The Spaceman and The Arch-Angel with Russian Translation at the end

December 15, 2017

The Spaceman and The Arch-Angel ©

By Michael Casey

Mikhail Mikhailovich was a spaceman, a cosmonaut as the Russians  call them, he’d been in space forever, he held the world record already, he was testing himself to see if Man could make it to Mars. He and Tim Peake had had a lot of fun in the space station, but now Tim was gone. So Mikhail was lonely, in fact Mikhail was having a dark night of the soul, flying high in the sky orbiting the world. He was on the edge, but bear a bear of a man he told nobody, if only his wife Katarina was with him to make him strong, but he was floating in space and she was back in Saint Petersburg.

Michael the Arch-Angel had just pushed back Satan back into Hell and had sealed the gates with a pair of Rosary beads, now he was taking Mrs Murphy’s soul back to her body, he was in a hurry before her body died without her soul inside. At Saint Michael the Arch-Angel flew in space with Mrs Murphy’s soul safely tucked in his belt by his sword he felt Mikhail’s sorrow. So much sorry, he flew as fast as he could fly towards to space station, a soul was in danger, the space station was in danger, a man’s life and soul was in danger. Mikhail was on the verge of thinking of doing something mad bad and sad. Michael felt this and as an angel he must intervene, he spiralled directly towards the space station, he went straight inside and grabbed Mikhail’s arm.

An angel does not need to use doors, the spirit just walks through walls even in space, love knows no boundaries, and an angel is just that, love. Saint Michael the Arch-Angel gave Mikhail a bear-hug and nearly broke his ribs. Mikhail screamed in fear, Michael just laughed in his face and said he screamed like a little girl, was he going to pee his pants as an encore. Mikhail rubbed his eyes, there was angel in front of him, speaking Russian, in fact he sounded like his own old grandfather, with the same local accent.

I could punch your lights out, but I’m an angel so let’s talk, have you got any beer, my wings are tired I need a beer, asked the angel. Mikhail laughed, where do we have the room for a barrel of beer in a space station? The angel reached behind him and two pints of Stella Artois appeared in chalices, so Mikhail took one and drank it, after such a long time in space it was heavenly to say the least. So Mikhail and the angel had 4 pints each, which is enough to wet their whistle if they were both Russian. Mikhail wasn’t scared any more, if this was a dream he was going to enjoy it. He’d love a big sandwich of Russian beef and bread with lettuce and tomatoes, so once more Saint Michael reached behind him and the sandwiches appeared. Is Paul Daniels behind you joked Mikhail, Tim the English spaceman had told Mikhail about Paul Daniels during his time on the space station. No replied the angel, but God is behind me, and in front of me and in all directions too, he has my back, and your’s too, that’s why I’m saving you.

Mikhail, looked at his feet, he’d felt a failure, he could have, but he didn’t, an angel had saved him. Michael the Archangel gave him another pint of Stella Artois, Paul Daniels was working overtime you could say. Why were you in space anyway asked Mikhail. I was returning a soul to a body, Mrs Murphy was risking her soul to save the life of her priest, or rather the soul of her priest. That’s when Satan pounced, so I had to give him a kicking, and then mum asked we to return Mrs Murphy’s soul to her body, before her body expired. Mum who is your mum? Mary is my mum, she’s everybody’s mum, she prefers to be called  ”mum” it’s  the highest title of all. Mikhail Mikhailovich started to cry, so Michael wiped his nose with his wings.

I wish I could be a father but being in the space program has put paid to that, I am a hero of Mother Russia, but my own wife cannot be a mother, we will never know the joy of children. Mikhail cried again, the angel gave him a huge hug, almost breaking the spaceman’s ribs and Mikhail’s face turned bright red due to lack of oxygen. A tear fell from the angel’s eye, it trickled down his face and splashed Mrs Murphy’s soul, this was enough for Mrs Murphy she was saying the Rosary in a nanosecond. Her body was dead by now, but at least she could pray for the spaceman.

Michael and Mikhail had some fresh fruit, bananas and grapes, washed down with more Stella Artois. Mikhail unburdened himself to the angel, all his hopes and dreams, being a spaceman was the last of them. Tim had told Mikhail about David Bowie and the two of them had put the face makeup on and sung the songs. Now Tim was gone and Mikhail missed him, but most of all Mikhail missed something he’d never have. Children. As a child Mikhail loved listening to stories, stories from all over Russia and everywhere else too, but then studying came along.

Saint Michael the Archangel has a secret, he loves stories too, he’s spent ages, literally Ages listening to stories from all over the world. So as they drunk their Stella Artois Michael told Mikhail some of the stories. First in Russian for the Russian stories, then he switched to Chinese for the Chinese stories, Indian for the Indian stories, and Japanese for the Japanese stories. Michael knew thousands of stories in told them all in all the native languages. The food and drink flowed, Paul Daniels really is a great magician, how he hid all of it in the space station ready to save a soul, a Russian spaceman’s soul we’ll never know, perhaps he’s just an angel.

How long would it take to tell tales from all over the world, as long as there is food and drink on the table there will always be tales, and this angel doesn’t follow Logic, only Love. In Earth time 50 years had passed, or was it just a dream? Michael and Mikhail hugged, this time Michael could not breathe and he turned red. Mikhail had been filled with Love, and food and drink thanks to maybe Paul Daniels, so he was a big Russian Bear once more.

