 hour a week on the computer tracking down work on Job Sites. And I have been an avid BBC Radio 4 listener, 20 years work, followed by 30 years of writing. Then several years of pain, all kinds of everything has been my life.

But the best thing is being a dad to daughters and our female cat Totoro. How many 1000 days I get left with them is not up to me its up to God, you think you are indestructible until you have a major op and then another disease or two comes along. So you have to enjoy every day and hope all these stories you write will be read by your girls when you are gone. I've left 1,000,000 WORDS for them I hope they enjoy them if they get time to read them now that Studying will dominate their lives for the next 10 years.  The writing, my writing has been my babies until the real babies arrived. 1000 pieces of writing to prove to myself that I have a brain and to create and share laughter.

Celebrate each day as if its your last is what they say, I hope you all enjoy my words until one day they stop suddenly. I do hope though that I can leave you laughing. So my final word is FART.

 

 p.s.I've released more stuff on my cartoon made from words site as somebody seems to be looking at it.

If you are wondering

If you are wondering (c)
By Michael Casey

If you are wondering how I go about amusing you, or is it bemusing you?  Then I am all for patterns. A pattern or method helps things along. If its all random then its harder. I nag my girls about routine and getting out of my way so I can get into the bathroom. Otherwise its Midnight before I can get into the bathroom.

So if you have a routine you actually have more time not less. I worked shifts all my life so you have to be on time for the bus and go to bed on time so you can get up in time for the bus. Nowadays kids are on their phone all the time and Time just disappears, and then there is a log jam for our bathroom. Self discipline is needed too, yes relax and chill but if you don't Timetable things then the day or evening is gone and you have not done a thing.

No I'm NOT saying every second has to be ordered, what I am saying is that if you sweep like the second hand then you achieve more. So you come in from school and take the horrid uniform off and put you PJs or tracksuit on. Bags go up a corner and then you put the dinner on before you  sit down. After a chill period homework is done. Then you can go back to your toys. But very important in today's world is encouraging your kids to read a book, an hour a day, either on paper or on one of those Kindles.

I already know readers out there are criticising me for being too harsh. If I told you our girls were not allowing video games when they were young. Crayons and pencils in the hundreds were what they got, which means they can draw, which is a great skill in itself. Self discipline is the key, or if you are parent you bestow it on your kids. Nobody is allowed to do what they want, we all have to do the stuff we don't like so that we can afford to do the stuff we DO like.

No I'm not a Fascist, people seem to want everything but don't want to put the work in. Years of crayons instead of video games means my girls are good artists. Being forced to hit the books at an early age means that later on they enjoy reading and have an imagination. They are not the Vultures from the Jungle Book who are bored and forever saying. What are we gonna do now.

Ok, enough of the methodology. When I write I look out the window and if I see something or somebody it can ignite an idea. This is because I did spend 20 years listening to BBC Radio4 BEFORE I started to write 30 years ago. So I have 1000s of plays and films I've watched, not forgetting 100s of books I read over the years and a deep interest in TV news, and Radio4 news reports. I also am like a vacuum cleaner and I suck things up, and later, ever decades later a word can make me vomit up a memory. No I don't have total recall, some things I wish I could forget, but generally  I am a vacuum cleaner. A vacuum cleaner full of 50 years of memories, my memory goes back to 1963.

Yes that's how I write, I look in the Soup, and I ladle out a story. Nowadays because my health is a pain in my butt and maybe yours, I have good days and bad days. So I may dig out an old story and feed it to you all, while I have a day off from the page. But my work ethic is so strong I should be a Protestant, this is an old joke. As is the one about Rhythm Method and writing or is it drumming? You can work that one out for yourselves. I remember Dave Allen and now I look like him, or my hair at any rate.

I can write pure fiction, or just parody, with or without Vanessa our noisy neighbour. I may even come up with a poem. I don't like to restrict myself, you know what happened to the body builder who did that? I can have an idea, so that's like the dots in a colouring book, and then when I sit down I'm just joining up the dots for myself. So it can appear slow to me while I'm actually putting it down on paper. Or I have an idea and a style for a piece then as I start to write it changes. I am the ball in the pin ball machine, I can be knocked off course, or I can be expert and hit all the bells and buzzers.

