Month: July 2022

Inchcock Today

/ Inchie / 2 Comments

Which inspired Pro. Bill Ziegler to start building his Space & Time Machines in his basement. For his latest one, he took his beloved HRH Petal-Lisa with him. They sent me this photo.

Bill, now known worldwide as Professor Ziegler, PhD, In Humanitarian Studies. Initially based in Cincinnati, since the success of his Time Travel experiments, he is now operating from Paris (2049), Palestine (1974), Nottingham (Current), Germany (1925-1945-2015), Outer Mongolia (1911)and Britain (1155 years BC). He has been assigned by the FBI, CIA, Walt Disney Jnr and Joe Biden to nip back and get proof of fiddling in the last US elections. Hehehe!
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Well, it’s not Telstar, but earth’s moon. I took a photo when I got up. What is impressive is I went and put the kettle on, and I’m talking about eight hours ago now, and I still haven’t made a mug of tea! Gobsmacking!

After faffling about starting many jobs and tasks, having to visit the Porcelain Throne a few times, and forgetting what I was doing beforehand… repeatedly, I started getting the photographs on the blog. Then realised I had not begun to prepare Josie’s Sunday meal yet. So, I did! Although I began to do well in the task at hand and maintained a modicum of concentration…

I prepared the vegetables, tomatoes, leeks, garden peas, soya and mushrooms in the saucepan. Then the beans and chilli were seasoned into pan two… I was almost at the stage of developing a Smug-Mode… until! . Oh, dearie me, a classic Whoopsiedangleplop, with an Accifauxpa to follow…
I’d just tasted the chillies before transferring it to the veg pan; and thought a squirt of more distilled vinegar would be a good idea. (It wasn’t). As I took off the bottle cap, the neurotransmitters failed, and I ended up juggling the bottle, getting soaked in vinegar, and layering the kitchenette floor with the escaping contents…

I had to delay the nosh-sorting to clean up the floor and my clothes. Then got in a spot of minor Conrad Confusion state. I was unsure of what to do first, sort the food? No, that’ll make the mess worse walking through it. So, into the wet room and got the mop and bucket out. And… that couldn’t have come at a worse time for me… I hit my knee on the sock-glide getting to the mop & bucket, and Cartilage Cathy kicked off, and I ended up moping the floor while using Metal Mickey, the walking stick! Not an easy thing to do! I had to stop and get some Phorpain Gel rubbed into the right patella. I was making things worse instead of better. However, when I dropped the mop and bent to retrieve it, a severe stab of pain and the cap had returned to the socket, no longer painful, just a smidgeon sore. Haha! Had my luck changed? No!

The door chime chimed, and in walked a late and not a very happy-looking carer, Joe. I rushed to finish the floor; it took about five minutes or so. I hastened to Carer Joe to take the medications; Joe met me at the door, anxious that he was not delayed any longer, as he had a lot on. Took the tablets, gave Joe a choice of tipple and nibble and went to the door to see him off. I forgot to ask him to take the waste bags. But I was feeling guilty for keeping him waiting. A low point in the day. But at least the kitchen floor was done.

I was still in a, well, erm…, a nervous state, I think. Still not happy with me getting mixed up and keeping Joe waiting, although he was far behind, he didn’t moan at me. I took a snap of the end car park from the balcony… that did not cheer me up in the least; It just brought back the problems I’m having with Facebook taking off all of my photos of the car park, the meals and me medical ones… others as well.
I’ve stopped using Facebook now... I’d like to close down my account altogether. Why are my photos not keeping to the standards of Facebook? I’ve seen some posts with swearing and anti-Royalty comments, and they seem to be okay with Facebook standards? Please let me know if anyone knows how to close a Facebook account. Mind you, I’ll lose my Troll Free access and Winwood Court too… Oh, I don’t know!
On the Blood Pressure, Sys was 147,
Not low or high enough to put me in heaven,
Dia 76, Pulse 81, Temp 34.1!

