Thursday, 30 November 2017

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. 


Wednesday, 29 November 2017

Christmas was Cold, or my seasonal job from a few years as go, I'm not telling lies, I am your writer

Christmas Was Cold

Christmas Was Cold ©
By Michael Casey
Christmas was cold, and Kevin did not like it, he didn’t like it one bit. The agency had said they had a job for him , it was a temp job and it involved a lot of travel, and it paid well, very well.
So Kevin took it like a shot, he’d been unemployed for a while and he wanted to bring some money in so he could go on holiday to some place any place warm. They had said he’d get a free holiday as part of the package IF he took the job.
He arrived at the port and went into a warehouse, he’d be interviewed in there said the agency. He looked all around and he could see nobody, nobody at all. Then he heard the sound of boots echoing behind him, he spun around to see and elf approaching. He laughed, the man in the costume looked so silly.
Only it wasn’t a man in a costume, it was a real elf, only Kevin was too stupid to realise it. He’d never seen a real elf in his life. The elf looked Kevin up and down, he half smiled. Kevin was fat, very fat, the kind of fat where his belly was bursting his belt, it wasn’t overhanging his belt, that would have been disgusting. No Kevin was fat, perfect fat, for the perfect job.
The elf asked him did he know why he was here, and did he have his passport with him, the usual stuff when you apply for a job nowadays. The elf walked away with Kevin’s documentation in his hand.  Kevin looked around the warehouse it was empty, full of nothing.
Full of nothing as far as stupid people could see, if Kevin could use his eyes then he’d see that the warehouse was brimming with people and every kind of thing. This was Christmas warehouse. The elf returned holding a Santa suit in his hand, Kevin laughed, so that was the job, Santa at a store. Well he needed the money so he put the suit on.
Kevin felt dizzy, he had to lean on the elf for support, he had stars in his eyes, he was seeing things. The elf took a glass of water out of his pocket and Kevin drunk it willingly. Noise and fireworks appeared in the empty warehouse. Kevin fainted.
Kevin awoke in another world, in Santa’s world, now he could see that he was in Santa’s workshop, there were elves everywhere. He must have been drugged, he rubbed his eyes and felt his face. He had a beard, a long white beard. He’d been drugged and transformed into Santa, suit and all.
The elf explained, that only a man with a perfect belly could stand in for Santa at Christmas. Kevin was the chosen one, he was the man, he was Santa. The real Santa had broken his leg while skiing in Birmingham, so Kevin was the standin.
The elf went through the Health and Safety rules, HO HO HO, always 3 HO HO HOs, other than that there were no Health and Safety rules. The reindeer would explain everything. Kevin looked around he could see no reindeer, the elf led him outside to the dock.
A submarine surfaced and the sleigh and the reindeer emerged, reindeer can hold their breath for such a long time.  They are waterproof or seaproof too, the sleigh has water repellent paint on it too, made in the paint factory in Birmingham, you know the one just down the road from the reindeers friends in Ladywood Fire Station.
Kevin was impressed this was more like James Bond, he high fived the reindeer, they licked his new beard, that’s what reindeer always do to Santa. The elf smiled he was sure they’d get on well. The elf answered the unasked question, why the submarine?
The submarine was to get into countries where Santa was not welcome, North Korea was one of them. A sleigh would be spotted on radar, so Santa would sneak in and shower love and happiness and hope amongst the people.
Kevin shed a tear, he was Santa now, so his heart felt the things Santa felt. The submarine levitated and turned/merged into a bigger sleigh, a very large sleigh. Eat your heart out James Bond, Santa has much better toys, literally.
Kevin shook the reins and away they went into the night sky, Kevin ho ho hoed his way around the world. His fat belly was too big to get down a lot of the chimneys, but that’s where the reindeer came in, they formed a team, a tug of war team and pulled him up and down the chimneys.
The reindeer could of course get down all the chimneys, they held their breath and wriggled their bums, it was easy for them they had been doing it for centuries. That’s why your Christmas trees get nibbled in the night, it’s the reindeer, its hungry work flying around the world with Christmas presents.
Kevin, or should I say Santa realised why he needed the beard, it kept him warm, it got cold, very cold flying high in the sky. They did stop on the River Po, just to say hello to Don Camillo, he was a priest but sometimes he was on the naughty list, and sometimes he came off the naughty list, depending on what he and the mayor had been doing.
The sleigh/submarine had a never-ending supply of presents, Kevin, I mean Santa got into the swing of things, the reindeer sung carols, 1000s of them in lots of different languages, they were a carol jukebox. Some brought tears to Santa’s eyes.
Dive, dive, dive they had to sneak into a country to bring Hope and Love, no presents just a loaf of bread. The reindeer didn’t nibble on any trees, as Christmas trees and Christmas itself were banned. The reindeer cried, but there was always Hope.
High and Low, Up and Down the sleigh went over the face of the earth, Santa HO HO Hoed, tonight Christ was born, a new light had entered the world.
The work was done, the world had been crissed and crossed, the reindeer headed back to the warehouse. As the sleigh landed Kevin’s beard dissolved, he was Santa no more. He looked around the warehouse, the elves were dissolving into nothingness, the reindeer trotted away still singing Rejoice Rejoice Emanuel.