It is only when  I finish after an hour, they usually take an hour, when I read the whole piece that I can see if I have nailed it. Its a bit like a tapestry, I am looking at one side while I write. then I turn it over and all is revealed. If I accidentally delete the piece then it is lost forever, as I could never rewrite it, its not a recipe, everything is original. OK some of you dispute that, but the idea is that each story is unique. yes I may mention things again in another piece but generally everything is unique. If I were to write another full length book it would take a year of my life, or 3 months if I borrowed a legal secretary, so I stick to my one hour pieces. On this tally 1400, including repeats.


Ok that's your lot I have to collect more heart meds and pain killers, at least you know the background to the story telling. I may never have a Monet on my wall like Jeffery Archer, but its something that brings me pleasure. And yes I know you are all thinking of your own pleasures now...

Daytime TV

October 08, 2017

Daytime TV ©

By

Michael Casey

I was wondering what to write about today once the pain monster went away and my thoughts turned to Daytime TV, so if you ready lets take a peek.

Welcome I’m Garry Bond I’m licensed to thrill, I’m going to shake and stir you, and leave you thrilled, are you ready ladies? Today we are talking about embarrassing visits to Doctor. Should you just say you have a boil on your bum and flash you botty to the doctor, or nurse.Or are you the shy sort and you talk about the weather, before you can pluck up the courage to show your bum to a total stranger. Would online consultations be the way to the future of boil on the bum investigations?

We’ll have a panel discussion on the topic. On the panel will be an ear nose and throat doctor, we couldn’t get a Proctologist, but a doctor is a doctor is a doctor. We nearly got a Pathologist, but he was stuck at the cemetery. We’ll have that well know fart actor, sorry farce actor Brian Rix, he’s shown his bum to millions. What, stop screaming in my earpiece, when did he die? Nobody told me. So we won’t be having him, you just cannot get the staff dear viewers, I was in pantomime for 18 straight years before I lowered myself to do this rubbish daytime tv. What? I thought we had cut to the adverts, so the viewers heard me say that. Sorry viewers, I was rehearsing for my next panto in 10 months time, you are of course my special special dear personal friends.

There’s a flash and a crash, a little old lady comes on and punches the host, he is out cold and carried off. The studio manager asks the little old lady does she have any experience and would she like to host the rest of the show. I don’t know anything about being a tv star the little old lady stammers, but I do have a boil on my bum, she shows her boil to camera 3. A new rising daytime tv star is born.  

Next show is a quiz, a general knowledge quiz hosted by lady dressed as if she was going to meet the queen, the contestants are wearing jumpers with paint stains down them. First question for 5 points can anybody tell me who lives in Poland? Pole Dancers. No, can the other side tell me? Poles, yes that is correct. For 5 points can anybody tell me what The Art of the Possible is talking about. Modern Art. No silly. Other side can you tell me. Haven’t a clue. It refers to Politics. I know they are artless clueless and they are impossible to live with, no not students Politicians.

How many times did Edna Scrunge appear as Dippy Do in the hit soap opera, You Can Always Do it Again and Again and Again. 1200. Sorry it was 1196, she missed 4episodes when she had her 4 kids, too much again and again and again. Now some sport questions, how many gold medals did Olga Toloffnov win. 5. Yes but no. She was stripped of them because of doping, so the answer is none. We’ve ran out of time now viewers, so see you next time, same time, same place, here on Quiz World TV for Winners.

After an eternity of adverts the next show begins, its a travel show, Dave Porridge travels by taxi visiting various back street chip and kebab shops. Dave used to be big in tv and only got this slot as he saved the life of the producer by hiding him in a cupboard when the producer’s boyfriend discovered he had been cheating on him with a woman. The producer said he’d always be in debt to Dave Porridge. So when Dave Porridge’s career went down the toilet the producer rescued him with this daytime tv gem, kebabs via taxis. Dave’s weight went from 120kilos to 155 kilo, it stabilised there, thanks to regular doses of food poisoning. And a few lusty workouts with with chip peelers.

