LOST

Monday, 30 April 2018

LOST

Lost ©

By Michael Casey

Well it’s the last day of April and tomorrow is another day, and when God made Time he made plenty of it. I can remember my dad saying this to cheer me up when I was unemployed and I was in a hurry for things to change. I have not had a starry starry life, quiet the reverse, I’ve lost my way a few times. Being LOST happens to all of us in a variety of ways. The thing is though that you can find your way back to wherever you want to be. You can go your own way as Fleetwood Mac sing in the background, but you can also return from being lost.

We have Cobwebs of Love to bring us gently home. As a child the furthest we go away is to the corner shop, our mum stands on the front door step to reassure us that we will not get lost. So we go to Off ye Goes and buy a loaf of bread and run back to safety of home and mum, as I did 55 years ago.

We grow up or wider in my case, and we lose our fear of getting lost, so we wander off on an airbed and drift out to sea, and could have even drown. So dad tracks us down by the sea wall, only the steps are too steep to climb out at Rhyll or was it Colwynn Bay, so that I had to paddle back again to the safety of the beach, I was 10 or so then. I suppose I could have become a tragic statistic, instead of a tragedy of a writer perhaps?

We lose things and sometimes they stay lost, my mother used to say that my brother would lose his arse if it was not tied on to him. I think I never lost anything in my life till I met an old friend on a bus and lost my gloves. But I knew where they were, they were on the bus, so I wish good luck to whoever found them.

You get older and you want to lose the influence of your parents. So you go to University to lose your accent, your inhibitions and your virginity. Only you discover its your naivety which was the biggest lost. At least you did not get any disease nor, get pregnant, your family would have killed you, and any unborn baby. They are so strict and you went to the University the furthest away from your home town, almost in another Time Zone.

So you have lost your naivety and become a Monk or a Nun, because at least now your know the difference between sex and love, even if you had to practice a bit before you finally realised. So you end up celibate, but at least you have now lost your innocent view of innocence. But you come top in Philosophy now, so it’s an ill wind that blows no good. But you cannot look grannie in the eye any more.

You lose your gran she was 91 after all, and you have lost a friend, and a private banker, she always gave you money and said don’t tell your dad, why should he waste her money after she was gone. Then as you scatter her ashes at the beach by Abegele you open a letter with instructions. Thanks for scattering my ashes here, I gave myself away to a Welshman here, but I did not marry him. Yes, your dad is a bastard, but a nice Coventry man took me in, I told him the truth, but we pretended I was a widow.

You gasp, grannie had a past, lost on the beach amongst the shingle. So she knew when you gave yourself away to that lad. She saw herself in you, that’s why she loved you so much. That’s why she gave you money. So you have lost a grannie and gained enough money to buy a car, and visit beaches galore, though not doing what grannie did, you have learnt your lesson, you are a nun now.

With time you pass those exams and then do even more, you , little you end up as a PhD, a Dr of something. Marine Biology, well it must have been grannie’s spirit in you. You lose you ignorance and become very very good in your field. But history does repeat itself, and the urge will out, so after years of being a nun your feel children would be good for you. So do you visit that beach near Abegele?

You like comfort when you are not in the field, so you seduce a farmer in his barn with cows looking on. The time was right, it was time to lose the nun, and get back in the habit, the habit of love. He was kind and gentle and with him you can lose all inhibitions. So you have 6 children and a sheepdog to keep them all in check. You are no longer lost, you are home, home with a family and 1000 acres to farm. There is a beach nearby and there the children learn to swim with the sheepdog in attendance.

Now I lost the direction of this story, as I often do with stories, but there is always something that guides us home to mum and dad. I could cry if I continued with a few other memories, but all I’ll say is that mum and dad , all mums and dads should be always there waiting on the doorstep with the light on ready to wrap us up in cobwebs of love. Just as my mum and dad always did for me, and I hope I will do for my own children. I will never lose them.

The Korean Collection to celebrate North/South dialogue

The Korean Collection  to celebrate North/South dialogue
A Korean Christmas Carol ©

By
 Michael Casey
Vincent was a little child in Seoul, he had been learning English at school, so the teacher decided to read a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens to the class as Christmas was approaching. The teacher Mr Michael confessed that he had listened to it on the radio after Midnight Mass at Saint Patricks after he’d thrown snowballs at Danny Moylan. And there was another Vincent there who defended himself with his umbrella. Vincent  laughed at the mention of his name.
So Vincent  fell asleep with the Tale fresh in his head. But Vincent was worried because they had a noisy neighbour called Kim who was always letting off fireworks, one had even smashed their bedroom window. As Vincent drifted off to sleep the world news with Douglas Stewart reporting was on the BBC world service, A Christmas Carol was going to be next but Vincent fell asleep as it began.
The Ghost of Christmas past came first, this was a beautiful Korean girl smiling and singing Kpop songs. Vincent smiled in his sleep. Korea was one big happy family then. Just singing and nice dancing, no marching, just laughter, real laughter and nobody carrying notebooks in their hand.
Vincent was so happy he even chuckled in his sleep. Mr Michael his teacher was right Charles Dickens was the BEST. Well in the English language anyway. Then clouds appeared and walls and noise and stamping and unfriendly fireworks appeared. Half the land sung Kpop the other half, just marched like robots with a smile that was fixed with fear hidden in their eyes. Half had technology  and lights, the other half had no roads, no street lights just dim dim dark life.
One half had food galore and had the Korean Dream and Samsung really was king, the other just seemed sad but pretended to be happy by shouting a lot. They marched a lot too,  to stay warm as their homes were so cold. Only the army mattered, not the people not the poor, not the sick, not the uneducated, not the least of Korea’s brethren. Only the army mattered.
One half got poorer and poorer and sick and turning into skeletons and ghosts. But all the time they cheered for the Emperor in his new clothes. While the people in that half became more and more naked, building a giant Golden Ox which was the name of the nuclear missile, though some thought it was a great hotel. But really inside it was a hanger for the greatest nuclear weapon ever. And still the people in that side clapped and carried notebooks to record the Emperor’s every word. As their clothes fell off their backs and they were more and more naked.  Some even dying as they marched for their Emperor.
Vincent started to cry in his sleep, why couldn’t the Emperor just vanish like in fairy tales. The Ghost of Christmas present was a newsreader shouting and shouting, threatening and threatening. There was no hope and love in her voice, just anger. Wasn’t Christmas supposed to be about Love and Hope and a Future. Vincent screamed and sat bolt upright in his bed he was so scared, his parents came running and comforted him. Then with his head resting on his mother’s breast he fell asleep. His mother switched off the radio, why was he listening to BBC World service, he should listen to more Kpop it was Christmas after all.
Vincent slept on the Ghost of Christmas Future appeared, it was a scruffy monk with mittens, the monk showed Korea, all Korea in ruins, mushroom clouds drifting in the sky. Seoul was in ruins, millions were dead, the North was a wasteland. The Emperor was trapped in his bunker far beneath the Subway, 100s of metres underground. But even the Emperor knew his half  was destroyed  just as much as the  other half. The food would run out and the air would run out, maybe he’d last  3 months, but then he would be entombed, just like an Egyptian King. Nobody would bother to dig him out, but at least HE had felt no pain as the entire country was vaporised.
There was a knocking at his office door, a scruffy monk in mittens  appeared, the Emperor raised his gun to shoot the monk. The monk laughed, I’m dead already, 1968 was the year I went to Heaven. As for you only Hell awaits, I’ve come to show you a vision of Hell. Vincent screamed in his sleep but his mother did not come to comfort him. Vincent watched frozen as the scruffy monk in mittens placed his hand on the Emperor’s head. The Emperor screamed and convulsed in pain, he peed his pants and poohed simultaneously, then he vomited.
The scruffy monk, then said, that is  but a vision, this is what it really feels like, much much worse than being vaporised in a nuclear war. So the monk continued to hold his hand on the emperor’s head, in one second the Emperor felt an eternity of pain. Hell is the absence of God’s Love. The Emperor fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness, if only he could turn back the clock, if only, if only.   
Vincent woke up  sweating, he could not speak.  He grabbed his Rosary, Mr Michael had explained that the Rosary was Mary’s Nuclear weapons. And with the Rosary you could defeat the Devil himself. So Vincent said his Rosary and went to sleep happy and safe. The funny thing was that his radio was still on. The end of A Christmas Carol was being told.  Scrooge repents and leads a good life and knows how to Celebrate the Joy of Christmas.
As Vincent fell asleep a News Flash North Korean was ended all its Nuclear ambitions and Putin himself would visit on  Christmas Day to sign a deal to ship all nuclear material over the border to Russia. And how did this come about ?  The Christmas Disco in Heaven was KPop that year and the 100,000 Korean Martyrs had asked the scruffy monk to Save Korea not just for Christmas but for always.
So he really had slipped out to pay the Emperor a visit. He also visited Putin too telling him to grab his place in History before his heart attack. When Putin heard this he decided to do as the scruffy monk suggested. Though the monk did put his hand on Putin’s chest, telling him he could live till he was 100 if he retired, being President is really stressful.  The scruffy monk also paid a visit to the White House, all he said to Trump was Be Humble when Putin rings you, and then you retire immediately as after saving the world everything else is a waste of your time.
Vincent woke up and it was snowing in Seoul, church bells were ringing, Korea would be One again, as for the scruffy monk in mittens, he got back in time to hear George Michael singing the Ave Maria, Merry Christmas Korea, all and one Korea.
 2017

Michael G Casey에게 이메일 michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
당신은 사랑에있을 때 결코 혼자가 아닙니다 ©
으로
마이클 케이시
사랑은 함께하고, 사랑은 미소,보기, 터치
또는 한숨 쉬다, 왜 당신이 서로를 선택했는지 정말로 알지 못한다.
그럼에도 불구하고 당신이 죽을 때까지 함께
사랑은 당신의 몸을 따뜻하게하는 볼에 부드럽고 온화한 키스입니다.
마음을 쓰게되어 기쁘게 생각합니다.
키스는 더 많은 것을 이끌 수 있지만 나는 열정을 안전하게 잠그고 떠날거야.
침실 문 뒤에서
열정은 사순절을 위해서조차도 포기하지 않을 것입니다.
너는 따뜻한 포옹에 거짓말을하고, 잊어 버린 것을 기억할 것이다.
은혜.
속삭임과 약속이 만들어지고, 미래를위한 계획과
그녀는이 방법으로 그녀의 머리카락을 넣어, 당신은 그것이 그녀에게 어울릴 것이라고 생각하니?
그 다음 킥킥 웃음과 그 이상의 포옹, 밤이 끝날 때까지
갈빗대에서 발굴하면 그를 움직일 수 있습니다.
그럼 당신의 하나가 완성, 당신은 그의 차가운 발로 참아!
그러나 당신이 떨어져있을 때 당신의 마음은 여전히 ​​하나입니다.
생각 반은 결석 한 당신은 여전히 ​​하나입니다.
침대 밑에있는 양말과 네가 한 말대로.
그의 “장난감”은 흩어져 있었고,
그가 돌아 오는 몸의 보온과 따뜻함.
그가 당신을 흥분시킨 후에 당신을 차게하는 그의 차가운 발은 아직 결석하고있습니다.
생각은 당신을 미소 짓게합니다, 적어도 당신은 잠시 동안 편안함을 느낍니다.
그의 미소와 leers, 적어도 당신은 미소 지을거야
잠시 동안 평화.
그러나 그의 마음은 여전히 ​​당신과 함께합니다. 사랑은 항상 거기에 있습니다.
너의 공정한 머리카락처럼 밝은.
눈을 감고 그는 여전히 거기에있다.
그는 당신의 얼굴을 가로 질러 손가락을 연주했습니다.
꿈을 꾸고 귀에 속삭이는 것을 기억하고 따뜻하게 해주세요.
그가 과감하기 전에 어깨에 키스. 사랑의 온기
당신의 피로 솟아 오릅니다.
꿈을 길게, 깊은 꿈을, 당신의 남자는 수면 중에 수고를합니다.
너는 별거 다. 너는 아직도 날씨가 무엇이든간에 너와 함께있어. 너를 위해서.
그가 당신의 마음에 갇혀 있기 때문에 결코 분리되어 있지 않습니다.
때로는 그가 시도 할 수도 있지만, 절대로
당신의 사랑을 위해 우는 것은 언ying은 것입니다.
그가 항상 떨어져 있어도 마음을 채운다는 것을 항상 기억하십시오.
종료
 1998 maybe?


feel free to tell all your friends in Korea and Japan and China and anyplace else.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
my books are only 3USD or less on Amazon so buy all 13 of them plus  4 Translations.
And yes I’d love a spot on the radio, reading my stuff between records, any form of music you like,
Or you could get a KPop star to read my stuff out in Korean.
Perhaps I could become a cult, just like Gangham Style but far far fatter and older with silver hair, I have my own shades, I love Ray Bans by the way.


K POP saves the World ©
By

Michael Casey

As I flagged yesterday I’ll write something about Pop Stars today, I’ve even changed my usual Font. I did think of one thing and then another, then I had a splat idea. Its the Jackson Pollock school of writing after all, as we lie in our beds the Angel of Death approaches, and the Dove of Peace is just a tiny tiny mustard seed in comparison. I am talking of the looming nuclear war in North Korea.
Read these two links before I resume, with a fresh coffee in my hand.
 http://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/world/north-korea-threatens-to-sink-japan-reduce-us-to-ashes-and-darkness/ar-AArUtCD?li=BBoPWjQ&ocid=mailsignout 
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzJvBgsFjvQ&list=RDEzJvBgsFjvQ&t=4 
The 1^st is a worrying news item,  the 2^nd is K Pop.
I’m listening to REM as they sing “Everybody Hurts” I’ve chosen their Automatic for the People album as the backdrop while I talk to you all. Sorry Justin and your Beavers I’m not going to mock you, you do a good enough job on your own. And Snoop you walk your own dog, Eminem go back to school, but Justin dear Justin, I taught you everything you know, now its time to use your 20/20 Vision.
Instead I want to talk about Music, if it be the food of love play on. I wish I could lip sinc the entire film Moulin Rouge as I love it so much. My favorite scene is where the black guy punches the count and save Nicole Kidman. But I digress as ever, but I have such great legs so I should be in a dress. So today’s idea is K Pop for Peace.
23 million people in North Korea are being led by somebody who could be a fat rapper, who has spent everybody’s 50cents on Nuclear Bling, who could poison his own country’s water supply when the mountain where the testing is done collapses around him. In the South everybody has everything, they even have FOOD. So what are we to do to avoid the 1^st Strike from USA, or a very close 2^nd strike if the Panzi, which is a Chinese word for Fat or Pig, tries to get in first. The Logic Of Madness, this is actually a simple concept if you put yourself in the shoes of the madman. This is where the madman kills everything he loves, such as his own family, and then everybody just cannot understand why. Sadly we see such cases in the newspaper from time to time.
The Dear Leader loves nobody, he is corrupt and just loves his own position. So why will he listen to say a fat guy with silver hair in shades from Birmingham? He has not looked in the mirror and changed, he has not had a road to Damascus experience, he has no Soul. He hacked our NHS, it was only saved by a young guy who is now in Jail in USA for something, its due in court soon. A comedy about North Korea, not very funny in the artistic sense resulted in Sony being hacked. People forget Koreans are very clever, even if just in the Military sense in the North.
So what are we to do?
Pack up all your troubles in your all kit bag and sing, yes sing. All you Rappers and hard men out there, why not sing for Peace. I dare you to have a Dream, like King and yes like Abba. Pop stars always say in answer to what is their one dream, world peace, that was until one DJ punched the pop star, be realistic the interviewer shouted.
So Snoop follow your dog’s lead, 50 Cents lend us a penny, no not for a pee, just show us your sparkle, and all the rest of you out there in Hard Man Wrapper Land. Your time has come. Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country. And the answer is sing Take me Home Country Roads and all the John Denver hits. Yes, all you hard rappers out there, Sing Country. And may Buddy Rich rock and roll in his grave. As for all you gyrating girl singers there is room for you too, as I sit here talking to you Love Hurts plays again, so you Ladies can sing that and shake as only you can shake, while I finish my Lemonade.
Then here’s the clever bit track back from Sony to North Korea and let them hear the music. Let them have a Soul, let them dance. All of North Korea’s public address system is taken over by music. First the rappers singing country, they will be the storm troopers of love. Then Let the music sing let the music take over. Surround North Korea with K POP the only language they understand. From South Korea, from Japan and from China too, not forgetting a few Russians.
Constant K pop, the music of fun and laughter and very pretty girls, not forgetting Gangham Style. Broadcast at them on every radio frequency, on every IP address, take over the North Korean nuclear program with K Pop Music, and not forgetting Abba. The Dear Leader presses a button and all he gets is every tv and computer coming to life with K Pop, and then the population have something to really cry about.
Cry with happiness because K-Pop has saved them from the starvation of the spirit. This should be a cue for a Rapper to sing something good, but are any of you good enough? I’ll have a sip of lemonade while you reach for your dictionary. But I’m sure King would know what to say. Or do we just ask the King, Elvis to say a word now. Yes maybe Mr Gangham Style himself should start singing in the Ghetto. North Korea needs to leave  the Ghetto and enter the sunshine. Sing Rappers sing, Take me Home Country Roads, in Korean.
 This was published in Korea in September 2017, before Kpop saved the world, so did I predict it?
아직도 살아있는 2015