You are Mikhail Mikhailovich a Spaceman who did not fall to earth, you are the Storyteller from Space, you are a “father” to billions of children, and to your wife you are the best husband in space and on earth who gave her seven children, angels love the number 7, Snow White really did exist you know, but that’s another story. Mikhail snored, he been dreaming hadn’t he.

Michael flew off into space, for decades he’d been talking to Mikhail, it was a coincidence he’d spotted Mikhail, he thanked God. As Michael looked at his watch, by which I mean the rotation of the stars in space, he realised he’d actually gone back in time by 2.9 nanoseconds. Einstein had been livid when he’d got to Heaven to discover that Time and Relativity was just one of God’s jokes.

Mrs Murphy’s soul was returned to her body, but her 50 years of prayers so that Mikhail could have a family had not been wasted, and as for her priest well that’s another story, Tears for a Butcher by Michael Casey to be exact, if God gives me the time to finish it.

The next night Mikhail said he had a story for all the Russian children, so he told them about the night the angel came to the space station. This was an instant hit all over Mother Russia, it was so funny too, though he had to explain who Paul Daniels was, they liked the story a lot, not a little bit. The Indians wanted to hear the story so could he tell them too, so he did but Mikhail told them in one of the major Indian languages, and as each child hear the story they hear it in the voice of their own grandfather. Japan was next and they were astounded too, not only did know their language but the accent was perfect, Mikhail was like a United Nations, his stories perfectly told demanded silence, followed by tears of joy.

Mikhail spent another month in space, each night he’d tell stories to the world’s children. He was out of this world literally and in all other ways. When it was time for him to return he was an international hero, for science and for story-telling. Putin himself said he drive him from the airport to the Kremlin for a reception. When Mikhail came down the steps from the plane his wife jumped into his arms, Putin was dressed as a chauffeur, the election was next month and he know good PR. The president as servant of the people.  Putin did have to close the privacy screen in the Zil because the spaceman started on creating his happy family on the back seat of the Zil limousine.

So Mikhail got what he wanted a big happy Russian family, was the angel right in guessing 7, no he was wrong, Mikhail and his wife only had 3 pregnancies. Three being Mrs Murphy’s favourite number, three sets of triples. Mikhail set up his own Utube station to tell stories to the world’s children, he called it You’ll Like It, a lot. Then his friend Putin suggested he should run for president, so that’s how a spaceman called Mikhail became the President of Russia, because an angel came acalling, twinkle, twinkle.        

Spaceman и Arch-Angel ©

Майкл Кейси

Михаил Михайлович был космонавтом, как его называют русские , он был в космосе навсегда, он уже держал мировой рекорд, он проверял себя, может ли человек добраться до Марса. Ему и Тиму Пику было очень весело на космической станции, но теперь Тим ушел. Итак, Михаил был одинок, ведь у Михаила была темная ночь души, летящая высоко в небе, вращающемся вокруг мира. Он был на краю, но носил медведя человека, которого он никому не рассказывал, если бы только его жена Катарина была с ним, чтобы сделать его сильным, но он плыл в космосе, и она вернулась в Санкт-Петербург.

Майкл Арч-Ангел только оттолкнул сатану обратно в ад и запечатал ворота парой бусинок Розари, теперь он возвращал душу миссис Мерфи к ее телу, он торопился, прежде чем ее тело умерло без ее души внутри , У святого Михаила Арх-Ангел полетел в космос с душой миссис Мерфи, надежно заправленной его поясом мечом он почувствовал печаль Михаила. Очень жаль, что он летал так быстро, как мог летать к космической станции, душа была в опасности, космическая станция была в опасности, жизнь и душа человека были в опасности. Михаил был на грани размышления о том, чтобы делать что-то безумное и грустное. Майкл почувствовал это, и, как ангел, он должен вмешаться, он спиралью прямо к космической станции, он пошел прямо и схватил руку Михаила.

Ангелу не нужно использовать двери, дух просто ходит сквозь стены даже в пространстве, любовь не знает границ, а ангел - это просто любовь. Святой Михаил Архангельский дал Михаилу обнять медведя и почти сломал ребра. Михаил закричал от страха, Майкл просто рассмеялся ему в лицо и сказал, что он кричит, как маленькая девочка, собирался ли его штаны на бис.Михаил протер глаза, перед ним стоял ангел, говорящий по-русски, на самом деле он звучал как его собственный старый дед, с тем же местным акцентом.

Я мог бы пробить ваши огни, но я ангел, поэтому давайте поговорим, у вас есть пиво, мои крылья устали, мне нужно пиво, спросил ангел. Михаил рассмеялся, где у нас есть место для барреля пива на космической станции? Ангел потянулся за ним, и в чашках появились две пинты Стеллы Артуа, поэтому Михаил взял ее и выпил, после столь долгого времени в космосе было наименее, по меньшей мере, небесным. Итак, у Михаила и ангела было по 4 пинты, которых достаточно, чтобы намочить их свист, если они оба были русскими. Михаил больше не боялся , если бы это был сон, он получал удовольствие. Он хотел бы большой бутерброд русской говядины и хлеба с салатом и помидорами, так еще раз Saint Миха е л достигнуто за ним ипоявились бутерброды. Является ли Пол Дэниелс за вами шутку г Михаила, Тим английского космонавтом рассказал Михаил о Paul Daniels во время своего пребывания на космической станции. Никто не ответил ангелу, но Бог позади меня, и передо мной и во всех направлениях тоже у него спина, и у вас тоже, вот почему я спасаю вас.

