Fame at Last by Michael Casey

Fame at Last by Michael Casey

Fame at Last ©

By Michael Casey

Well it finally happened, I’m famous, ok not really famous like Brad Pitt or George Clooney. Just like the fat man you see on the bus every day, the one you sat next to once when the bus was full, the one with the B.O. You friend Gail sprayed her perfume for you when you got to work to get his smell out of your nose. Well I’m suppose I’m like that fat man, memorable but instantly forgettable.

We have a great Polish shop on the corner, so I decided why not put a Polish translation of one of my stories online on my site, the  https://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/  site. Then  hey presto I got 8000+ hits in 8 days. The Poles seem to like my sense of humour, either that or young Polish lads think it’s a porn site and are really disappointed when it is not.

Either way I have hits galore, and I’ve put 6 or so pieces online in Google translated Polish. I think because my writing style and punctuation is so simple it must translate accurately. One of my brothers is a linguist and he used to say that automatic translations fails because of punctuation etc. However judging from the hits the Polish translation seems to have worked.

I get hits from 20+ countries all over the place, Japan and Brazil have joined the “fan club” but nobody stops me in the street in Birmingham asking for an autograph. They might just think I’m the fat smelly guy from the bus story, though I do use a bit of Ck as I like it, I smelt some Armani in the pharmacy the other day, so when I’m really famous people can spay me with that, or just send me a bottle. Knowing my luck people will throw buckets of it at me, because I am the fat smelly guy from the bus, it must be true because they half read a story about it.

As I talk to you I’m listening to Celine Dion’s French album, “je volu etre artist” she sings, and I join in, I want to be an artist too, though a writer not a singer. I raise the volume and let her voice swamp me, just as a bucket of perfume would, I am the smelly fat guy from the bus story after all. I’ve typecast myself now.

It is really nice to see the Google Blogger figures and to see which stories are so popular, not unless it’s the CIA checking on me and all the translations. Or is it Wiki Leaks peeing all over me and faking my figures, somebody throw some Armani Code all over me, Wiki has Leaked on me again. Not unless the sea of the CIA has sent a wet team to get me, can I have a change of clothes and another bucket of Armani Code please.

So now that the Poles have taken my stories to heart perhaps next time I’m in the Polish shop buying bread, and Polish bread is great by the way, will I be stopped at the counter to give autographs. Pose for selfies next to the Polish sausages, hold a 2.25 litre of cola at the checkout. The Poles don’t believe in 2 litres it has to be 2.25 litres, so if you like pop buy it there.

No that won’t happen, I want just my words to be famous, I’m more than happy to stay a ghost, yes I do include a stupid photo alongside each story, that’s so people don’t confuse me with another Michael Casey, I am not the monk nor the USA journalist nor the Dublin guy either. I am the Michael Casey from Birmingham the fat guy you saw on the bus, the one who has bottles of Armani Code given to him. Which is an improvement on what used to happen.

All in all I have to thank the Poles everywhere, and from Japan to Brazil and all points on the compass for passing by and reading my stories in my original English and any Google translations I post too. Give some perfume to the one you love, and say move out the way Fattie if you meet me in the Polish shop, but you’ll have to say it in English, and I may even pose for a selfie by the counter next to the near identical twin brother owners.