I want to Sleep with You

I want to Sleep with You  ©

By Michael Casey

Before you all get the wrong idea, what I mean is that I just read a piece in the newspaper about Hästens Vividus which is the most expensive bed in the world. One of my dreams is that when we finally move house I'd like a new plush bed, though the one I've just read about costs as much as my house, so I really do need to win the lottery or for all of you to buy all of my books on Amazon.Your purchase will send me to sleep, unlike my writing which should make you laugh.

Beds are nice comfy things, where you sleep and make love, and scream in my case scream in pain these past few years due to my Arthritis. But there is nothing nicer than a nice warm bed, and a nice warm lover besides you. Or if you are too young for that a teddy bear or your dog or cat sleeping on the duvet at your feet.

When we were kids we used to pull back the curtains of our bedroom and bounce up and down on the mattress doing a show for our neighbours at the bottom of the garden. Once we spoke to our neigbours over the garden fence, they asked who the stupid people were, so we denied all knowledge 3 times, just then  our other neighbours’ cock crowed.

Beds take a lot of knocks, so the leg broke, not the same bed we were dancing on, but another one, we were a large family after all. So what do you do with a broken bed, we could not replace it just for that reason. So a baked bean tin was used in place of the broken bed leg, though when we wanted beans on toast the bed lost its substitute leg. So we then used a 100 year old iron,the old fashioned one that you heated up to iron your clothes with, one of those ones. And it was a perfect replacement leg, luckily we had an electric iron to keep our clothes pressed with.

Headboards are an add-on and the bed shop charges for one of those, if your headboard breaks then you have to suffer, or just put an extra pillow on  your bed, and hope it does not slide off the wall behind your bed. In hotels you have really big and majestic headboards, these can cost 100s of pounds, and if ever I really do get my fancy bed a headboard can cost 50% of the cost of the fancy mattress. The headboard also acts as noise insulation for snoring and other noises that come from beds. Though I’m hoping some fancy bed company sends me a fancy bed in the future, I could be a bed tester.I tend to wake up every 2 hours like Dracula rising from his grave, I am like clockwork in that regard.

I have of course broken a couple of beds, because because because, I am just so heavy. 110 kilos or 245pounds if you are American or 17.5stones in English. I weigh more that a heavyweight boxer, and I am 5feet 10inches or 178cm in French.I look much much lighter as its all compact tight fat, not wobbly fat, that’s why I am a George Clooney look alike.

So a bed just has to be strong. I did have one that lasted 25 years, but its replacement a metal one just wilted under the weight.Imagine a giraffe that’s fallen over after having too much grass,the green grass in fields, giraffe’s don’t do drugs, they always say NO. So my metal bed legs just gave way. We put the old bed frame in the street and a passing Polish guy picked it up and hammered it back into shape. He was only half my weight.

So my next bed was a nice wooden one that you assemble, only it had a tiny crack in it. That bed was really nice and pretty to look at, it coped with my mass really well. That is until one night there was a loud big BANG, in my bed. It woke me up,the crack over the 2 years I had it just got bigger until it snapped and one side of the bed gave way. So in the morning I took the bed downstairs and used it to form a garden fence, it still looks pretty at the bottom of my garden, like a fancy stile.

So finally I tried Argos and they had a 700pound bed frame, luckily it was reduced to 150quid. It weighs a ton and would not fit up my stairs until I removed all the packaging.I could barely lift the sections together but somehow I managed to put the jigsaw together. This is the bed I am still sleeping in, it looks quite posh too. It will stay in the house if ever we finally move as I do not have the strength now to take it apart.

I have bought a new mattress to go with it, and my advice is not to skimp on the mattress, the mattress should cost at least twice as much as the bed frame. So a cheap 100 quid bed should have a 200quid mattress on it. Don’t forget duck pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets. See you all want to sleep with me now, or rather not with me but in my bed. If I roll over I’d kill you as I’m so heavy, I am in fact 3 times heavier than my wife.

A good bed and mattress such as the Hypnos brand is a thing of beauty that’ll last for years and bring you much pleasure whatever you are doing in it,even if its just sleeping, so don’t buy a second hand BMW, but a great bed instead, and get a bus pass. Then you’ll have a greater appreciation of life and loving, without adding to pollution, though you may add to population.  

from 2016

 

Sitting on a Bench

Sitting on a Bench ©

By

Michael Casey

We had a few April showers so I sneaked out to the shops and I thought I’d take a look at my new route too. This will be longer, so I will have to stop for a rest in future, or even use the bus. I noticed there was a new bench in the churchyard. We have 5 churches where I live, plus the obnoxious who bang on doors, and you wish you had a chamber pot to throw over them. But that’s too much information, we also have a Spiritualist church, or does that not count as it’s for the dead, and not the living.