Михаил, посмотрел на его ноги, он почувствовал провал, он мог, но он этого не сделал, ангел спас его. Майкл Архангел дал ему еще одну пинту Стеллы Артуа, Пол Дэниелс работал сверхурочно, что вы могли бы сказать. Почему ты был в космосе, все равно спросил Михаила. Я возвращал душу в тело, миссис Мерфи рисковала своей душой спасти жизнь своего священника, или, скорее, душу ее священника. Тогда Сатана набросился на меня, поэтому я должен был дать ему ногами, а затем мама попросила, чтобы мы вернули ей душу миссис Мерфи, прежде чем ее тело истекло. Мама, кто твоя мама? Мэри - моя мама, она все мама, она предпочитает называться « мама», это самый высокий титул. Михаил Михайлович начал плакать, поэтому Майкл вытер нос крыльями.

Хотелось бы, чтобы я был отцом, но, находясь в космической программе, заплатил за это, я герой Матери-России, но моя собственная жена не может быть матерью, мы никогда не узнаем радость детей. Михаил снова закричал, ангел широко обнял его, почти сломав ребра космонавта, и лицо Михаила стало ярко-красным из-за недостатка кислорода . Слеза упала с глаз ангела, она стекала по его лицу и плескала душу миссис Мерфи, этого было достаточно для миссис Мерфи, она говорила о Розарии в наносекунду. Ее тело уже мертво, но, по крайней мере, она могла молиться за космонавта.

У Михаила и Михаила были свежие фрукты, бананы и виноград, вымытые больше Стеллы Артуа. Михаил освободил себя от ангела, все его надежды и мечты, будучи космонавтом, был последним из них. Тим рассказал Михаилу о Дэвиде Боуи, и они оба надели лицо макияжем и пели песни. Теперь Тим ушел, и Михаил пропустил его, но больше всего Михаил пропустил то, чего у него никогда не было. Дети. В детстве Михаил любил слушать рассказы, рассказы со всей России и везде, но потом учился.

У святого Михаила Архангела есть тайна, он тоже любит рассказы, он провел годы, буквально в возрасте, слушая рассказы со всего мира. Так, как они выпили свою Стелу Артуа Майкл рассказал Михаилу некоторые истории. Сначала на русском языке для русских рассказов, затем он перешел на китайский язык для китайских историй, индийских для индийских историй и японцев для японских историй. Майкл знал тысячи историй, рассказывавших им все на всех родных языках. Еда и напитки текли, Пол Дэниелс действительно большой маг, как он спрятал все это на космической станции, готовой спасти душу, душу российского космонавта, которую мы никогда не узнаем, может быть, он просто ангел.

Сколько времени потребуется, чтобы рассказать сказки со всего мира, до тех пор, пока на столе есть еда и выпивка, всегда будут рассказы, и этот ангел не следует Логике, а только Любви. В Земное время прошло 50 лет, или это был просто сон? Майкл и Михаил обнялись, на этот раз Майкл не мог дышать, и он покраснел. Михаил был наполнен Любовью, а пища и пить, возможно, Пол Дэниелс, поэтому он снова стал большим русским медведем.

Вы Михаил Михайлович, Космик, который не упал на землю, вы Рассказчик из Космоса, вы « отец » для миллиардов детей, а для вашей жены вы лучший муж в космосе и на земле, который дал ей семь детей , ангелы любят номер 7, Белоснежка действительно существует, вы знаете, но это еще одна история. Михаил храпел, он мечтал, не так ли?

Майкл улетел в космос, на протяжении десятилетий он разговаривал с Михаилом, это было случайное совпадение, он заметил Михаила, он поблагодарил Бога. Когда Майкл посмотрел на часы, под которыми я подразумевал поворот звезд в космосе, он понял, что он действительно вернулся во времени на 2,9 наносекунды. Когда он добрался до Небес, Эйнштейн почувствовал, что Время и Относительность были всего лишь одной из Божьих шуток.

Душа миссис Мерфи была возвращена в ее тело, но ее 50-летние молитвы, чтобы Михаил мог иметь семью, не были потрачены впустую, и что касается ее священника, это еще одна история, точнее, слезы за Мясником Майклом Кейси, если Бог дает мне время, чтобы закончить его.

На следующую ночь Михаил сказал, что у него есть история для всех русских детей, поэтому он рассказал им о той ночи, когда ангел пришел на космическую станцию. Это был мгновенный удар по Мать-России, это было так смешно, хотя он объяснил, кто такой Пол Дэниелс, им очень понравилась эта история, а не немного. Индейцы хотели услышать эту историю, поэтому он тоже мог их рассказать, поэтому он это сделал, но Михаил сказал им на одном из основных индийских языков, и, когда каждый ребенок слышал эту историю, они слышали ее в голосе своегодеда. Япония была следующей, и они были поражены, не только знали свой язык, но и акцент был совершенным, Михаил был как Организация Объединенных Наций, его рассказы прекрасно говорили о тишине, сопровождаемой слезами радости.

