Inchcock Interviews a Time Traveller!

Inchcock Interviews a Time Traveller!

Time 01Bespectacled, aged, bald, hearing-aids wearing, short, plump, WordPress.com ace unpaid senile reporter Juan Inchcock Chambers, can now declare that time-travelling is happening today! He has met with and interviewed a traveller from the future, one Zip Vladimir Ivanovic Alonso, who he claims came from the year 2218. Doubters can contact Juan at the side of Trent Bridge near the railings at the fire bombed cafe. The very place where Juan met Zip as he materialised in front of him, and broke his bottle of meths.

The Interview

Time 02

Inchcock: Why did you travel back to our time Zip?

Zip: Life was finishing on earth in 2044, and it was either £819bn for a ticket to the moon, or £102m for a one way trip back in time at the ‘Travel-back Arcade’.

Inchcock: When and where did you ‘land’ here, if that’s the terminology?

Zip: Same place, as it always is, in this time it was on the embankment near Trent Bridge in the Meadows area of Nottingham. Of course in my day, the Bridge had been long gone, no fresh water left you see, where I appeared if you like, on the steps of the river, was actually the same space as the Travel-back Arcade’s departure lounge.

Inchcock: What was your first thought on getting here Zip?

Zip: That our 2044 Government history tapes supplied by our Minister of Education Montague Abdullah-Miliband were all wrong, I saw you actually did have food available in 2014. Our tapes tell us only the rich were eating in this era, while the deficient, impecunious, impoverished, disabled, and inadequate ones had already starved to death, been fed to the few remaining cattle, or been used in experimentations”.

Inchcock: Would you like to remain and settle here in 2014 Nottingham Zip?

Zip: No, I wouldn’t fit in would I, and the names of the people, archaic names such as Smith, Danton, Williams, etc. No I think it best if I return to my own time once I’ve raised the cash.

Inchcock: Oh, er.. What are your plans now then?

Zip: To get myself ‘in’ with the predecessors’ of the families that will run the world, to make sure I can afford a ticket to the moon when it comes this time… do you happen to know how I can contact any of the Scottish Brown, Cameron, Bush’s or the Saudi Royal Family  members, do you?

Inchcock: No, sorry…

With that, the time-traveller faded into the atmosphere and was gone, leaving Inchcock to lick up what he could salvage of his spilt meths.

Part 2: My Beloved Grizelda – Bringing her home

02 GrizGiselda was about 5’11” tall, around 15 stone (solid with it), lovely black hair, gorgeous wide hips, tree trunk legs that I instantly wanted to wrap myself around for a month or so. I went where no man had gone before… and boy was it good, did I enjoy it or what!

Part Two – Taking her home…

I was getting myself ready to go and pick up Grizelda, as arranged, from the cottage she was staying in for her visit to England to visit her pen friend and my mate’s wife Susan.

As I was shaving, I was already getting palpitations from certain regions of my anatomy, at the very thought of once more gaining access to Grizelda’s foibles and bodily parts. I came out of dream I was in, and thought I’d better give her a ring to make sure all was still on as planned.

Surprisingly when I called, Susan said Grizelda was shaving too.

She passed on the message that she would meet me at the garden gate at 1100hrs.

I arrived, and as I saw her smile break out above that muscular body, I had to control my legs on the clutch.

I got out to meet her, and she picked me up gave me a wonderful slobbering kiss, put me down, and briefly cuddled my groin area and licked my bald head.

02 allegro

I named my old Allegro Estate, Wilhemena. She’s in the garage again here. She went there a lot!

She got into my Austin Allegro estate, the springs were tested as she sat next to me, and adroitly squeezed certain bodily areas of her choice.

We arrived back at the flat, and she did a tour of it and showed her approval.

I was about to make a cuppa and something for us to eat, when she called from the bedroom – that was that ended the cuppa and cakes idea for the moment!

02 bottleShe stood there naked, dominant, hirsute, and demanding attention.

I noticed an empty ‘Huntsman Bourbon Whiskey’ bottle on the bedside table – ‘Highly Suitable’ I remember thinking. She caught me alright… thank the Lord.

