Inchcock’s Odes to Why?

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WHY COVID?

Covid-19 and Sars-CoV-2, why they came, is what I’m thinking?
Government confused findings, need reabsorbing…
Pandemic and HMG hold a party, hobnobbing?
Annoyed me, so this Ode I’m now scribing…
Yet, to their rules, I’ve been acquiescing,
Two years now, since any Doctor interfacing,
Definites, the Government are sidestepping?
I feel like I’m permanently convalescing,
Anti-maskers are not exactly applauding…
Anti-vaccers protests showing no signs of concluding,
Jab or mask-wearing? Some are not deciding…
I follow the guidelines, but it can be confusing,
Doing what you can to protect others is frustrating,
Between the Do’s and the Don’ts, there’s bile offloading,
No give or understanding of others, compassion is subsiding,
Sarcasticness abounds, even where I am residing!

Coronavirus arrives, HMG problems beginning,
Changes meant more hassle, problems teething,
Proletariats, needing hopes strengthening,
Some vague chance of things improving…
New strains, deaths, started the mudslinging…
Ordinary voters started teeth-gnashing,
Anti-vaxxers and maskers began badmouthing,
But some uncaring folks just started shrugging,
Accusing HMG of ignorance and gross mismanaging,
The businesses set out to gain more profit – I’m seething!
Indeed, we should be encouraging, not rubbishing?

Official figures are baffling and misleading,
Dyscalculia makes it difficult in reading…
Have the Governments been Shanghaiing?
In favour of financing, from businesses and banking?
Are their advisors’ advising wrongly and failing?
Does their arriere-pensee to us need rethinking?
How do they stop the money-men from sabotaging?
The bankers, investors from profit-pocketing?
Indeed it’s impossible to stop them interfering and scavenging?

And, whatever’s happened to the political duelling?
No calls from Labour, as Kinnock would have been lambasting?
Lib-Dems are still about, are they? I’m just asking!
I think I worked it out; why is the silence blasting?
They both think, thank heavens, we are not ruling…
All this confusion, entangling… they’ve no idea of detangling,
So give Boris no bother, or at the subsequent voting…
The masses may vote for us, and we win… nonplussing!
The thought of us dealing with things is blood-curdling!
Labour in power, cause enough for frightful caterwauling!
Well, that’s enough of my HMG & Covid caterwauling,
Not such a good Ode, this one, it left me… Tsking!

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WHY AM I SO UNLUCKY?

I’ll start with one event, the heart thing,
That was not unlucky; it did not leave me whining!
This operation saved my life… Else I’d have been missing…
The Hernia, Peripheral Neuropathy and Colin Cramping,
Cancer of the bladder, and stroke, and a lot of bemoaning. Hehe!

Being an unlucky sod can be so time-consuming,
Leaving very little time left for resting and vacuuming,
A Whoopsiedangleplop, maybe the Thought Storms brewing…
A memory loss, missed bus, lost keys or painful burping…
From near-deadly to a tap left running or finger burning,
Ailments, senility and old age means the end of by beep-bopping,
The worst is Vascular Dementia, the brain transitioning…

My diabetes and oedema cause much bother urinating,
Each morning, the feet will be either bloated or very thin,
It’s not so bad since I stopped doing my trampolining,
The tumbling or fallings is constantly threatening…

Neuropathy and Shaking Shoulder Shirley are disquietening!

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I regularly get subconjunctival haemorrhaging,
Saccades and the new eye problems are definitely worrying,
Floaters, cataracts and glaucoma, almost frightening!
Everything taking longer to do, from the ablutioning…
Painful bending to retrieve dropped items can sting!
Oh, and evacuations on the Throne, and Wee-weeing!

I nearly always cut myself shaving,
Sometimes taking many minutes peeing…
Occasionally, taking only seconds at urine freeing!
The Porcelain Throne, often with evacuation misfunctioning.

Porcelain Throne options for me are; water-like spurting…
Which can be over like lighting!
Or resistant, rock-hard, and bloody,
Either or both are constantly hurting and agony!

Cleaning, me or the flat internally, is so burdening,
Seems nowadays to take an eternity, and much groaning,
Hardly any time for my beloved Word Pressing,
My confidence is egringolering…
My hearing is worsening…
Every task’s success is gimping!

The leaking blood through the plaster was bubbling!
But it was not at all troubling…
Cause actually, it made me do some laughing…
Which I found rather refreshing!

Inchcocks’ True Odes to Life Series

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Part 12⅝th

Don’t forget, when it’s wet, Aspro keeps you dry,
A saying from my youth, putting this in, you may think why?
Sorry, I’ve not got the foggiest, I’m losing it, I cannot lie!
So, the police take it seriously if it’s been reported?
A passing policeman saw it; would he be uninterested?
Oh, my sarcasm is at its peskiest!

By the time I’d read this, I’d a headache from my arithmophobia!
The NHS workers are well above being mediocre…
The pressure they’ve been under must have been a live-changer,
Can’t we do something, so they can have a recharger?
To give them a decent pay rise – reading this, Boris, you minger!