So I parked myself on the bench and tried to work out how many minutes it’d take to get home via this new route. I did read the plaque on the new bench. In Loving Memory of John Thomas Beddall, so as I sat I told him I’d be a regular on his bench in the Future, but I would say a prayer for him every time I used his bench. I assume he lived to a ripe old age, so I hope I can emulate him. And even if I don’t maybe  in the Future when I get to the Pearly Gates or even to the Other Place, and no I don’t mean the House of Lords, he can save me. Just before I’m tossed into the Pit a voice will ring out, he used my bench and he prayed for me, so I chose to save him. And my Eternity will be spent sitting on a wooden bench with my Heavenly sponsor.  

See as random as that is, my soul is saved. Or I get an idea for a story just because I needed to rest my weary ash, which reminds me of a toilet shaped novelty ash tray we once saw in a sea-side trinket shop. Continuing, as you sit on a bench in the churchyard the world stops and you can admire the flowers in the shade of a tree. Though a lady once told me they once thought of taking the tree away in order to may more space for car parking. This is progress, but who knows what King may have been discovered if such a thing happened. Though in my area, it would have been a Burger King, not a King of Royal blood.

As I sit and contemplate I think I’ll enjoy my new life, my new route, so long as the weight of the shopping does not overcome me, you never gave it a thought when your own mum did the shopping with leather shopping bags, 50 years and more ago. Before Plastic Bags were even invented. Then I think of the advice my lawyer, my sister in law lawyer once gave. Get yourself one of those trolleys on wheels.

But having a trolley is like having a red jump suit, like a criminal, though in this case just a trolley which would indicate I’m old and knackered with one foot in the grave. Even if that is the case on some days, my pain days I don’t want to advertise the fact. So I think about how many journeys I’ll make and much load I could carry.

Or should I just bit the bullet and climb into that red jump suit or rather drag a trolley that says, OLD AND DONE FOR, all I need now are the Fairies from Peter Pan mocking me. Forget I DO BELIEVE IN FAIRIES, instead it should be, I DON’T WANT TO BE A TROLLEY DRAGGER, dressing in drag would be more favourable, and maybe a bit of fun. But to admit old age and infirmity had caught up with me, that is the question, Shakespeare you can shut up too, Lech, Boris and Gregorgi have been showing him their still in the woods. A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, or all you can drink till you fall over, Shakespeare get out of my sight or I’ll shove that quill where your Love’s labour will be Lost.

If I could find a manly trolley, like an Audi Quattro, maybe I wouldn’t feel as if the gravedigger had started to dig my grave. A trolley with huge wheels and a spoiler on, and go faster stripes, like those cans of larger. I could even say I was being sponsored by a larger firm, I did work for a Market Research company into Alcohol Sales for over 20 years after all. That’s why I have that angel on my wall,it was a leaving present.

Maybe that’s the compromise, pretty girls would stop me in the street to take selfies with me and my deluxe shopping trolley. They could tell me about the PhD studies they were doing, and they did a bit of modeling to help pay the way. Then they’d take one final selfie of me and my shopping trolley before heading off to Birmingham University, or did she say Cambridge, I cannot remember all the flashes distracted me.

So I’ll have to think about it. Me on my new bench with my heavenly sponsor who I’ll be praying for every time I sit and rest my weary bones. In the end we are all a collection of bones, but if you mix with the right ingredients we become something really useful, as useful as a shopping trolley or a bench in a churchyard they remembers a life well spent.

I want to be a radio star, a love story

127.I want to be a radio star a love story

this is my heart's desire, if only

http://www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com   to HEAR me read my stories.

Around the Horne and Other Jokes

Around The Horne and Other Jokes ©

By

Michael Casey

I ended up listening to Around The Horne the BBC comedy show from the 1960s, I suppose I heard the repeats on BBC Radio4 in the 70s perhaps. BBC Radio 4 being my University. As I talk to you my small daughter is watching The Gilmore Girls on Netflix. It is very good, but for me the comic timing is off by a second. Remember I’m a Radio man, so timing is everything and you grow up listening to timing. Groucho Marx’s timing was great, I grew up listening to him in his films on tv in the 1960s, and he knew all about timing.

If you’ve watched too many old black and white films as a child you learn about timing. Then you get a colour tv and you refuse to watch anything in black and white any more. The Oscars should have done the same when we had that black and white silent film, The Artist, very self indulgent, but that’s Hollywood for you. They say its all about Art, but it’s really all about self indulgence, telling the audience what they should like. It’s all about Money not Art, though the audience will say this is rubbish and I won’t watch it Oscar or no Oscar.

That’s enough of the serious or pseudo serious, what I want to talk about today is the Joke. A joke must breath and a tale must be told, it should not be shortened or stood on, nor interrupted by an idiot, this is the best bit when X Y Z happens. So ruining the joke for the rest of us. Its like a noisy sister talking over Dr Who at Christmas, though Dr Who scripts got so bad that Dr Who became boring and not a must view. Now we have a girl with a gang, so we’ll see if it can be saved.

You have sight gags, that was the fare of Buster Keaton, or Laurel and Hardy. You have telegraphed gags, you can see what is coming, the man will fall into the hole in the road. Only he does not but knocks the girl into the hole instead. Then he tries to help the girl out of the hole and he falls in himself and round and around it goes. When done properly it is entertaining and it can be stretched and extended with more and more people falling into the hole, and so on. Or it can be totally boring. It all depends on the style. If I could draw cartoons I’d draw one now to illustrate, that is a real regret of mine, I cannot draw cartoons. I try and draw cartoons with words instead.

Another form of joke is the circle or word play. Who’s on first if you go back to your Abbot and Costello. Or Stan Laurel trying to explain until he starts to cry, and Oliver Hardy just looks straight down the camera lens. In England we had Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker a double act for years, Ronnie Barker also wrote a lot as Gerald Wiley. His speciality was word play, puns and sound alike words, as Shakespeare himself used to do as well. The thing with wordplay is that it must bounce, it should not fall flat, or it would be like a trapeze artist always slow and dropping the spangled dressed girl. Like a very bad Cirque du Soleil.

