Inchy Today – Wed 30th July 2014

30th July 2014 / Inchie / 2 Comments

I decided, as I haven’t been insulted or sneered at for a while, I’d call in where these antisocial facets would be guaranteed – the local Lidl.

I was in decent form to start with, checked I’d got me shoes and not slippers on, me spectacles on, me hearing aids in, me hat on, me dressings on me ‘Inch’ were secure, I’d got some money wimmie, I locked the door behind me, and checked to see if any local yobs were about before I left the flea-pit.

I hobbled down to the shop, having to take a longer route because the police had blocked off a road due to an RTC (Road Traffic Collision), just behind the New Inn where that bloke got stabbed last Wednesday.

I got onto Mansfield Road, and entered the shop. No baskets again, had to fetch one from the till area, as did other customers.

But I was in a fair mood, so said nothing, and carried on with shopping for me bits.

At the greengrocer stand, I looked at the tomatoes on offer. There was on lot of decent looking tomatoes, but there was no country of origin on them.

I ought to remind you wonderful, enigmatic, attractive readers that; I worked on the food retail business for years, and I thought they might have they disposed with the ruling that the country of origin must clearly be stated on all products nowadays?

There was this young shop assistant, nearly moving to, but I caught up with him while he stopped to chat up a bimbo while she was shopping, and asked him; (Nicely like!) “Excuse me, can you tell me where the tomatoes next to the end come from, as I thought it was a legal requirement to put the country of origin on all produce?” The reply; “Huh?” – I said never mind and carried on.

When I got to the fridges at the back of the store, I observed I was being observed by the security guard.

I couldn’t find the Krakowska meat that I like, and after only ten minutes searching for one, I found a member of staff to ask if they had any in stock. Before I’d got to mentioning the product I was after, she’s said; “If there is none there, we havva gotta any!” and was off like, just like Clivey Boy when he is with 500 yards of a boozer and his nose picks the scent of the ale, fast!

I got to the checkout, joined the queue and the till lady said; “Owston klaird funk poonds ten?” I thought she was going to give me a Hitler salute, but no. So after checking with the reading on the cash register, I gave her a fiver to pay the four pound ten bill. And got ten 1p pieces in the change!

I exited the premises, again telling myself not to go there again (Lidl), and the security guard followed me out. So I turned and walked towards him, and he went back in the shop?!?!

Now I was not in a good mood.

Limped home, opening the door, I saw laying there on the carpet, a letter from the City Homes people.

My heart leapt with joy… Have they got a home for me to go to… No! – It just told me I had been downgraded in the waiting list to classification Five, the bottom one.

Now usually, I would have sworn and cursed a bit at this, but as I lifted the nosh tray off the bin to throw the letter in, I dropped the tray with all the stuff on it…

So I cursed and swore a bit at that instead!

I’ve just read that George Osborne shops at Lidl? In this photo off the web, he isn’t shopping; he’s filling up the cob basket… and without his disposable gloves on too!

Suppose he’s got shares in them.

Now I’ve really pissed missen off!

Life eh?

TTFN all.

Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda – Part 1

30th July 2014 / Inchie / 6 Comments

My Beloved Grizelda

Part 1 The Beginning

It all started, when a work colleague, Horace, invited me to a wedding anniversary meal at his home in Wilford, Nottingham many years ago.

His wife Susan, had also invited her German pen friend, Grizelda Freudenberger from Saarland.

I arrived at his cottage early and soon found myself being accepted within the family, despite my horrendous features and appearance (Just finished work).

Susan asked if I could go and pick up Grizelda at the Nottingham train station in a couple of hours, and I willingly said yes.

An hour or so later, we heard a taxi pull up outside, it was Grizelda, who had arrived early at the station, and caught the cab to the cottage.

Susan and I trotted up the garden path to the taxi. I watched as Grizelda climbed out of the taxi and it rose creakingly by a good three inches higher from the ground. She was a big girl.

Giselda was about 5’11” tall, around 15 stone (solid with it), a lovely dark head of hair (I later found out she had some in other places too!) Gorgeous wide hips, tree trunk legs that I instantly wanted to wrap myself around for a month or two.

Susan and Grizelda were talking excitedly in German, as the taxi driver was struggling to get the luggage out of the boot, I was just about to help him, when Grizelda strolled over and lifted the cases single handedly out of the boot, and placed them on the drive-way, returning to Susan, she cast me a quick glance up and down, and smiled at me!