Михаил провел еще один месяц в космосе, каждую ночь он рассказывал истории детям мира. Он был вне этого мира буквально и всеми другими способами. Когда настало время вернуться, он был международным героем, наукой и рассказом. Сам Путин сказал, что он отвезет его из аэропорта в Кремль на прием. Когда Михаил спустился по ступенькам с самолета, его жена вскочила на руки, Путин был одет как шофер, выборы были в следующем месяце, и он знал хороший PR. Президент как слуга народа. Путин действительно должен был закрыть экран конфиденциальности в б оскольку Зил космонавт начал на создание его счастливой семьи на заднем сиденье лимузина Зила.

Итак, Михаил получил то, что хотел большую счастливую российскую семью, был ангел в угадывании 7, он не ошибся, Михаил и его жена только 3 беременности. Три - любимое число миссис Мерфи, три набора троек. Михаил создал свою собственную станцию Utube, чтобы рассказать истории детям мира , он назвал ее «Вам понравится», много. Тогда его друг Путин предложил ему баллотироваться на пост президента, так что , как стал космонавтом назвал Михаил президентом России, потому что ангел пришел acalling, мерцать, мерцать.        

*****

Well I hope my Russian readers like this, I don't claim to be Tolstoy but Joy in words is all I can offer.

So why not ask RT and the rest to give me a slot reading my stories out. A publishing deal too, to teach English to the Russia people...

If I were to die suddenly in the street would you miss me?

If I were to die suddenly in the street would you miss me?

December 14, 2017

If I were to die suddenly in the street would you miss me?

I ask because of what happened today in the street.

My wife's dad was actually hit by a bus and killed 13 years ago.

Today something happened in the street which  could have ended in tears or even my death, I have a weak heart as you all know...

So before I go to bed I just wondered would you all miss me?

Ok, not me, I'm just a boring old fart.

But would you miss the writing?
Or would you all have sighed and said thank God the old fart is dead, in multiple languages all over the world.

Was this my Nobel moment? Will Rupert Murdoch hire me before its too late.

The irony is the final post could have been

PEACE AND GOODWILL TO ALL MEN OR CHRISTMAS REVENGE?

Peace and Goodwill to all Men or Christmas Revenge?

Peace and Goodwill to all Men or Christmas Revenge?

By

Michael Casey

Christmas is nearly upon us, its 14^th Dec 2017 today, so we all think or start to think about Christmas. Though shoppers amongst you have done it all months ago. You ticked that box. You buy 40 crappy presents for your 40 crappy colleagues you work with, but would rather not. One of my sisters used to work in retail, or in a shop in real language. She always sent and received 40 presents, 40 years ago and more. It always baffled me why this custom went on. I quiet like Christmas cards, but the 40 crappy presents always seemed stupid to me, and it still does. I wrote a piece years ago reflecting in part on this, and the film The Bishop’s Wife which had Cary Grant as Dudley the angel and David Niven in it too. By the way if you can find The Moon’s a Balloon by David Niven its a great read.

My own attitude is always please yourself, if you don’t want to, then don’t do it. Peer pressure is a load of BS, if you are not strong enough to raise two fingers or one if you are American, to convention then you should not be allowed out at night on your own. Already I’ve divided my audience in half. Wouldn’t you rather put the money in a kitty and go to a bar, or out for a nice meal, instead of getting 40 crappy presents?

Nowadays we have the Mystery Santa, where 40 people buy one present each, so you all get one nice thing. Or you may just say only spent a quid or 5 quid, instead of the 40 or the 200 quid on rubbish. It can be more fun that way. The Mystery Santa way. As for cards, I prefer the Caravaggio style ones. Though nowadays as we all have computers ecards are a growing trend, and you can get them for free.

Back in 1978, yes 40 years ago when I started as a computer operator laptops were naked girls dancing, not a PC on your lap. And people used to be impressed when you said you worked in computers, IT was not even invented as a pretentious word then, and as for Ict, was that some form of yeast infection you went to the doctor with?

But I’ve digressed. Some people who’ll remain nameless deliberately give bad presents, things that should have been binned and not even donated to the Charity Shop. Is this a weird sense of humour? Like giving toilet paper to somebody who spends a lot of time in the toilet. Not caring or knowing the person has kidney problems, yes this really did happen. Though in today’s world of the Internet I get Funeral Plan offers from Birmingham Alabama because somewhere along the line, the title of The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker comes up and so I get emails offering funeral plans. I also get Life Insurance offers too from USA. With my health status if I can be pretentious, nobody would cover me. Though Christmas and the New Year will bring many such offers. I am in Birmingham ENGLAND, so if you want a Test and Keep person I am your man, but you’d have to send it to Birmingham ENGLAND, as I told somebody in USA only last week.

Going back to presents, a pair of new oven gloves, large size would be really useful. So are any of you out there ready for Christmas Revenge, as they say Revenge is Best Served Cold, and Christmas is Cold after all. What would you send and to whom? A gross of red pens to your maths teacher, and in UK we say maths with an S on the end. A dictionary to your English teacher, though you’d glue the pages together. Enough of being called Moron or Cretin by the teacher, I think Brewer in my class nearly 50 years ago was called that. If I’m wrong Brewer you can always buy me a pint of Stella Artois. As for me in the same class I was always asked was I supporting the wall or asking a question, as I used to sit in the corner by the wall in 1B.