Dave talks to camera and interviews the taxi drivers as he criss crosses the country visiting fast food shops galore. Dave is of course a bit of a linguist with all the various people he meets. His tongue is made of asbestos too, he can handle any hot stuff on his tongue, food or female. History and Geography is mentioned as he eats his way across the country. In a way Dave Porridge becomes a cult by eating food. But it was too many oats which was his downfall, Dave Porridge had his oats too often, he got 3 takeaway girls pregnant simultaneously. So the kebab knives were out and Dave caught a bus to Scotland, there he’d do his porridge.

With TV shows like that now you know why I choose to watch TV news and read the newspapers instead of watching. Maybe I’ll get my own tv show one day. I could have North Korean Army Girls sing K-Pop while I give them tea and crumpet. I bet somebody is already stealing my Format. But K Pop can save the world as I wrote last month. 

Name Ownership

Name Ownership ©

By Michael Casey

God created Man and then taking a rib he created Woman. If the Feminists were talking to you they would say, God created Useful then created Useless, Man being Useless. Men are just rattles holding seeds ready for Women to nurture. There is power in words and in names, if we can name something then we are not afraid of it and we are not in awe of it.

During the war when Britain had its back against the wall and at one point it really looked as if the Nazis would win Comedy helped lift people’s spirits. George Formby and the like raised morale when it really needed a lift. You can mock somebody so they are not as frightening, Hitler did look like Charlie Chaplin so immediately he was mocked for this, though Charlie was love. Mockery and Satire takes people’s power away. We have just had the Tory Party Conference and today Theresa May is at a crossroads, she is mocked everywhere. It’s the cross that Politicians have to carry, if they want to be in the Public Eye.

Me, I’m the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham nothing could be simpler, except there is somebody of the same name  who is NOT me, he’s clever and is from Dublin, he is far older and far more serious and he has a PhD. I just have a used bus ticket to my name, and an unlucky lottery ticket. There is also a Monk called Michael Casey too, he isn’t me either. That’s why I attach stupid photos of myself to the writing, so you know exactly who I am, though you should all be able to tell who I am by my writing style.

Hey you, fattie with your shades on, are you the fat Casey writer or the clever Dublin one? If its outside a kebab shop it’s probably me, or if I’m carrying two plastic bags full of equally balanced shopping. I have to balance out the weight as my surgery scars can really hurt if I carry too much shopping. By calling me fattie you may me ordinary, and show familiarity, as if you know me. That way you can own me, just as you can call Prince William baldie, to show you’ll not touch your forelock for him or any Royals.

Use of language levels the playing field, use of slang really levels the playing field. When you have that class reunion after 25 years you’ll  find who the real people are and who are the ones to avoid. The ones who detest their school nicknames should be avoided. I never had a nickname at school, maybe it was because I was so strong and killed people on the Rugby field, we had to bury 3 people just behind the girls’ changing rooms, but don’t tell the Police. That was a joke just in case any Boris out there thinks I’m Evil.

A nick name does not have to mean lack of respect, it can mean the reverse, it is a badge of honour. Gas was the nickname for one of the lads from my class 1B in first year, why gas? Because of his ASS, he farted non stop for 5 years. We even had the Gas board come in as they thought it was a mains gas problem. It was just his bad diet as his dad had a kebab shop and he lived on kebabs. He wasn’t fat though as he always ran everywhere, as if he had jet propulsion, he was just trying to hide the fact that the smell was coming from him. I heard when he grew up he got a double First in Chemistry from Cambridge and later went into perfume trade in Paris. The girlfriends he had were all models, it must have been his animal attraction, or just his stink, or perfumes I mean.

We all have power with our words, we can lift people up or knock them down. I choose to lift people up, by making you all laugh in over 26 countries all over the world. I’m happy if you laugh at me, if Boris in Kiev and cousin Boris in Kracow think I’m just that fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England. Because you own me with your laughter and I own you with me words.

 I’ll finish with a heart warming story the Borises will enjoy. My dad was coming home from work from the steelworks on a dark Winter’s Night, he was wearing a Russian army style coat to keep him warm. Just as he was outside the Undertakers he let a nuclear sounding explosion of a fart go off into the air. A black lady in front of him screamed and jumped 2 feet into the air, she thought the end of the world had come. The Undertaker looked out of his window and was going to claim a corpse, but the black lady was still alive.My dad just chuckled like Muttley from Wacky Races and continued up the road home. Leaving a shocked black lady behind him, and a disappointed undertaker.