My inside’s wobbled, and my extremities were girded into action, as I realised this was love at first sight! I had never known such an instant frenzy in my undies before. It actually hurt me.

It was also lust, aphrodisia, and instant arousal, passion, desire, a painful hunger… an itch that just had to be satisfied or suicide would have to be considered.

Such previously unknown to me emotions frenziedly tore away at my innards… and although they confused me somewhat, it felt good!

Horace came out to help carry the luggage in, I took a case, and Horace another, Grizelda, biceps bulging out from her short sleeved pink blouse, carried the other two big ones up the path, and we entered the house.

I sat myself down, and watched as they introduced the kids, and talked and talked about each other so merrily and happily together, as I sat cross legged.

I must admit I concentrated on the shape, words, (I knew a bit of German) actions, and innuendos of Grizelda really – and was sure she kept giving me a sly glance, again looking me up and down, and a discrete smile coming from the scar near her top lip.

Understandably with all the talking, on their first face-to-face meeting, by the time we were ready to eat, the meal was burnt a little, and Horace suggested they go and fetch a take-away instead.

We all agreed, and Grizelda said she would sort out her things in the bedroom she was to use, so Horace and Susan could fetch the food, and she would be ready, refreshed and changed by the time they got back with it.

Grizelda’s next words, were heaven for me to hear, and I knew something was in the air, perhaps romance (And I hoped rampant sex) wise.

“Perhaps Gerry could help me with my luggage and t’ings while you two go for food… yes?”

They took the kids and went off to fetch the food.

I stood facing Grizelda, my nose touching her hairy breasts, and we smiled at each other – no words seemed necessary or needed, and were not used initially.

We almost ran into the bedroom, threw the things out of her suitcases into the cupboards and drawers, and got into the shower together – (and she did not mention the microscopic size of my appendage once all the time I was with her, how sensitive she was!)

We fiddled, fumbled, sucked, and caressed in the falling water, as passion grew between us, she carried me to the bed and threw me on it.

The following explorations of each others foibles, desires, and needs was soon over, and the, fervent activity of intimate copulate followed, as she placed me between her tremendously desirous, muscular and hirsute legs.

It was intense, consuming, poignant and hot-blooded in the extreme. (Although I had to be careful not to catch the boils on her neck during the activities.)

She carried me back to the shower, and who would have thought that washing each other could have been so pleasurable, interesting, and entertaining. She taught me a lot that first day, bless her.

As we were getting dressed after our pulsating pleasures, we realised that Susan and Horace were expected back – we went into the living room and found them there, having eaten their take-away, sat besides our now cold take-away fodder on the table.

They had arrived back and saw our activities taking place in the bedroom, and had quietly returned to the living room, so as not to disturb us – what understanding and kind friends they were.

As I left that night, I arranged to pick Grizelda up on the Tuesday, and with the greatest of expectations and bodily excitement, take her home with me to my flat!

She smiled and gently squeezed my meat-and-two-veg as we departed.

I suffered the pain quiet gladly.

She put me down, and off I went, full of yearning for our next meeting!

As I walked along, full of satisfaction, and realising this was the best time of my life, pondering deeply about the good fortune and sex I’d just enjoyed – I realised I’d gone to the cottage in the car – so went back to collect it.

That woman had certainly got to me in a big way – thank heavens!

Keep an eye out for Part Two of Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda, as soon as I get over the emotional turmoil and long defunct feeling my body is telling me it needs… Hehehe!

Inchcock’s (Unanswered) Letter to David William Donald Cameron

30th July 2014 / Inchie / 4 Comments

Dear excuse for a human being,

I understand that you are of a superior class, intellect and magnificence, with an ostentatious streak that must be the envy of many a politician throughout the world.

I also appreciate that your rise to become the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom – without a majority vote, First Lord of the Treasury, Minister for the Civil Service and Leader of the Conservative Party, representing Witney as its Member of Parliament, has been gained through your troubled upbringing by your millionaire stockbroker father Ian Donald Cameron, your mater Mary Fleur-Cameron, second daughter of Sir William Mount, 2nd Baronet, and your Nanny who tenderly cared for you.