Words are like the ball in a tennis match, Wimbledon is coming soon, so you can see the metaphor. Serve and return, serve and return, a long or short rally then a point won, that’s how word pay should work if it’s done well. Sometimes its like a squash game, very fast and sweaty and exhilarating. There are different styles too, remember Uncle Buck talking to the child, John Candy was great in that. And yes I’m a slimmed down version of him, but with a British accent, and yes you can hear me here www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com 

Dave Allen had a great style,we all grew up with him, the world over. Storytelling at its very best. As I speak Michael Rows the Boat Ashore is blasting from the tv in the room behind me. I hate that song, my brothers and sisters used to sing it to me to make me cry. When I was in China one of my mother in law’s friend’s son said he knew English so he stood up and sung it too me. I resisted the temptation to punch him, or cry. I told him the story and we laughed instead. Years later I met him again in Shanghai and he asked me did I remember him, I told him how could I ever forget him. This is a true story, but you can see the best comedy can come from true events. He now works in the diamond trade, and yes I’ll aways be a rough diamond.

They say that story telling should be a circle or reach a linear conclusion, I disagree. Writing is as unique as you or even me, and so is joke telling. Its getting the audience to listen and want to hear more, that is the secret. How you dress up, does not matter, it’s always the words that count, and never count the words, don’t be so boring. There is no formula, its is not maths, MC=4C, which none of you smart alec maths wiz could fathom. A joke takes as long as it takes, just make sure people don’t yawn as you tell it. You should get a good laugh when you finish, and if you are lucky they’ll buy you a pint of Stella Artois when you finish.

And what does MC=4C mean, you can really annoy the Maths Geeks with this formula, and get free Stella Artois for a month. Well MC=4C means Michael Casey equals 4 Chinese, because I used to weigh as much as my wife, my mother in law, and my 2 children.

You can leave the Stella Artois at the door.

Cookery Lessons or How to Poison the Parents

Cookery Lessons or How to Poison the Parents ©
By
Michael Casey

My small daughter just brought home some biscuits from school, why she can’t just buy them from the shop instead of baking them I just don’t know. I suppose it’s called Cookery Lessons, or How to Poison the Parents lessons. It all depends on how good or bad a chef your daughter is, though nowadays boys do cookery too. The wicker basket carried gracefully on the arm, or manfully on the arm as your child goes to school, ingredients at the ready. You await with stomach pump and painkillers at the ready, as well have having stocked up on toilet paper. You are a parent you have to be ready for anything, you are not Royalty with many flunkies to help you.

Luckily my small daughter is a good cook, she has inherited that from my wife, though Chinese cuisine is never on the menu, other hot and spicy food from the East but not so much Chinese per se. Today we have cookies on offer, and I can remember Andy Williams saying to that Bear, you cannot have a cookie, not now,not ever, NEVER. He’d be really taken to task if he treated the Bear like that nowadays, 1960s to 2018, a lot has changed. And people are in a straightjacket of political correctness now, Robots have Human Rights too, will we be baking for CP3O next?

But I digress, normally at the last minute a daughter will ask for strange ingredients last thing the night before the cookery lesson. So mum or dad will have to stop watching Come Dine with Me, and put on their wellies and big warm poncho with plastic coverings on top, to splash about in the rain to get vanilla flavouring from the all night Turkish shop. Thank God for Turkey you say as you splash home, stopping for a trusty kebab on the way home.

You toss the vanilla at the small child, then an argument breaks out as to why you didn’t bring back chocolate for your child. You just don’t love your child otherwise you would have brought chocolate home. So you smile and throw your soaking clothes at the child. Hang these up or I’ll eat the vanilla with my kebab. Silence. A child would be shamed if she did not have all the ingredients, so you the parent have won, for today. So you finish your kebab as you watch Come Dine with Me. Your neighbour the bald headed gay man comes second, if he knew how to may a good kebab a la vanilla then he might have come first.

The next day your child is sneezing, not as a result of putting your wet clothes away, but because she got soaked on the way to school, she only had an umbrella against the deluge. The waterproofs grannie gave her for Christmas are not cool enough, so she never wears them, preferring to catch colds,but staying cool.

So she greases her bowl and sneezes into it too, for good measure, and continues to mix her ingredients. And is the vanilla added to the mixture? No,she left it on top of the fridge at home, so she in vanillaless. Nobody notices as they are trying to avoid the snot frying from her nostrils. Forget 21 or 42 or 64 or any number of gun salutes for the new Royal Baby, Shakespeare Windsor, no they have flying snot from a child who does not accept grannie’s love via waterproofs. The Queen was all wrapped up today as she rode her horse, if only our errant child did the same.

So everybody elbows everybody else to get to the electric hob in the school cookery room. Gas is not used, such sacrilege, but its safer or so they say. Cookery teachers cannot put their head in the oven in despair when brownies are not as they should be. Besides its easier to clean an electric cooker than a gas. Speaking of gas, the child did manage to steal the last of mom’s kebab before the cat got it, so now the next day is very gaseous, everybody thought it was a gas leak, only they cook on electric.

Thus the small child is given plenty of space to use the stove the most, and thus her brownies are fantastic, even with the added snot which lined the mixing bowl. Not that she’ll tell mum that. She’ll just bring them home and put them on a bowl next to a piping pot of tea. Mum really likes them. It must be the vanilla she bought in the dark of the night from the Turkish shop. The small child smiles triumphantly, as she sneakily pours the vanilla into the cat’s bowl, she does not want mum to find out that she left it on the fridge, after her going out in the cold and rain the night before.