The best kind of revenge is success, so you visit your old school in a chauffeured Bentley and give cheap sweets to the teacher every Christmas and half terms. And a very large box of expensive chocolates to the janitor. You know the janitor will share his with the staff, as for the cheap sweets the janitor finds them in the rubbish unopened and takes them home. So the meek do inherit the earth, or sweets anyway.

Now cakes with curry powder in could be given, but that would be classed as poisoning, as tempting as it might be. Bastards do deserve their just rewards, but revenge is the Lords as they say. However Fr.Michael was a kind confessor, but as wicked as the devil if you crossed him. So when he heard about the toilet paper present he was incensed and he knew how to exact the Lords revenge.

On High Days and Holy Days there‘s lots of Holy Water to be thrown and people to be blessed. The incense is wafted everywhere too. Fr.Michael spotted Dennis sitting full of drink propped up in the last bench just by the door. Dennis had come in last as drunk as a bobbo, ready for his yearly blessing and Christmas look at the crib. Only Fr. Michael blessed everybody then decided to empty the last of the Holy Water pale over Dennis. Dennis was drenched. Later on Fr. Michael decided more incense was needed by the back door of the church to keep evil away, so Dennis was engulfed in incense.

Beer, Holy Water and Incense don’t mix,so Dennis puked. Earlier in the night his friends had said, Get It Down You, It will do you well. Now the Priest led the chorus from the Choir, Get it Up it Will do you Well, as Dennis puked. Fr.Michael’s aunt had kidney problems so when he heard that Dennis had given toilet paper as a present he was livid. He knew Dennis would never come to Confession, so Penance had come to him.

Well I’ll finish for today, and yes oven gloves are a useful present, if it were attached to a 4 bed house with two bathrooms, one downstairs now that would be perfect. Though Health really is the only thing worth having and I speak from experience, for as you all know I have total recall, but only for stories. So wherever you all are on the Map and it could be Singapore or Canada or any place in between, please be kind this Christmas and as many of the days of the rest of the year too.

Cold Comforts

Cold Comforts ©

By

Michael Casey

Forgive me my Polish and Ukrainian readers, if 20cm of snow is called a lot of snow here UK. Cold Comfort is a phrase too, and there is Cold Comfort Farm the book, so that’s something for you to investigate if you think today’s piece is rubbish. Though I could say I’ve been snowed under, which as you know from your English teacher is another English expression.

My small daughter did mention in passing this morning, and in passing could be a very rude expression too. See how words attack your brain with multitudes of meaning. Ok, what did she say? She said English was supposed to be very hard to learn for foreigners, but for her and her sister languages seem quiet easy to learn.

Remember she also speaks Chinese thanks to mum. So she is hard wired for languages, though mum never taught me Chinese, so I speak a bit of French and Spanish to our daughters just to spite my Chinese wife. Speaking of whom she is in Shanghai enjoying a well deserved holiday seeing her own mum.

So while she is far away in Shanghai, I am Home Alone with our teenage daughters and Totoro our female cat. The Cold Comfort I have is that the weather is so cold that the cat does not wake me up to be let out in the middle of the night. My pigs, my daughters never hear her calls, so it is me who has to let the cat out. The cat can now almost say “milk” too when she wants more than the mountains of cat food we have for her. No only milk will do, before she escapes into the night to pretend to belong to several other owners. Apart from these past few nights, as 20cm of frozen snow is too much for even her own fur coat.

I’ve just had a warming coffee before I resume talking to you all, I could be sad as Christmas 2015 was when we decided we’d look for another place and then it was a while before we started to look, and now Christmas 2017 is upon us. Close but no cigar, 2 baths and 4 beds in our price range is hard to find. We did almost get there a few times, remember with my heart and kidneys location of bathrooms or 2^nd toilet is as important as the house location itself. Its cold comfort having 2 toilets if I’d have to climb the stairs 20 times a day to reach it. Cause of death, heart attack brought on by attempting to reach the toilet for his weak kidneys. Though the obituary would be amusing.

Laughter is a comfort always, do you remember when dad wanted to watch the film but did not want to go to the toilet all the time during the film? Yea, I remember. So he threw mum’s poncho over himself and used an empty Polish apple juice bottle to pee into while he continued to watch the film. Luckily he’d only just finished drinking the Polish apple juice, perfect recycling no doubt. But he caught his willy in the bottle, so had go to hospital to have the Polish apple juice bottle removed. No I’m only joking, dad is stupid, but not that stupid.

He filled the bottle up, and then he enjoyed the film so much he even filled a 2^nd Polish apple juice bottle up, with his cloudy apple juice pee. Then he fell asleep. When he woke up he got up too fast and tripped over the poncho tearing it. So he blamed Totoro the cat, he also thought he hadn’t drunk any Polish apple juice, he just thought it was cloudy apple variety. So dad picked up the 2 bottles, that had his own pee in, 4 litres worth and put them back in the fridge.

