Inchy Today – 29th July 2014

GCcapback2Today started off fair – then went pear-shaped and frustrating, then gained a bit of satisfaction.

Me pains were far less than yesterday’s were. No blood from me ablutions (apart from a bit when I cut missen shavin’ – Tsk!)

I spent ages and ages creating graphics for me Political post – then the computer crashed! Restarted. The internet went down. Shit, bother and… never mind, I lost it all. Grrr! Bloody BT!


Inchy’s School Leaving testimonial 

I went out to the hospital, calling in the council offices on the way to beg if they could find me sheltered accommodation somewhere nearby to live in, and the nice chap made me an appointment to see another bloke this afternoon. Nice.

Then to the hospital, and got tended to quickly, booked in again for next week.

Then back to town, and caught the bus to ‘Bread and Lard island’ West Bridgford, to see me Sister Jane and brother-in-law Pete. He’s very nearly finished all his decorating now.

I had a dizzy walking from the bus and veered into some trees, opening me wounds on me mush. Double Tsk!


Inchy’s Last school report

Enjoyed me cuppa and natter, then Pete came in with a locked box they had been keeping for me and opened it – guess what, me school leaving testimony from the head master, and me last year report was in it! He took a photo of em, and emailed to me at home. Interesting… or not seeing the low grades wot I got… apart from English where I came top… I say top… first! Yahoo!

Caught bus back home, called in Tesco and Chinese shop to try and get some cheese seaweed, but none available. Treble Tsk!

Got back to the flea-pit, and worked on some posts for a bit, scared the laptop would fail me again.

Jane rang later to see how I was, and that was appreciated.

Ah well, as my Dad used to say: “It’s an ill wind that fails to find too many cooks on a Wednesday afternoon!”

TTFN all.


Inchcock’s Rhyming Review of our MP’s Characters

As sent in to us by Gerald Inchcock Chambers (67), currently of The Upper Denture Care Home (Manure Cupboard), The Shed, Top end of Nottingham’s Central Cemetery, Between the graffiti’d Gravestone of Isaiah Milligan and the burnt out Ford Consul Classic at the back of the ice-cream van.

Rhyme2 01

The odd MP will be a Europhile,

The odd MP will be antimissile,

The odd MP will be a bibliophile,

The odd MP will be like a crocodile,

The odd MP will be a homophile,

The odd MP will be erstwhile,

The odd MP will be infantile,

The odd MP will be infertile

The odd MP will be very hostile,

The odd MP will be a paedophile,

The odd MP will be unsterile,

The odd MP will be a technophile,

The odd MP will be versatile,

The odd MP will be unfertile,

The odd MP will be docile,

The odd MP will be verbally agile,

The odd MP will be extremely virile,

The odd MP will be volatile,

The odd MP will be worthwhile,

The odd MP will be invirile,

The odd MP will be fertile,

The odd MP will be a gentile,

The odd MP will be juvenile,

The odd MP will be socially vile.

All MP’s behaviour can bring up your bile,

All MP’s behaviour are full of guile

All MP’s behaviour can make you can only revile,

All MP’s behaviour can be often in denial,

All MP’s behaviour can be often puerile,

All MP’s behaviour can be often futile,

All MP’s behaviour can can make you think ‘Is it all worthwhile?’

MP’s all have a false misleading, PR made profile,

Depicting them as being honest, with a pleasant lifestyle,

Despite their nepotism, nihilism, and fiddling, all the while,

For their crimes of fiddling, and lying and acting purile,

They rarely face prosecution; hardly ever do they get to trial!

Part 18: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe – Inchcock’s first Angling Match

W18 01I had joined the local pub’s angling club (The Gladstone), and was on my first match. It was on the Yorkshire Derwent. I’d only started fishing a month earlier, and was full of trepidation, but excited about it. The lads seemed a decent bunch. Being a newcomer, as with all of them, I was put in ‘A’ section to assess my skills, against the others. One of them had actually fished for England! W18 02Somehow, the smoke emitting old Bedford OWB coach got us all the way there, and to the 2 mile hike along the river bank to our designated match stretch. We dropped off near a pub, and had five match lengths of river bank to walk to get to our allotted section, and that was after a half mile walk from the pub to the river bank!

W18 03

By gum it fought well, but I gorrit in the end

For the first 5 hours and 50 minutes of the 6 hour match, I didn’t even get a bite! Then, when I did, I struck, and struggled to get the fish out, and it was a tiny eel, and I’d never seen one of them before. Nobody had explained to about how slippery and slimy they were, and I ended up on the grass, grappling with this 3 ounce eel… and nearly losing! The whistle indicating the end of the match was blown as I was putting the eel into a bait box full of water, I looked back up the bank, and there were about half a dozen of the lads who had been watching my embarrassing fight with the tiny eel, and they all laughed and then gave me a round of applause, accompanied with a few loud boos, whistles and selected comments of a injurious nature. Bless em! It turned out at the weigh-in, that only two fish had been caught – my hard-nosed eel, and one Tommy Ruff, so on my first match, I’d won the prize money, and had a challenge cup to keep for a year! Easy this match fishing lark I foolishly thought. My next win was five years later. So we all packed up and took the trek back to the pick-up point for the bus that was conveniently in a pub car park. With only two fish being caught, the weigh-in had taken no time at all, and we were very early for the pick-up, the coach not yet in site. The landlord opened the pub up early for us. I was soon guzzling ale, and listening and watching some of the lads play a game of ‘Tip-pit’, which I’d never seen before, and was fascinated with. After a while, I thought I’d better nip to the toilet before the coach arrives, and off I went to the little boy’s room, where I found I had a touch of constipation, but persisted painfully. When I got back into the pub, there was none of the lads or any of their tackle to be found! They had piled the tackle and themselves on board, and driven off, leaving me behind in the loo! Bless them, I was a new face, and they were rat-arsed… understandable I suppose! There were no mobile phones to use in those days. I rang the Gladstone, leaving a message, and requesting rescue. Then settled into a game of domino’s with some of the locals, oh, and imbibed a few more pints of the excellent ale on offer. It turned out that about an hour or so later, the lads on the bus were sorting out the raffle, and eventually they realised I was not there. They returned to collect me, amid much jibing, Mickey-taking, and the ranting from the bus driver, and picked me up. I fell into a splendid alcohol induced stupor on the way home. Forced out of this wonderful state, I was awoken and kicked off the bus at the end of the road here I lived, and my fishing tackle thrown out along with me. I picked it all up, and made my way to the flat. It had been burgled – Tsk!