Inchcock: Local News Snippets in Ode

This week the News Snippets are reported, recorded and commented on, by The Nottingham Pensioner Lad, Inchcock (89).

Alto-Ego Inchy: I apologise for the Odeing included in the comments. But the lad has had minimal education. Now, with him contracting Vascular Dementia, as well as various other ailments; Hearing aids, mechanical ticker fitted, Glaucoma, Saccades, Cataracts, Stroke, Peripheral Neuropathy. His tendency to either waffle on, lose the plot or regularly forgets what he was doing, where he is, or where he was going; does not make for readable poetry. But there’s no stopping him. He only sulks when I point out these and other failings to him. Sorry.

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

Well, this looks good,
Be happy surely we should?
Read the next one and chew the cud!
Your interpretation will go down with a thud!

I’m aware of how they feel, every patient,
I’m waiting on may a medical appointment,
Dentist, Chiropodist, Doctors yearly check…
That’s been a wait of three years, by, heck!
Audio, DVT and Cardiac…
Then the operation on the cataracts,
Glaucoma and Saccades and the Diabetes in fact…
Will I live long enough to get my treatments?

Sozzled, drugged up, and a man with a violent bent,
But will there be a return to prison requirement?
Easier for him to get drugs in there for his sustainment?
Maybe they’ll offer him some mental treatment?
Tell him sorry if this is inconvenient…
Give him some cocaine and pay his rent?

Run of the mill stuff, for the Nottingham creed,
I understand that he was a gynaecologist,
Nothing suspicious, the chap wasn’t a druggist…
Police won’t look too far into this…
With nine officers attacked and on the sick list!

The Police and I…
Have no idea why,
So sorry the lad had to die…
RIP son… It makes you cry!

No matter why – Animals!

All this violence, drugs, gangs, I comprehend?
Slave importers, youths will re-offend…
No deterrent do the courts send…
Viciousness threatens, it’s today trend…
And I think it will only worsen!
A judge was I thought the only person…
Who could, these crimes amend…
But no, so I’m scared and disheartened!.

Self-Centred Scum!

Well, this is interesting news for Sherwood…
A 48% increase in crime figures, should…
make my blood boil, make me angry and rude!
I’m not surprised, I’ve not seen a policeman since May!
Didn’t even see one on Tuesday…
Plenty of yobboes lurking…
Don’t suppose they are working?
I just pray they don’t mug me today!.


Raliegh, John Players, Debenhams, Topshop, Oasis, WH Smith, Burton & Dorothy Perkins, River Island, Banks closing down, Virgin Media sold to Liberty Global and has been ruined by them, Macintoshes, Rowntrees, Frys, Cadburys all sold to Nestles…

But fret not, we have 14 new takeaway shops opened… even though 12 went bankrupt in the last year?

Well, looking at my arm that’s encouraging.

So, basically, she’s got 25 days, what an hour a session? Going to some Community Centre; probably gets a free meal, and she can do some drug trading at the same time. I assume that courts will be providing her with a taxi both ways?

Inchcock’s Local News Snippets in Ode

Inchcock Today: Cock-Ups, Confusion and Comedy!

The retrieved photographs

Sunset shots, no idea when from, sometime in the last three days I’ve been without the capability to upload.

Tuesday, mayhaps.

Yesterday morning (Maybe?) Colin Cramps was paining me,
All night long, eight hours, no sleep, scarily,
But still, in wealth, health, finances and pecuniarily…
I have no worries… I am totally hassle-free…
I’m lying here, to a certain degree…
I can’t walk properly…
It’s harder than ever to see…
Arthur Itis murdering the knee…
Constantly I need a painful wee-wee,
Lost the remote control for the TV!
Using the Porcelain Throne leaves things increasingly phooey!
And to varying degrees, it’s always bloody!
So many medications, I’m becoming a druggie,
Of pains, aches, worries, fears… I’m never free!
Diabetes stops me from eating chocolate and toffee…
Always some other medical examinee…
Vascular dementia has taken my minds synchronicity,
More operations are due, but that’s just a technicality,
I’m coping well, really, but with a vulnerability…
Too occasional depressions and pathetic self-pity,
Yet, I’ve a gift of physical, not mental, survivability,
Sometimes, I have an outlook of determination and doability…
Often prevented from actioning by my docility…
Yet, I press on, causing more damage, such is my senility…
Why did the Lord give me life, but not the ability?
Fair enough, he gave me more than a fair share of verbosity,
And great bonus, in a massive bouncebackability,
But far too much instability and aperiodicity?
Not to mention my fretting, worrying and trepidity,
Oh, I said them – that’ll be the memories absentia!
Psychasthenia, I’ve avoided, I’m glad to say it’s not obligatory,
Thank Gawd, for my beloved Lisa, Jenny and Jillie 🧡

