90 seconds

THIS IS MY WRITING CV ATTACHED TO MY REGULAR CV
Hello , how about a Verbal Cartoon for Radio
I grew up listening to the radio, we all used to hide under the blankets and listen when we
should have been fast asleep. Radio did change my life, a lodger gave us a radio when he
had to go back to Ireland to look after his sick mum. In fact he left all his stuff and caught the
first boat home. Months later he came back to see us and said me and my brother could
have his old Bush radio. I spent 20 years listening to radio. That and being afraid of Mr
Gallagher when I was 8 changed my life, and improved my intellect.
Today after 20 years of radio and 25 years of writing, 45 years in total I think I'm a good
writer, and thank God so do others. Yes I'm 55 now, in my head I'm 20, though my wife
would say 12.
I met my Shanghai wife in the old people's home, she was cleaning my dad's room. I was
positively vetted by a Chinese Ballerina from the Birmingham Royal Ballet, now we are
married with 2 bilingual daughters. I am the token male and English speaker in the family.
Now here's a few samples, what I'd like to do would be to read my shorts/blogs on your
radio. Each piece is about 90 seconds long, 90 seconds with Michael is the idea, simple
idea. I have gained 15,412 views on Funny or Die for a sample 1
st
chapter of Tears for a
Butcher which will be my 8th book. Only the other day a publisher said my book of shorts
300 and Not OUT was very funny. In fact I must have 500 shorts, enough for over a year.
I have started recording all my Shorts and have put 50+ of them on
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com I have a new mike now too, so listen in reverse order.
My 7 books are on Amazon Kindle
http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
and
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com is my site.
Here's the samples for radio or print.

Let There Be Light ©
By Michael Casey
Let my tears be my words
Let the candle light be my eyes
Let the flowers in bloom be my lips
Let their scent be my blood
Let the wind be my breath
Let clouds be my mood
Let children’s laughter be my hope
Let widows’ sighs be my conscience
Let a stranger’s prayers be my delight
Let the bees be my wisdom
Let the trees be my strength
Let my patience reach to the stars
Let me be always remembered in your prayers
Sleepover©
By
Michael Casey
Sleepover is exactly that, your sleep is over, you have laughing kids invading your house,
and driving you out of your minds. Well not always, but it is very distracting. You can’t
remember what you were doing and where has that file gone on the computer. This is the

2nd time I’m telling this story, why, because my Word, or upon my word, the story died or
rather Word did not close properly, so now you’re getting something different.
Total strangers, or strangers to you arrive at the house and kind of invade it for a night. You
do shout up the stairs, keep them out of my room. Not because you have anything worth
stealing, but they are stealing your privacy, and that’s all you have left if you have daughters
in your house.
Then the smell of nail varnish drifts down the stairs and permeates everywhere, its worse
than mustard gas from the Great War. You scream up the stairs, open all the windows fully,
what about your room, dad? Especially mine.
Its then that your inner sanctum is breached as they bring their friends to help them open the
window. They see the Teddy Bear that you’ve had since you were 6 years old, the invader
laughs. She also sees the deep heat by your bed, And he complains about nail varnish.
Dinner time arrives and you have to feed the cuckoo, only she doesn’t eat this or she doesn’t
eat that, on principle. So you say, you’ll have to stave then. Your daughter, the host, is
horrified, so you relent and flick a pound coin at them, cholesterol free oil used to make the
chips. So a compromise is achieved.
You put Sky Sports on to watch the match, they say Qatar is going to build underground
stadia, novel idea. You are settling down to see Rooney when they arrive back chip laden.
Her friend just loves the ballet and Sky Arts has Bolshoi on, so could they please please
watch that. You say you’ll record it for them. But you are as bad as a puppy murderer even
for suggesting it.
So being a nice dad you let them watch the ballet on your 46inch tv, while you retreat to
watch the match on the laptop upstairs. They never tell you about this at parenting classes,
just how to change nappies. Let’s hope William and Kate are told.
After the ballet they retreat upstairs for girlie music, and what were you doing in their room
on the laptop. Didn’t you know you are just a dad not allowed in the inner sanctum. The Hits
is switched on their dab radio at volume 13, you retreat to watch the after match talk on the
big screen.

Later its bath time, so you have to wait 2 hours for all the girls in your house, including the
cuckoo, to pollute the bathroom before you a mere dad, and bill payer, can have a shave.
Only your last razor has been used to save somebody’s legs.
So everybody goes to bed, all is well, holding your teddy bear, you sleep soundly. Until 3am,
when a banshee screaming wakes you, your wife and all the neighbours. It’s the cuckoo,
she’s having a nightmare, it must be the chips, and the cholesterol free oil from them. Or half
waking up and forgetting where she was.
So remembering to put on your dressing gown you have to calm everybody down, and
answer the door, to the police, as the neighbour from neighbourhood watch has rung them.
So the police come in and have a look. Flatulence is written down in the Police note book.
As you let the police out the house again your smallest daughter hands you your teddy bear,
its ok dad, it’s only a sleepover.
How do Men Shop? ©
By Michael Casey
There is a difference between Men and Women, and thank God for it. But how do men
shop? Shopping for men is about getting what you need, my shoes have a hole in them so
I’ll go to the shop and buy another pair. A man will buy a new pair of shoes that are exactly
the same as his old pair of shoes, or if he’s being adventurous he’ll have a pair of shoes
which are exactly the same but with grey laces and not black. Now to a man this is being
fashion conscious. If a man wants a new pair of trousers he just goes to the shop and sees if
they have his leg/waist size and then tries them on, making sure they don’t split when he
bends over and that his package is not squeezed. If a man needs a suit he checks the
trousers before putting on the jacket, the jacket must be able to be done up without his belly
exploding the buttons off. A man will never button up his suit jacket, but he needs to know
that the buttons won’t fly off and hit anybody in the eye, if ever he does.
If a man needs a shirt he checks the neck size, 18.5 in my case, and then he sees if its full fit
or not. Then he buys 5 shirts exactly the same all in plastic . For a lazy shopper he’ll go

straight to Slaters and get what he wants. In and out in 30 mins for everything. Then he’ll go
to the pub and meet his mates and have one pint too many and leave all his shopping in the
Queens Tavern. Luckily they are honest there and his shopping is saved, otherwise he’s
have to waste 30mins in Slaters, before going back to the pub.
This is basically the difference between men and women. Woman shop, men pick up clothes
or whatever like an order picker does, without any passion. A man gets home and puts his
shopping away and forgets about it. Just like in the film The Fly where the man’s wardrobe
contains suits all the same colour, clothes are just a thing so they are all uniform.
As for women shopping s something different, the clothes have to be tried on and they must
make the woman look perfect, her bum or boobs mustn’t be to big or too small, everything
should be right. To help the woman chose her clothes she brings two or three mates or her
children with her. Her man is forced to come too, but he plugs Radio5 Live into his ear and
listens to the football while she is choosing. Men know 5 colours, red, blue, red, green,
yellow or maybe one or two more; as for a woman there are at least 50 colours, and just as
the eskimos have 30 words for snow a woman has 10 words for each colour and its hews.
This brave man, or am I stupid, I just give my wife the debit card and say leave me in peace,
so she goes off with a smile with the girls with her, they are young Fashionistas after all. I
decided years ago what a wife needed was space to shop and not constant looks at my
watch. So that’s what she does and her bulging wardrobe will testify to the wisdom of my
decision. When a woman comes home its 2 hours of mix and match to make sure that the
new clothes match the old clothes, the husband tries to watch the big match on tv but his
wife is prancing around the living room asking “does my bum show” and various other
questions. It’s a penalty, and you sit on the edge of your seat, the wife appears and blocks
your view, so you miss seeing why your side was relegated. Normal life in homes up and
down the country.
The next day you watch the match again in peace, you remembered to record it on Sky+ and
as for the wife she’s gone back to the shop to return ½ of what she bought because it
doesn’t match her shoes. And it’s your fault because you wouldn’t give her your debit card
again so she could buy cheap £100 shoes.

All Things Bright and Beautiful ©
By Michael Casey
I haven’t written a non-pain piece in a while, so I’ll try and forget the pain and write
something new. We’ve just had the half time holidays and my girls have been playing “shop-
girls” as they call it. They even have a sign on their bedroom door saying “open” or “closed”.
They steal my wife’s clothes and prance about upstairs. Our eldest daughter has bigger feet
than my wife now so that’s a relief as she cannot steal my wife’s shoes any more, but it does
not prevent her younger sister from wearing mum’s shoes. There is also the matter of the
beret with silver sequins, that’s an absolute Fashion Must.
Me, I’m not fashionable at all, three girls in the house is enough, if I gave in to them they’d
be beading my eye brows, I do wear pink on occasions, so that’s as far as I go. If I were
maybe 3 stones lighter I’d try other things, I did see a nice cord jacket in Cotton Traders
48R, it was bright blue, Kingfisher Blue, my girls called it a “Clown Jacket”. With
encouragement like that what am I supposed to do? I did say if I win Euro millions I WILL
buy the jacket. My wife has a nice light brown one, although as she is a woman there will be
a more accurate colour name, men don’t do colours. If you think of it its black and white,
blue, green, orange as far as men go, but women at least another 40 names for colours. As
far as my hair goes, its silver, though a friend used to say I was an old man with white hair.
As the colour of our hair change it’s the 7 ages of man.
I remember Ali saying why wasn’t it “Whitemail” instead of blackmail. We are in the Pink if
we have good health, I long to be back in the pink myself. We say we hope be back in the
black not in the red when we do company accounts, we look for the silver linings. We look
look look for the rainbow as the song goes, we may find the crock of gold, all our troubles
may be over and we can pack them up in the old kit bag. Hope springs up within us, it is now
Spring after all, and as Chance the Gardener said “in the Spring there will be growth.”

Cheese and Chorizo ©
By Michael Casey
The thing about girls is that they steal your stuff, you think they are nice and sweet smelling,
but they are not. If they get up before you they’ll raid your side of the fridge and eat your
cheese and chorizo. Cheese and chorizo on toast, with hot chocolate to follow, this is how
your daughters treat you. This is how my girls treat me.
Yesterday mum bought biscuits, and did she share them? NO. The girls got some but I got
none. They were the ones I really like, its always the ones you really like. I looked high and
low, just like an Ah Ha song, but nothing. JJ the wife just laughed at me as I went from pillar
to post looking for a biscuit, the Tunnock ones. See this is how the 3 girls in my life treat me,
I am biscuitless. Finally after much derision my small daughter showed me where the
biscuits were, a new hiding place, that’s why I could not find them. So I was victorious, I
sneaked a biscuit into my pocket and slipped away to eat it in peace.
Shoes are a big thing, so our small daughter walks around the house in mum’s shoes, mine
are too big so thankfully they are left alone. However having two daughters who like Textiles,
which is the fancy word from school for sewing and making things. If they like textiles then
your clothes are not safe, they drag a shirt or two out of the wardrobe and say they want to
turn it into something. Jumpers are not safe either, they can cut them down to make a dress
or even a handbag. And as for needles, it’s like having a porcupine in the family, DANGER.
You only realise that after you have sat on a needle or two, the wife just says its free
acupuncture, no need to asked Dr Hu to pay us a visit, and yes he really is Dr Hu, not Dr
Who, but Dr Hu.
Now that our 11year old is 5feet tall, as big as mum, she wants to wear her clothes, but you
can imagine what kind of clothes a Shanghai girl wears. So there is debate in Chinese, I
cannot understand a word, but SANINGONGA is heard quite often which means no. Which
also means my girls, our girls will return to steal from my wardrobe again. In a way it’s like
having moths, but instead of holes in your clothes, entire items just disappear. BUT it’s not
just the girls, its mum too, she’ll decide that the Fashion Police would not like this item or that