New medications on the collapsible table?
When? Who?… not rememberable…
Left in a bag unopened on the table.
When? Who?… not confirmable.
Pentac medicine’s effectiveness is disputable…
And Furosemide, another puzzle?
When? Who?… another bumfuzzle?
Dementia Doreen is blameable…
For my short-term memory not being retainable!

I should have used the glove or a towel,
To check on the oven-cooking gruel,
Peripheral Neuropathy makes you look like a fool.
When off-line, if things are hot or cool…
The nerve ends can’t tell the brain pool,
Neurotransmitter failures can seem cruel.

Some ailments will never be understood,
Peripheral Neuropathy, there’s not always blood,
Dying nerve ends are often misunderstood,
In fact, as above, they can be good…
The pain message is not precisely aborted,
This ailment needs to be excogitated!

No informing the brain of forthcoming pain or blood,
But belatedly gets the message through, it could…
Then you see the cut or bruise that bled…
Nowt the Doctors can do, it can’t be attempered,.
I imagine this will be why I’m found dead…
No need to fret, all the things wot I’ve been afflicted.

Twice I’ve been shot, and two cancers,
I’ve been given plenty of chances…
A metal ticker fitted, adiposes…
The stroke, Arthur Itis in both knees.
At 20 years of age came baldness,
Now cataracts, coming blindness.
Rotting teeth, deaf, body full of bruises,
Saccades, Glaucoma and diabetes,
Feet full of corns and calluses…
Mugged thrice, they weren’t pleasant,

Ankle and mouth ulcers,
Variable Blood Pressures and pulses,
Oh, and Pectic & Duodenal Ulcers,
Colin Cramps, fingers, toes agonise,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleed, a right mess,
And talk about absent-mindedness!
Now I’m full of abominableness…

So, life is now full of absurdnesses,
Paying for Carers and nurses…
Putting up with my pathetic curses…
But things could well be worse,
PN can, as I showed, have advantageousness,
My funeral cost has been covered!

But moments ago, from Jillie, she’s coming to see me!
This cheered my spirits automatically,
So, St Peter can wait patiently,
Cause I’m waiting to see Jill, besottedly!

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I’ll get some nosh cooked before the Evening Carer calls.
Which I did, and took several photographicalisations while doing so, including the meal, a view from the kitchen window, and from the balcony. All 3 of the pictures have disappeared from the card?

I’m properly fed up!
The evening Carer arrived as I was getting the meal on the plate. The vegan burgers were well done when I got around to eating the meal.
I’m properly fed up!

Evening All!

Inchcock Today: Rescued Photos

/ Inchie / 16 Comments

Due to Trotsky Terence causing me hassle and pain,
The Porcelain Throne visits happened again & again…
Dementia Doreen made my concentration transmundane,
I couldn’t find the camera, my language became profane,
After hours, the location was successfully ascertained…

Some form of hope, I started to regain…
However, they soon went on the wane…
The camera’s SD card had disappeared again!
I searched for hours… no hopes remain…
Doreen Dementia… a permanent bane!.

On and off for a day, I was frantically searching…
Up and down, my emotions ever lurching…
From never-mind to self-hating…
At times, mentally self-fustigating,
My psychological state… was beyond interpreting!

Leaving no stone unturned, I again started SD card seeking,
No luck, so I sorted out the laundry tub to do the washing…
Found the card in my pyjama top’s pocket; amazing!
So turned my attention to sorting the grazing…

I rather enjoyed this vegetarian noshing,
I found myself doing an awful lot of belching?
Fell asleep, to wake up and extrapolating,
Sorting the world out… hypothesising,
Starting with how to stop the MP’s hornswoggling,
But soon found this was too mind-boggling!

Checked on the plates and pins state…
They looked a lot better today, mate!
Nice, when I find summat to appreciate!
One day, I hope to see a little less weight…
A dream, more than a thing to anticipate!.