The next day we had carol singers. I did do carol singing once many a year ago,nearly 50 years ago in fact. Collecting for the Missionaries, but that’s another story. But as for today, when the carol singers came, dad had no change but thought they deserved something. Then he remembered the Polish apple juice which really IS nice. So dad gave the carol singers the 2 bottles of cloudy apple juice to share amongst them. And singing really is thirsty business, so they quickly downed the apple juice, which really was dad’s forgotten pee.

We never ever had carol singers ever again, we did wonder why, dad insisted it was because he’d been so generous they did not want to bother us ever again. And they never did, and dad never did pee in bottles either because in the Spring we found a new house with 2 bathrooms and an added downstairs toilet just for him. But that was cold comfort for the carol singers.   

Preparing the Dead

Preparing The Dead ©

By Michael Casey

Life is for living but what of the next life? Are you ready for what happens next, assuming you have a Faith, or had any Hope or Charity in your life. It’s the Hope and the Charity perhaps more than any Faith that’ll make the difference. Who so ever you did it to the least of my brethren, you did it to me so it speaks in the Bible. I’m sure other Faiths have great words and beliefs that cover such things. But what of the Undertaker, when he performs the last services for the body, for all our bodies what about him?

In The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker my first book, it’s a comedy drama by the way, we meet Percy Frost the Undertaker and Poet, though for him Poet and Undertaker might be the correct order. So let’s listen in as he goes about his work, his vocation, as generations of Frosts before him have done so.

From the paperwork you are a Christian, so I’ll say the Lord’s Prayer before I begin, or should I say the Our Father as it says Catholic. Now if you are settled I will begin. I have to remove all remaining clothing and clean your body, but you will remember when you came into this world the Midwife did the honours, now it’s me the Undertaker who’ll give you’re the final wash. I’ll avert my eyes so no need to be embarrassed, see that’s much better, you want to smell tour best when you meet the angels.

The family has provided a suit to dress you in, and a nice pair of slippers too, so you won’t make any noise in Heaven as you walk about in the beautiful garden. That’s where the Garden of Eden is, but this time you can eat as many apples as you like, just save a nice apple for me for when it’s my time to get there.

Now you look so nice now, I’ll just comb your hair and put a bit of blusher on your cheeks and a touch of lipstick. People get frightened if you look too pale. I’ll just call my son to help pop you in your coffin then we can put you in the chapel of rest so your family can come and say their final farewells. I’ll have the Christian symbols placed next to the coffin too. See there’s nothing to be scared of, and when all the family has said their goodbyes I’ll put the coffin lid on. Everything will be just fine, then tomorrow will be the funeral and then we’ll place you in your grave next to your old dead mum and dad, see everything will be nice and you’ll soon be having a cup of tea in Paradise.

Percy Frost is of course a professional, but more importantly than that he is a Poet and a man of Faith. As he prepares bodies for their eternal rest he knows he is privileged to be allowed to do such an honour. He is prepping souls for their audition with Almighty God himself.

So Percy honours them whatever Faith they are, he says the prayers for each of the Faiths with such dignity and grace as he prepares their mortal remains. All Faiths and none are greeted by this Concierge of the Graveyard, making them relax as her prepares them for the final joy of entering into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Once there was a body released from the Council Morgue and Percy had  promised her a great send off after having spent six months in the cold. It became a Jazz Funeral, you can read all about it in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker. Percy’s spirit is based on a real undertaker we know and I feel all Undertakers do at heart follow in his footsteps.

If you doubt what I say then all I’ll say is that you’ll know if I’m right or wrong when you get the invite to The Kingdom of Heaven at your own Funeral.

Last Minute Writing

Last Minute Writing©

By

Michael Casey

I was wondering what to talk about tonight, I could bore you about my pains, which have subsided so while I wait for my bath water to heat up I’ll try and entertain you, but then I’ll have a soak of my arthritic bits and pieces.

You may all think that my writing is all last minute, judging by the quality, but then I’d cry, and you don’t want to make Santa cry so close to Christmas, you do want you presents after all, don’t you? So I was thinking how do ideas come about? Or rather last minute ideas. You may know I love Don Camillo, no Boris, Lech and Lav I do not have a Italian gangster boyfriend, North Korean ex army girl would be more up my street. But I digress. Don Camillo is a comedy figure from the 1950s, you can find videos on Utube, if you click on my Blogger id there is a link inside to a full Don Camillo film in English. Even though the listing has changed these past few days for some unexplained Google reason.

Don Camillo himself was invented by Giovannino Guareschi when at the last minute he had to fill space in a paper, so Don Camillo was born. I was in fact reading an omnibus edition of the stories in the days prior to my quadruple heart bypass. The Italian heart surgeon Prof Pagano who had a look at me was impressed by my reading tastes. My point though is that a last minute filler became an International hit. Yes written before I was even born, my History teacher said give it a try 40 years ago and I did. I’ve reread the stories several times. You may have never have heard of Don Camillo but its worth a look, especially if you like comic communists fighting catholic priests. The priest and the communists are like brothers really as they fought as Partisans together in WWII. I’m sure my Polish readers will love it.