I don’t mean to be a rumourmonger or scandalmonger, scaremonger, But I’ll hold my hands up to being a gossipmonger!
But why does a Tory like what Boris used to be… Nae, not really!
Pay big raises to some, and others are not so feely-feely?
Boris is not a low-lifer… more like a copy of Lucifer?
Whatever your view; I think it’s the type of politics you prefer
Are politicians, each one a philanderer, or pilferer,
Are they better than a postman or scaffolder?
A lot of them get caught, exposing their doojigger…
Expense fiddlers, tax-dodger, or some a doppelganger!
They all seem to quickly point their forefinger…
They’ll make one if there isn’t a political cliffhanger,
Some MPs are better than others at propaganda…
I think of them when I’m using my guzunder!
Cause they take the piss, lie, cheat and plunder…
Cunningly increasing prices, they invest with a Luxemburger…
Still, bless ’em, they have a lot of money to launder!.

The grey cells seem to have got a bit mixed up here, doing this little ode below. The plot sort of evaporated. I ended up having a go at the politicians. Nothing new, I know, but usually, I can control these urges. Getting it back online, in a fashion, took me ages. Sorry!

Figures and numbers again, what an ache,
They can be manipulated, for the politicians’ sake!
For the politicians and wealthy, caviar at Le Gavroche,
Where a dinner cost around $590 per person, Ouch!
Still, I’m content with my cheesy potatoes and a fishcake,
Too much and rich food gives me the tummyache…
Anything rich, like roast quails, venison or cheesecake,
My finances are tight, my bank interest is opaque,
I’ll stick with the base food brought over by Francis Drake?
Potatoes, chips, mash, roast or raw… I always want more,
It’s the prol’ in me, I’m used to struggling, always been poor,
I’m at ease with plebs; they try to nick off of you, I assure…
But by my having nowt they haven’t got, I’m safe for sure
I need nowt else, no desire for haute couture!
Yep, in all things and areas, I am, at best, demure…
Just as well that I’m no epicure…
I’ve lost track of what I typing about – a mental rupture?
Intelligence, education, long ago I did disinure!

I’m not doing a lot for Nottingham’s tourist industry here!

When I see such figures, confident, I’m not!
Then again, who am I, intelligent, clever… You what!
I had faggots and potatoes for lunch… but it matters not!
How are these numbers arrived at and begot?
Are they accurate, true, to be trusted, or am I a clot?
I think they are part of a political plot…
Believing them leaves my brain in a knot,
Is truth doctorable, like a camera shot?
Have they been got at by a Judas Iscariot?
Are they genuine? Or fiddled, and tommyrot?
Or, am I a thicker than I thought fusspot?

Murderers, murderers who tell people they are going to kill someone an hour before they do, and the pathetic namby-pamby, out of touch with reality, criminal fancying, Arf-arf, judge tells him he believes you didn’t intend to kill him. Humph! No, you bewigged Pratt! The drugs made him do it, which are supposed to be illegal! No wonder crime is rising, with pillocks like this giving laughable sentences for murderers, and he can’t remember the evidence!

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no!

Reminds me of a humorous happening that occurred when I was recovering from the heart op in the City Hospital. I was to be allowed visitors that day and had an appointment with the DVT Clinic in the morning. They collected me, and the chatting merrily nurses that took me to the clinic stopped in the main corridor and asked if they left me there for a couple of minutes, would I mind?

No problem, I replied. (I got the crossword book and pen snuck under the blanket on the trolley). I fell asleep, though… I was woken by a very concerned and harassed looking and sounding nurse.

I’d been there apparently, for over two hours, and no one had missed me. (It’s with me being so popular, Haha!) Sister Jane and Pete had come to visit me to find an empty bed – Poor Jane was genuinely concerned (I owed her a tenner – Haha, only joking!)

Up and onwards, near the end now…

So, if anyone fancies a lovely peaceful break over Easter, Covid restriction permitting; Why not visit Nottingham. They have a few cafe’s that have not gone bankrupt during the lockdown. If you fancy staying, there are many retail units available for sale or rent on the half-mile stretch of Mansfield Road available… You might even consider moving to Nottingham? No? I don’t blame yer!

Part of The Inchcock Make Em Laugh with Odes Series

Sunday Evening’s Photographicalisations

Sunday 2nd January 2022

Sunday Evening’s Photographicalisations

At first, I thought I’d have a hamburger or fishburger,
Noe in: So I had chips & sausages and a shandy lager…
As meals go, this was a fair pallet-pleasing humdinger!
After three on the trot, each a taste-bud slaughterer!

Good heavens, the end car park showing activity!
Vehicles moving, I think I can see three,
Of course, there’s the red van parked clumsily,

Well, goodness, gracious me!
Another car coming in, do you see?
Much more of this, they may make a fee,
But it’s nice to be able to park for free!

I took more snaps, first one up the hill to the park,
Going up there once, I saw a woodlark!
Can’t get up the hill now, I have to remark…
Facts like this you have to get used to – although stark!

Later I took the one above, of the skies so azure.
It’s nice to live in sight of such nature,
And images, still be able to capture…
Natural beauty almost sends me into rapture!.

The later sunsets, beautiful!

17:00hrs: Sunset from the kitchen window.