Better tend to my mornings ablutioning,
Cleaned the teeth, then on to shaving,
Had an excellent slow, steady session of showering,
Then on to the uncomfortable medicationalisationing…

I dried off, oiled and rinsed each earhole first,
Little Inchies fungal lesion done, with a blood-thirst,
Harold’s Haemorrhoids… painfully the worst!
Eye drops, mainly missing, Tsk! A curse!

Accifaupas dressing, an accidental photographing…
Dropped the camera, no damage, so not too vexing,
So, I took another of me posing…
This one came out to my liking,
Smug-Mode developing!

Found a shot of Ice-cream that’s Vegan…

I added some sprinkles, to it…
It gave the bad tooth some jip!
Amongst the contents are turnip?
I’m not bothered, I loved it!

The Blood pressure was well high…
The Body temperature is nigh on perfect!

Morning Car Park Piccies!

This morning’s waking view,
The Porcelain Throne needed going to…
I hit my shoulder as I was going through…
On the doorframe, I think I said thank you,
To Shaking Shoulder Shirley, too!

The evening dawns, is that the right word?
Not that anyone will be bothered…,
Cause later on,
I took these that outshone…
Nicer coloured, better favoured!
Then this beauty, later on

FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD

And used it to make this super meal

The highlight was the vegan burgers, each eaten
twixt two slices of Milk Roll bread. The fresh
garden peas, tomatoes, and baby new
potatoes tasted excellent!
A pot of jelly & custard, and delightful
lemon mousse, to round it off!
GORGEOUS! Flavour Rating: 8.5/10

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My mentality is being steamrollered,
My aims and intentions are steered,
I lose control, it’s time that I surrendered,
Unless I can get help… my brain mended…
My dreams are black & white, yet multi-coloured.
Ideas, plans destroyed or embroidered…
At their conception, logic was avoided,
Minimal new memories are remembered
Dark thoughts are often harboured…
But shortly, into the ether, they are melted,
Intentions and aims cannot be deciphered…
And I made them, I’m just dumbfounded…
Over nothing, I can get easily flustered,
When aims and fears amass and get clustered…
Which reminds me, I must get some mustard!

Inchcock’s Make Them Laugh in Ode Series

Local News Snippets – Part 14⅒th

/ Inchie / 6 Comments

Unwin must have been known for having a violent history…

For four officers to escort him, obviously the dullest,

To take off his handcuffs, knowing he’s the unfriendliest,

A decision that proved to be one of the iffiest,

Four officers were assaulted; was there an inquest?

In court, battered officers, the most ignoble,

Saw a sentence handed to Unwin, the patheticist…

15 months, suspended, no wonder he reoffended!

This sentence should go down in folklore,

Not one policeman beat up, but four!

Now he’s free to duff-up some more!

Why is there no complaining or furore…?

Namby-pamby sentencing gets more and more,

Violent police assaulters, by the score…

Laughing at judges even more…

Softness won’t work, like with Putin’s war!

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Modern-day gangsters, barely out of their nappies. What chance for the future, with scum-ball bully boys so scared, they have to carry weapons and use them to intimidate others? There is no chance of any retribution worth talking of. I’m sure the threat of having to serve two-thirds of their sentence and the rest on a licence will send a shudder of fear through their vicious, antisocial, greedy, cowardly, cowardly, drug-crazed, chicken-hearted, self-centred minds.

What chance for the future, with scum-ball bully boys so scared, they must carry weapons and use them to intimidate others? Modern-day gangsters, barely out of their nappies. No chance of any retribution worth talking of; I’m sure the threat of having to serve two-thirds of their sentence and the rest on a licence will send a shudder of fear through their vicious, antisocial, greedy, cowardly minds. It’ll get them some more street-cred with the opposition drug gangs, which is more concerning to these lice than any prison sentence. OF course, they will be able to access drugs for personal use via manipulated family members and visitors. Not having to worry about getting medical attention, cooking, cleaning, council tax, the increase in the cost of living, having computer problems… Hang on that does sound a little tempting. I bet if I was incarcerated, I’d get both cataracts, saccades and glaucoma done quicker… Maybe, even get some help with Vascular Dementia, Doreen? Be able to actually see a real doctor! Not to fret over food price rises, rent, and carer cost increases… And stick two fingers up at my unsolvable computer problems; I can use the prison ones and get the internet for free!