Now what about me, well as you know I usually write a piece in an hour, that’s my skill, ok Boris, Lav and Lech any more rude noises and I’ll write a sentence where your car breaks down and you are stranded for a month in 3 metres of snow. And you only survive by eating, well I’ll leave it to your imagination, I could say you cut Boris’s fat arse off and eat it. But that would be disgusting and inedible. Besides that’s what the rugby players did in that Andes plane crash, I read the book maybe 30 years ago.

So what do I do as a last minute filler, as a piece of writing to keep you all amused and to keep my brain active. Well each piece is unplanned, its spontaneous, I prefer it that way. It’s more fun for me, Boris, Lech and Lav if you dare say what I know you are thinking then I’ll make you have an accident. I’ll give you 20 litres of Pilsner and lock the toilets. Ok, sorry, I know 60 litres then I’ll lock the toilets, see if you like peeing in your pants like children. You’d pee through the keyhole, it’d be fun, especially after 20 litres of Pilsner each. It’s a waste of time talking to you three, Tom, Dick and Harry were never this trouble.

So I pick a theme and away I go. Remember having Total Recall, ok, being such a boring old fart, I can go on and on, don’t even think about it you three are disgusting. Ok, I’ve unlocked the toilets, go and have a pee, instead of taking the pee all the time. Now that I’ve got rid of those cousins I’ll continue. What do you expect when Polish, Ukrainian and Russian cousins get together? 100 litres of Pilsner. Ok can you be quiet too.

So I write a piece in an hour as I wouldn’t have the energy to do more than and hour. And a book is a year of your life, though as I’ve said before if somebody, anybody gave me a tape recorder or a legal secretary then I could write another full length novel in maybe 3 months. So where do the ideas come from? Lust? No I don’t write that kind of stuff, I just place a few ideas in your head then I let you take them home to bed. I’m just here all alone watching the news on tv, while Boris, Lech and Lav improvise from what they have read, from what I’ve hinted.

From the News? Yes if something is in the news it will spark and idea, or a parody of something. Trump goes on forever giving us all ideas, as for Brexit over here, it’s very boring, as it goes on forever. And I speak as a news junkie. A news item might remind me of something from last week or last year, or 50 years ago. 55years ago I was left all alone in the house in front of a roaring coal fire while my dad collected our new sister, number 6 in the family from Dudley Road hospital. So I remember that and my mother returning and sitting downing the chair holding my new little sister. I remember dad in his sports jacket too.

It’s really simple really, I think of one word, add the water of memory and nurture it with adjectives and simple punctuation and then hey presto I have another story for you. This one is Number 1507 if you include the repeats, 1,215,732 words plus this story. I may have 100,000 words collated into 15 Down ready to turn into my 15^th book just after Christmas. If only you’d start buying them, but Boris, Lech and Lav are too busy drinking Pilsner, though to be honest, which is more fun?

Ok I have to wash and soak my sore bits now, my daughter just shouted out from behind me she is now ranked 18^th out of 700 for Maths. So I have to buy her more chocolate. And that is the last minute writing for tonight, with a bit of maths thrown in by my daughter.     

Shattered Things

December 03, 2017

Shattered Things ©

By

Michael Casey

I just put the rubbish out and as I stood by the recycle bin I noticed that there was some faded red plastic on the floor, I did not know what it was at first as it was all shattered.It was in fact and old clothes peg. Then as I came back inside from the cold I noticed some shattered weeds or plant stems, tiny ones. It could be a witch casting a spell with DIY ingredients, eye of newt is very hard to come by after all, or it could just have been the wind and rain lashing the house last night. Though a witch would be more romantic, our own house witch, my Shanghai wife has gone to church, when she comes home she may cast more spells on me.

So it gave me the idea for today’s talk, 3rd Dec 2017, just so word historians can track back my words, assuming they dig up this computer in the future, or Google search archive rediscovers me assuming North Korea hasn’t nuked Birmingham for me telling Kim to leave and let his people live. A bit of Historical context for those scrapheap men in the future.

Shattered, everything can shatter. Everything can change, apart from what? Your Spirit perhaps? You are pretty so you flaunt you looks, and you catch a rich boy, maybe you are a WAG. Then when you lose your looks or the stretch marks don’t go away. And then he goes away with a newer model, literally. So you illusions are shattered. He did not love you, he just loved your hotness, once your hotness left you, then so did he, and now you are out in the cold. Everything is shattered.

Or he had loads of money so you married him, but he spent without saving, then there was a hiccup. No savings left, so you left him for a newer model, a man with a car dealership selling all the latest models of Audi and Rolls Royce. Another marriage shattered.

Lav from Russian was stocky and strong he could lift 100kilos with one hand, and 250kilos using both. He wasn’t a weight lifter, though he was always lifting weights, truck tires from the workshop where he worked keeping the fleet moving. He just did his job and loved it, knowing that nobody would ever love him, he was just the incredible Hulk, a red Russian version, but he did enjoy eating his greens, which made his fart too often.

One day the boss’s daughter came in her windscreen shattered, so Lav fixed it for her, he told her not to stray as the workshop was a dangerous place. But she did not listen, so when a rack of truck tires fell over she could have been killed and should have been. But Lav saved her, deflecting the tires away. Now this was the road to Damascus or is it Moscow experience that she needed in her life, and cutting the story short she became his wife. But he’s just an ogre, a Shrek look alike, you should not be his wife.