Had he been drugged, was this all an hallucination, it couldn’t be he felt Love in his heart, he had been Santa for a night. As he walked out of the warehouse his footsteps echoed into sky, Kevin looked up and could see Santa in his sleight, his crutches besides him, and the reindeer still sung Rejoice Rejoice Emanuel.    



THIS IS SOMETHING TO MAKE US ALL THINK I FOUND IT, I DID NOT WRITE IT

Christmas Truce Great War 1914 to 1918


Christmas truce was a series of widespread unofficial ceasefires that took place along the Western Front around Christmas of 1914, during the First World War. Through the week leading up to Christmas, parties of German and British soldiers began to exchange seasonal greetings and songs between their trenches; on occasion, the tension was reduced to the point that individuals would walk across to talk to their opposite numbers bearing gifts. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, many soldiers from both sides – as well as, to a lesser degree, from French units – independently ventured into "No man's land", where they mingled, exchanging food and souvenirs. As well as joint burial ceremonies, several meetings ended in carol-singing. Troops from both sides had also been so friendly as to play games of football with one another.[1]
The truce is seen as a symbolic moment of peace and humanity amidst one of the most violent events of modern history. It was not ubiquitous, however; in some regions of the front, fighting continued throughout the day, whilst in others, little more than an arrangement to recover bodies was made. The following year, a few units again arranged ceasefires with their opponents over Christmas, but to nothing like the widespread extent seen in 1914; this was, in part, due to strongly worded orders from the high commands of both sides prohibiting such fraternisation.
The truces were not unique to the Christmas period, and reflected a growing mood of "live and let live", where infantry units in close proximity to each other would stop overtly aggressive behaviour, and often engage in small-scale fraternisation, engaging in conversation or bartering for cigarettes. In some sectors, there would be occasional ceasefires to go between the lines and recover wounded or dead soldiers, whilst in others, there would be a tacit agreement not to shoot while men rested, exercised, or worked in full view of the enemy. However, the Christmas truces were particularly significant due to the number of men involved and the level of their participation – even in very peaceful sectors, dozens of men openly congregating in daylight was remarkable.

A cross, left near Ypres in Belgium in 1999, to commemorate the site of the Christmas Truce in 1914. The text reads:

A cross, left near Ypres in Belgium in 1999, to commemorate the site of the Christmas Truce in 1914. The text reads:
1914 – The Khaki Chum's Christmas Truce – 1999 – 85 Years – Lest We Forget.