item, so it disappears. When do I find out? Never, or nearly never, until I walk past a charity
shop and see a tent sized item in the window, it’s my clothes.
So if you want to keep the clothes on your back, don’t have daughters. If you want your
favourite food safe in your side of the fridge, the none Chinese side of the fridge, then don’t
have daughters. If you want to save your pennies, don’t have a Shanghai wife. But then life
would be boring, just make sure you look before you sit.
From A to B from Sat Nav to Blocked Sink ©
By Michael Casey
Well I hope you are all fine this morning. For us the Sat Nav debate continues. In the old
days a Black Taxi would not be seen using an AtoZ, it was beneath his dignity. He'd done
the Knowledge and it was all up there in his head. Jack Rozenthal wrote a great play about
it, was it 30years ago? Maureen Lipman was his real wife.
Delivery drivers have and egg and bacon butty in one hand dripping egg on to the AtoZ in
their other hand while they try and deliver a chest of drawers, with 5 days growth of beard for
good measure.
Bus drivers know their route, so once they've done it a while its automatic, they know what
they are doing. All they have to do is put up with kids trying to use a 3 day old ticket, and not
get too high from all the cannabis on the bus. Or remember when they have switched routes
because that can lead to strange directions.
Door to door salesmen all those years ago, with the rap at tat tat on the back door had their
route carrying the suitcase with samples in. I can vaguely remember one at our back door
did my mum buy a clothes brush? But that must be 45 years ago.

So basically we all know what we want and where we are going. Going further back they say
people only knew a six block radius around their home. Going to War changed all that as did
radio and then more importantly tv. Tv being our eyes on the world, previous to that only
Merchant Seaman knew of the world. My own granddad was a merchant sea man, I
sometimes wonder did he ever get to Shanghai
Or was it me, his grandson who got there first. Had he visited at the turn of the 19th/20th
Century 100years and more ago.
Which brings us back to Sat Nav. Me I use a bus which is fine apart from the pot heads who
sit next to you on the bus and all I want to do is puke. My wife is a car driver, so she and our
girls love the car. But my wife has borrowed a Sat Nav and likes the ease of it so now she
wants one of her own. The result is that I’m being nagged to provide one. You pay, me pay,
yes you pay, why me pay, because you are the husband so you pay, no way me pay, you
pay you pay yourself, I say. And on the ding dong, sing song goes. Which is the fun part. Me
I no pay, use computer I say. You can get perfect directions off the computer all you then
have to do is print them off, if our printer was still working we’d be doing that. So really all the
wife has to do is copy them down, in English.
She’s busy with the wok as I talk to you, she’s compromised now, she only wants me to
pay half. So I say I’ll be doubly generous and double the share I won’t pay, I’ll pay zero and
she can pay 100%. That’s the true spirit of negotiation, now I have another thing to resolve,
she’s blocked the sink, so pardon me now as I take the plunge, or rather take the plunger to
the sink, no need to use a Sat Nav to get there, its over my shoulder in the next room, just
turn left at the tv and go straight on to the sound of bubbles. Love is everywhere don’t you
know it, just find it, no Sat Nav required.
Thanks for reading this, that’s if Junk did not get it. I have come close and not got a cigar
many times in my life, so I decided to try you. Radio is the medium for my words, 90 seconds
with Michael, could go nationwide, it’s a simple idea, with great words, mine if I can be
boastful. I have already recorded 150 of my 500+ shorts, they can be heard at
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com listen in reverse order I haved a new microphone now.

Cheerio, Michael Casey
Email michaelgcasey@hotmail.com
www.michaelgcasey.wordpress.com
www.michaelgcasey.typepad.com to hear 50+ stories
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
7 ebooks and 2 Printed on Paper Books

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