Picking

Picking ©

By Michael Casey

I was thinking what to talk about today when I thought Picking, as my small daughter who is in 3^rd year will be picking her exams subject soon. 3^rd year is year9 for all you Americans or modern people here in UK. They have all this modern numbering yet year 12 and 13 are still call 6^th Form. You explain it to me. And college is a fancy term for 6^th form, when really college is when you go to University or Uni as it is irritatingly called. Can I ask what being a self taught writer is called? Is it a Home School Bore? I said it before any of my Borises got in first. How about Doue?

Now to the point, how do you pick you choices for school? Mr Smith is nice, I fancy him so I’ll do Latin said Allison. Mr Jones has bad breath, when he leans over you it really stinks, So I’m not doing English. You have to do English, what, that’s not fair, then I’m going to hold my breath during his lessons. What about Geography? Mr Howes hasn’t got a clue he’s always getting lost on campus, but Geography is fun, so I’m doing that.

What about History? Miss Harrison always makes it sound better than a Soap opera, she hints then winks and says go Google that when you get home. And you know what its disgusting, what they did to Edward II with that poker, was straight out of a horror film. I’m definitely doing History, the Romans were right bastards too, I Googled it, it was terrible, so exciting, there should be more horror films with Romans in. Ask the Christians if you don’t believe me.

Maths, I hate Maths, why do Americans call it Math, don’t they know any English spellings and stuff. Why do they OR instead of OUR as well? I’m not doing Maths, that’s final. But you have to do Maths, or you’ll get ripped off every time you go shopping. You need to be able to contrast and compare. Mum said it’s like when you look at boys. You need to know which is the best value, like WAGs do with sportsmen. Who has the bigger pay packet. So you can divorce them when they do the dirty. It’s a shame about Wayne,  but maybe she’ll forgive him. If he was better at Maths maybe this would never have happened, that’s what my parents were saying.

What about Foreign languages? My dad said he was great at Anglo Saxon, whatever that means. I was thinking French my Aunty used to love Sacha Distel. Is that a disease, Sacha Distel, sounds like something we did in Biology the other day. No he was a crooner, so I’ll do French to please my aunty. But Biology is that any good? You cut up things and feel about in dead animals, I don’t think I’d like that so I’ll leave Biology alone. But if I did Chemistry instead that could be fun, experiments and so on. What about Physics too, I heard that was fun, with experiments as well. You have Abbot to help too. A priest teaching Physics? No its the text book, my uncle said he read it from cover to cover.

Do we have to do Music? Mr Preacher just shouts all the time, says we are all tone deaf, but its his shouting making us deaf. Crochets and Quavers man nothing to me. I thought it meant eating crisps while you did some knitting. Why can’t we just listen to Capital Radio instead? Instead 300 year old Mozart.

We have to do RE or RI it’s a must. But nobody goes to church, except for funerals, and when my cousin got pregnant and her dad said if the boy didn’t marry her he’d get his History book out and do and Edward II on him. I didn’t know your uncle was a History teacher. He knows a bit about torture, he read 50 Shades 20 times.

We have to do PE or Gym as well, just to make us fit. But we have no time to shower so we reek all afternoon afterwards. But you can get a GCSE or certificate of some sort for wearing your gym kit. But the kit is terrible, the other schools laugh at us when we play games against them. Is that why you broke that bloke’s nose, no that was an accident I was aiming for his jaw. Hockey is a very violent game after all. I watch American Ice Hockey for inspiration, do you think if we have a hard winter the Gym teacher will let us try it in the playground?

I’m looking forward to doing my GCSEs do you think Saint Judes will come top of the scores again when the results are in? Of course, the teachers put the fear of God into us, my big sister said you hate it while you are here but afterwards you are so proud you went to such an institution. My mum went here too, she says its the best school anywhere, that’s her next to the pink Rolls Royce, she only picks me up to annoy the old staff who said she’d never amount to anything. Her dad said Do What You Like But Do Your Best, she sends him to Malta for 6 months of the year. That’s generous, no she can’t stand him, because he was always right.     

Writing Comedy

Writing Comedy ©

By

Michael Casey

I have been invaded by my girls, one is at her new table doing her A level Chemistry, the other is on the floor drawing for her Art, I decided I must fight the pain and write another piece and avoid having a nap. I just popped into the living room and the One show was on, there’s a new show set in a jail about to hit the screen, so they showed a clip. And that’s how I’ve decided to tempt Fate and write about Writing Comedy. I know Boris in Kiev is laughing at me already and Boris in Kracow is laughing too. How can you write about comedy? This fat silver haired writer from Birmingham is a fool, with or without his shades. They both agree on that.

Anybody will tell you not to analysise comedy it either is funny or not. Like the time Boris went shopping in Kiev and forgot his wallet, so he decided to busk outside the butcher’s shop, just so he could bring the bacon home literally. So he juggled sausages he borrowed from the butcher, as well as having a a necklace of sausages. The local girls had pity for him and went inside and put a coin in the saucer on the butcher’s counter. He also got their phone numbers, not because he wanted to date them, though he could, he’s a very attractive hunk after all. No, he got their phone numbers as he is also a plumber and plumbers are like gold dust in Kiev. Now that’s funny, can this Michael Casey imagine anything like that?

No I cannot, I just sit here listening to the younger generation’s music as my ears are hostage as my daughter is studying so I have to let her have her music on. In front of me an old teddy bear is sprawled in an arm chair, with my old surgical stocking around its face, like a bank robber version of Paddington. It makes the teddy bear more interesting I think, gives him more character. I bet when I brought him home from the hotel, CPNEC Birmingham, he was a thank you gift from Jaguar Cars after they had a visit to the hotel, 12 years and more ago, he didn’t think the little girls would grow up and he’d turn into a back robber. At least the cat Totoro doesn’t sit on him.

Comedy happens, you see things then you extrapolate them, a bit like  Pinocchio’s nose, and yes both Borises I know what you are thinking so just shut up, finish making that chicken Kiev for your girlfriend, or is that girlfriends? Plumbers are always ready with their bag of tools. So I the writer have to be ready with an idea that I can bend and turn, just as Boris bends and turns copper pipe when he fits yet another shower. Though I’m not as stupid as you Boris, you always wear a bright pink swimming hat when you fit showers. You did it as a joke at first, but the girls all loved it, and the little old ladies loved it even more.They always make you stay for a bit of dinner. You make them pay for the new shower, then the feed you too.

Killing two birds with one stone that is called, and when you fitted that shower for those twins, you really thought you had died and gone to Heaven. Only they made you strip and take a shower to prove it worked, so there was Boris with just his pink shower cap on when their 300kilo dad arrived and Boris escaped out the bathroom window. He had to take the pink shower cap off and hold it in front of his privates as he ran for his life through the streets of Kiev. Kiev in October is not sunbathing weather. The twins laughed until they cried. Luckily the told their dad it was a joke he believed them. The next day they arrived at Boris’s place with his tools and clothes. They cooked him dinner and then they took a shower.

Stop I told you I was going to explain comedy and Boris led me astray, Boris we need to go to Confession in Kracow, as for Boris in Kiev, he is a spring chicken, showered with female company. I don’t know where today’s story went, it just kind of had a life of its own, like when you cut a chicken’s head off and it keeps on running around.

I have noticed that Ukraine likes my writing too, not unless you are all hackers, I have nothing of value on my computer, just my stories, but I’ve mentioned you so you don’t feel all lonely, with just your pink shower cap wrapped around your nuts. I forgot to tell you Boris could not get back into his flat, so he had to climb a tree and swing onto his balcony, then finally he was home safe.Though it did take him 20 mins and a crowd of 150 people gathered to watch the fun.  It was even filmed and uploaded to UTube, the Naked Plumber from Kiev it was called. It got 100,000 hits in a week. He got plenty of work afterwards, especially Nudists in Kiev.

And if you believe any of this then you believe in Fairies too, or I am a good Liar, or is it Writer, Comedy Writer? You decide for yourselves. I’m off to the Nudist pub up the road, Boris recommended it, I just need to put my Winter boots on first, nothing else, I just wear a smile. 

