With an old girlfriend, Ivy, we were necking in a twin-kayak,
In the University grounds pond, and Ivy gave me a whack!
Being a Gentleman, I didn’t hit her back,
I asked her, why the heck did you attack?
Did you put this in my pocket? (It was a stickleback),
I said, let’s heat it up and have a snack?
Ivy shouted, ‘No, put it back!’
This spaceship came down, as I was tickling a pollack,
Next moment I was in a prison cell? Oh, Gack!
To reality, I could not get back,
Befriended a rat, I called him Mack,
No one about, no food, what’s the crack?
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
A voice from nowhere, “Do not get exacerbated!”
You will be investigated and accommodated,
We mean no harm, but stupidity must be eradicated.
With that, my brain was confuscated!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Back to the cell and Mack, for a little while,
I was not sad, but I’d forgotten how to smile!
An alien brought me a cup of tea, camomile,
One said in perfect English, “You seem very vibratile?”
I thought to myself, does he mean versatile?
He called me names, and got very scurrile,
He walloped me and threw me on the shagpile,
The other said I was infantile and unfertile…
We’ll do an autopsy on you in a while!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“He’s got damage in here that’s been repaired?”
“His vision and hearing are impaired…”
“Yet, he doesn’t seem in the slightest bit scared?”
“Scarred, yes. Just grabbed his todger, and he’s not angered?”
“His brain functions, and thoughts seem so scattered?”
“See the stomach? It seems blocked and matted?”
“He lies there as if it, nothing mattered?”
“Well, I’m really bewildered…”
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Best take him back, put him in the vestibule…
“Gawd!” “Just look at his minuscule mating tool”!
“His brain tells me he’s missed a lot of school…”
“I wouldn’t bother mate”, I screamed, “it’s a dream, you fool!
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Part Of Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series
Having made his escape bid plans again. 
He waited patiently, for the next bus, but this proved something of a benefit for the old git. Not many folks about, but he still managed to corner one poor chap, and hastened to bore him to death verbally! 
And Inchcock, being instantly bored himself now, went into one his Sherlock Holmesian modes. Someone 
He caught the bus and got out his crossword puzzles, but the driver, obviously a stock-car racing fan, nearly had Inchy out if his seat a few times en route to Nottingham City centre. Trying to hold onto his three wheeler, took some effort. 
The old chap went itn the Pondland shop on Lower Parliament Street, and despite his painful and feet, enjoyed his hobble around the store, coming out with many items he didn’t need or want, Tsk!
He got to the checkout, and got himself in a right pickle and state of embarrassment at the self-serve checkout! The lady monitoring the tills, was greatly unimpressed with his continual dropping of things and farting about trying to retrieve them.
But did not offer to help, although she shared some sneerings, of hate, derision, scornfulness and causticness with him. He came out redfaced and £20 lighter. And took these three shots of the Milton Street junction.
Where he went into the Bargain Shop. A terrible experience! No one talking, empty shelves etc. But, he still spent over £21, mostly on Christmas treats for his family of friend in Woodthorpe Court.
He was struggling now, the three-wheeler trolley-bag full, and three carrier bags hanging on the handles, would make progress awkward for him. At least he remembered to but sone of the dar clothing cleaner. He set off on a limp towards the Slab Square.
, as he turned onto Upper Parliament Street, the old fart of a fool unthinkingly took the spectacles off to clean them. 
He crossed over the road, and down King Street. Near the bus stops, a chap dressed like the Beatles used to, with plaited hair hanging below his shoulders, stopped him and asked for ‘a couple of quid for a coffee’. As he eyed up the bags!
Inchy just said, ‘No!’ and carried in hobbling down the hill, turning to keep an aye on the youth as he did, to make sure he wasn’t following. