He awoke and couldn’t find his alarm wristlet anywhere,

So he searched with frantic vigilance everywhere,

With a sense of gloom and looming despair,

He started with his living room, with his recliner chair,

Then under his 1959 imitation broken E-plan leather armchair,

Searched in and under both of them, but the alarm wasn’t there!

Perused his DVD case and corner photo display then,

He discovered he’d got two copies of Frost series ten,

Panicking now, will the use of his memory be ever verboten?

Where had he left it though he’d just forgotten!

Then he hunted through his fire surround,

Behind his photo, truncheon and all around,

Finding an unknown metal nut on the ground?

Questioning now, if his mind was sound!

 To his bookcase then, in forlorn hope,

Searching he dropped his spyglass and it broke,

A few words of profanity he then spoke,

Bent down to retrieve it, the silly bloke,

Hit his head and nearly gave himself a stroke!

He checked out his writing bureau,

Couldn’t find it in there either, though,

He thought then: Life can be a right So and so!

Then into his bathroom, he continued his hunt,

Looked between his Carbolic soap, aftershave and Sterodent, 

In the nooks and crannies, Oh where did it went? 

Turned his attention, to the drawers, feeling occludent.

 

Emptied them all out, he was losing his willpower and drive,

But, decided to press on, his enthusiasm began to revive,

When he cut his finger on the razor, again his spirit took a dive,

Put a plaster on, it was getting later, a quarter-past five,

He moved on, to peruse his hallway, he did strive.

Through all his coat pockets he furiously went,

No alarm, and not even a spare cent,

Checked every compartment, even in his caps,

If he didn’t find it soon, he thought he might have relapse,

Even checked under his many woolly scarf wraps,

Could it have possibly fallen into his shoes perhaps?

He even looked under the Velcro straps!

Why does he always have these mishaps?

He emptied all his bins, looked through the gift-wraps.

He emptied the airing cupboard in desperation then,

He did stop for a while, hit his hand as the door did open,

A little time applying some antiseptic he did spend!

He kept searching on and off throughout the night, aghast,

No time for entertainment, cups of tea or breakfast,

At his failure, his disappointment he did broadcast,

The next day, he started searching again early and fast,

He wondered how long this searching would last?

Out to the corridor, didn’t take long, it was little not vast,

Then failing once more, he returned to his flat, well downcast!

To the kitchen his next area to search, off he set,

Danger in this room would be a serious threat,

Electricity, glass, brushes, doors etc, oh, and the steak knife set,

He searched the fridge freezer, the built-in cupboards he upset,

He took ages to get the things back and reset,

But he wasn’t going to give in yet!

Mind you, on this I wouldn’t bet!

He checked the pill boxes, now feeling perplexed,

The plastic storage bins he tackled next,

He emptied each one out and checked,

He didn’t really expect to find the alarm, in retrospect,

Then he realised what he had not checked

His bag of rubbish he carries about, but the alarm he couldn’t detect! 

His hopes of a successful outcome were now wrecked!

Guess where the fool had a look next? 

 

Four days later, the alarm still not found,

Despite his hundreds of little looks around!

He has to go all on his own,

To beg forgiveness, all alone, 

To Dean Walker the Coordinator, 

And explain he’s lost his alarm, and soon,

She may lose her temper, might hit him with the ladle-spoon,

Perhaps telling him he’s an incompetent Goon!

Failure to find this alarm may reap a Typhoon,

He hopes to get the courage to inform Deans or Julie, this afternoon!

RIP Inchcock