Tidy Desk

Tidy Desk ©

By

Michael Casey

If you have seen any of my glamorous photos, no I’m not a Bunny Girl, then you’ll have seen me sat in front of the computer which sits on a computer trolley thing. Cheap and cheerful, its the words that count, I do lust after a desk such as Charles Dickens had, I use it as a screen saver on occasions, when I’m not using a snap of a dream house. If any of my fans do get around to buying books or the BBC allows me to have a Postcard from Birmingham then I’ll finally get that house and the Dickens desk.

Until then I have to keep my space clear. I have a corner with scrap paper on, last years diary and backs of any letters that come to the house. This is to put my coffee mug on, and to write notes to myself, and to keep a tally of how many words I’ve written in total and in the next book. I was going to tell you only the paper is too soggy. So I’ll just have a quick look into the files. 15 Down which will be my next book is 40, 274 words long so far, or 90 pages, as for my grand total, that is 1,171,883 words or 3500pages or so.

On my desk,or perch is a large screen set to large font size, and behind it are some cheap but nice sounding speakers. The screen is a cheap one too, but good. I also have a couple of pens on the desk. One is an over-sized silver coloured one which was a present for my 50^th Birthday from the print room crew at Pinsent Masons Law Firm. I think only the beautiful Ang is still working there now, but I could be wrong. I also have a cheap diary for this year on my desk, which I never seem to use,as I prefer to put things on the calendar on the wall which I can see to the left of me.

So there you have it, this is my spot where all my words are written, which means I have to be tidy as there is no space for clutter.  I do have the window in front of me that I can look out, or gaze out if you prefer posher language. I pick a word or a title and away I go, an hour later I have another story, well over 1200 individual stories now I think. I have re-posted a few things over the years so the exact number would have to be collated.

No I don’t rewrite, I just write, I am not Jeffery Archer after all, I put it on paper and its done, just as quick as your kebab is made. Though Jefferey has a Monet on his wall and I have an Bourne-Jones Angel, it was a leaving present from my computer job, Jefferey’s Monet was as a result of selling millions of books, 300million, is that the books or his fortune. God Bless him, I did try to get him to place The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker in his guest toilet but he declined, gracefully. Maybe he’s reading M.P. Marriage to a Person Marriage to a People from my novel which is on my site right now, 100s of readers in just 2 days. Just in time for the Party Conference. Anyway I hope he smiles if he sees this, even if my novel never makes it to his Guest Toilet in Mayfair.

As ever I have digressed, my writing seems to be a cross between Joyce Grenfell and Ronnie Corbett, which makes me Gerald Wiley perhaps?

As my big daughter is now staring her A levels I threw out an old sofa, or rather a very strong black guy took it away when he and a Muslim lad delivered a new table for my daughter to study at. So now my “study” is shared with my daughter. Though we face in different directions, we are not dueling pianos like Liberace and his assistant, but there is a piano to my left, squeezed into the front room.

I do insist that she keeps he much larger desk tidy, it is more that twice the size of my perch here. If I now have to share my space then I don’t want it looking like a tip. It has been Girliefied with ornaments and the like but no water allowed on the desk, yes I have a mug, but I don’t want spillages on electrical stuff up the corner which backs on to paper supply and bookcase. No dumping of school bags either, TIDY means TIDY, I did work in a 4 star deluxe hotel, I just remembered Mary Archer paid a visit to CPNEC Birmingham while I was there, she gave a speech I seem to remember. I’d forgotten that till just now, that’s how my vacuum cleaner mind works.

Anyway if you have to be tidy at work I expect my girls to be tidy at home, or at least keep my “study” tidy, though their smelly shoes do litter the place till I evict the shoes. Totoro our cat does come in and tries jumping on my daughter’s new desk as its another object for her to climb. You chase her off so she leaps on the piano then the armchair in the window before settling down on the windowsill like an Amsterdam hooker. Totoro does wake me up at 2am by scratching at the window will I let her out, hence the hooker analogy, though she could be a good girl, but cats keep their whiskers crossed.

So its nearly time for bed now,its been a terrible day for pain, but I have written this so I’m pleased. And I’m very pleased with the reaction to my Political comedy on my site. We all get the government we deserve, I’ll just say Happy 61^st Birthday Theresa May, they are all bastards as John Major said, but at least your husband really loves you, I have spotted you both twinkling.