Comparing comparing comparing

Comparing, comparing, comparing ©

By Michael Casey

I was just having a look at the property pages on www.rightmove.co.uk in the vain hope of finding something, I’d have more luck on the Monopoly board, in fact I always used to win. I have bought a Monopoly set for the girls, when my brother saw it took him back years, decades maybe 40 to 50 years ago when we played last. Yes I know I only look 28 but I am much older, stop sniggering at the back or I’ll send you to the Latin class and see if you survive the Ablative Absolute. I knew that would shut you up, who do you think you are Lech Wałęsa or somebody?

Where was I before that revolutionary  interrupted me, yes I was talking about Comparing, that revolutionary’s other 6 brothers were much nicer than him in my English class, and his 4 sisters were much nicer too. Interrupting me in mid story,  if I interrupted him while he was playing chess, and if I stole his Queen, then he’d be annoyed.

I’ve calmed down now, I’ve had another cup of tea and stroked my cat Totoro, but I shouldn’t compare brothers should I? I’ll just tell Don Camillo that this revolutionary deserves an extra penance such as cleaning all the candle holders. Karol Wojtyla never had this trouble did he?

So now that I have your attention, I was going to talk about Comparing, yes one brother might be the bad apple, but once he goes to England he’ll open a shop and make his fortune, or he’ll become a builder and then have his own company and then make two fortunes. Then the priest Don  Camillo will sing his praises as Tomas sends money back for all the family and to fix the church roof.

So Tomas suddenly becomes the best brother and  the other six are called lazy, because they are compared to the multimillionaire Tomas. The fact that all six have their own businesses will be forgotten, and the fact that his 4 sisters married millionaires, they weren’t millionaires to start with, but when a Polish girl nags you then you have to work hard. Or am I mistaken, I am just the fat writer from Birmingham after all.

It is wrong to compare brothers or sisters for that matter. I went to the same Grammar school as 2 of my brothers, the Latin teacher, or Little Caesar as he was called remarked that I was different to them. I was more hearty and very strong and dangerous on the Rugby field. My brothers went to Oxford and Cambridge, I did not. Am I the failure of the family because all I’ve done is write 1,024,800 words so far, but who is counting? Will Don Camillo make me clean the candle holders?

Karol Wojtyla and Padre Pio having a cup of tea in Heaven would they think I am a lost sheep, not even they can help me? And did you know they actually met on this earth? Or would they say now we help him because everybody will think he is a Polish Joke, and somebody in Cracow, some Professor of Philosophy will have to explain it. This fat writer from Birmingham cannot.

When you are in the supermarket you compare things too, is this bread cheaper than that bread, is the big bag of frozen sausages always the best value or are the 3 smaller bags better? In Iceland this week, it’s the 3 smaller bags and you get 4 more sausages too. I do like an occasional Richmond sausage, and yes I don’t live in Aldi. When you are out food shopping the maths you did or did not do in school comes to the fore. I was beaten into remembering my times tables, so I can work things out fast. So I am a quick and seasoned shopper.

Moving back to houses, as you scroll through the website you know what you are looking for, the smallest bedroom must be able to fit a double bed, so if it cannot then that house can stay on the Monopoly board. Then you look at the area, can your girls walk to their school. Is the area safe for your princesses when they come home late in the dark, or will you and your dog have to stand in the dark and cold waiting for them.  

Though if I stand somewhere in the dark people cross the road to avoid me, I think I need to dab more Armarni Code on me, that’s if I had some. You have to make sure you are not next to a local take away, one house we looked at was the right size but you don’t want to smell takeaway all day every day, yes its nice, but not 24/7.

Size does matter, but location trumps size. You can have a nice house but just around the corner are lock up garages, horrible ones. You can have a house that is all done up but still it feels wrong, like the one we viewed on Saturday. Comparing is a hard thing to do, in the end you say I give up you take over and then God or one of the saints you talk to answers.

I’ve just checked on the Internet for the saint for house buying/selling and Saint Joseph is mentioned. Catholics swear by this saint and that saint depending on which one came up with the goods. On the Internet 2 seconds ago it said you should bury a statue of saint Joseph to help with the house move. Though in some areas you may find bodies buried under the patio, so I’d forget about that idea.

I think that’s a bit extreme, buy your parish priest a bottle of Johnnie Walker whisky and ask him to pray till he finishes the bottle. Then you should have a new house, though if your priest is a drinker you will either be disappointed or have a record quick sale.

All in all comparing is good as it helps us decide what we want, a loaf of bread, a car, a husband, or even a house. In the end its just luck or prayer that decides our lives. Freewill versus Ordained some might say, I vote Freewill, it’s the ultimate board game for God, Monopoly is banned in Heaven, there are too many mansions there already.

Though if any Polish saint wants to send me a mansion in my price range then I’ll be very happy. How did Michael Casey the fat Birmingham writer end up being successful? Oh, he’s a favourite joke of a Polish saint, oh Carol, or is that just a song?