 

I opened my arms and clasped them around her – then did the same to her other leg.

I was thrown on the bed, and encased in her muscular body as she dived on top… ‘twas heaven!

I thought my ribs would have been broken, but didn’t care, as she rolled over and lifted me on top of her.

I licked her armpits, chest, neck, (avoiding the boils) as she turned over again, crushing my pulsing body beneath her now sweating stomach muscles.

Bliss ensued!

The planned trip to the cinema had to be delayed for another day (thankfully) as she was obviously intent and glad to remain available for more romping for the rest of the day!

My submissions that day were pitiful and pleasurable; I reached new heights of delirium in response to Grizelda’s handling of the situation and everything else she handled.

We went and collected her things from the cottage.

From that day, she stayed at my flat for the duration of her holiday… and my pleasure!

The memories of Grizelda are painful – only due to the fact that they are only memories now.

Part 20: A Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe

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Woes 01 coop

Co-op House Nottingham

I was working at the Nottingham Cooperative Society’s Co-op House on Upper Parliament Street, in the food hall, as general dogsbody, and not very popular goffer.

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The Caves

On my first day I was sent down to the cellars (Tunnels come caves) below the building, to lay mouse traps and rat poison, in an effort clear the place of the little mites. An order I thought a little out of the ordinary, but I followed them, collected the traps and poison, and went down into the bowels of the building to do my duty. (Little realising that the staff had set up a tape recording of eerie sounds, thinking it would be fun to scare me to death!)

I soon spotted the ‘Bush’ tape recorder after hearing the sounds it emitted, and carried on laying the traps and poison pots. By the time I’d finished, there were already some dead rats in a few of the traps.

Full of myself, I extricated a larger one from the trap, and carrying it in my outstretched hand, re-entered the store warehouse smiling and grinning, saying to I thought the mates I’d left assembling orders fro delivery, thinking I being rather droll and witty: “‘Ere you are then, dead as a dodo, we can put it in the mincer with the beef un make some money… haha…”

I stopped as soon as I realised the area shops inspector was stood directly in front of me!

I managed to get another job with Tesco.

Pat Phoenix’s Visit to Tesco

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Pat Phoenix as Elsie Tanner

Tesco on Granby Street in Nottingham, had arranged a promotional visit from Pat Phoenix, who at the time was playing the part of the very popular feisty Elsie Tanner in Coronation Street. She was supposed to sign autographs for ten minutes, and then do a mock shop to impress the public.

It was utter pandemonium, we had earlier built a wall of Heinz soup boxes covered in colourful crepe paper, behind which we had placed a table and chair for her to sit on and greet her fans, and offer her signature to them. (With her very large body guard stood next to her)

So many emotional fans turned up, we had to get all the male staff on the shop floor, to try and control them as they all wanted to speak to her first. At one time, we all linked arms to try and stem the rush of the dear old biddies from causing physical damage to the Ms Phoenix, it was like a football match at times.

Woes 20  02cigsShe and her bodyguard chain smoked throughout the time Pat was signing her signature for her fans. Rothman’s King Size they both smoked.

After about 40 minutes, she was able to escape the confines of the table and chair, did a very quick pretend shop, took her cheque, and left.

As she was leaving, I noticed that the soup boxes had their crepe paper coverings torn apart, and the tins were crushed and spread out on the floor during the melee. At this point, I also realised that I had blood coming from my ear-hole, and running down my white coat.

A few days later, a photographer, who had been taking pictures of the event on the day, came in, to find the staff in the photos he’s taken to sell them a print.

One of the girls (Kathleen, I remember Kathleen… sorry…) pointed out to me a particular photo; it was taken when I was in the line of staff trying to stem the flow of women, and it showed an old lady, about 5 stones and 4 foot tall, just about to push the pointed end of her rolled up umbrella into my ear-hole, in her efforts to get through to her soap opera idol!

Well at least I now know why I had to have four stitches in my lug-hole!

More Tesco Tales to follow…

Inchcock Today: Friday 1st August 2014

Friday 1st August 2014

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Cautionary Introduction by Inchcock’s psychiatrist Dr Uppopo Smyth-Robinson, MRCPsych, FRCPsych

Friday 1st August 2014

What a flaming night, I wus awake more than asleep… until it came time to gerrup, then I fell asleep! Cor blimey.

The cramps were ‘orrible, the nightmares every time I nodded off fer a few minutes, the angina, the piles… but hey-ho, I’m still ‘ere. (Well, I think I am… what is reality after all? – summat different to every person innit like?… is it?)

Took the bins out fer me and me neighbour – noticing how she had artistically decorated hers with maggots inside and out. I thought the bin men… sorry, I should have said Council Waste Management and Disposal Technician, would refuse to empty it – but no, he did? Nothing to do with her being a suntanned, nubile young thing that looks like a model and know it you think?

Set to work on me blogging and emails.

Gorra wash shave and brush-up, and had a walk into town. Then a hobble around town. Took some photo’s: One of a van driving down the pavement with his hazard lights on delivering?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACaught the bus home, and read a letter that I got from Age Concern- very nice detail about their ‘Age Concern Funeral Plan’ that I took out with em.

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Naughty driver…

Promised a 28 day money back guarantee! Lot o’ good that’ll do me when I’ve croaked… unless they bury me alive and I get out of the grave and claim me money back! Hehehe!

When I got back to the house, it pored with rain, I observed a  gang of six yobs in the opposite gateway across from me house. Four bigguns and two little uns. The rain stopped after a few minutes, but so did they. Kicking footballs and threatening passing drivers for nearly an hour.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI kept out of the way, cause they might have been the ones that mugged me last year, and now I’m in fear.

After they had gone, I updated this tosh, with the photo on the left, not a good one, but it proves they were there.

Made up some black bags of unwanted stuff for Sister Jane and Brother-in-law Pete, who will kindly sort it out for me. Phoned PEte, told him what was happening, and that the bags were ready at his convenience.

Oh ‘eck… I’ve missed me evening medications with all this hassle. Never mind, only an hour late, should be okay.

TTFN all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inchcock Today – Thursday 31st July 2014

Awoke around 0500hrs, and greeted another wonderful day of excitement, jubilation, hopes, dreams, adventure, hysteria, passion and happiness.

Or, if you want the real truth, depression, accidents, frustration, discomfiture, vexation, pain, chagrin, nervousness, fear, loneliness, faux pas and decay. But I wont mention them.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Me hole…

Gorrup and entangled wiv me blog posting graphics and creations.

When I went out to take some stuff to the bins, I noticed the Virgin Media hole in the pavement was gerrin bigger… oh dear!

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The cunning step that moves?

Then after feedin’ the birds, on my return to the hovel, I managed to trip ‘Up’ the step to the door. I now have a very pretty scrape down me right shin, and a bruised chin. Oh, that rhymed. Tsk!

Put some cream on me wounds, and while doing so, the tube burst!

Still, it didn’t bleed much, which means me Warfarin level might be a bit low… or is that high? Never mind.

While bending to clean up the antiseptic cream wot I squirted on the floor, Arthur Itis made an appearance in me knees. (Huh, and it had been so good up until then today)

Knees too painful fer meto pick up the seeds wot I split when ups-a-daisying up the door-step wot I swear moved on its own.

Received an email from me mate in America, Andy, with a funny in it that I thought deserved graphicalisating ( I know, no such word, but I like it) a bit:

04 01

I wonder who the modelled for the original artist/photographer?

Went off to town to see if HMV had got DVD I ordered in yet. “The Big Job” Made around 1959 I think, can’t find a date on the box. Comedy with Sid James, Sylvia Syms, Dick Emery, Jim Dale and other old comedy actors. Looking forward to watching it later on next week. after a long walk around Victoria Centre looking for the store that had relocated, I found someone official and asked him where it had moved to, naturally had moved to the only part I’d not walked through looking, at the far end of here I stopped and asked the bloke.

Feet humming a bit now, despite this I had a walk around town with the intention of taking some photo’s for putting on here. I remembered to take the camera, but early this morning when I was taking some off of it to put on here, I left the flippin’ thing on and it went flat… oh what a superior nit-wit I am.

Termination of compilation of the days activities at 1610hrs. Will commence tomorrows Inchy Today from that time, providing I remember to, the BT connection does not fail again, and the old laptop doesn’t die a sad death of course.

Made a cuppa and finished this off. TTFN all… 

Part 19: A Nottingham Lad’s True Tales of Woe

The Dart team’s out of season trip to Southport

W19 03 house

The Digs, as they are today

There was 15 of us, all looking forward hopefully to sampling the Lancashire ales and lassies, as we climbed into the battered old AEC Regal coach – and set out for the ‘Gladstone Pub’ Darts Team Annual Outing – this year, a weekend stay at Southport.

As seemed traditional, we got lost on the way there, and our ETA of 1800hrs, was actually 2100hrs at the hotel on the seafront road.

The place was deserted, not a single person in sight, apart from our motley crew, as we exited the warmth of the bus, out into the, oh so cold wind blowing in from the sea, and we each grabbed our luggage and ran into the hotel foyer.

We were dispersed in three bedrooms, five beds in each, and were soon washed, changed, and back down to meet the others in the foyer, ready and eager for the quenching of our need for ale, as we hurriedly (it was getting late, and the pubs there closed at eleven) walked into the centre of the city, to find a pub to sample.

After my fifth pint, I think our group were playing dominoes, or trying to, things get a bit fuzzy memory-wise, and the next clear but painful recollection was of the next morning.

I awoke, and was gripped by a panic; I could not open my eyes! As I moved to find the edge of the bed, I hit my head on something solid – now I was really confused… then one of the lads said (over the cheering of the other lads) “Hang on, hang on, Christ I’m sorry Inchy, I thought it was a tube of shaving lather…”?)

It seemed that I had opened the door of the wardrobe, and got my head down with my feet sticking out the night before, and one of the lads thought it would be an amusing prank, if he covered my face in shaving lather, but in his inebriated state, he thought the tube of my toothpaste was Palmolive shaving cream, and he covered my face in it, thus I could not open my eyes this morning when it had dried like concrete!

They were now concerned for my predicament, despite their hangovers, and took me into the bathroom, and dipped my head in and out of some hot water, until the toothpaste was soft enough to be picked off in lumps, much to their amusement. They managed to take off a third of my moustache at the same time!

W19 03 house

Nipper, as we named him

We all decided it would be a good idea, to go for a bracing walk along the seafront road to help clear our heads, and so in a short while there we were, fifteen of ambling along the centre of the road, shuddering in the wind, with me bringing up the rear – when I noticed the lads in front split up to either side of the road, to reveal this little dog, belting though them, only to stop at me, and decided to have a chew of my ankle, much to the merriment of the lads! I still cannot work out why this beast should run passed fourteen lads, and twenty-eight ankles, to get to mine for his breakfast?

W19 02 bus

AEC Regal

That being the last night there, we set out to enjoy the amenities on offer at the ale providing hostelries of Southport, not at that time concerned that we had foolishly arranged for the coach to pick us up at 0500hrs in the morning!

W19 05 simulat

The Concorde flight simulator

We then entered an amusement complex; There was a massive new machine, that for 2/6d (12.5p), one could test ones skills at trying to land Concorde. There was if I remember right, controls for speed, left right, up, down, braking etc. And a crude map of London to guide you in. A read-out was produced after the game was over, with estimated damage caused in cost and casualties.

A few of the lads had a go, and really made a mess off it, nearly all of them crashing on the landing. This caused the usual gambling instinct among them to come to the fore, and about eight of us put 10/- in the kitty, to go to the lad who had the least number of casualties, we assumed none of us would actually get to land the thing! (And we were right)

I went last, feeling sure I could do no worse than the others had, they produced end figures like, Cost: £1m Casualties: Deaths 75 Injuries 102.

The map, I thought was the secret, I had to use it to guide myself near enough to any airport, (the scenario chosen for me by the machine, was that the plane had to land within so many minutes of the game starting)

I espied a ‘Greenwich sign location early in the game, and tried, even when it was taken off the map, to keep an eye out for it at all times.

