An Alto Ego & Inchies Id Argument

I’m leaving it up to Alto-Ego and Inchie ID to do the blog today. I may add something afterwards, but I’m suffering the dreaded, loathed DD (Dracula Depression) this morning. As annoying as this is, trying to find out why is equally disconcerting. As far as I can tell, nothings changed from last night? Humph!

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Well, ID, can you explain summat to me?

What? I thought you were Mr Perfect?

You’ve actually got an advantage over me with this problem, Pugface!

Oh, go on then barbed-wire tongue…. let’s hear it, more sarcasm or criticism, is it?

No, no, no. I’ll explain, mate…

Mate! You just called me, mate!

Are you going to answer me or what? Just cause you’re a thick knob-end of an Ego, doesn’t mean we can’t still be pals. Let’s face it, the more we learn, the more we can pester the life out of Inchcock, innit? So we should help each other learn even more things that will irritate our host… Yes?

Go on then, your taking my Inchcock aggravating time away…

No, I’ve just popped into his pathetic brain; he’ll not be up to or responsive to any joshing, bewildering, bamboozling, or distracting this morning…

Just a cotton-picking minute ID, that’s the things we love to do…

I know, but there are some things even more potent than wot we are, and he’s…

He’s got to live a few more years, at all costs, cause if he snuffs it too soon, or even if Inchcock finds some contentment… the IDAEC (Alto-Ego-Consortium) Guidelines, Rules and Cautionary Advice 112,145,23 will come into force. I’ll end up back in the Soul Bank Vaults, for God knows how many years again! So I…

Well, that’s your advantage. I was going to talk about it mush!

Yer, wot?

If you cock-it-up, a couple of hundred years in the Soul Bank Vaults, is nothing – If I gerrit wrong, that’s it, end of this Id, altogether. We don’t get transferred to another human-host yer know! Oh, no, it’s a harsh existence for us Ids.

So? Worrya saying like? I could be in there for thousands of years. You are aware that the only hosts there are cockroaches, ants and rats, are yer?

So what’s wrong with that, then?

I won’t be as easy as host Inchcock; the cockroaches are cleverer than he is!

Hahaha! I just listened to him, you know, a while ago. He was talking to his pets! No, honestly! He really was; I’m not jesting Alto, I even think he heard them answering him, too!

No harm… he loves them, it’s a human trait yer know, or do yer? He does that every morning… Unless he’s had trouble in the Porcelain Throne, that is. There’s no problem with that…

Hogglebogwash! How long can he be in the toilet, for heaven sake?

Well, if his evacuation is one of his rock-solid ones, up to about an hour, on occasions, he’s taken longer. When his fungal lesion bleeds, yer see, he has a grossly painful job on, stopping and medicating things…

Gangleboggleisations! Get yersen in the bog; you can pester him while he’s struggling. Give him hell! Bloody heck, a perfect opportunity for giving out some pilgarlic, pooh-pooing, heckling, vilification and raillery. Hahaha! He won’t be able to concentrate on his Porcelain Throne duties at all – Hehehe! Why we could…

Come off it, you know nothing about my host, does yer? You’ve been in this monstrous wobbly-bellied, old idiot for a week now, but yer not learning owt are yer?

Oh, you are, I suppose, yer gerrin’ as thick and decrepit as Inchcock is, pal… yer on the wane, mentally…

You thick swine, on the wane mentally? What else does yer expect? You might have noticed that neither of us is human. We are ethereal, diaphanous beings, or are you not aware of this?

Watch it pug-face, or I’ll report you to the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium). You know full well what I meant! I was speaking figuratively, interpretatively, metaphorically, As you are fully aware of; Thunderglobberisations! I thought we’d agreed to be social wiv each other?

Who did? Not me! I’ve not got over you lying to me last week yet… You promised if I signed the IDAEC Guidelines & Cautionary Advice Procedure Adherence 112,145,23, you’d leave this host forever… but no, you are a snotty-nosed ID, aren’t you, so superior… But you being a defrauding, backstabbing, double-crossing, untrustworthy Id that you are, should be reported, not me! Git!