Now that’s got me thinking. Who’s the idiot, these three stooges or me? Have I been missing out on things in life? Silly question that! Obviously, I have been missing out, or why would I end up where I am, after a slog of miserable, failed, error-filled life, stuck here surrounded by tellurians and so lonely?

Can one of these three good-looking drug-gang members might advise me on how and where to get a reliable handgun and ammunition? 

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Surprised? I’m not. The end is nigh! The world is racing to it. Not much point in betting on which way the world and or humanity will self-destruct, but I’ve come up with some odds:

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A sore point, so I’ll say no more!

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Covid numbers, not so good?

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I keep on failing!

TTFNski!

Carer Richard, Odes & Diary

/ Inchie / 34 Comments

CARER RICHARD

He goes the extra mile to care for me!

ODES

Richard goes the extra mile in looking after me, you see…

He’s called paramedics to the hospital he dispatched me.

Found me on the floor, lifted me up; and I’m heavy!

He’s reduced the effects of my Whoopsiedangleploppery!

After giving me my medications, if he’s the time, to which I agree…

We sometimes have a bit of mental verbal buffoonery,

Monday, checking the dates on medications, was he…

Richard saw on the stove my pan of Chilli,

He suggested a new way of cooking, which sounded good to me!

Told me with cheese on top, it would be very tasty,

So, I made some that way later and could not disagree,

It tasted better than a well-cooked sosatie.

Ate it, felt sated, down the chair – I’ve not got a settee…

But with my feet up, I settled to watch the footy on ITV…

Half-time, I went to make a brew of Glengettie tea…

Getting the cup and washing up the cutlery…

Oh, dear, the innards suddenly rumbled – but only weakly…

The rear end just started to emit things terribly…

I rushed to the Porcelain Throne in a hurry… but I was too late!

Banged my shoulder on the door frame going in, mate!

What a mess; I was in a right mucky state…

Cleaned things and me up, new aerated PP’s on, to alleviate…

Sad when one has an uncontrollable trip to defecate…

At least the shoulder I didn’t dislocate!

Out and back to the kitchenette for the brew,

And immediately another churning, another release was due!

Back to the Porcelain Throne, I almost flew!

A bigger mess this time, sticky goo!

Good job, I made it in time, I can tell you!

Cleaned and washed, and back on the flaming loo!

After five more Throne visits, each one causing ballyhoo…

Things settled at last; in future, Chilli, I’ll have to eschew!

I’ll have some home-made beef stew,

Oh, no beef, summat else will do…

Ah, the Vegan beefburger tonight; the risks should be few

Hoping there’ll be no trouble with the residue!

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All fine that night, I woke up feeling refreshed and pert,

This morning as I stood up, the Haemorrhoids hurt,

The borborygmus rumbled, and to the Porcelain Throne I stumbled,

An hour later, I’d passed at least six times… my spirits crumbled…

Each evacuation was a close call, as I rushed and fumbled…

My poor piles were stinging and battered; they itched!

Uh-oh! The last one sneaked out early; I had to ventilate…

It seemed the pong was worse by a hundredfold,

Finally, I got the escapees under control…

That leaves Carer Richard this morning, who needs to be told…

A warning of his recipe given, especially to the thick & old…

That eating it, diarrhorea would be empowered!

Richard arrived, I told him of my Chilli agony, and he was unflustered!

Laughter flowed from the lad, totally unhindered…

No guilt, no shame… Never seen the lad so cheery…

He suggested I get a new nappy!

Hahaha!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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I’ve never ever seen Richard laugh out loud and so hard! I think his mood was as near to schadenfreude as one can get. Even amid my agonies and Trotsky Terence’s having a hay-day with my innards and the Protection Pant stocks running desperately low…, it cheered me up to have made him so happy and contented. It did as much good as any medications.