Background

The first months of World War I had seen an initial German attack through Belgium into France, which had been repulsed outside Paris by French and British troops at the Battle of the Marne in early September 1914. The Germans fell back to the Aisne valley, where they prepared defensive positions. In the subsequent Battle of the Aisne, the Allied forces were unable to push through the German line, and the fighting quickly degenerated into a static stalemate; neither side was willing to give ground, and both started to develop fortified systems of trenches. To the north, on the right of the German army, there had been no defined front line, and both sides quickly began to try to use this gap to outflank one another; in the ensuing "Race to the Sea", the two sides repeatedly clashed, each trying to push forward and threaten the end of the other's line. After several months of fighting, during which the British forces were withdrawn from the Aisne and sent north into Flanders, the northern flank had developed into a similar stalemate. By November, there was a continuous front line running from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier, occupied on both sides by armies in prepared defensive positions.[2]
[edit]The approach to Christmas
In the lead up to Christmas 1914, there were several peace initiatives. The Open Christmas Letter was a public message for peace addressed "To the Women of Germany and Austria", signed by a group of 101 British women suffragists at the end of 1914 as the first Christmas of World War I approached.[3][4] Pope Benedict XV, on 7 December 1914, had begged for an official truce between the warring governments.[5] He asked "that the guns may fall silent at least upon the night the angels sang."[6] This attempt was officially rebuffed.[7]
[edit]Christmas 1914



British and German troops meeting in No man's land during the unofficial truce (British troops from the Northumberland Hussars, 7th Division, Bridoux-Rouge Banc Sector)
Though there was no official truce, about 100,000 British and German troops were involved in unofficial cessations of fighting along the length of the Western Front.[8] The first truce started on Christmas Eve, 24 December 1914, when German troops began decorating the area around their trenches in the region of Ypres, Belgium.[9]
The Germans began by placing candles on their trenches and on Christmas trees, then continued the celebration by singing Christmas carols. The British responded by singing carols of their own. The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were excursions across No Man's Land, where small gifts were exchanged, such as food, tobacco and alcohol, and souvenirs such as buttons and hats. The artillery in the region fell silent that night. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently fallen soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Joint services were held. The fraternisation was not, however, without its risks; some soldiers were shot by opposing forces. In many sectors, the truce lasted through Christmas night, but it continued until New Year's Day in others.[7]
Bruce Bairnsfather, who served throughout the war, wrote: "I wouldn't have missed that unique and weird Christmas Day for anything. ... I spotted a German officer, some sort of lieutenant I should think, and being a bit of a collector, I intimated to him that I had taken a fancy to some of his buttons. ... I brought out my wire clippers and, with a few deft snips, removed a couple of his buttons and put them in my pocket. I then gave him two of mine in exchange. ... The last I saw was one of my machine gunners, who was a bit of an amateur hairdresser in civil life, cutting the unnaturally long hair of a docile Boche, who was patiently kneeling on the ground whilst the automatic clippers crept up the back of his neck."[10]
General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, commander of the British II Corps, was irate when he heard what was happening, and issued strict orders forbidding friendly communication with the opposing German troops.[8]
Adolf Hitler, then a young corporal of the 16th Bavarian Reserve Infantry, was a notable opponent of the truce.[8]
[edit]Later truces

In the following months, there were a few sporadic attempts at truces; a German unit attempted to leave their trenches under a flag of truce on Easter Sunday 1915, but were warned off by the British opposite them, and later in the year, in November, a Saxon unit briefly fraternised with a Liverpool battalion. Come December, there were explicit orders by the Allied commanders to forestall any repeat of the previous Christmas truce. Individual units were encouraged to mount raids and harass the enemy line, whilst communicating with the enemy was discouraged by artillery barrages along the front line throughout the day. The prohibition was not completely effective, however, and a small number of brief truces occurred.[11]
An eyewitness account of one truce, by Llewelyn Wyn Griffith, recorded that after a night of exchanging carols, dawn on Christmas Day saw a "rush of men from both sides ... [and] a feverish exchange of souvenirs" before the men were quickly called back by their officers, with offers to hold a ceasefire for the day and to play a football match. It came to nothing, however; the brigade commander threatened repercussions for the lack of discipline, and insisted on a resumption of firing in the afternoon.[12] Another member of Griffith's battalion, Bertie Felstead, later recalled that one man had produced a football, resulting in "a free-for-all; there could have been 50 on each side", before they were ordered back.[13]
In an adjacent sector, a short truce to bury the dead between the lines led to official repercussions; a company commander, Sir Iain Colquhoun of the Scots Guards, was court-martialled for defying standing orders to the contrary. Whilst he was found guilty and officially reprimanded, this punishment was quickly annulled by General Haig, and Colquhoun remained in his position; the official leniency may perhaps have been because he was related to Herbert Asquith, the Prime Minister.[14]
In the later years of the war, in December 1916 and 1917, German overtures to the British for truces were recorded without any success.[15] However, in some French sectors, singing and an exchange of thrown gifts was occasionally recorded, though these may simply have reflected a seasonal extension of the live-and-let-live approach common in the trenches.[16]
Evidence of a Christmas 1916 truce, previously unknown to historians, has recently come to light. In a letter home, 23-year-old Private Ronald MacKinnon told of a remarkable event that occurred on December 25, 1916, when German and Canadian soldiers reached across the battle lines near Vimy Ridge to share Christmas greetings and trade presents. "Here we are again as the song says," the young soldier wrote. "I had quite a good Xmas considering I was in the front line. Xmas eve was pretty stiff, sentry-go up to the hips in mud of course. ... We had a truce on Xmas Day and our German friends were quite friendly. They came over to see us and we traded bully beef for cigars."
The passage ends with Pte. MacKinnon noting that, "Xmas was 'tray bon', which means very good."[17] MacKinnon was killed shortly afterwards during the Battle of Vimy Ridge.
In the following years of the war, artillery bombardments were ordered on Christmas Eve to try to ensure that there were no further lulls in the combat. Troops were also rotated through various sectors of the front to prevent them from becoming overly familiar with the enemy. However, situations of deliberate dampening of hostilities also occurred. For example, artillery was fired at precise points, at precise times, to avoid enemy casualties by both sides.[18]
[edit]French-German truce

Richard Schirrmann, who was in a German regiment holding a position on the Bernhardstein, one of the mountains of the Vosges, wrote an account of events in December 1915: "When the Christmas bells sounded in the villages of the Vosges behind the lines ..... something fantastically unmilitary occurred. German and French troops spontaneously made peace and ceased hostilities; they visited each other through disused trench tunnels, and exchanged wine, cognac and cigarettes for Westphalian black bread, biscuits and ham. This suited them so well that they remained good friends even after Christmas was over." He was separated from the French troops by a narrow No Man's Land and described the landscape as: "Strewn with shattered trees, the ground ploughed up by shellfire, a wilderness of earth, tree-roots and tattered uniforms." Military discipline was soon restored, but Schirrmann pondered over the incident, and whether "thoughtful young people of all countries could be provided with suitable meeting places where they could get to know each other." He went on to found the German Youth Hostel Association in 1919.[19]
[edit]Public awareness

The events of the truce were not reported for a week, in an unofficial press embargo which was eventually broken by the New York Times on 31 December. The British papers quickly followed, printing numerous first-hand accounts from soldiers in the field, taken from letters home to their families, and editorials on "one of the greatest surprises of a surprising war". By 8 January pictures had made their way to the press, and both the Mirror and Sketch printed front-page photographs of British and German troops mingling and singing between the lines. The tone of the reporting was strongly positive, with the Times endorsing the "lack of malice" felt by both sides and the Mirror regretting that the "absurdity and the tragedy" would begin again.[20]
Coverage in Germany was more muted, with some newspapers strongly criticising those who had taken part, and no pictures published. In France, meanwhile, the greater level of press censorship ensured that the only word that spread of the truce came from soldiers at the front or first-hand accounts told by wounded men in hospitals.[21] The press was eventually forced to respond to the growing rumours by reprinting a government notice that fraternising with the enemy constituted treason, and in early January an official statement on the truce was published, claiming it had happened on restricted sectors of the British front, and amounted to little more than an exchange of songs which quickly degenerated into shooting.[22]



Tuesday, 28 November 2017

That Special Moment

That Special Moment ©
By Michael Casey
Christmas is coming the  goose is getting fat, well it is 28th November so forgive me for mentioning Christmas, though I do believe Christmas should be kept in December, and not August as some retailers may prefer. We had Harry and Markle on tv yesterday on about special things, I’m not going to talk about them, but how did Harry fall in love with the leader of Germany I’ll never know, as English people are notoriously bad with languages. My own speciality is bad language, so don’t vex me. Though I can stumble along in French and Spanish and one of brothers was a bit of a linguist, and another did live and work in Paris for 4 years. Not forgetting the Shanghai wife and our bilingual daughters. But I’ll leave Harry alone with his American/German phrasebook. The Windsors  are from Germany after all.

So what makes a moment special? In actual fact it’s the Future or is it the Past? When in the future you look back at your past you only then realise just how special the moment was. I think in real time you are too busy to realise how good a time you are having. It’s when you go to bed and you rewind your day that you realise how good it was as you thank God when you say your prayers. That’s if you pray at all, I bet only 15% of people actually pray. Forget the Christmas Christians or other faiths, the ones who actually have faith in their life, not those who attend because they have to. These are the believers of all faiths and none.

But you can argue the philosophy of prayer next time you are down the bookies smoking a splif as you share a can of Guinness with your local vicar. Or whoever leads your prayers. Now one special moment is when the Queen’s horse romps home and you have had a bet on it. You win 700 quid, or 2 weeks wages in money terms. You did lose double that 2 months before, but now you are triumphant. Luckily the vicar though seeing double because of the splif decides to intervene, so he grabs your winnings, no metaphor intended and puts them down his pants. So you chase him out of the bookies and up the road to the village green, where you try to debag him.

The little dog laughed to see such fun and the dish ran away with the spoon, so says the nursey rhythm. In reality people are wondering why their trendy vicar is being attacked and having the pants torn off him. A tear appears and ten pound noses flutter from the vicars torn pants.  The vicar continues running away, as Michael Casey Trainee betting Shop Manager stands in the door of the bookies and wonders will every day be like this. Smiling Paul the bookie in The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker  would be taking bets by now on how long before the vicar would be knickerless with just the odd 10 pound note to hide his modesty. 

The vicar’s pants come off and tenners float everywhere, the vicar has just his union  jack underpants on. The crowd are impressed by all his bulges. The vicar’s assistant appears still wearing vestments, she takes off her cassock so the vicar can hide his bulges. Then she turns on you to lash you with her tongue. She used to be a bingo caller before the call came, but now she’ll lash you unmercifully for daring to disrobe a vicar in public.

As she whips you with her  tongue a strange thing happens, you realise she is the one for you. You are being chastised by god’s helper, by god’s little worker. So as you finish collecting your 700 winnings you look deep into her eyes, and then and then and then and then  you puke all over her. Splif and Guinness combined with chasing the vicar and tearing his clothes off to get your money back has upset your stomach. Or it could have been the two spicy kebabs as you watch the race meeting from Ascot in the bookies’ shop. So the vicar’s assistant is covered in your puke.

Her face goes red with anger, you say it matches her red hair, and you just love her Edinburgh accent.  She punches you in the stomach, which was a mistake so you puke all over her again before you collapse on top of her. Now at this point God intervenes, he knows she has a really bad temper and had hoped the church would hide it. She has now been twice blessed, or is it twice puked over. As you lay on top of her saying sorry you use the 700 in notes top wipe your sick off her.
Six months later at your wedding to the Scots lass all this is remembered as a turning  point in both of your lives. A passing fire engine had hosed you both down, as for the 700 in the new plastic notes, that was given to the local children’s home, as a penance for being sick over the vicar’s assistant. The Scots lass had looked into your eyes and saw that you were the man with the child in his eyes, Kate Bush was her favourite singer after all.

So it was like being struck by lightning, or rather 2 shades of vomit.  The vicar  had lost his pants, the children’s home had gained a donation, you had lost your addiction, or rather the contents of your stomach, but gained a wife. And she would be a Verger no more.

Yes, looking back a really special moment.






Monday, 27 November 2017

Home Comforts

Home Comforts ©
By Michael Casey

Home comforts and being comfortable are very important things, I noticed Harry and his girl seemed so comfortable together tonight, so rather than write about them I’ll write or rather talk about comfort. A girl a boy is a very comforting thing, to listen to you, or pretend to, to give you physical comfort too, after a very difficult day.

But what other things are a comfort? Soft toilet paper and plenty of it, nice warm towels straight from the airing cupboard. Hot water in the tank so you can have a bath, your antidandruff shampoo so you don’t look as if you have just come in from a snow storm, or from a wedding or from a carpentry shop. Providing that your children haven’t used your shampoo  to wash Totoro the cat,  so you have to use the dregs of shampoo and even a bar of carbolic soap on what’s left of your hair. All these are the comforts of home, any home.

Milk, your milk left in the fridge so that you can make a cup of coffee the  British way, with milk, but no sugar. Or just have milk to go with your cereals. Though as often as not, Totoro the cat purrs “milk” so she has the last of the milk so you cannot even have a final cup of coffee. Your girls love the cat much much more than they love you , their dad.

Dry clothes that have been brought in off the washing line, and left to air on the radiators, providing your girls were not WhatsApping their friends, whatever that’s supposed to mean. So when you the leader of the family need dry clean clothes they are there ready for you, on the radiator.  There’s no space in the family wardrobes as you live with 3 girls, so your clothes are squashed into a small corner, where the cat loves to sit, but thankfully not spray.

Up a corner of the living room is your bare wooden chair that you sit on.  You bought new furniture 3 years ago, by coincidence when you had your unplanned quadruple heart attack, but it was too low and hurt when you sat on it post op. So you perch on a bare wooden chair, made comfortable  with the addition of some horrid stripy cushions, while your girls stretch out on the brand new trendy but low sofas. Home is comfortable for them but not for you as you all watch tv.

You decide to buy a single arm chair to squeeze up a corner so you are comfortable as you watch tv. Only they are too big to fit in the space. Until finally you find one, only you cannot find the legs, which are hidden under the seat, in a secret zip up section, something never ever before invented. So you lose face, but are saved and helped by a nice Polish guy, to find and attach your chair legs. Then finally you can squeeze an armchair into a corner, and like Little Jack Horner you sit there and watch tv, you bum is no longer sore after 3 years.

All these are simple little things that are my home comforts. A cat does make a house turn into a home, even if Totoro wakes me up in the middle of the night so that I can let her out a window. Then if in the middle of the night I get up for pain or for a drink Totoro will suddenly appear on the kitchen window wanting to be let in at 3am or 6am. Her job is to purr as I stroke her fur, she is a home comfort too, whatever your point of view.

Fruit in the fruit bowl  is always nice so long as  your pigs don’t eat it first, Royal Gala apples and bananas are great. Our new supermarket does have nicer food than the old one, though you do have to pay a bit more, but judging by the family happiness level, it was a good decision to switch when my daughter was revising for her GCSEs. Nicer bread, we have switched to brown bread all the time now, one brand is so much better than the others now we have made the switch. These simple simple things really DO make a difference to home comfort.

Underpants make a difference too, so long as they don’t shrink in the wash, I replaced a load of my flags and  guess what when I put them in the wash a load of the new ones shrunk. Tight pants that strangle your bits are no good to any man, a home comfort is a body that is comfortable, and not squeezed and squashed by tight shrunken underpants.

If you add all the things up that make up Home Comforts, they can be varied and many and don’t have to cost a pretty penny. You just want to feel relaxed and comfortable, like a pair of old slippers, and a dressing gown which keeps you warm while you write your next talk for all your readers. Then your life will Sparkle, so good luck to Harry and Markle, for she is your home comfort from abroad.






Saturday, 25 November 2017

Aliens visiting Earth

Aliens visiting Earth ©
By Michael Casey

I saw a bit of a film called Cowboys v Aliens on the tv the other night, James Bond actor Daniel Craig was in it, as well as Harrison Ford, then today I spotted a piece in the newspaper where a former Canadian Defence minister  said aliens had in fact visited us. So it got me thinking. Why would you come all the way to Earth just to see the likes of you and me?

 I would come to see Michelangelo to see Caravaggio, even to have a free dinner with Andrew Graham Dixon the Art expert, so long as his Italian mate was cooking. But to come to Birmingham to eat a donna kebab? Though there is one certain place where you would die for the kebabs, then another where you might die if you ate one of the kebabs, such as when I was in Paris in 1999, Valentines and alone. So what would make you get into your space ship to come all the way to Earth? Not unless it is the ultimate daytime tv, but for aliens.

Aliens reproduce by touching hands, just like in Barbarella, but Humans, it’s like Lego one piece fits another to make another, the legover method. It must be very strange compared to how they reproduce on Alpha Zeta or wherever the Alien Tourist Agency is based. Why come this far just to have a tour, with the Alien equivalent of  David Attenborough as your guide.

All these famous statues in museums have a leg or an arm missing, is it because Aliens take a graft and once back home grow the full statue to fill their displace cases   which are by the Alien toilets. Looking at a Human work of art helps make Aliens pooh. Is Human Art the cure for Alien constipation, well the prices would make anybody want to pooh. Half a billion for a fake recently. I know it’s a fake because an Alien told me the other night if it were real they would have taken a sample to bring back home to the stars to go in a display case, by the toilets.
Would aliens visit to see Manchester United when they were the best in the world, or to see Pele at the top of his game. Or do they just love Cheers and cannot get the box set on their planet so they visit Blockbuster  to buy all the box sets in the store.

Or do they visit to see how we pray, and how leaders get in the way of prayer? Or do they think the idea of God just a great big joke? Would everybody on Earth stop believing if they knew there were Aliens everywhere? Or would they assume God is bigger that all the civilisations on all the planets everywhere?

Is Earth just a petting zoo for Aliens, a quaint old place like the American view of England? Do Aliens think we are retarded, what with all our nuclear weapons, with the posturing and posing? Are Trump and Kim the new Punch and Judy, but with millions of lives at stake not just sausages for the crocodile, and I’m not talking about Zimbabwe’s new leader who judging him from his past will be equally evil as Mugabe was.

So is Earth the ultimate Reality Tv for Aliens, is there a Richard Branson Alien who organises all the visits to Earth? If I were an Alien I’d cry. I cry that Kim was destroying his beautiful North Korea, I’d cry that Putin was starting an Arms Race, or is it Trump, he just wants to sell arms to everybody. Giving Alms is the thing. Aliens could be scouting for a new place to live, their own planet could be dying, it is no Hollywood.

Why do Aliens come to Earth, was it the planet of their Birth, were Aliens here before, before devastation showed  them the door, did they quickly exit the time the dinosaur’s their friends were wiped out. Do Aliens visit hoping they can return, only to find the state  the planet is in now? Arms  race instead  of Alms race, reaching for the stars,  searching the oceans floor, finding Atlantis once more. Rebuilding the Alien culture which really is Humans first culture. Telepathy used to be king, now all we can do is sing, for an Alien its heart must sink, why has Humanity come to this?

Well I don’t know why the world is the way it is. But IF I did have Telepathy then I’d send all the leaders, this nightmare to beware, as you sleep I am sat in a chair watching you there. I am the Devil of your own making, I’m watching you all the time, and when you make that mistake it will be your final one. For you, your people, your country, your entire world.

Change must come, it comes from within, it’s never imposed, it’s always from self. So look around at the past, look inside, and look all around. What world do you want the Aliens to find? Or do you want it just to smolder and sink and die because of Arrogance. Or do you want to return this Earth, our Earth into the Garden of Eden it once was, when dinosaurs were our lawn mowers, our friends, before it became  an alien world to Aliens the original Humans.





Friday, 24 November 2017

Feeling Tired



Feeling Tired ©
By Michael Casey 

When you are tired you cannot control or coordinate your brain to your hands, rather like I am right now. As an experiment I’ll see what I can write while I am so tired, though you may all say it’s much better than my usual rubbish. So very kind of all the Borises out there, but we remember when we tied Boris’s shoe laces together when he was asleep instead of doing the security patrol. We hid outside the control room door and blew a whistle and heard him crash down on the floor, we knew he’d chase after us once he untied his shoe laces that’s why we were on the safe side of the door.
I used to work the night shift with Duncan, he’d be in his 40s now, now he could not sleep during the day no matter what he tried, so he’d be typing away at the banks of keyboards we had then suddenly he’d fall asleep and then bang his head on the monitor.
I stepped out to buy some milk and it was so cold it woke me up, but then I felt so tired once I got back to our house that I just had a 2 hour nap. That’s why you have the change of paragraph, I was sleeping. The pain monster did visit last night and it was after 4am before I finally slept. At 3 am I had Heinz tomato soup, with stale baguettes, just like Heidi, as well as dropping a plate, but my pigs stayed fast asleep. The cat did ask to be let back in, she keeps such strange hours.
Back to my computer room days, this was maybe 30 years ago, when the lads would go for a fag in the bogs, I’ll translate for the American readers, a cigarette in the rest room. So Flash as he was called cruelly, because the other lads thought he was slow. Well Flash went to the bog and while he was having a fag as he sat on the bog dumping, and dumping is not the computer usage for dumping. By dumping I mean pumping, I hope that is clear to all of you. So Flash fell asleep as he sat on the toilet, if you ever have to do night shifts you will have sympathy for him.
But Flash had lit a cigarette, luckily he had not had any beans that night or there could have been a major explosion. Instead he nodded off and dropped his cigarette, thus setting fire to his trousers. Good word thus, when did you use it last? Go use thus today, I dare you. Luckily he was wearing cotton blue jeans and not polyester, which as you know burns and shrinks as it burns. So his blue jeans caught fire around his ankles, and the smoke woke him up. As shift leader I let sleeping dogs pooh in peace, though we did wonder what was keeping him, it could have just been constipation which is the curse of shift workers, and people who take lots of pain killers, so now you know.
Flash came back to show us his smouldering ash, or was it ass? We all had a laugh, and then I had my sandwiches which were always red Leicester on ham which I microwave as it was 4am after all which was my usual lunch break time.
So you have had an insight into my world my life, my tired life that was shift working. You are always tired when you work shifts, so have sympathy for your nurse friends and store workers. Give them chocolate and kisses, though the chocolate will probably be the more appreciated.
It takes longer to think, to add up and to move when you are tired, your whole body can ache. That’s why doctors on night shift get people to double check dosage, or if they don’t they should. 5 seconds thought before actions can save a lifetime of trouble. Another thing affected by tiredness are your ears. You say “what” a lot when you are tired, as if you are suddenly deaf, mind you teenagers always say “what”. You are in a different time zone when you are tired. You are 10 to 20 seconds out of synch with the real world, with GMT, the Got More Time in bed people, than you.
My life has been a life of shifts, if you do the horrible hours it makes you more employable. So after all the nights shifts I spent years doing the 12 to 8pm shift. Which led to years of instant meals with MSG in them which could have caused my unplanned quadruple heart bypass. Even though I never used oil just oven baked.   
My father was lucky in that his GP, Dr Hickman said he should not work night shifts, so he didn’t have to. So he just worked up to 16 hours a day in the heat of the steel works, The District Iron and Steel in Brasshouse Lane Smethwick. But being a worker like my dad did bond us even closer. Though my feet were never as smelly, as I didn’t sweat as much.
Well I hope I haven’t tired you all out by this talk of tiredness. I hope you respect the security guard walking around too, they tend to work really long hours. One day they may just save your life, that’s what they are there for. So blow Phil and Taz on security a kiss next time you pass by their station, it’ll make their day. Because speaking from experience if they don’t know the answer then they will know a man who does know the answer. Obviously it won’t be me, I’ll be fast asleep in bed, assuming I’m not slapping on the Movelat  or making Heinz soup at 3am for me and the cat.

brown nosing never required

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...