Inchcockski: Searching for Sanity & Logicality – In bad Rhyme!

Gerald James Timothy Algernon Archibald Inchcock

The Nottinghamian lad knows he is losing it, big time.

Mentally and physically, getting help is hopeless,

 He gets uptight, but he’s completely harmless,

Depressed, untidy, ill and charmless,

He can’t commit suicide, he ain’t got the time,

Even his words don’t properly rhyme!

 

WDP 1Lda

Inchcock: Sadly searching for Sanity

Somewhere, in his tortured labyrinth of a brain,

Lies logic, intelligence, but he can’t find them today,

The brain is active but rarely reliable or decisive,

Also, hesitant, feeble, and the memory’s gone away,

 Some details it retains, and admires he does say,

Mostly about medications, Red Dwarf and Will Hay,

 But his desire, longing for sanity, will not go away!

 

WDP 1L

 However, his efforts, hopes and plans are derisive,

 The mentality-seeking strategies are not conducive,

At least not for 74 years… that’s including today,

He redoubled his spiritual side, and started to pray,

Again in hopes, he’d be semi-sane again, one day,

He talks to his EQ, that’s hyper-sensitive.

 

WDP 1Lcb

He wrote to an Agony Aunt, that was digressive,

 He revealed all, and thought that was impressive!

She said she couldn’t help, and she was sorry,

But why did she throw herself under a lorry?

Inchy thought that was a touch impulsive and excessive!

Regaining logicality, will he ever find a way?

Or remain an idiot, until his dying day?

Another thing, why do his wee-wees always over-spray?

 

This blog was produced without a warning disclaimer.

No claims made for any educationalistical prowess of the author.

Donations and mental assistance will be gladly accepted.

In the event of the writer snuffing it, kindly donate to the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, Nottingham Branch. 0115 999999.

Thank You

WDPT02L

A Whoopsiedangleplop Wet-Walk in Nottingham

01a

Amidst a Thought-Storm, an idea came,

For a little ode, a bad one, oh the shame!

But Inchie had to put pen to paper and write it,

Cause he got wet and went arse-over-tit!

But he knows he is to blame,

Still scribbled it, all the same!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

0001

An Ode to My Ailments

6Sat04

Barry Bladder & Hernia Harry

6Sat07

I went in the QMC for a Hernia operation,

Summat else came to the surgeons attention,

He said he’s found cancer in the bladder,

But not to worry, he said as we had a natter,

He’d lasered both problems with antimatter!

But I suffered later, Harry returned, it’s mind over matter!

 

6Sat05a

Duodenal Donald

The problem was soon outright,

Although it was a bit of a fight,

The surgeons said it’d be risky and tight,

But things should come out alright,

But couldn’t stop the bleeding, that was a fright!

They did stop it finally, to my delight!

 

6Sat08

Haemorrhoid Harry

I have to say, this left me feeling sore,

But surely it will mean, Haemorrhoid cream no more?

No suppositories, prodding, probing, Cor!

But they returned, worse than before!

 

6Sat05

Aorta Albert

A bit of a shock, when I saw the Doc,

She said you’re a chip off the old block,

Your Dad had such an op, a bit of a shock,

Makes a change from operating on your buttock,

But you’ll pull through me old cock!

 

6Sat03

Sandie Seer

Twitching eyes, jump and jerk,

But when steady, they still work,

Though not a regular querk,

It can drive you berserk!

 

6Sat03a

Nerveless Nigel

Diagnosed two weeks before the stroke,

By Dr Rahannmuta, a wonderful bloke,

Not averse to a laugh and joke,

Although I don’t, he said you must not smoke!

And gave me a year, before the nerve-ends die, get broke.

 

6Sat09

Suzie

Worra shock, I was in a terrible mess,

Couldn’t wash, shave or even dress,

Two months hospitalisation, no less,

Why I ask, but it remains answerless,

The After-Stroke Physio leaves me breathless,

But certainly not painless!

There are periods when I feel brainless,

But some helpers have been invaluable, God Bless!

 

6Sat10

SSVB

(ScabsSpotsVeinsBulges)

Caught this in the Stroke hospital ward, one can’t forget,

Blood-papsules, weals, scars, lumps, bulges, a guaranteed bet,

Welts, contusions, blemishes, dapples, maculations, invariably on the legs set,

Thrombophlebitis and assorted Clopidogrel grooves and ridges show,

The legs appearance change every day, a new vein or burrow,

A reaction to a changed medication, they say to me,

Vasculitis and venous thromboembolism or VTE,

What next, can I charge folks to look, Hehehe!