As the plane descended, there at the bottom corner of the screen I could see the word Greenwich again, and moved hastily in its direction, turned, and made what I thought was a spot on landing on it!

It turned out to be Greenwich Power Station! (They tell me that even if it was the airport, the landing strips were too short for the plane to land on anyway)

So, with a read-out of Cost: £150 billion (The machine could not record anything higher) Casualties: Deaths 500,000 Injuries 901,808, I did not win the bet.

Afterwards we split into little groups, and again I lose many facts of what occurred after that, again until the morning.

With much effort and pain, we slowly got ourselves up, after the coach driver had been allowed to come up to our rooms to offer us verbal and physical encouragement for us to get up!

W19 04 ER

ER Statue: Assaulted

As we assembled a sorry looking bunch indeed, it came to light that we were short of two bodies… Clive, and Frank. It later transpired that Clive was in local nick, and Frank was in hospital with something broken, after he’d apparently in his intoxicated revelry thought it a good idea to nick a ladder and decorate Queen Victoria’s statue, with a beer filled condom, and a bottle of Mackeson. His leg was broken in two places as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. The fool!

All I had was a part-missing moustache, a bloodied ankle, and a massive headache. So compared to some of the lads, I’d done well.

That was until it came to alighting from the coach, as I missed my footing on the steps, and joined Frank with a broken leg.

Hey-ho, young and impulsive I was… nowadays I’m just old and repulsive!

Inchy Today – Wed 30th July 2014

03 01

I decided, as I haven’t been insulted or sneered at for a while, I’d call in where these antisocial facets would be guaranteed – the local Lidl.

I  was in decent form to start with, checked I’d got me shoes and not slippers on, me spectacles on, me hearing aids in, me hat on, me dressings on me ‘Inch’ were secure, I’d got some money wimmie, I locked the door behind me, and checked to see if any local yobs were about before I left the flea-pit.

03 02I hobbled down to the shop, having to take a longer route because the police had blocked off a road due to an RTC (Road Traffic Collision), just behind the New Inn where that bloke got stabbed last Wednesday.

03 03I got onto Mansfield Road, and entered the shop. No baskets again, had to fetch one from the till area, as did other customers.

But I was in a fair mood, so said nothing, and carried on with shopping for me bits.

At the greengrocer stand, I looked at the tomatoes on offer. There was on lot of decent looking tomatoes, but there was no country of origin on them.

I ought to remind you wonderful, enigmatic, attractive readers that; I worked on the food retail business for years, and I thought they might have they disposed with the ruling that the country of origin must clearly be stated on all products nowadays?

There was this young shop assistant, nearly moving to, but I caught up with him while he stopped to chat up a bimbo while she was shopping, and asked him; (Nicely like!) “Excuse me, can you tell me where the tomatoes next to the end come from, as I thought it was a legal requirement to put the country of origin on all produce?” The reply; “Huh?” – I said never mind and carried on.

03 04When I got to the fridges at the back of the store, I observed I was being observed by the security guard.

I couldn’t find the Krakowska meat that I like, and after only ten minutes searching for one, I found a member of staff to ask if they had any in stock. Before I’d got to mentioning the product I was after, she’s said; “If there is none there, we havva gotta any!” and was off like, just like Clivey Boy when he is with 500 yards of a boozer and his nose picks the scent of the ale, fast!

I got to the checkout, joined the queue and the till lady said; “Owston klaird funk poonds ten?” I thought she was going to give me a Hitler salute, but no. So after checking with the reading on the cash register, I gave her a fiver to pay the four pound ten bill. And got ten 1p pieces in the change!

I exited the premises, again telling myself not to go there again (Lidl), and the security guard followed me out. So I turned and walked towards him, and he went back in the shop?!?!

Now I was not in a good mood.

Limped home, opening the door, I saw laying there on the carpet, a letter from the City Homes people.

My heart leapt with joy… Have they got a home for me to go to… No! – It just told me I had been downgraded in the waiting list to classification Five, the bottom one.