Made up some Polish pork sarnies, so good they tasted!
Planned it for them to be ready,
To eat it watching the telly…
Heartbeat was on… but I soon capitulated!

I’ll turn on the telly a fine-looking nosh, and I waited…
Again, my plans had been incapacitated…
The TV remote had absquatulated!
Spend so much time searching, going wud!
The meal went stone-cold; it could not be ameliorated!
No TV, eyesight too bad to read; aggravated!
Hearing no good to listen to the radio…
The remote control was not appropriated!
After a lengthy search, of finding it, there was no likelihood,
I was self-annoyed; I could have spat blood!
At least the sandwiches tasted really good!
A Dark Depression accumulated…
As the next Whoopsiedangleplop, I awaited…

The following day I woke, and photo’d the feet,
The limbs looked okay, felt alreet,
Colin Cramps was easier last night, his pains petite,
Then, as I moved, the action was only slight…
Arthur Itis attacked – in the right knee, with all his might!
Hearing myself whimper made me uptight,
I struggled to move and was not very sprite…
Then, went to Phorpain it… What a sight!

My disjointed but prettily coloured patella.

The sort of knee one may find on a troglodyte?
No sunshine for them either, very little light,
But I was more concerned with the failing eyesight,
I make myself a sarnie, using Vegemite…
Just two little slices, more weight I will not incite,

It was cold, misty and windy tonight,
Got the camera, the end car park to highlight…
Will the computer let me import? Well, it might…
Good heavens, it did! Much to my delight!

The red van on the no-parking zone is like a benchmark,
It’s never been known to park up properly, I remark…
The van reminds me vaguely of the Bismarck?

Sod it! The knee cap’s come out, off to the hospital!

What next? Humph!

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe

Inchcock Today: Escape To Sherwood!

My EQ had already warned me, today would be different, special,
But I’ll have to be prepared for aggravation, be on my metal!
But explained things won’t be wrong, not an early burial…
But plans, like life, can be so decoctible…
Plans, well mine, are easily cock-uppable!
However, EQ’s warnings were mostly corrigible.

I thought that my will-power and contentment was indestructible,
Which, to say the least, was a rarity and unexplainable!
I got the blog created and sent off… although it was minimal,
The Carer was a smidge depressed, not very cheerful,
Gave him a can of Gin in thanks, told him to be safe, be careful,
Departing, the Carer definitely seemed a bit more gleeful,
Which made me feel better; did you know he was bilingual?

I only did a small blog, the eyes are getting worse, seeing less,
Still can’t get the photos on the computer – I’m at my pottiest!
Sorting out the paperwork needed for ophthalmologist,
The Bank Manager, whose visit I’d have gladly missed…
And added herb-slices to my little shopping list,
Readied things for the escape, shopping, bank and optometrist…

Here we go…

I got to the door, seeing I’d enacted my habit of being a noctambulist,
Boxes had been moved, stuff out on the trolley, can a hypnotist,…
Be consulted, for I do not recall getting from bed; was I pissed?
I think not; I stopped drinking years ago… mind you, it’s still missed!
Some bits of paper on the carpet as well, to be honest…
I don’t think my mind is at its mentally healthiest…
Hit my head picking stuff up… but this was not to be the painfullest,
Half an hour later, I felt at my poorliest…

I hobble out along to Winchester Street, limping down the hill,
A car parked on the pavement again, cruel and evil…
Not sliding in the wet leaves was taking all my skill…
I was soon swearing like the devil!
I tripped on the crack underneath the leaves, twisted my knee…
Bagged my leg falling on the soggy gravel,
It hurt, but so did me wanting to have a pee!
But more important was my desire to see Jillie!

My tumble meant nothing now; I hobbled like the devil,
My mission is to see Jillie, whatever the peril…
My fears and pain had disappeared – they were nihil!
We met, and in her arms I did cradle…
Nothing mattered then, even my wanting a piddle!.

The time shot by while I was Jillie, my lover… in my mind
She’s regal, beautiful, and so very kind…
I found her 60 years too late; it drives me out of my mind!
But she had partly adopted me, that was so very kind,
She is a gift, a pleasure, a desire, of all mankind ♥

Jillie walked with me to the opticians, beautifully coiffured,
She is even aware before I say so when something I’ve misheard!
A treasure-find for me, patient and so good-natured!
My confidence was boosted, hopes temporarily recaptured…
Into see the ophthalmologist room, to have the eyes inspected!
Prodding and eyes, the drops all done; 20 minutes, I waited…

The Oculist came out with the problem after I was examined,
The result was not unexpected… I’m overly cataracted!
She set the ball rolling for me to have two lenses fitted…
Paperwork to the Doctors’ was remitted…
She explained further to me of the operation…

Risky at my age, but without it, I’ll be blind within a year
As was expected and natural to me, worry, but no fear.

Gave me some leaflets to read. There is no point in prescribing the new glasses until after the operation. Because having two plastic lenses replacing the genuine lenses would alter the sight a lot, they will sort the spectacles out with another examination after the procedure.

Also, she can look into the Glaucoma and Saccades issues after my getting and trying the new spectacles. Which can’t be done until so many weeks after the operation has been completed. Ah, well! Only what I expected, really.

I had the pleasure of thanking them, and going with Jillie to the bank. Which took a lot of her time, but she was very patient. We went into a room with an advisor. I could not hear what he was saying, and the rapidly declining eyesight meant I could no longer see well enough to try lip-reading. But, Jillie did all the talking for me. ♥ She asked about the Carers Direct Debit situation, and the chap told her, as she explained afterwards, I had no idea what was going on, Hehe! that the transactions were set up, but nothing had gone out yet? Crumplemost Confusing!

After a long time, we left the bank, and Jillie had to help me with the cash machine to get some money out. Bless Her! I don’t know what I’m going to do when the gal is unavailable!

Got some bits from the local continental store, not a lot; I’ve got a food delivery coming in the morning.

We walked back to Jillie’s house, and I got a hug (Boy, that felt good!) as we parted. Despite the morning’s happenings, I felt up to walking up the hill back to the flats!

I got in and made a meal. Gobbled it up, and sat down; and fell right asleep! For about four hours! Got up, and I started to mop the kitchen floor as Carer Richard arrived. We had a little natter, but he was in a rush. So I gave him one of his favourites, a pink gin and tonic, thanked him as he departed. Then got on with the moping again.

I sat down with a mug of Glengettie tea to watch Heartbeat on the box… But only managed about ten minutes, and I drifted off again.

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

After an hour, I sprang awake in absolute agony! The hobble (I imagine) had set off Colin Cramps, and boy was he giving me some pain! Worse, he went on all night until about 04:30 in the morning!

I used up an entire tube of Phorpain overnight! But it did me no good. Even taking two co-codamol didn’t ease things at all! All in the left foot and leg. Knob-Gobs! I’ve never had cramps so bad in my life before?

The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe In Rhyme

Breaking News – Political Odes

Tuesday 11th January 2022

Politics today

Political farces, what a worrying thought,
Criminals abound, but not so many are getting caught!
But always motorists, cannabis users, end up in court?
Easier for the police… whose number is getting short…
Trying to understand why; I get bestaught!

The court’s sentencing seems unfair, unequal…
I thought judges were intellectual, but there’re ineffectual!
One lad had cannabis 2 ounces, got six months jail,
And armed robber, got tagged, no jail, another fail?
A shoplifter… charged 28 times, no jail; makes you wail!

If a citizen is violent, acts antisocially…
Or shoplifts, pickpockets occasionally…
Very few of them are dealt with properly,
But park in the City Centre, illegally…
Judges, magistrates, come over all schoolmasterly,
Massive fines, driving bans, even prison, arbitrarily!

With sentences for criminals, magistrates are miserly,
Youth beats up an 88-year-old, the youth could not get a job,
Magistrate ‘feels for him’ slaps his wrist, supposedly wisely…
Sent him home; on the way, he hit a woman in her gob!
The Magistrate should retire, obviously…

A Judge-parole-boarder, who frees murderers to kill again,
Are guilty of the crime repeated, for certain!
Their career in law should be slain, I wouldn’t complain…
If they were locked up until Jesus returns again!

Prisoners get the same healthcare and treatment as anyone outside of prison. Bollocks! I can’t get to see my Doctor. Would a prisoner have to wait for weeks to get a Dentist appointment? Just asking!

Prisoners can get Specialist support:

If they have drug or alcohol problems, Coronavirus, HIV or Aids. Are disabled or have a learning difficulty.
I get no help with my disabilities; I have to pay for Carers. Where’s my help with hearing, eyesight, Peripheral Neuropathy, Shaking Shaun, Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Arthur Itis, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Back-Pain-Brenda, Walking, Vascular Dementia, Haemorrhoid Harold etc.? No!

♫ It was all over my jealousy ♫ Hehehe!

Computer Problems

Computer Problems

I’m getting most frustrated. The picture uploaded is not being recognised, so getting taken photos in is difficult. This morning on starting the computer, it worked, once only – and went back into hide-mode! So, again I’ve got photographs that I cannot use.

At least it did allow me to get some in from yesterday; before it died a death. But it will not recognise them from today. Screen windows keep changing size. CorelDraw going off of its own accord…

Here are the ablution ones rescued from Sunday.

I took another photo this morning, but I can’t get it onto the computer – Humph! The left ankle appears to be erupting with an ankle ulcer building in prospect, as the right ankle ulcer seemed to be fading at last? The concentrated marks have all but gone, but blood’s fuzzy dark blue vein spots have increased? Possibly something to do with the DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis?), but I don’t really know… I do a lot of that… not knowing!

Feet before getting in the shower.

After drying off from the shower

Sock-Glide-Glenda

Using Glenda, prompted Back-Pain-Brenda, Bleeding Blair, Arthur Itis, and then Toe-Stubbing Thomas to kick-off! Anne Gyna joined in later, as did Shaking Shaun.

I had to use the dreaded Sock-Glide-Glenda

Yes, I had to use the dreaded Sock-Glide-Glenda,
Getting the socks on was a right painful bugger…
I was bruised, bleeding and felt like I’d been on a bender!
Both feet and legs felt like they’d been in a blender!

I wouldn’t call my Sock-Gliding operation artistic…
At times things went somewhat troublingly ballistic,
Sometimes it was unintentionally aerobatic…
Occasionally convincing me I’m becoming autistic,
On one occasion, the bleeding was near fatalistic,
However, through the agony, I resisted getting too frantic!

Since becoming a resistant, nervous Sock-Glide operator,
Using it scares me, my nerves are shattered – well, poor,
I always end up bruised, bleeding, and feeling sore!
Split fingernails, trapped fingers, stubbed toes, bruises and more…
Before tackling it, I force myself into being perfervour…
Why? I don’t know, well I think I might, but I’m not sure!

Can I get any help with this? Mayhaps psychiatric?
Medicationalistical? Uppers, or something anabolic?
Bearing in mind, I’m uneducated, almost analphabetic…
Especially difficult, I’m sure that I suffer dyscalculic,
Which is nothing to do with Sock-Glide-Glenda…
It seems I have, as happens ad infinitum, lost track…
This occurs sometimes, but I might get it back?

At last, I got the bamboo diabetic socks on. Haha!
But I have to wear the socks again on Tuesday…
Tomorrow… to go to the bank, Oh, criminy!
It may send me over the top – Potty!
But these fears I must delay…
I wish they’d invent socks you can put on with a spray!

But help is coming, in the beautiful form of Jillie ♥,
The very thought of seeing her sends me giddy,
Big problems sink when I see her, to scintillae…
The opticians in the morning that’ll be jolly…
And cost a lot off lolly – needles in the eyes, Ho-ho!
Glaucoma and cataracts mean the iris’s are too narrow…
After that, they can see the degree of the problem, I hope so…
Then decide on treatment; it’s got to be done, though!

TTFNski

Alto-Inchie, on Inchcock Thoughts in Ode – Part 11⅔rds

Now, there’s no comparison twixt the above two,
Albert is dead; Inchcock is in the queue…
Both smoked a pipe, Erinmore honeydew,
Violence, they both tried to eschew,
Albert was very clever, too…
Inchie also had thoughts, but very few…
He can’t get them to do what he wants them to,
He still struggles with his toilet tissue issue!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Waking & Rising

Once woken, he works out what time and day is dawning,
A wee-wee will be needed, while he’s still yawning,
Check what ailments are most perturbing…
If any clothes are on, he’ll start disrobing…
The fungal lesion will be bleeding or throbbing,
Arthur Itis, Reflux Roger and Ann Gyna may be stinging…
With doing the ablutions, he’ll start grappling,
Little Inchie, embarrassingly like a watercress sapling,
The constant wee-wees, flowing then ebbing…
Porcelain Throne time, so he starts the divebombing,

Having cleaned as best, he can,
Medicationalisationings is his plan,
He does so sometimes painfully, others with elan,
Gets his medications from off of the Ottoman…
Sprays, drops, creams, ointments, some vegetarian!


Stops any bleeding with Brute aftershave, and then began…
Little Inchies Fungal lesion cleaning, a delicate organ!
Tea made, he awaits his carer whichever, Julia or Megan,
Falls asleep and dreams of a two-headed Martian!

Alto-Inchie Observes

This morning’s ablutions got Inchcock to his bolshiest…
The Porcelain Throne did not clear; this did not please!
Five times the water in the tank was replaced…
Struggling to get the lid back on, his lesion began to bleed,
Eventually, the evacuated product blockage was freed,
But he banged his knee, and this he didn’t need!
And for some reason, he peed and peed and peed!

Alto-Inchie on Inchcocks Activities

Inchcock grabbed his Canon, camera,
Into the balcony, he did manoeuvre…

To his amazement… the rusty red van had parked almost between the lines in the proper place, and not on his beloved yellow chevrons! On closer inspection, Inchcock realised some else had parked in his illegal corner on the hatched area, forcing him to try and park his van in the car park – which he very nearly managed between the white guidelines. Haha!,

Mayhaps this time, he returned being sober?
Although he did park correctly last October!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Cooks!

Inchcock prepped the meal for Josie, and takes a wee,
Get the ingredient together properly,
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hassle-free!
Then his Sister rang he…
Then he fell over majestically…
Well, at least acrobatically…
Now he has a freshly swollen knee…
Arthur Itis hurting, which is obligatory…
He got the chilli-stew cooking, not hasslefree!.

Sister Jane and Inchcock, nattered away free…
Until he smelt something burning, to the kitchen he did flee…
Spilt over stew, it was as if the 1812 overture by Tchaikovsky,
Had entered his head, as he panicked, profusely!
He cleaned things up, started again; and felt glee…
He even swore at me!

Alto-Inchie: Handouts in Thanks

He sorted his freebies out, updated, some new,
Including the Mojito ones, he read as Cocktail,
Then found they were non-alcoholic… Wail!
He was fooled by the microscopic printing, that said Mocktail
Still, some of the Nurses and Carers don’t like ale…

Alto-Inchie:

He got Josie’s nosh done and tasted, luck did prevail,
An Accifauxpas delivery route did entail…
He stubbed his toe against the heater rail…
He arrived at Josie’s door feeling frail…
As it opened, he saw she looked hearty and hale!
So with a smile and some banter, he did regale…
Glad she looked so well, chattering he had to curtail…
Cheerily wished all the best, to his nightingale,
Off for another wee-wee he did bail!