17:12hrs: Sunset from the balcony.

17:20hrs: Sunset from the balcony.

Inchcock – Beyond help now? Hehe!

Amazingly quick changes, that I did see,
Nature always seems to impress me…
From the skies, animals and how often I have to wee!
Sometimes from humanity…
I wish somehow I could flee…
Then someone’s so kind to me…
I’m very confused, I think you’ll agree?

Part of Inchcock’s Ode to Life Series

Drastically Demystifying Daily Deliration – In odes

WHY?

Why have I been chosen, a selected one of many,
Who often bleeds when he spends a penny!
I fall in love with Carers, like Caroline and Gillie?
But none of them wants to adopt me…
If they did, they would have to be silly,
My waterworks and Porcelain Throne session: Agony!

Years ago, I never thought of acting bellicosely,
But bad luck started early and kept at me grossly,
I suffered bullying, parents fighting with barbarity,
That, from long ago, I remember with clarity!
Breakfast today? No idea; it could have been a chip butty?
My failing memory, the short term one, is really burdensomely!

My thoughts can often work well, indeed cohesively,
An interruption comes, and earlier plans become a mystery!
I stutter at times, and some people talk to me derisively,
My shaking right side arm, leg and hands decidedly…
Make strangers shocked, and talk to me impolitely,
They speak to me; if they do at all; as if I need psychiatry…
I had a Dizzy Dennis moment and fell over, getting an injury…
A bloke said to his missus: He’s drunk! Very dismissive!

I started waffling again then, lost the theme of this Ode,
I’m obviously getting more senile as I get old…
The reason? My cleaning lady arrived, came in very bold,
She was taking my laundry to wash, I was told…
Off she went with the Bold and freshener scent…
Back to the blogging, well. that was my intent…
Esther, return washing all done, we nattered, that was fun,
But my inspiration and concentration were done!
I hoped to return to it, but I fell asleep, woke by Carer Julie Pathan.

Beyond any energy using now, physical or mental at all…
Went to the Porcelain Throne and had a fall…
Banged my Booster pained arm against the wall…
It’s getting dark, soon be nightfall…
I’ll get some nosh sorted but will return to things philosophical,
If Gillie doesn’t let me take her for a week in Portugal…
It’s no fun being moral and mortal…
Life is likely seen through some alien portal…
The very thought of that made me chortle!

Another Feast!

I think it is called Comfort Food?

Polish cooked pork (9.5/10): Nigerian podded peas (3/10),
Royale Anya potatoes (5/10), Sainsbury’s Tomatoes (4/10),
Microwave poached eggs (8.5/10), I hope to try them again,
With Thai sweet chilli sauce (7.8/10), A banana (8/10),
A large layered yoghourt, real raspberry, extra cream (6/10),
Then, the Thought Storms Began – I’ll go potty, I’m certain!

Self Assessment

The truth is, I’m getting in a mental pickle,
My chances of rest and peace, ain’t worth a nickel!
As for today’s opticians’ findings optical…
Cataracts, glaucoma, pupils needing to be widened…
Before the examination can be completed; but, no stickle!
I’m to have a procedure, I wasn’t too enthusiastical!
Needles in the eye job, she said, all matter of factly,
Then drops for a few days: can my costs be deductible?
And start the whole procedure over again… there’ll be trouble!
I’m sure things might get better… Gawd knows when!

Evening Care Arrives…

The Evening Carer came about seven o’clock,
Sweet Angel, but in a rush, but she was still therapeutic,
I gave her a big box of Quality Street chocs,
To share amongst the Carers, she went, I took off my socks…
And fought with the Thought Storm a little longer, then…
Sleep arrived: but I soon woke up… needing a wee-wee again!

Part of the Inchcock’s True Odes to Life Series

Inchcock Today: Part Ode – with an Ailments Update

SUNDAY NIGHT

The extra handicap of the reaction to the Booster Jab; made my doing anything, taking an inordinately much longer time than usual. Thus, it was nearly midnight last night by the time I’d got the blog finished and posted. Although aching and in pain, and really needed to get some sleep. The mind and body wanted to close down. But, Inchcock, an epicurean, foodie, glutton, gourmet, chow-hounder, and well-known foodaholic, put an end to any thoughts of joining in with any Sweet Morpheusness for a while.

I foolishly started to make a belated meal, and a mini-feast it was too! At last, come around about 01:00hrs, I got it served up.

Raw fresh peas from Nigeria. (Shame the ones from Peru are not available, they were sweeter than the Nigerian ones by a mile, but beggars can’t be choosers when things are out of season) Oven-baked potato slices, tomatoes, crispy smoked bacon was the main course. The bacon was eaten in slices of milk roll bread and was dunked in some absolutely great tasting Thai sweet chilli sauce. I was satisfied with the substituted bottle; as for where I got it from, well, I’ll get some more from Amazon.

Which reminds me, I’ve got some diabetic bamboo socks delivered today. Well, that’s what I say! Bearing in mind my cock-up stroke Whoopsiedangleplop with Sainsbury’s and Morrison’s order dates, I get them arriving yesterday; when my Google calendar clear says that the Sainsbury one is coming Monday and the Morrison one on Tuesday… I’m sinking into the morass mess of mental mayhem of memory mishaps. It has to be admitted. Vascular Dementia Doreen is to blame, methinks.

Of course, you have to bear in mind that it is me we are talking about! No chance! Anyway, I feasted well, did some belching, took an extra Codeine, and flaked out on the recliner searching for sleep…

MONDAY MORNING

Sleep as I recall it, when I got up for my fifth wee-wee, at 03:00hrs, seemed far away, a luxury denied me again! Thought Storms Stewart kicked of the instant the eyelids drooped and threatened to nod off. It’s incredible how many things you can fear, hate, smile and laugh about, returning memories to torment you on your failed options and actions. Self-disgust, the injustices of those in charge, shames… not to mention the ailments having a go at you. I had no idea what time I got off into the land of nod, but I kept waking up thinking, I’d better get up, the carer will be here soon – then nodded off again.

The Doctor’s response to this problem when I spoke with her (a few years ago now, of course) Was, “Yes, many older people get this… any other problems?” I decided not to bother her further.

As I woke for the umpteenth time and was going through the routine of planning to get up, then falling asleep again, the door chime rang out its loud, ♫ Oh, Susanna ♫ tune. Gawd, it was late! Carer Richard came in to find a foggy-brained Inchcock staggering up out of the recliner. Hahaha! Fair enough, he does usually find me fuddle-brained anyway.

Richard asked the required medical question, as they do on a Monday. And did a wristlet alarm check to ensure the signal was getting through to the Nottingham City Homes people.

It was his last call, and I enjoyed a little nattering and moaning session with the lad. I thanked and treated him, and off he went.

Then as I put the kettle on belatedly, I took some shots of the morning’s misty views from the kitchenette window.

The photographs didn’t help my spirits much,
Didn’t cheer me up; I still felt I was a bit of a schmuck,
An old man, (Gillie) again being lovestruck…
If she was to adopt me, I’d be thunderstruck!

I wonder when the socks will arrive, they’re made of bamboo,
Had to get some; it’s too cold not to wear them now, Boo-Hoo!
I’ll check the Amazon tracker; that’s what I’ll do…
Nine stops away, couldn’t ask for better, could you!
The socks seem to be of reasonable value…
One can’t say that very often of Amazon, can you?

In an effort to cheer missen up, I perused the box of gifts that HRH Lisa and Billum had sent to me from Fort Thomas in the USA. I know, I wasn’t going to open it until Christmas Day, but anyway…

The box within the box was so pretty, it had to have been decided on by a lady. I put it on the server trolley and investigated away! But I’ll not put them on display until Christmas day.

Just look at all the work Lisa must have put into making these for me!

She even named them for me in the card she sent with them! ♥

Crazy Furry Goat (Goliath), Long Eared Rabbit (Roger), Wacky Cat Kawaii. Pink Fuzzy Monster (Malcolm), Rudikth, the Red-Nosed Reindeer! The names in brackets are those I’m considering giving them when they get on display and become along with Koala and Teddy Bear, my morning chinwagging partners! ♥

I’ll have to make sure I give them names that I might remember. Otherwise, they will get confused about who I am talking to if I use the wrong word. Hehehe! They put in some ‘Moon Pie’ cakes as well. They are not available in the UK. And they look rather tasty! I shall not indulge until Christmas day!

When I showed them off to the carer who came to check on my medicines stock, she thought they were just like a Wagon Wheel. When I put a picture of an unopened lemon Wagon Wheels on my blog a while back, Billum said how they looked like Moon Pies. Thus they sent them to me to try. Bless their cotton socks!

♥ Thanks again, HRH Lisa and Billum! ♥

The door chime rang forth again;

♫ I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee,
I’m going to Louisiana, my true love for to see
It rained all night the day I left; the weather it was dry
The sun so hot I froze to death; Susanna, don’t you cry.
Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me
cos’ I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee… ♫

The daycarer from the Meridian office was the day carer; she’s come to check that my medical stocks were sufficient for over the holidays. She thought the Moon Pies were like Wagon Wheels… Oh, I’ve already said this, I guess, sorry!

She thinks I’ll need some more Codeines getting in to last me. Which is not surprising, with all the extras I’ve been taking; What with the 15hr agony of the hospital trolley marathon, the bruised bum, then the absolute nightmare of the reaction to the booster-jab, I think I needed, they got me through anyway. I expect someone somewhere to believe I’ve become addicted, however, and another lecture from the Doctor, of course, over the phone.

Another Escapee Pea!

Making a fresh brew, I trod on something rock-hard on the kitchen floor, almost like an electric shock, it made, jump a smidge. It seems lately that these escapee garden peas are coming out of hiding regularly? Haha!

I checked again in the Mazon bamboo sock front situation. And guess what? As you see, this was the message I got from them. Delivered today; your package was left near the front door or porch. Well, it hadn’t been! I got myself into a mini-flap when I wondered if it had been delivered to Winchester Court in error?

So, I rang ILC (Independent Living Coordinator), Warden, Desktop Dancer, and who is also not interested in adopting me! Tsk! It’s just not fair! She said it might be downstairs in the lobby; I mentioned Winchester Court, she said the flat is empty. I had a vision of them leaving the stuff outside the door of an empty apartment – if so, it would not last long! Deana said she’d look for me and let me know. I thanked her and returned to the computer in another failed effort.

Hehe! Ferreting around for something to nibble, I came across the packet of new mini-cheddars I’d ordered, but I resisted the temptation. I’ll have them later when I’m more depressed or even hungrier.

Medicalisation Checks

The right arm looked betterish, and the pain has subsided a lot now.

Little Inchies fungal lesion had not bled all day. I liked that a lot! But I am in no way being fooled; it’ll come again!

The legs (the Knees) had improved beyond recognition this Monday. I had a job to recognise them as my own. Although, Arthur Itis was getting a little frisky with it when I was writing this.

Warden Deana Saves The Day

Deana rang the door chime and entered – with the parcels of socks in her hand, bless her! They had been left down in the front lobby by the Amazon delivery urchin. Along with several other packages for different people! I thanked her kindly.

ABLUTIONALISATIONINGS

Cleaning the teeth broke another tooth,
The few teggies left are getting corrosive,
But I wash brushing a little aggressive,
Shaving, not a single cut or nick,
Showered, I almost felt hygienic…
On the radio, the London philharmonic,
Stubbed my toe; that was chronic…
But, I don’t want to nitpick,
Even though I tripped over the walking stick!

Food Glorious Food

The dessert was a bit special. On the label, it read; Raspberry Gourmet Greek-style thick & creamy live yoghurt with fruit layer. Confusing innit? Tasted okay. Cooked seasoned sliced Polish pork knuckle with seasonings sarnies, Nigerian podded peas, and crispy chips (oven fries). Flavour rating; 8/10.

Late Phone Call

A call from the opticians came in. Which left me more confused than ever. According to the lady calling me, I did not have an appointment with them. But when I called in there last week on my way to the dentist, I called in to book an appointment, got home and put a date in the calendar, January 4th 2022. She said they had not made an appointment for me?

I’m getting mixed up here; back to the phone call: She asked if I could come in the morning (today at 09:00hrs for an eye test? Presumably, they had had a cancellation?).

Being the keen attentive, alert, sharp sort of person that I’m not, I made another Whoopsiedangleplop; I told her her ‘Yes’ I’d come. Then realised I had the Amazon order coming? Too late to get help ringing her back; the staff had all gone!

Evening Carer Valerie arrived, and I soon fell asleep after she’d gone.

Fed up! Woke up wide awake at midnight and got this blog finished and posted, a little late, but betterer late than never!

Morning All!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

Saturday & Sunday Morning

Saturday Evening

I got back to the flat from the Covis-19 booster. With the delicious, kind, beautiful, highly-most desirable, tantalising, titillating, sex-pot, Gillian. Who still refuses to adopt me as a granddad. Tsk! Gillie put the things away in the kitchen, and I insisted she take some bottles of plonk and cans of spirits, in thanks, for her help.

Just look at thou that the gal had made for me…

She’s cooked six sausages for me. I can warm them in the microwave. I made some BBQ sliced potatoes and garden peas and added BBQ sauce. Gorgeous! Bless her cotton socks!

Getting off to sleep was a Challenge.

The Thought Storms raged a fair bit quixotically,
.Alto-Ego Inchie pestered me telepathically,
Terrible pains from Haemorrhoids Harold, posteriorly,
Wing, coughing all things somnambulistically…
Which came on after a marvellous Gillie day, sadly!
Of course, my angel had now gone away…
Still, no nodding off, and bled when I had a cough…

But it got worse when I moved to get comfortable,
When Little Inchie burst into a blood bubble!
Now, stopping that caused me pain and trouble…
The agony from medicating things was indescribable!
Later Sweet Morpheus arrived, highly satisfiable!

Sunday

I woke, with the Booster Jab Arm in agony, too!
Saccades Sandra and me dizzy, it’s nothing new…
I planned this weekend, what am I to do?
Tomorrow Sainsbury’s food delivery, only a few…
Co-op order Monday, I’ve ordered some beef stew…

I woke, with the Booster Jab Arm in agony, too!
Saccades Sandra and me dizzy, it’s nothing new…
I planned this weekend, what am I to do?
Tomorrow Sainsbury’s food delivery, only a few…
Co-op order Monday, I’ve ordered some beef stew…

I took some photos of the foggy morning

Just misty, there was no storming…

Hello, is it thickening?

Clearer, on Chestnut Way, down below,
I’ll try a wide shot or two; I’ll give it go…
Didn’t come out very good, though!.

No deliveries today…
Ah, onto Facebooking to play, okay?
Mustn’t forget Josie’s nosh, with the chardonnay…
I think it beats any takeaway…
Then my plans had to be cast away…
Sainsbury delivery came today. What can I say!
No deliveries today?

No deliveries today?

I ordered five little bananas, but I got ten…
I’m not sure if they’ll all get eaten,
Asked for 100ml, got a 400ml… It suits this glutton!
Ordered two 60 spuds, got two 500’s, dumbstricken!

Back to Facebooking, but I extemporise…
Facebook went down; I tell no lies…
My plans did once again evaporise…
My spirits sank; they did wantonise!
Then…
I realised the Amazon Co-op food had arrived!
I think I ought to be sectionalised…
I’m losing it seriously; I don’t want to sensationalise,
Maybe going in an old folks home might yet be wise?
Cause my brain is refusing to synchronise!.

Got the Amazon bags into the kitchenette,
Did you notice the Metal Mickey stick?
I know it was there; it’s picturistic…
This is really quite worrying, and dramatic,
I think the word is mayhap pedagogic?
But I haven’t seen Mickey since? It defies logic!
I fear I have become recognised as pilgarlic?
Then as had to hobble for a wee-wee, nucleonic!…

I walked into the wet room door frame,
Only myself to flipping blame…
Oh, boy, the agony and pain…
I hit the booster shot arm again!
My emotions and hopes became disharmonic…
The uncomfortable pee made me feel apathetic,
When I got back into the kitchen, I couldn’t find the stick!

I got the Co-op crap put away, then…
My stupidity; it must remain unspoken…
More nosh in the fridge, crammed in and swollen,
The freezer’s the same; I feel crestfallen…
Getting dates and figures wrong, stupidity is my song…
In life, I just can’t seem to get along?

And now the pain from Booster arm,
It’d possibly be as bad as napalm. Not really,
I’m shaking more than ever, I must keep calm,
But in constant pain from the flipping arm…
It’s swollen too, and I’ve had moments of dwalm!
Still, I mustn’t set off the wristlet panic alarm!

Gotten Himmel, Josie’s  Meal to Do!

Gotten Himmel, Josie’s meal to do…
Fingers crossed, I’m making a sort of chilli stew,
With chestnuts, mushrooms, beans and leeks too!
Getting it made was a bit of a hullabaloo…
Cut the end off of my finger. It’s what knives do!
Looking decent, to her door, I took it to…

I made an extra meal for her on Monday,
Oh, I added some chips into it; I hope its okay,
Sweeties, Limoncello, Vodka… Hey Hoe!

Blogging Again

Got on with the blogging again,
Despite the terrible pain…
The slightest movement of the arm…
Only not moving it at all, was it calm…
I got a feeling of sheer self-disdain!

Unbelievably – Door Chime Again!

The door chime rang out once again, so…
I ventured up the hallway, it was the postman, Johnno,
Bills, forms to fill in, upwards the rent must go?
Marvellous news this time, at last something nice did flow,

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

A parcel from HRH Lisa and Billum, in the Americas. Something that Lisa has sent me for Christmas. Bless her, she is so caring and sweet! Tempted as I was, I did not open it… yet! I will enjoy doing that when I have my Christmas morning pork pie and open the cards.

HRH Lisa, Billum & Inchcock

Bless you, HRH Lisa. You’ve given me something to look forward to, on Christmas Day now, my petal. ♥♥♥

The arm is still swollen, and I am disgusted with myself for making the Whoopsiedangleplops over the delivery dates of the food.

I’ll get better, I hope. Hehehe!

TTFNski all and each!

Ode: Inchcock’s First Dance Hall Visit

After trying out ballroom dancing at the Youth Social Centre and being told by one well built, highly desirable busty young lady: “Your dancing reminded me of a pregnant rhinoceros that, with three legs, suffered from an overindulgence of alcohol!” I stopped.

Then, off to the Youth Club, and tried my hand at Jiving. When! More my style, although I was a total failure and spent far too much time picking myself up from the floor and getting an elbow or fist in the face, I also had to give that up. After I was banned from the Youth Club for accidentally putting Sandra’s shoulder out.

Then, it arrived – The Twist!

The current girlfriend was not a fan of the twist at all. And became an un-girlfriend. Sob! But being a romantic, look-at-me-go type of young lad, I’d already had my eye on Margaret, a locally-bred gal, and love of the twist brought us together. She was a couple of years older than I, and the Locarno Dance Hall was the first to be holding a dedicated Twist only night. So we arranged to visit.

Expensive mind you; 2/6d (12½d) to get in. But, I was determined to show off my ‘Twisting skills’, So enthusiastically practised and honed, to what I thought was perfection, in my bedroom for many an hour into the night. This was my chance to impress!

Queuing Up To Get In

We whippersnappers queued early on in the night,
The mood was good; nobody wanted to fight,
No talking back then, of gigabyte, megabyte, or terabyte,
No mobile phones or headphones were in sight…
Time for the doors to be opened, I was uptight;
Margaret hadn’t turned up… still, my chance for the limelight?

Searching Out A Partner!

I got in, and was cool, as they played ‘Twist and Shout’,
Time to have a decker around and pick a girl out…
I found one; she was over six feet and rather stout…
But I went over to try my best lines out…
Her breath smelt of Vodka and brussels sprout,
But her bosom swelled as I got my wallet out…
We were soon on the dancefloor for a workout!

I was enjoying that…

The gal and I did jive, had a jolly good shakeout,
The bouncer came over, and said ‘It’s Twist night!’
I said, well, it doesn’t matter nowt!
He hit me and threw me out!

I was a bit disappointed…

I felt a proper fool; the gal stayed behind, sacre bleu!
I legged it home miserable and made a brew…
Had some leftover rabbit stew…
Two bottles of Guinness too…
Then I had to spew…
That was the end of Twisting debut…

Part of the Inchcock Memories in Ode Series

Chinwag With Alto-Ego Inchie!

Confounding Confusionableitis!

Time for a proper chinwag with Alto-Ego Inchie. Who I consider as much a mental ailment like all the other medical ones. I am determined to free myself of his persistent, nagging interference in my thoughts. His mission it seems to me is to make me feel guilty, inadequate, inconsequential, ineffective, and insignificant.

Which he has in fact already successfully achieved.

Although, possible beyond the understanding of anyone normal mortal, and maybe anyone who does not have a cruel, Alto-Ego, nagging away, analysing, mocking and criticising your every decision, and choice, one makes or decides on.

This natter took place last night as I lay in bed, with the notepad near to hand, and took place in several episodes! Sleep was certainly not an option for me…

Inchcock Opens The Chinwag Session:

Inchcock: I can sense your sneering and contempt Inchie, and I have to say you are a bane!
Inchie: Huh! Do yer fink I like being stuck in your brain!

Inchcock: Then go away, stop giving me mental pain!
Inchie: What the hell do think it’s like in here? In your dithering, feckless, vacillant thought-filled indecisive brain?

Inchcock: That’s it, go on, put me down, mock again…
Inchie: From human contact, you should refrain…

Inchcock: You said that when we last spoke, now again?
Inchie: Oh, a comeback from Inchcock, I’ve heard better insults from solid lepidomelane!

Inchcock: Erm… lepidomelane? Wot’s that then? Explain!
Inchie: When you read fings, facts you should retain!
Inchcock: Did I read about lepidomelane?
Inchie: Yer! In 1963, yer pea brain!
Inchcock: I’ve got Vascular Dementia, mental pain…
Inchie: Oh shurrup! Abarght time yer took yer Novocain?
Inchcock: You’ve changed the topic, confused me, yer know that makes me go brain-lame!
Inchie: Course I do, you pillock, I’ve had enough of this game…
Inchcock: What games that’s then, are you on cocaine?
Inchie: Yer coming owt with the insults tonight Inchcock! Enough! This topic’s getting too urbane…
Alright, I’ll piss off then!

Inchcock almost nodded off, when Inchie Returned!

Inchie: Hey-up, I’m calling back in defiance!
Inchcock: Why? Have no cognisance!
Inchie: Thought I might catch you on the loo, by chance…
Inchcock: You ‘horrible scumball! You no allegiance?
Inchie: Allegiance? Any idea wot that means?
Inchcock: I learnt that when in my teens!
Inchie: Huh! Gonna give me more gibberish?
Inchcock: Well, thanks for your pertinent attendance…
Inchie: Eh? Playing tricks? Do you mean good riddance?
Inchcock: Well, yes, I do, I’ve had enough of your cruel words!
Inchie: Wot, me? You’re the one spouting insulting words…
Inchcock: Am I? I was just making some lemon curds…
Inchie: What out off… Turds?

Inchcock ignored the Alta-Ego – With Difficulty Mind

He mellowed a little, and went deep in thought, until Inchie returned, and was ready to mislead the interloper…

Inchie: Wotsup, dogbreath? Pissed-off again, blockhead?
Inchcock: Oddly I thought that is what would be said…
Inchie: What’s yer game, that was said well mannered?
Inchcock: It’s up to us both, kill this mutual arguing, time to get together, and start apologising… not endangered!
Inchie: What? Am I being outmanoeuvred?
Inchcock: No mate! My wish is for you to get scunnered!
Inchie: You mean like, we get together and schnockered?
Inchcock: That’s it, we can have our relationship bettered!
Inchie: Summat wrong ‘ere… you and me, get stonkered?
Inchcock: Yea… let our animosity be withered!
Inchie: Why? you dare not… your lily-livered!

Inchcock: Hahaha! Such a poetic turn of phrase!
Inchie: Well, I’m not used to giving praise…
Inchcock: Oh, it’s easy, ns so many ways…
Inchie: Worra yer mean?
Inchcock: We could take time out, play the Steinways…
Inchie: Yer…
Inchcock: Go on holiday, as stowaways?
Inchie: Oh…
Inchcock: Have a drink, see where our hands stray…
Inchie: Hang on, are you after me body?
Inchcock: No, you haven’t got one, although you can have some control over mine, anyway ♥,
Inchie: Not ‘aving that… but then I couldn’t… could I?
Inchcock: not sure, but I’d risk it if you will. I’m free on Wednesday?
Inchie: Erm… I’m not used to this, who’s gonna pay?
Inchcock: You pay in enjoyment, we both can on the day?
Inchie: Hey, hey, hey… Could we just stop arguing, and have a laze?
Inchcock: Certainly, and we could have a few hoorays?
Inchie: I feel my emotions coming ablaze…
Inchcock: I could bring some bottles… Chardonnays?
Inchie: Surely it can’t be done? No ways!
Inchcock: You Pratt! You’re only in my mind! Best then if we return to our mental, non-verbal affrays!

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

Inchcock was arrested and rushed to the Psychiatric Hospital by paramedics, after being caught making rigorous love to his non-existent Alto Ego Inchie, in the balcony of his flat this evening.

The Doctor told the Inchcock Today reporter: “We managed to stop his weeing with excitement, and finally convinced him was not having sex for the first time in his life. He is currently being treated for Psychotic Manic Depression.

Luckily the Doctor on duty had treated Mr Inchcock several times before over the years and had a straight jacket to hand.

Inchcock is expected to be released in a few years, providing he doesn’t kick the bucket earlier! (He’s getting on a bit)

Part of the Inchcock Make ‘Em Laugh Series

Inchcock: Currently Up For Adoption

Inchcock: CURRENTLY UP FOR ADOPTION

Would You Adopt Someone Who Listens To Music by Ivor Novello?

A slightly sub-standard, bald, 75-year-old, born in a bordello,
A life-long Nottinghamian, with an IQ of barely above zero,
A recovering alcoholic, stroke and cardiac victim, and dipso,
A short chubby, well-bellied little thing has his own yo-yo,
Hoping that someone can show him how to use it, you know!
Inchcock has a thing for Marilyn Monroe, although…
His doing anything about this have long gone, thus his yo-yo!
He can cook, drop things, walk into them, oh, and he’s a Virgo!

He Falls over frequently, but with help, gets up, giving it another go,
In many ways, he plods on with his ailments; he’s a bit of a hero!
At least the last time we spoke at the hospital, he told me so,
He’ll tell you of when he climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro,
But in reality, it was a steep hill in Ludlow,
And, he drove up the mountain, in his Triumph Toledo!
Vascula Dementia confuses him; I think he still has some gusto…
For the ladies, but sadly, his desires have long been fallow,
But he does like a pot or slice of cake or a limoncello.

His momentary spells of reality sadden him; he feels low,
What’s happening to him in old age, he doesn’t want to know,
Back into his deep mental haze, he’s a semi-contented fellow,
Talk to him gently, and he’ll get the message, Roger-Wilko,
Owt you want him to do will usually follow,
Even if his words seem bewildering and hollow,
There will be times when he seems bright and tally-ho!
Don’t miss his medications whatever you do, though!

Ablutioning-wise, especially shaving, the blood will flow…
Neuropathy diagnosed, amazingly he can be a cheery bloke,
Occasionally, he thinks he’s Clint Eastwood or El Zorro,
His neuropathy has shaken his right side since the stroke,
He tries to stay calm and can start the day being mellow!

He still cooks, using black bean sauce and BBQ, even Tabasco,
Now he knows the firemen by name, Colin, Brian and Joe,
Please, don’t let him run-free in Aldi, Sainsbury’s or Tesco,
He’ll panic if he can’t find you and may freeze, ipso facto!
Please forgive any of his mishaps or unintended peccadillo.
If you do misplace him, just call the police or a medico.
But operating the TV remote control, he’s messy & ultraslow,

His confidence is getting low; of course, it will not regrow,
Like certain body parts that hang below…
At least he’s stopped wearing his bra and using eye shadow,
His new Protection Pants have saved many a fiasco!
He uses his picker-upper to retrieve things dropped below,
And is contented to on DVD, his 1960’s TV shows!

He’s harmless to anyone else, this I can guarantee,
Making others happy and smile is his forte,
He shows no signs of toxicity and has congeniality,
He can’t help forever going for a wee-wee…
And he would like someone to adopt him, desperately,
He realises this would not come for free…
But has a limited amount of money,
Which he doesn’t find very funny,
He is totally free of hate and is never sarkie!
So, if possible, can you help and make him your adoptee?
He makes a great mug of Glengettie tea!

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

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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

Inchcock: His First Sporting Triumph – Well, I say triumphs…

Inchcock: His First Sporting Triumph

Well, not exactly

I dreamt of playing for the school at football,
I couldn’t dribble or kick a ball, but that didn’t matter at all,
The pneumonia epidemic had stuck in the fall,
Not many players are well enough and available at all,
Then, from desperation, the coach did call!
You’re in the team, cup match, we need a win, vital,
Having to ask me, I knew he felt contemptible.

I dare not let them down, or I’d suffer a keelhaul,
Matchday, I arrived first, at my 4’3″ tall,
Regarding the rules, my knowledge was minimal,
Cold, raining, and then the fog began to fall…
Players, neither team had the wherewithal.

An eight-a-side to play agreement was made
We took to the field, the rain began to squall,
“You’re in goal Chambers!” Any position I’ll be ineffectual,
I jumped but couldn’t reach the crossbar at all,
What an introduction to school football!

The fog got heavier, and the coaches got conflictual,
We were down 13-0, the coach said it was only 12!
A fight ensued, but injuries were only minimal,
They decided to go into the gym, to play football,
When we got inside, and we’d lost some footfall…
Lads from both sides absconded, no longer visual,
Anyway, someone had nicked the ball!

Part Of The Nottingham Lads Tales Of Woe – In bad Rhyme Series