Now usually, I would have sworn and cursed a bit at this, but as I lifted the nosh tray off the bin to throw the letter in, I dropped the tray with all the stuff on it…

So I cursed and swore a bit at that instead!

03 05 OsbI’ve just read that George Osborne shops at Lidl? In this photo off the web, he isn’t shopping; he’s filling up the cob basket… and without his disposable gloves on too!

Suppose he’s got shares in them.

Now I’ve really pissed missen off!

Life eh?

TTFN all.

Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda – Part 1

My Beloved Grizelda

01 cupid

Part 1  The Beginning

It all started, when a work colleague, Horace, invited me to a wedding anniversary meal at his home in Wilford, Nottingham many years ago.

His wife Susan, had also invited her German pen friend, Grizelda Freudenberger from Saarland.

I arrived at his cottage early and soon found myself being accepted within the family, despite my horrendous features and appearance (Just finished work).

Susan asked if I could go and pick up Grizelda at the Nottingham train station in a couple of hours, and I willingly said yes.

An hour or so later, we heard a taxi pull up outside, it was Grizelda, who had arrived early at the station, and caught the cab to the cottage.

Susan and I trotted up the garden path to the taxi. I watched as Grizelda climbed out of the taxi and it rose creakingly by a good three inches higher from the ground. She was a big girl.

Giselda was about 5’11” tall, around 15 stone (solid with it), a lovely dark head of hair (I later found out she had some in other places too!) Gorgeous wide hips, tree trunk legs that I instantly wanted to wrap myself around for a month or two.

Susan and Grizelda were talking excitedly in German, as the taxi driver was struggling to get the luggage out of the boot, I was just about to help him, when Grizelda strolled over and lifted the cases single handedly out of the boot, and placed them on the drive-way, returning to Susan, she cast me a quick glance up and down, and smiled at me!

My inside’s wobbled, and my extremities were girded into action, as I realised this was love at first sight! I had never known such an instant frenzy in my undies before. It actually hurt me.

It was also lust, aphrodisia, and instant arousal, passion, desire, a painful hunger… an itch that just had to be satisfied or suicide would have to be considered.

Such previously unknown to me emotions frenziedly tore away at my innards… and although they confused me somewhat, it felt good!

Horace came out to help carry the luggage in, I took a case, and Horace another, Grizelda, biceps bulging out from her short sleeved pink blouse, carried the other two big ones up the path, and we entered the house.

I sat myself down, and watched as they introduced the kids, and talked and talked about each other so merrily and happily together, as I sat cross legged.

I must admit I concentrated on the shape, words, (I knew a bit of German) actions, and innuendos of Grizelda really – and was sure she kept giving me a sly glance, again looking me up and down, and a discrete smile coming from the scar near her top lip.

Understandably with all the talking, on their first face-to-face meeting, by the time we were ready to eat, the meal was burnt a little, and Horace suggested they go and fetch a take-away instead.

We all agreed, and Grizelda said she would sort out her things in the bedroom she was to use, so Horace and Susan could fetch the food, and she would be ready, refreshed and changed by the time they got back with it.

Grizelda’s next words, were heaven for me to hear, and I knew something was in the air, perhaps romance (And I hoped rampant sex) wise.

“Perhaps Gerry could help me with my luggage and t’ings while you two go for food… yes?”

They took the kids and went off to fetch the food.

I stood facing Grizelda, my nose touching her hairy breasts, and we smiled at each other – no words seemed necessary or needed, and were not used initially.

We almost ran into the bedroom, threw the things out of her suitcases into the cupboards and drawers, and got into the shower together – (and she did not mention the microscopic size of my appendage once all the time I was with her, how sensitive she was!)

We fiddled, fumbled, sucked, and caressed in the falling water, as passion grew between us, she carried me to the bed and threw me on it.

The following explorations of each others foibles, desires, and needs was soon over, and the, fervent activity of intimate copulate followed, as she placed me between her tremendously desirous, muscular and hirsute legs.

It was intense, consuming, poignant and hot-blooded in the extreme. (Although I had to be careful not to catch the boils on her neck during the activities.)