Right-hand side sensory nerves are almost kaput,

The neurotransmitters, nearly as dead as a mutt,

I’m even getting boils and growths on my butt!

 

6Sat11

Myasthenia Gravis (MG) – The latest ailment.

 This was written, to cheer missen up, and it did!

I thank you!

WDPT07R

A Little Chunter from Inchcock. In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

1Mon05.jpg

A Little Chunter from Inchcock

In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

It’s the day of the criminal, there is no more law,

Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,

I don’t see Police officers in Nottingham, anymore,

 Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,

Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,

Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,

While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,

All the time, making the poor, feel even sicker!

Disabled with Fit for Work Assessments, have to fight and bicker,

A blind chap got told he can work on a cherry-picker!

Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!

But if you’re lucky, you’ll live to retire just like me,

But it isn’t what you thought, no rest and freedom, see,

Heart attack, Duodenal Ulcer, and I live on the twelfth-floor,

Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!

What next I thought, and the lock broke on the door,

It was mended within three weeks, no need to be sore,

My hot water system went down, so I called help once more,

After nine days of being lied to, ‘We are coming today for sure,

Staying in and awake eight-until-ten, no chance of a bedsore!

But they mended it! It leaked, my clothes wet, the water did pour!

I slipped on the liquid, ending up injured on the floor,

Luckily, the stroke nurse called, so help came to the fore,

Depression and self-hating I began to explore,

I complained at the lack of help, this just caused a furore!

Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!

 

I fank You!

Vital Advice for Nottinghamian Senior Citizens, Part one – In Rhyme, of sorts

BNC01

They’re dangerous, uncouth and some are blind,

The ignorant swine are uncaring, and what’s more,

They often hit you, coming silently from behind,

Leaving your hand arm or elbow, feeling sore,

They test your sanity, patience and mind,

They’ve no warning bells or horn, that’s for sure,

Belting along the pavements, they are a bind,

It’s no use if you beg and implore,

For them to leave more room, not be so unkind,

The few who reply, use sneers, curse-words obscure,

To roads and cycle paths they should be confined,

Their insults, two fingers you’ll have to endure,

Best to use your walking stick – hit ’em on the jaw!

BNC02

But that’s no solution, not a good idea, you see,

Cause they are young, fit and violence-loving,

They offer scowls and are threatening to me,

Some ride at me, I have to do some manoeuvering,

Which ain’t easy with the walker to push, you see!

Empathy, sympathy, and understanding they are avoiding,

Making this old fart, run and flee!

 Taking their photograph may get me a beating,

But don’t give up the struggle, become an attritee,

Join me on my hobbles, bring a Glock, that’s the thing!

BNC03

They don’t scare me though… well, not too much.

Alright, the law-breaking and getting-away-with-it ‘Gits’ do!

Virgin Media Goes Down Again. An ode from the Nottingham Pensioner

The Virgin Internet has gone down again.

So, feeling a tad sad and depressed,

The Nottingham Pensioner wrote in rhyme about life. Oh yes!

Why has his Virgin Internet gone down he did bemoan?

His frustration and infuriation had now grown,

Inchcock thought he’d do a poetic verbal moan,

Why when born his mother wanted to him disown?

Why so ugly, and doesn’t he know the meaning of homophone?

Why at five into the canal he was intimidatingly thrown?

Why is he Whoopsiedangleplop and accident-prone?

Why Mummy ran away leaving him and Dad alone?

Why his brother went into the army, his sister went off to Rome?

Why his Dad always refused to buy him a gramophone?

Why is romance to him, almost unbeknown?

Why since 1970, has his hair never grown?

Why in later years he never tried methadone?

Why he didn’t know, what was a pheromone?

Why does his deafness make other folks tut and groan?

Why he likes the sound of the clarinet and saxophone?

Despite his musical ignorance he seemed to like the tone,

Why he never got fed food that was home grown?

Why he didn’t realise he’d no garden just grey stones?

Why his falling in love Cupid had to postpone?

Why he did he not understand what is the ozone?

Why didn’t he like tripe, cow-heel and any currant scone?

Why was it him that always grazed his shin bone?

Why does he look like a weasel and not Stallone?

Why others used him as a stepping stone?

Why is he short on testosterone?

Why for misery, he’d make a perfect cicerone?

Why he had no spare cash, pounds, dollars or krone?

Why for morbidity and depression he’d become best-known?

Why, how has he become the perfect boring drone?

Why he had become pathetic and he hadn’t known?

Why he’s no longer the girl-pulling cyclone?

Why is he in pain from knees, fingers, shoulders & hip bone?

Why could he not have realised and foreknown?