Sometimes events shatter your illusions, and you come to different conclusions. Some pretty girls see past the money, and some men see further than the honey. Shatter the glass and see further than her ass, look past his package, his wad of money, and no I’m not being funny, love is more than money. Maybe I’m naive and what am I trying to achieve? If you ever see a pretty woman, and I’m not talking about Julia Roberts, with an ugly fat man, maybe it’s love. Or maybe a Brad Pitt with a wrinkly girl, maybe its love.

Shatter a few illusions in your mind, just try and be kind, and not just look at his or her behind. Don’t just look at the size of her thighs, or at his deep blue eyes. Or the size of his wealth, don’t use stealth, just look at the man in his head, not just there lying in your bed.  

Enough of this rhyming ranting, if he or she fits the bill you’ll never be on the Pill, because love is without barriers, internal or external. You both together shatter all expectations, with your unusual flirtations. A man with a limp, or a man with a stutter, can win the fair maiden, for love is blind, love is deaf, love is dumb, love has no senses because because because Love is Divine Comedy. And if you don’t know that then its time you shattered a few self delusions, and that dear friends is my conclusion, and no I’m not fat it’s an optical illusion.       

my wife and 2 daughters in Malta Spring 2013

The Sunshine of your Smile

The Sunshine of your Smile ©

By Michael Casey

I was wondering what to call today’s piece when Paul McCartney gave me an idea, he came around to clean our windows, he’s nice like that, he learnt it from his dad George Formby who was forever cleaning windows. So he sang The Sunshine of your Smile so I thought that’ll explain today’s talk nicely. I’m listening to his Flaming Pie album, I wish he’d just get on and clean our windows, but so long as they are done by the time the album is finished or I’ll tip the bucket of water on his head. Liverpool folk  are just too chirpy some times.

Today is bright and very sunny, but the cold would freeze the arse off Kim, any Kim, you care to mention. But so long as you wrap up, by which I mean put lots of layers on, not sing some song by JayZ, then you’ll stay warm. I did stop by the Plastic shop, which sells all things made of plastic, and buy some silver lined insoles to protect my soles, by which I mean the soles of my feet. My Soul is God’s, well I keep on telling myself that. As for Seoul, that’s a place far away with a very noisy neighbour. I hope I haven’t confused my Eastern readers, but Poles and Ukrainians have a good sense of humour. Or has somebody on reception been having a joke and making all the new staff read my rubbish on night shift at the hotel. They should be cleaning the common areas not misusing Opera, the manager will make a song and even dance about it in the morning if the foyer does not glitter like a palace.

Ok, enough of the puns, but if Shakespeare did it, then I should at least try. What is so good about sunshine and smiles? Well it makes us all happy. A pretty girl without a smile is ugly. Just look at all the ghosts modelling on catwalks if you don’t believe me. A smile is like the sun itself. It is liked Dawn itself, and I have seen Dawn break hundreds times when I used to work the night shift in Birmingham city centre. Dawn is a new beginning a new hope, a new love.

When a girl forgives you, remember men are always wrong and always to blame and so always in need of forgiveness. If your priest did not tell you that when he gave you pre marriage instruction then he failed you badly, besides what do priests know about women? They live with 100 year old housekeepers.

So when we are forgiven the smile broadens and the lights light up in your loved ones eyes. I imagine the same happens when you are Gay, people are people and Love is Love after all. So you get the smile and the eyes twinkle and you are powerless before your love. What happens next is up to the both of you, so I’ll leave it to your imagination.

In general though smiles are sunshine and if you have somebody at work or just up your street or in the family that makes you smile as an individual or as a group then you are very lucky. The little ray of sunshine, really does exist. As does the sad bad mad cloud that kills life and laughter, you can pick your own bosses and world leaders and even your own family members or former friends who are like that.

One of my bad habits is making jokes to hard pressed shop assistants who are too busy to listen, though sometimes I can see that the shop assistant is sad for some reason so I’ll try and perk them up. Remember at CPNEC Birmingham I was the first person people met when they entered the hotel, so I have 100,000 people interactions up my sleeve. A distraction  even from the fat silver haired guy in shades can perk up people, a smile can bring a bit of happiness into a life. No I’m not Paul McCartney, and he still hasn’t finished cleaning my windows, and I’m not a  super model either, not unless you want a Michelin man model, but all of us can bring sunshine with a smile. I’ve seen enough dull and sad people and bosses in my life to know I want to be the exact opposite.

Sharing a joke does lighten the yolk, it can start new friendships too. You can say to that Asian girl you really fancy, your eyes are like stars, and your teeth are like diamonds. Then you add, do you take them out at night. She will either give you a big slap or just smile and tell you she’s a dentist, yes for real a dentist.  Then she may push you back in the chair and ask you to open your mouth before  pouring salt into it. It is used by dentists to prevent infection after all, and she may think you are an infection. At this point you will either storm out or think, she’s the one for you. As the whole of Subway watch a marriage is born in Heaven, or rather in Subway.

So my Spring Rolls beckon, my daughter is cooking them in the kitchen and my smile is widening, memories of food always make me smile. And anticipation of food makes my smile too. So I’ll finish by suggesting you buy fairy cakes and ask your girl to teach you how to bake them. It’s something really easy to do  but the secret is in the mixing, so mix and bake and smile and put buns in the oven.