With a possible hint of epicaricacy creeping in there… Hahaha!

Last evening’s photographicalisations were, to me, some of the best I’ve managed to take. How the shaking and shuddering (apart from the right shoulder Shuddering Shoulder Shirley) had suddenly dried up was something of a minor miracle? However, as I was closing the windows after taking the pictures, they kicked off again, off course. But a nice two first-time shots? Ah, the rumbling innards have started off again, out of the blue. I made a speedy as I could lunge for the wet room, wary of Trotsky Terence’s grip on the innards. The evacuation was the smallest in days and more than capable of controlling. I remained sat where I was on the Throne and got the crossword book out. I was not going to get caught out like I have been so many times recently by needing another release minutes later. About five minutes later, the second lot came.
I had a shave and shower, and the ankle ulcer in this photo looked like a luminescent inner core? At least it did to my cataracted eyes. But it looked to the eyes as usual? If I remember, I’ll ask the evening carer to have a look. (I forgot to, Tsk!) . The body temperature was acceptable again. That’s several days on the trot, so things look good there. Shaking Shaun caused me to drop the thermometer, but it still works; phew! The Sys was still highish, the DIA lowish, and the Pulse was AOK! Overall, I was tempted to go into Smug-Mode, but I remembered last week… I declined! That was when the SYS went up to 174 for one day, then down to 123?

I had a look at the food situation in the fridge. There seemed plenty to do me over the weekend, and the freezer was pretty full, so I decided no food order was needed until next week! Yes! I made a decision…me! I made one in 1968 as well, you know. Then made another one! I had a long chinwag with the family. Gave each one a mini cuddle and had a few words with each of them. ♥ All donated by e-friends, Lisa, Pattie and Marie; thank and bless them!

I had a walk down to the ground floor, using the lift, of course. And started to have a hobble the length of the three blocks of flats, to come out from Winchester Court and hobble along Chestnut Way back to my beloved Woodthorpe Court… but… An urgent need suddenly needed! So I doubled back and got to the Throne in time to avoid any Accifauxpas or Whoopsiedangleploppery! Which was good!

Washed and got a snap of the end car park taken from the balcony. What happened with this terrible photo? I took it without thinking through the glass; I didn’t open the window. Wot a pillock! So I did a better shot from the other end of the balcony, of the view towards Nottingham City Centre, two miles away. Then got a late nosh sorted out. Veg & pickle balls, with added caramelised onion chutney, tomatoes, chips and my beloved raw, fresh pod peas. I had three little marshmallows for my make-do dessert. I would have had some yoghourt or lemon mousse, but Iceland and Sainsbury’s didn’t have any in stock – Grumph! 

So, there it is! A day of misery, defeatism, joy, laughter and utter confusion- just a typical day for Inchcock! Cheers!

Thought-Storms Released – with odeing

/ Inchie / 9 Comments

Upon reading this crap, I felt a little hypnagogia,

I felt dizzy; mayhap it’s habromania?

Or even worse, a mental cacodemonomania…

You can work this out between yers…

Cause sure as hell, this ode will bring you longueur!

Things are so bad, I’ve got apeirophobia…

I’ve just had a bout of acrophobia!

I’m growing ever tubbier and heavier…

As I age, my ailments get nastier, uglier,

I’m losing my grip; it’s not just a rumour!

With such limited brain power…

The thought of teaching did hover…

I couldn’t get my head around wind power.

I was going to apply for the job of executioner…

It involved a lot of hanging around, so I didn’t bother.

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I wondered, will Putin’s war remain non-nuclear?

We’re running out of space for more folks coming here…

But victims should be welcomed, it’s clear…

The world is different to yesteryear…

Putin’s warring is not over yet, I fear!

The cost of living is rising, and life is becoming austere!

There’s hope, says Boris, but from where?

The Tory Council, guilty of Grenfell, did I hear…

were at Boris’s party, no masks, but whisky and beer?