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock Broods For A While – Then Brews

A memory shot into his brain, he was mortified,
The thought of The Meadows where he lived…
He supposes the old houses had to be sacrificed,
They were decrepit, with rats, fleas and mice…
Must seem bad to folks; he thought they were nice…
As having alopecia, chickenpox, pneumonia, polio and lice?
We were all poor, sickly, but not at all mystified,
When yet another child got ill and died…
We helped each other, we were unified…
A family of thousands, with fear, denied!

Inchcock made a Glengettie brew,
Feeling better now, well he would do…
Tea can be good for you…

Alto-Inchie: Inchcock’s Ablutionings

WHOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP!

Computer playing up – I think the end is nigh!

I’ll try to post this.

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Part 1245⅓

Sherwood & postcode Local News

This morning, I’d like to start with the worst of YourArea news items. To get it out of my system; So maddening!

Double child killer Colin Pitchfork could be cleared for a move to open prison within months after being returned to jail because he was approaching young women.

  • Murderer Colin Pitchfork, 61, was arrested and recalled to prison.
  • The convicted killer had allegedly been ‘approaching young women’ while on walks.
  • But Parole Board is now considering moving him to an open prison setting 
  • Pitchfork was jailed for life in 1988 for the rape and murder of 15-year-old girls
  • He was released from Leyhill prison, near Tortworth, Gloucester., two months ago

What sort of demented, do-gooder idiots sit on Parole Boards? How often have we heard of released scum killing and committing the same crimes again? How can the panels be fooled so often into releasing people to kill again?

What is the solution? Is there one? Well, yes! But it would probably not be considered practical. The Civil Rightists would think my idea too reactive for the libertarians, namby-pambies, egalitarians and guilty themselves of the crimes that people they have freed, committed, members of the Parole Boards!

Above all, they would consider the costs of keeping criminal sleazebags long term in prison. No doubt encouraged to be lenient, or even bribed; threatened or maybe, instructed, by the Government of days Justice Minister and Home Secretary?

Justice Department Wasted Money

Dominic Raab’s department wasted a ‘staggering’ £238m on an array of botched projects last year; Electronic tagging systems that were never used and software so bad it is causing industrial disputes are among sources of waste at the Ministry of Justice! The biggest-ticket item driving up the level of waste was £98.2m on a new case management system for electronic tagging of criminals – which was then scrapped before it could be used.

The department also had to pay an extra £72.1m HMRC because it had incorrectly reported the employment status of some of its workers, being hit with a further £15m penalty for breaching the rules. Then, £14m was paid to private contractors running probation services for the department breaking their contracts early, even though those companies had failed to hit their targets to reduce re-offending! This part of the cash was returned to the Treasury.

So, a Governmental decision was made to free prisoners early on parole. Boy, have they got guilt on their hands now! Fungleturds! The accountableness for their complicity with the powers that be, to me, means they should be punished themselves.

Are these living-in-another-world enfants-terribles even aware of their blame, but the effects that their moronic namby-pamby, spineless, effete decisions have had on the innocents involved? The parents and relations of these two daughters, the other family members, schoolmates, friends. It’s ruined their lives too! Two wrongs don’t make a right, but it would have levelled the field if the animal Pitchfork had been executed.

So, how can we save money in and on prisons? We stop supplying Gym equipment, computers, telephones etc. then, stop giving them free medications. Mental and physical. Cut back to the type of food that I manage on, no luxuries. Baths or shower only once every six months. When they escape, it should be easier for the dogs to trace them. I am not proposing this for all prisoners, of course. Only the violent ones. And if possible, which it won’t be, bring back executions. But offer them a choice first, of which way they would prefer to go. Hanging will be out, though; that is cruel. Beheading, poisoning or being tied up securely and left in a cellar for three days with relatives and family of the murdered victims. I feel this would be more of a deterrent than the current system. Oh, and no visitors!

I got a bit carried away there! Ah, well, I’ll press on!

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

Another murder in Nottingham. Stabbings, druggies, shoplifting, gangs galore. I don’t think I can take anymore!