Why can he not resist a chunter and miserable groan?

Why doesn’t he swear like others instead he says, ‘I’ll be blown’?

Why self-survival skills the idiot couldn’t hone?

Why when deaf does he have an old basic mobile phone?

Why does he live a solitary zombie-like life alone?

Why has his maturity just never grown?

Why in an aeroplane has he never flown?

Why is he a wimp without any backbone?

Why does he think he’ll one day be well known?

Why, unlike Galileo, he will remain forever unknown,

Why he isn’t destined to fame or to sit on a throne,

Why has he never tried and tasted zabaglione?

Why his emissions of wind are so very well known?

Why for his past failures he cannot atone?

Why confidence and ability, he does not own?

Why he fears reincarnation or someone making him a clone?

Why he lacks social skills and has no backbone?

Why he seeks a social outlet microphone?

Why he wants someone to adopt him or take him on loan?

Why do they keep attaching him to an Osteophone?

Why cyclist on pavements he just cannot condone?

But, why he’s cheered up now is not known… Yes, it is!

Virgin Internet’s back working & he’s on his WordPress Zone!!!

Inchcock: What Needs Attention Today – In repellent rhyme!

4Thur02

Woke up, in the recliner where I nightly sprawl,

Nae bother from the Trotsky’s, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, at all,

Duodenal Donald, Dizzy Dennis were all good too, I recall,

I’d been dreaming of having holidays, first in Nepal,

Then I met a gal, and we made love in Montreal,

Then we both went off to Senegal,

Had to rush off for a Porcelain Session, it was a close-call,

No bleeding or dizzies did I befall,

Didn’t even stub my toe on the shower stall.

Should I today, go do a bungee jump, or play baseball?

Do a marathon, climb a mountain or play volleyball?

Whatever made me even think of this, I don’t know at all,

I’b be lucky to find the energy to make a phone-call!

___  __________________________  ___

The Morrison man is delivering this morning,

The dentist appointment needs confirming!

The hearing aid batteries need changing,

The filters and tubes need cleaning,

A letter came regarding the operation and grafting,

The Clinic will need telephoning,

The chair needs a repair to it’s cushioning,

The anxiolytic medication needs taking,

Now the mind is doing its own thing,

Off on tangeants, uncontrollabley wandering,

My logicality and senses are now waning,

Maniacally meandering, leaving me wondering,

Why, where, when and how, I’m still pondering,

Shame, there’s no snow, I could go tobogganing,

See? The mind is off again, outgunning…

Destroying my logicality by it’s picarooning,

It may improve, perhaps the madness is just sojourning?

 

I only wanted a shave and shower! – How hard can that be?

Having a Shave and Shower…

I wanted to be presentable, to visit Olive in flat eighty-two,

Thought: I’ll take a shower and shave, that’s what I’ll do,

Then I had to have a session on the loo,

Good job I’d used the lemon scented Toilet-Bloo,

Readied for the best shave a man can get, it must be true,

The Gillette razor, two blades and Hydration Moisturiser mark two!

Moments later, I felt like Victor Meldrew, too

Much blood was drawn, a scar left my ear-lobe all askew,

 But I got the after-shave & TCP on it, it’d stop soon I knew.

01

I went to move the shower chair – a dizzy and before I knew,

I was entangled in it and to the fall I flew,

Hit the wall with my head, now all bestrew,

Some doctoring I had to do,

TCP applied to the, that made me say Ooh!

08

Luckily, no blood was drew (Bad English bit it’ll do for you),

Moved the chair and back in the showering to do,

My language was rather I admit, rather blue,

The pump gurgled, why it does this I never knew,

Applied the carbolic soap and honeydew,

Scrubbed away singing, the words of which I knew few,

The lump on my head swelled and grew,

A headache bad, but no hiatus or issue,

Soon I would be at Olives, so from the shower, I withdrew.

Citrus underarm sprayed, the Brut lid I couldn’t unscrew,

The toothpaste top was a bit hard to undo,

Sit-ups, press-ups and squats, each one hundred and twenty-two,

Shadow boxed and handstands like daily I do,

aa00h

Changed into me best togs, mainly in Sky-blue,

Rushed off to see Olive, for who my love is true!

aa01

Doctors say at our ages, passions, we should subdue?

I say, thanks and but from this advice we just may Eschew!

I fank you!

Spring has Sprung

aa01

The words come from deep within Inchcock’s complicated, unfathomable incomprehensible to ordinary pensioners brain. The lies, innuendoes, the pathetic rhyming and grammar are his forte yer know!

Spring Has Sprunged

Early this morning I awoke and visited the bathroom to take a ting-a-ling,

As the Cystitis offered me, his usual persistent painful sting,

I realised it was the first day of Spring,

And, I started to formulate this linguistic string.

*****

Ideas flooded my brain for all they were worth,

I had ideas of wit, compassion and mirth,

Was I going through a Spiritual rebirth?

No, it was Little Inchy, the bleeding was worse,

Suddenly I was no longer ready for the hearse!

I wanted to watch the daffodils as they battle through the earth.

*****

My mood changed to one willing for acquiescing,

I no longer cared who is left or right wing,

I wanted to join in with the birds and sing,

So I did sing out, and here’s the thing,

The door bell began to ring,

T’was the neighbour, this message she did bring,

“Are you alright, I heard you braying?”

I thought you were ill, she was saying.

*****

The phone came to life and I answered it quick,

It was my bank manager. Merciless Mick,

He explained my finances and gave me some verbal stick,

Afterwards, my mind was like the Sputnik,

I was lost, confused and feeling sick,

Then, I certainly didn’t feel in the least hegemonic,

My lack of enthusiasm for Spring turned chronic.

*****

A long bath would no doubt make me feel better?

As I got in, the knee gave, but did it matter?

It went again getting out, on the sink my head did clatter,

Making a mess, as the blood did splatter,

I cleaned up the mess, on the head wound I put a plaster,

GC blue f03a

Tried putting Polyfiller on the cracked alabaster,

Ridding myself of depression, I could not master,

Had a feeling of gloom and impending disaster!

*****

Couldn’t find my glasses or ear-drops,

Started this ode, thought it was a load of codswallops,

I no longer wanted to greet Spring from the rooftops,

Now I’m fed up with life and its Whoopsiedangleplops!

No Inchcocks were harmed in the production of this rubbish.

All injuries were received either before or afterwards.

Inchcock: Looking Back – In Rhyme (Of sorts)

 

NCCwalk02

Looking back, I see happiness, struggle and guilt,

I slept under clothing; we didn’t have a quilt,

The back yard covered in soot and silt,

From the railway line above us, what BR had built,

In poverty, we were up to the hilt!

*****

The disappearing family, starting with Mothers running away,

The police pursued her, warrants in hand, I might say,

But I didn’t blame her for running then, and not even today,

The police couldn’t find her, try as they may,

They search all over Britain, even in Callais,

Years later they did, arrested her, tried her but didn’t put her away,

Gave her a new flat, paid her rent, utility bills too did they,

Con-Woman Par Excellence, at her trial on the day,

Victims appeared as Character witnesses for her! it’s true to say.

*****

Joined the Army, booted out shortly, made me feel blue,

Searched for a job, something I could do,

Went into retail, and did very well too,

Then I got made redundant, what a hullabaloo!

Did industrial cleaning, hard work and horrible too,

Then I got made redundant, occasion number two,

The only job I could get then was in Security, boo-hoo,

Minimum wage, eighty hours a week, eventually promotion got through,

Even more hours, but the wage went up 15p an hour, Yahoo!

Then I got made redundant there too!

*****

To another Security company, where my hopes were high,

Another 10p an hour, I felt I could fly!

Working in the Control room, hard graft but I was on a high,

Then I got made redundant, for the fourth time oh my!

*****

No chance of further work appeared now was so old,

64 years of age and out of work, it made me feel bitter and cold,

So I had to go on the Old King Cole; the dole,

Signing on, applying for jobs, nothing to behold,

I was not trying enough to find work; I was told,

140 applications in 6 months not enough? Anger took a hold!

*****

 “I may have to review your support rates,” said the spotty faced urchin,

He nearly got a punch on his acne ridden chin!

But I remembered I was on a high reading for me Warfarin,

I asked the pimply person if he’d like to somehow begin…

Talking to me without sneering, my control level was getting thin,

That was when he hit a panic button, to get Security in!

*****

I was removed to an office, to await the arrival of the police; there’s gratitude!

A chap said ‘We’ve got it all on Camera, your abusive attitude!

I’ve done or said nowt wrong, Good God, I spewed!

The police arrived, we chatted, they checked the camera, I’d not been rude!

They let me go, showing common sense and latitude!

*****

Next week I was put on Income Support, I was a £10 better off then,

Soon I got me retirement pension; I was happy again,

Of course, the Angina, and duodenal ulcer was a pain,

Having to have a new ticker fitted, and  the varicose vein,

The Arthritis the sticking reflux valve, the blood from piles did stain,  

The hearing aids now fitted, I could hear a bit again, 

I started to go just a little bit insane!

*****

Bum bum!