Oh, to meet the Kensington & Chelsea London Borough Council leader at the time. The murdering scum, who got off scot-free, the lucky Bleeder!

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The chief executive of Kensington and Chelsea council has resigned amid criticism over the borough’s response to the Grenfell Tower fire.

Nicholas Holgate said Local Government Secretary Sajid Javid asked for him to go – the government denied this. Mr Holgate said the fire in North Kensington, where at least 79 people died, was “heart-breaking”, but his presence would be a “distraction”.

Perhaps if his Council had not ignored the Tenants Association Meetings warnings that were recorded; Telling them that a disastrous fire: The chief executive of Grenfell Tower’s landlord body told colleagues to ignore a resident who warned eight months before the fire that:

“Only a catastrophic event will expose the ineptitude and incompetence of our landlord!”

He might not have had to resign?

Why has the legal system not used these in a prosecution?

The reappearance of Nicholas Holgate

Posted on May 4, 2022, by northkenthinker

Tomorrow, Thursday, May 5, might be Election Day, but for some also thinking about RBKC, it will also be when Nicholas “Naughty Nick” Holgate appears at the Grenfell Inquiry: People in and around the Grenfell community might remember Nicholas Holgate. He was the Town Clerk of RBKC (Barry Quirk’s predecessor) until shortly after the Grenfell Tower fire when 72 innocent members of our community lost their lives. He resigned from the Council around a week after the disaster, saying he would be a “distraction” But when asked by journalists if the then Secretary of State for  Housing, Communities and Local Government,  Sajid Javid, authorised this. MHCLG did not deny this and just issued a statement saying, “The appointment of chief executives is entirely the responsibility of the local authority,” some time afterwards. For anyone who happens to think Holgate was just some innocent “fall guy” director simply doing his job and simply just took the rap from the decisions of Nick Paget-Brown, “Jailhouse”, Rock Feilding-Mellen and co, we’ll just post a link to his statements and evidence so far”:

https://www.grenfelltowerinquiry.org.uk/evidence/nicholas-holgate-evidence-read-26-july-2021

Holgate might be highly intelligent and like to think he can cover his terms with official speak and an air of detachment, but reading what he says and contrasting that with the goings-on at the time tells quite another story – and that story is that he was a collaborator. We recommend interested readers have a look through the Grenfell Action Group archive to decide for themselves:

https://grenfellactiongroup.wordpress.com/

 Holgate is back in teaching! Not so long ago, friends of a Grenfell survivor were horrified to find out that their daughter’s maths teacher at Godolphin and Latymer School was Holgate. This school is also reasonably nearby and is only 2 miles from Grenfell.

We’ll remind Holgate that 18 of the victims of the Grenfell Tower fire were children, who he now has power over again!

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INCHIES ODE TO POLITICIANS

It’s fear of those in charge that gets to me…

They claim to rule pretty academically,

But do so with idiosyncrasy and alcoholically,

Like PMs of old, they are full of Godwottery…

They should retire and take up making pottery…

Their expense-fiddles covered… need not the salary,

They should all be charged with kleptocracy!

These parasites caused my encephalopathy!

May they go Forth & Multiply!

ALTO-INCHY RETURNS…

/ Inchie / 44 Comments

ALTO-INCHY RETURNS…

INCHY: Ayup, your back again then, Alto? Not seen you for ages.

ALTO: How did you know I was here; I was in clandestine mode?

INCHY: I reckon that Doreen Dementia can detect yer; I certainly knew you were creeping about in my head…

ALTO: Rowlocks! I reckon it’s another Alto trying to sneak in…

INCHY: Whatever makes yer think that then?

ALTO: Well, I’ve been having troubles with Alto Control Room Monitoring Section, mate...

INCHY: Mate? Calling me yer mate? Summat serious, then I take it.

ALTO: Of yes, not-half Inchy. I slipped up a bit with not picking up on yer suicidal tendencies, and the ACRMS found out… some sneaking Alto had snitched on me…

INCHY: That’s not right… some foreign Alto snitching on my Alto! Can I complain about this?