She carried me back to the shower, and who would have thought that washing each other could have been so pleasurable, interesting, and entertaining. She taught me a lot that first day, bless her.

As we were getting dressed after our pulsating pleasures, we realised that Susan and Horace were expected back – we went into the living room and found them there, having eaten their take-away, sat besides our now cold take-away fodder on the table.

They had arrived back and saw our activities taking place in the bedroom, and had quietly returned to the living room, so as not to disturb us – what understanding and kind friends they were.

As I left that night, I arranged to pick Grizelda up on the Tuesday, and with the greatest of expectations and bodily excitement, take her home with me to my flat!

She smiled and gently squeezed my meat-and-two-veg as we departed.

I suffered the pain quiet gladly.

She put me down, and off I went, full of yearning for our next meeting!

As I walked along, full of satisfaction, and realising this was the best time of my life, pondering deeply about the good fortune and sex I’d just enjoyed – I realised I’d gone to the cottage in the car – so went back to collect it.

That woman had certainly got to me in a big way – thank heavens!

Keep an eye out for Part Two of Inchcock’s Beloved Grizelda, as soon as I get over the emotional turmoil and long defunct feeling my body is telling me it needs… Hehehe!

Inchcock’s (Unanswered) Letter to David William Donald Cameron

L2Cam 01

Dear excuse for a human being,

I understand that you are of a superior class, intellect and magnificence, with an ostentatious streak that must be the envy of many a politician throughout the world.

I also appreciate that your rise to become the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom – without a majority vote, First Lord of the Treasury, Minister for the Civil Service and Leader of the Conservative Party, representing Witney as its Member of Parliament, has been gained through your troubled upbringing by your millionaire stockbroker father Ian Donald Cameron, your mater Mary Fleur-Cameron, second daughter of Sir William Mount, 2nd Baronet, and your Nanny who tenderly cared for you.

I also appreciate that your early childhood was one of nannies, matrons and tennis courts

In further acknowledgement of your standing worth and praiseworthiness, you are a great-great-great-great-great grandson of King William IV and his mistress Dorothea Jordan. This illegitimate line consists of five generations of women on your father’s maternal side starting with Elizabeth Hay, Countess of Erroll née FitzClarence, William and Jordan’s sixth child, your father’s maternal grandmother, Stephanie Levita, daughter of Sir Alfred Cooper and Lady Agnes Duff (sister of Alexander Duff, 1st Duke of Fife) and was a sister of Duff Cooper, 1st Viscount Norwich, GCMG, DSO, PC, a Liberal democrat statesman and author.

Your paternal grandmother, Enid Levita, who married secondly in 1961 a younger son of 1st Baron Manton was the niece of Sir Cecil Levita, KCVO CBE, Chairman of London County Council in 1928. Through the Mantons, Cameron also has kinship with Alexander Fermor-Hesketh, 3rd Baron Hesketh, KBE, PC, and Conservative Chief Whip in the House of Lords-93.

Your maternal grandfather was Sir William Mount, 2nd Baronet, an army officer and the High Sheriff of Berkshire, and your maternal great-grandfather was Sir William Mount, 1st Baronet, CBE, Labour MP for Newbury 1918-1922. Lady Ida Matilde Alice Fielding, Your great-great grandmother, was the daughter of William Feilding, 7th Earl of Denbigh, GCH, PC, a courtier and Gentleman of the Bedchamber.

You are also a great great-nephew of Admiral Sir James Hanway Plumridge KCB MP (c. 1788 – 29 November 1863) who was a British naval officer whose career extended from Trafalgar to the Crimean War, and a Liberal Party Member of Parliament.

Your forebears have a long history in finance, which in turn should naturally make you wise and learned in such matters. (Hehehe!… sorry)

Your father Ian was senior partner of the stockbrokers Panmure Gordon, in which firm partnerships had long been held by Cameron’s ancestors, including your grandfather and great-grandfather.

Your great-great grandfather Emil Levita, a German-Jewish financier who obtained British citizenship in 1871, was the director of the Chartered Bank of India, Australia and China which became Standard Chartered Bank in 1969. (No surprise then that you are involved in banking yourself and letting them get away with murder is it?)

Your wife’s great-great grandmother was a descendant of the wealthy Danish Jewish Rée family, whose ancestors originated from Altona, Hamburg, Germany and Głogów, Poland. (Another reason perhaps that you fail to get to grips with the mass immigration?) One of Emile’s sons, Arthur Francis Levita (d.1910) (brother of Sir Cecil Levita), of Panmure Gordon stockbrokers, together with great-great-grandfather Sir Ewen Cameron, London head of the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank, played key roles in arranging loans supplied by the Rothschilds to the Japanese central banker (later Prime Minister) Takahashi Korekiyo for the financing of the Japanese Government in the Russo-Japanese war. (No surprise then that you are involved in banking yourself and letting them get away with murder is it?)

Another great-grandfather, Ewen Allan Cameron, was senior partner of Panmure Gordon stockbrokers and served on the Council for Foreign Bondholders, and the Committee for Chinese Bondholders (set up by the then-Governor of the Bank of England Montagu Norman in November 1935).

Add to this wonderful history, your own contributions to the country and your excellent missing leadership qualities, no doubt gained in your years being pampered by nanny, and your upper class prancing about learning to be superior at Eton, and it becomes plain for all to see, that you are probably the one man in the country to understand about Cornish pasties, bus-passes, turning off heating because one cannot afford to run it, being made redundant, sick patients who cannot afford private medical bills, being unemployed, and living in comparative poverty! Innit?

In the highly unlikely event that this letter should reach your eyes, I’ll add that the venom with which I hate you has no match!

Your unblinking ability to lie and fail on your promises also has no match, and would currently be of a superior quality, and more frequent than those of Herr Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Tony Blair! At least Blair was voted into office!

If (although highly unlikely in your case) you were wondering how you have managed to get your party through the last few years, the answer might be; A YouGov poll for the Sunday Times found that two-thirds of people think Miliband isn’t providing an effective opposition. And this is very true.

On a lighter note, you can’t live forever despite your inherited wealth and plutomania, your aloof presumptuousness, nihilism and superior conceit, you will croak out one day. I hope to be there to welcome you through the gates… without your privileges’.

I wish you a harrowing uncomfortable remainder of your life. And to those suffering through your monitory actions, I pray for.

 Yours

Juan Inchcock Chambers

Inchy Today – 29th July 2014

GCcapback2Today started off fair – then went pear-shaped and frustrating, then gained a bit of satisfaction.

Me pains were far less than yesterday’s were. No blood from me ablutions (apart from a bit when I cut missen shavin’ – Tsk!)

I spent ages and ages creating graphics for me Political post – then the computer crashed! Restarted. The internet went down. Shit, bother and… never mind, I lost it all. Grrr! Bloody BT!

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Inchy’s School Leaving testimonial 

I went out to the hospital, calling in the council offices on the way to beg if they could find me sheltered accommodation somewhere nearby to live in, and the nice chap made me an appointment to see another bloke this afternoon. Nice.

Then to the hospital, and got tended to quickly, booked in again for next week.

Then back to town, and caught the bus to ‘Bread and Lard island’ West Bridgford, to see me Sister Jane and brother-in-law Pete. He’s very nearly finished all his decorating now.

I had a dizzy walking from the bus and veered into some trees, opening me wounds on me mush. Double Tsk!

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Inchy’s Last school report

Enjoyed me cuppa and natter, then Pete came in with a locked box they had been keeping for me and opened it – guess what, me school leaving testimony from the head master, and me last year report was in it! He took a photo of em, and emailed to me at home. Interesting… or not seeing the low grades wot I got… apart from English where I came top… I say top… first! Yahoo!

Caught bus back home, called in Tesco and Chinese shop to try and get some cheese seaweed, but none available. Treble Tsk!

Got back to the flea-pit, and worked on some posts for a bit, scared the laptop would fail me again.

Jane rang later to see how I was, and that was appreciated.

Ah well, as my Dad used to say: “It’s an ill wind that fails to find too many cooks on a Wednesday afternoon!”

TTFN all.

Inchy