So all’s well that end’s well as my mate Shakespeare might say, the writer Shakespeare, not Shakespeare Windsor the new Royal baby. But for one thing, the child has a bad cold, so only grannie’s horrid medicine will do. So the child is forced fed the medicine. Luckily she has her own cake and she can eat it, to take the spoonfuls of medicine taste away.   

The Shakespeare Collection Posts on his Birthday

Monday, 23 April 2018

The Shakespeare Collection Posts on his Birthday

Shakespeare an old neighbour always used to shout, turn it down Michael I'm writing a play. So I'd always say any good? They he'd stare at me. He quite likes my Genesis, he always says the beginning is so important. As for the middle, it should be meaty, so Barry White hits the spot. As for the end, a bit of a Starry Starry night as I like looking at Sky, And all played not on a stage though Music is Global, ask Shakespeare, but you'll have to shout as he's gone drinking with Falstaff and that Prince Hal. Yes get in the Groove with your music, for it be the food of life, let it be and let it play on.  michaelgcasey

 Shakespeare and Me ©

By

Michael Casey

Well we continue with Freeview tv and wait for our Broadband too, so it was great to stumble over a programme on Shakespeare, while my kids hid in the next room and attacked our piano. And no they don’t play Chopsticks, even though they are 1/2 Shanghai Chinese, they are in fact both Grade One on piano, and my big daughter has her Deans Award for choral singing. Me I just sing along to the radio, luckily our neighbours are all deaf.

So now that John Nettles has finished talking about Will Shakespeare it gave me the idea about talking about Words. I can never invent as many new words as Will did, he’s had a 400 year head start after all, but I hope I can raise a few laughs by my use of words, or my cartoons made with words. Words give you a picture and can be very colourful, especially if events drive you to curse, so long as alls well that ends well as Will used to say.

I read recently, and no I don’t mean I learnt to read recently, as Will’s wordplay would say, that swearing denotes a higher level of intelligence. So Teamsters must be really highly educated, and rappers must be the most highly intelligent people of all. Discuss, or not discuss that is the question, whether a Blankety Blank is nobler that a Zippy Zap Dang and can you move or remove your Thang, or is it Thong?  

Will has given me a few thoughts now, we are connected you know his Ghost sleeps under my bed, I would never share a bed with a man, only Ghost or no Ghost. A women is acceptable but no men in my bed. So how about an all Pop Version of Shakespeare, though some may say Baz from Moulin Rouge has done it already. But Pray Forgive me and I offer my Humble Version of Will Shakespeare a la Pop plus.

Zoons says Snoop Dog as he lashes out with words, rhythms must be heard, no matter how absurd. Lionel Richie is all soft and sooth, he is dragged away and put in stocks, why does he wear those absurd golfing socks. Big bad Barry White strides onto the stage scattering all before him, he is the Man for all Seasons and many many more, nobody defy him or he’ll sing them to the floor. Lionel Richie sings once twice three times a lady, and he is dressed to play the female part just as they did in Shakespeare’s day.

50 Cent comes on all draped in Gold, he is giving Measure for Measure and much much more, his girls adorn the floor. Eminem climbs the ivy to the lady’s chamber, only she’s a lady, so Beyonce throws her chamber pot full of ale over his head, he can find another amour instead.

Stephen Fry wanders on stage, quoting Shakespeare, offering a pound of flesh, but 50 cent says he has 100s of pounds flesh, bowing to his ladies at his feet. Stephen Fry mutters something before breaking out into a break dance. Stephen Fry swivels on his head, like a Jester begging for his bread. The rappers applaud and throw coins at him, ok only 50 cents in total, but Stephen Fry will appear for any small amount, it all goes into his Barclay Bank account.

Lady Gaga appears in mist as Lady Macbeth, she may have been  born that way, but on the stage she knows her measure for measure. Tina Turner is a Shrew who’ll never be tamed, not by Lionel Richie nor 50 cents, but when Barry White hits those low notes, she’ll be HIS lady, his ever so sweet lady, and Lionel Richie can just watch dressed in his frock still in the stocks.

The ghost of Sinatra appears and sings My Way, what else, Shakespeare himself applauds from the wings, if only Sinatra was around when he had his Globe theatre, Andrew Lloyd Webber would not have bothered to be born. He would have been really useful with the thunder machine though. Elvis was due to appear too, but he had left the building before the audience arrived. Time and Tide waits for no man after all.

One Direction and the Jonas Brothers fight it out for Juliet’s affections

Fighting with Ballads as the audience goes to the bar unimpressed, Will Shakespeare’s Globe had the very first Stella Artois after all. And on it goes, till Meatloaf and Alice Cooper descend to the stage dressed as angels and say the final words, Sleep Well Dear Audience, and if things go bump in the night it may just be somebody sneaking into Michael Casey’s bed for the night. The Ghost of Shakespeare or the Lady Macbeth herself.

 Shakespeare and all that (c)

By Michael Casey

I just read in the Daily Telegraph that Shakespeare was coming back, no not from the dead just back to the syllabus. Yes Shakespeare can be hard, very hard even. Nowaday you can get good notes. For example Cliffs notes on Internet for Macbeth or whatever. Then on Amazon by Longman's guide to Macbeth. Then back to Utube/Internet and you'll get 4 versions of the play. So that's a head start already, assuming your teacher is good they he/she will bring it to life for you. I'd say read the play, look at the Cliffs notes on your own before the teacher starts on the course. If you are doing it on your own for fun or for the OU then just read he play look at the notes, watch all 4 versions of the play on Utube. You can even find sites that'll have essays on the subject. You may have to pay a few quid for access, OR you just read the 1st page of over 40 essays. The internet is your library so use it. Get drunk and read it, or have 4 litres of Dr Pepper, 10 bars of chocolate or whatever makes you happy then read the play. I did a bit of Shakespeare at the OU and I taught a bit too, so I know its doable. Don't be afraid, its just words on paper. BUT you can bring them to life, put silly voices on, do silly walks, sit in MacDonalds and do it. Go to the park and do it. Chop it to size, and do it. 14 years ago I relearnt my Spanish in a couple of months, all I did was 15mins a day, every day for a couple of months. I chopped the Spanish to size. Shakespeare is simpler than doing Spanish after a 25year break. Once in Barcelona I spent a week in a tapas bar, but that's another story. Please Please Please give Shakespeare a try. There are tavelling theatre companies after all, get your school to get one to come and put on a show. Did you know there are even theatre companies that work in prisons? We had a film called Shakespeare in Love go and watch that. Then with fear banished, lose your virginity with Shakespeare.

NOVEMBER 28TH, 2012 18:42

Shakespeare was ………..

By michaelgcasey

I’ve been watching the Sky Arts prog on Shakspeare. It was interesting but left me feeling empty. My tutor once said I was Shakespeare’s agent when I wrote an essay 20 years plus ago, all I can remember is that I got 74%. There was a documentary about Will on BBC2 a few years ago and that make a compelling case for Will being from Stratford. It highlighted all of Will’s influences and perhaps he was a Catholic too, how all of life’s events made Will the man he was. How he learnt so much stuff, so he was able to write what he did write, Will was the man. In good Will hunting the cleaner can do maths problems that out fox the greatest brains, in the end though that Will finds out the most important thing of all LOVE.

Scholars say that Will Shakespeare couldn’t know this and he couldn’t know that, and he couldn’t possibly be so mean, according to the Sky Arts program. In real life we all know some Son Of a Bitch, who seems so nice but in reality he’s a SOB, if only we knew about things but the person seemed so nice so genuine, but in reality…  People have got away with murder and things even worse than murder, but we don’t have hindsight.

Shakespeare is the same, he amazes us, he touches us.  Steven King frightens us to death, doesn’t mean he should be on Death Row, he must be warped because of the way he writes. It is his job, it was Shakespeare’s job, writing is what people do, you don’t have to be a Saint to pray and you don’t have to be Satan to curse and do worse. And if only we didn’t mix the two up with current sad and tragic events in the news….

Shakespeare is fun and kids do him at school, Macbeth is being studied by our kids if they are old enough to be in the GCSE class today. Cliff Notes and BBC Bitesize are a great help. But back to the plot, I feel the older BBC documentary was more accurate, and I vote for that version of Will’s identity. If I can  do my bit of writing, from my own background then why on earth cannot Will be the man who wrote his own stuff. Clever people are trying to hang their own coat on Will’s frame, but sadly the cloakroom tickets have fallen off and the wrong garments are being given to the wrong man.

Michael

p.s. I still maintain that Prince Hal was a bit of a lad and would abandon Falstaff  once Kingship beckoned

http://butcherbakerundertaker.blogspot.co.uk/

The Simpsons are modern Shakespeare ©

By Michael Casey

I just read a piece in this morning’s DT it was about the Vatican’s newpaper and the Simpsons.

The DT comment button did not work so I’ve written this piece instead.

Shakespeare touches all of us, once we learn or are taught how to understand it. It may mean a West Side story experience. It may mean Shakespeare in Love or a  modern version with Leonardo di Caprio.

But it is all Shakespeare, yes I know the literati  will moan as the always do, but underneath it is Shakespeare. It’s the universality of it,www.michaelgcaseytypepad.com  for my stuff, more like an Ealing Comedy. But back to today the Vatican/Jesuit take on the Simpsons. My girls tease and say I’m like the dad in the Simpsons, I tell them I’m much much slimmer. Comedy pokes fun and draws us closer together as we laugh at what’s happening, and a big part is laughing at others’ suffering, PC people will spin in their  graves, and the soon the better.

There was  a really good series on tv about Shakespeare and how he could have been a secret Catholic amongst other things, not to mention his eclectic background, he could touch bases with so many things because of his life experience. So the Simpsons touch bases with us because it highlights the worst in us all, and then we laugh at ourselves, there is no “I couldn’t possibly  be like that” because we ARE like that. I suppose in the New Testament the common touch in the language/life draws us towards the Divine, The Simpsons could it be called the common man’s Bible? I don’t know, you’ll have to read more of the Bible and watch more of the Simpsons. And ask the Jesuits who write the Vatican newspaper, me I’m going to find my deck of cards you may remember the song.

Shakespeare was a robot

did you know Shakespeare was a robot
by michaelgcasey 
June 19, 2003, 03:09 PM 

did you know that if you post a message nobody ever reads it , its just answered by a Japanese robot trained at Oxford University so it speaks or rather types correctly , I myself am a Birmingham Robot , born or rather constructed at the University here in Birmingham , a great world leader in Engineering/Medicine and much more , Birmingham is also where my writing was constructed with the aid of millions of gallons of milk consumed by myself , donated by daisy the cow www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com   so if you want to read how Shakespeare's work was constructed using a computer program 400 years old then first go to my site and believe , and then you too can become an American TV evangelists and fleece millions of people out of millions of dollars , look out the FBI is out there looking for You , yes you , scratching your head , was this induced by too many substances , or just two orders of egg fried rice from the Chinese take away , or was it just

i m a g i n a t i o n . use your brain before you die 

 https://michaelgcaseyfrombirminghamengland.wordpress.com 

something for Shakespeare’s Birthday