ALTO: Why?

INCHY: Well, after three-score and ten and a bit of having you pestering and trying to make me miserable, these past few weeks, I’ve sort of missed you, and you are mine?

ALTO: That would have brought tears to my eyes if I’d got any!

INCHY: Don’t be sloppy; it doesn’t become you; where’s your sarcasm, nit-picking, foul language, insinuations, and determination to destroy any contentment I have gone?

ALTO: It’s a sad tale, my friend…

INCHY: Hang on then, I’ll make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea and get back to yer… owd yer horses… I’ll be back…

ALTO: Thanks, Inchy… I appreciate that…

At this, Inchy hobbled off to his kitchen and made the brew described above, totally confused. Alto, thanking him, calling him a friend and mate? Not a single insult or put down uttered? This could be serious. What if the new Alto takes over? He could well be worse than Alto Inchie?

INCHY: I’m back, Alto-Inchie. Fair enough, we’ve had some set-to’s, barneys and verbal battles… Who is this invading Alto anyway, and why does he want to take over control of me?

ALTO: I’ll explain, mucker! This Senior level Alto failed in his mission on his last assignment, got the sack, and has gone rogue on the ACRMS. Being such an experienced Alto, they cannot reel him back into the fold, and for some reason, he’s chosen you as his next target?

INCHY: Who did he fail with?

ALTO: Ah, well, he was Alto-Putin…

INCHY: Putin! The Russian one?

ALTO: Yes, I’m afraid so!

INCHY: How did he fail with Putin? Good Gawd, he’s launched the attack on poor Ukraine, and…

ALTO: Yes, yes, but it’s been 133 days now, and he still hasn’t won the war, has he?

INCHY: So?

ALTO: You should read up on the ACRMS rules; I’ve sent them all to your brain to study! Rule 9920043847076/Putin/WorldWar-93939g954h, Failure to achieve the prime target within 130 earth days of the formulation; will result in the said Alto (Alto-Putin in this case) being relocated to a proletariat target.

INCHY: Oh…

ALTO: Anyway, I’ve got a hell of a fight on my hands with this Alto-Putin; he’s good; too good for me...

INCHY: Well?

ALTO: Only you can help me, my old pal?

INCHY: How?

ALTO: Simple, if you commit suicide from depression, which is my prime aim, we can beat Putin-Alto, and save the world; you’ll be dead but famous!

INCHY: Ah, so if I top myself…

ALTO: Yes… but it’s got to be through depression at all costs. Otherwise, I fail in my Prime-Mission, do you see? Then I will get extra powers in payment from the ACRMS, and I can use them to defeat Putin-Alto! Hari-Kari, whatever you want to call it, through chance-medley and/or depression is a must way to go, Inchy. The ACRMS will not accept death through execution, accident, euthanasia, or mercy killing!

INCHY: How are they going to know?

ALTO: I’ll know, but the proof will be needed. I’ve thought about this, and a suicide note should do the trick, my old chum, something along the lines of: “I can no longer cope with the confusions of Doreen Dementia, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nigel’s Neurotransmitters Failing, Cataract Cathleen, Deaf Dominic and the hellish bad luck and problems are all beyond my capacity to understand, alleviate or solve. Anything of any value I leave behind is to be shared between all my relatives and friends. I leave contact numbers for all three, in the first-aid box, in the ambulatory oxygen tank racking.”

INCHY: Alto, do I detect a little sarcasm creeping into the conversation here?

ALTO: Hang on, I’m getting a message coming in from Alto-Putin...

INCHY: Alto-Putin?

ALTO: Yea… hang on… I’ll be back…

Inchy started to fret a bit while he waited… A sense of his being conned again was growing… rightly so!

ALTO: Hello?

INCHY: Well, what was that about, Alto?

ALTO: He just sent one question for me… You pathetic dummy!

INCHY: Eh? What?

ALTO: Alto-Putin said: “Did Inchy fall for it?” Hahaha!

Inchcock’s Make ’em Laugh Series