I think you’ve been with this host, Inchcock, for far too long, my old fruitcake! You should just report yourself to the IDAEC as a failure. You’re catching a human beings ailments, such as dementia… No, let me continue…Testicles! If I could, I’d like to tear your head off!.

We’ve already agreed that we are both emblematical, selectively apparitional beings. So tearing my head of would be pointless, don’t you think?

I’m not so sure, Meathead, having never tried to kill anyone before, and as far as I know, no other Id before me has. Perhaps some form of transubstantiating has taken place over the years, and we have acquired the ability to tear off an Alto-Ego’s head? Hehehe!

The same goes for tearing off the head of an Id, indeed?

Ah, I see what you mean. We could, in fact, make history, be the first Id and Alto-Ego to kill each other? Or at least give it a go?

There you go again; you’ve got no morals, have you? What about your Id Oath what you took in training, eh?

Erm, I can’t remember that; it was over three thousand years ago, Dumbo!

Ha! A whippersnapper! Well, for your information, I started off as an Id…

Oh, did you, my friend?

Shut-it! I took the Id oath myself over 5,000 years ago. I seem to remember it went something like, “I shall occupy the given human body as instructed, with the intent of making the host into a big-headed, greedy, parasitic personage within the given period as prescribed by the IDAECC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium-College) Trainer on this day (dated). Convincing the host mentioned above that England will win the world cup again, all Politicians will become trustworthy, and America will land a human-crewed rocket with 5000 paying passengers on board on Mars, at the cost of $3.” You remember that bit, Inchie-Id?

No, and I didn’t miss any lectures or training sessions.

Anyway, it’s time I checked on Inhchcock…

No problem, I can hear him talking to his Carers.

Anyway, what was this question you had for me then? Id my old flower?

Oh, yes… I was a little concerned about why the human hosts always get drunk, stabbing or running over other hosts in their tinned transport, each New Year? And why do they welcome getting older so merrily and fire off flaming fireworks into the sky?

Ah, well, it wasn’t always like that, you know…

Tell me what used to happen in the old days Inchie, I’m confused.

Well, in days of yore, the human hosts always get drunk on mead, stab someone, and run over other hosts with the horses and stagecoaches transport, each New Year? And why do they welcome getting older so merrily and fire flaming fireworks into the sky? Then they welcomed in the new year merrily and fire flaming fireworks into the sky?

Well, I never knew that!.

Hello… Inchcocks took a tumble in the shower…

Bags, I get to annoy him first!

Rollock’s!

Me first, being the youngest, Crab-Nose!

You got that arse-about-faced as well! The old ones should get priority!

Arse-about-faced… I like it!

We’ll go together, but I get first scoffing, sneering at, chastising Inchcock?

That’s fair enough, mate, as long as you leave the laughing at and humiliating comments in?.

Done, cocker!

Great mate!

The now two best pals floated through the wall into the wet room with this. But…

Oh, Sod-It! A lot of blood; I think he might be dead?

After all that planning, and arguing too!

Take a close look, see if he’s breathing…

How does yer do that then? I’ve never tried to help a host before?

I’m not sure… erm…

It’s your fault, all that being obstreperous with me!

Clackers!

Bog-Knobs!

Well, one of us must wait around until someone finds the body…

Why?

We’ve got to report it to the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego) Records Dep’t…

Why are they going to make a song about it?

Someone might make a song and dance about it, but me? I’ll be back in the IDAEC (ID-Alto-Ego-Consortium) Soul Bank Vaults.

Ain’t these human hosts heartless, dying just like that!

Pigs!

Baskets!

Does yer think the Carers will find him int morning then?

I suppose so… hang on, where’s he keep the cans of plonk for the Carers?

Oh, yes, what does yer fancy mate, Vodka and lime. G & T, Pimms, Mojito, Tequila beer, Strongbow, or Rum & Coke, Id?.

Yea!

Inchies Make Them Laugh Series

TTFN