I also appreciate that your early childhood was one of nannies, matrons and tennis courts

In further acknowledgement of your standing worth and praiseworthiness, you are a great-great-great-great-great grandson of King William IV and his mistress Dorothea Jordan. This illegitimate line consists of five generations of women on your father’s maternal side starting with Elizabeth Hay, Countess of Erroll née FitzClarence, William and Jordan’s sixth child, your father’s maternal grandmother, Stephanie Levita, daughter of Sir Alfred Cooper and Lady Agnes Duff (sister of Alexander Duff, 1st Duke of Fife) and was a sister of Duff Cooper, 1st Viscount Norwich, GCMG, DSO, PC, a Liberal democrat statesman and author.

Your paternal grandmother, Enid Levita, who married secondly in 1961 a younger son of 1st Baron Manton was the niece of Sir Cecil Levita, KCVO CBE, Chairman of London County Council in 1928. Through the Mantons, Cameron also has kinship with Alexander Fermor-Hesketh, 3rd Baron Hesketh, KBE, PC, and Conservative Chief Whip in the House of Lords-93.

Your maternal grandfather was Sir William Mount, 2nd Baronet, an army officer and the High Sheriff of Berkshire, and your maternal great-grandfather was Sir William Mount, 1st Baronet, CBE, Labour MP for Newbury 1918-1922. Lady Ida Matilde Alice Fielding, Your great-great grandmother, was the daughter of William Feilding, 7th Earl of Denbigh, GCH, PC, a courtier and Gentleman of the Bedchamber.

You are also a great great-nephew of Admiral Sir James Hanway Plumridge KCB MP (c. 1788 – 29 November 1863) who was a British naval officer whose career extended from Trafalgar to the Crimean War, and a Liberal Party Member of Parliament.

Your forebears have a long history in finance, which in turn should naturally make you wise and learned in such matters. (Hehehe!… sorry)

Your father Ian was senior partner of the stockbrokers Panmure Gordon, in which firm partnerships had long been held by Cameron’s ancestors, including your grandfather and great-grandfather.

Your great-great grandfather Emil Levita, a German-Jewish financier who obtained British citizenship in 1871, was the director of the Chartered Bank of India, Australia and China which became Standard Chartered Bank in 1969. (No surprise then that you are involved in banking yourself and letting them get away with murder is it?)

Your wife’s great-great grandmother was a descendant of the wealthy Danish Jewish Rée family, whose ancestors originated from Altona, Hamburg, Germany and Głogów, Poland. (Another reason perhaps that you fail to get to grips with the mass immigration?) One of Emile’s sons, Arthur Francis Levita (d.1910) (brother of Sir Cecil Levita), of Panmure Gordon stockbrokers, together with great-great-grandfather Sir Ewen Cameron, London head of the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank, played key roles in arranging loans supplied by the Rothschilds to the Japanese central banker (later Prime Minister) Takahashi Korekiyo for the financing of the Japanese Government in the Russo-Japanese war. (No surprise then that you are involved in banking yourself and letting them get away with murder is it?)

Another great-grandfather, Ewen Allan Cameron, was senior partner of Panmure Gordon stockbrokers and served on the Council for Foreign Bondholders, and the Committee for Chinese Bondholders (set up by the then-Governor of the Bank of England Montagu Norman in November 1935).

Add to this wonderful history, your own contributions to the country and your excellent missing leadership qualities, no doubt gained in your years being pampered by nanny, and your upper class prancing about learning to be superior at Eton, and it becomes plain for all to see, that you are probably the one man in the country to understand about Cornish pasties, bus-passes, turning off heating because one cannot afford to run it, being made redundant, sick patients who cannot afford private medical bills, being unemployed, and living in comparative poverty! Innit?

In the highly unlikely event that this letter should reach your eyes, I’ll add that the venom with which I hate you has no match!

Your unblinking ability to lie and fail on your promises also has no match, and would currently be of a superior quality, and more frequent than those of Herr Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Tony Blair! At least Blair was voted into office!

If (although highly unlikely in your case) you were wondering how you have managed to get your party through the last few years, the answer might be; A YouGov poll for the Sunday Times found that two-thirds of people think Miliband isn’t providing an effective opposition. And this is very true.

On a lighter note, you can’t live forever despite your inherited wealth and plutomania, your aloof presumptuousness, nihilism and superior conceit, you will croak out one day. I hope to be there to welcome you through the gates… without your privileges’.

I wish you a harrowing uncomfortable remainder of your life. And to those suffering through your monitory actions, I pray for.

Yours

Juan Inchcock Chambers