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

It sounds like another lost cause for the police.

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

Firearms, drugs, organised slave trade, burglaries… I think we had a poisoning last week?.

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

That’s the spirit, Your Honour; Nip this violence in the bud while they’re young. Scare them to death with your nerve-wracking punishments… Oh, tagging him? Fine!

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

A little too close for comfort?.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –.

Blimey, £9.35 per prescription. Hand on, I’ll utilise the calculator to find out how much it might cost me… Strewth! Blimey and heckithump; £149.60 a month!

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

Oh!

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

LATE SNIPPETS

READ ALL ABARGHT IT!

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Naughty, nasty lady!

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 Inchcock’s Local News Snippets

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

Haveth a great Day!

Inchcock Today: My Daily Battle With My Brain – In Odes

Inchcock’s Battle With His brain

In Odes

I try to recall, days when I was sensual,
Indulged in things rampantly sexual,
Although things were rather unequal,
I managed a few times, it was often bestial,
But with Grizelda, the pleasure was mutual,
Always an absolute delight, as usual,
Not once, did we tergiversate, it was lovely, mate!

I try to recall, days when I was sensual,
Indulged in things rampantly sexual,
Although things were rather unequal,
I managed a few times, it was often delightfully bestial,
But with Grizelda, the pleasure was mutual,
Always an absolute delight, as usual.
Not once, did we tergiversate, it was lovely, mate!

Yes, some memories are unshakeable,
But the memories can become unreliable,
Some memories remain clearly visible…
Even bad ones, that were loathsome and derisible…
Some get distorted, it’s sadly undeniable,
The better ones, that are so delightful…
Can, mournfully get mixed too, and that is awful!

Often things seem to be unfathomable, unlocatable,
Sometimes I can find this almost laughable…
Mostly frustration and self-loathing become forceful,
I find that vascular dementia tastes disgraceful,
I’ll sit and stew, pass wind – rather odourful…
Moping, moody, penitently, depressed and remorseful!

Suddenly, I get determined and resourceful…
I’ll write notes on the computer, paper, and get hopeful!
But forget I’ve done it, or to check; it’s pitiful…
Then I sink back to depression, and being slothful!

I seem to be stuck, with being permanently doubtful,
Worrying, fretting, failing, it makes me so miserable!
It’s difficult, wearying; not capable of being hopeful!
I don’t think I am really sour or unthoughtful…
But my plans always turn out unsuccessful,
Things happen, Accifauxpas, errors, by the shedful…
They are made by others as well, it makes me fearful,
I can’t put them right, and that is awfully stressful,
The hearing, sight, memory, stuttering are dreadful,
They stop me sorting things out, making me regretful,
Life goes on, getting more and more strifeful,
No chance of my ever regaining logic or being successful!

My fears, frustration, handicaps, are plentiful…
Always having to try to be overcareful,
This ode is turning into tattle and waffle…
Today, I’m down, and not being very subtle…
Trying to write, is a Peripheral Neuropathy caused a kerfuffle!

I suppose I could just put on the kettle?
Make a brew of Glengettie, and have a tipple?
Hello, the door chime did tinkle…
The Morrison order arrived, a cheering up signal!

I’ve got some new drinks in for Carers now, wonderful!
Suddenly, I don’t feel such a numbskull…
Ordered three beef pasties, only got one – but I’m thankful,
At least the treats for the Carers are plentiful!
I’m humming to myself now; a sign of becoming convivial?
Suddenly my problems appear more trivial!
Food and chinwags are what are essential…

Part of Inchcock’s Make Them Laugh – In Ode Series

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 Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

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Future Sports, Covidity, and Politics, unsung,
Including Boris, Cummings, even Cameron,
I threw myself into creating these, then the phone rung…
Told me the Bank is closing its branch… that’ll be fun!
A bill from the Council, Carers Fees, that stung!
Two weeks ago, Meridian arranged a direct debit…
About as reliable as Norman Tebbit!

Here they are; I hope you get a smile from;

Inchcocks Future Fun Newspaper Headlines

I fang You!

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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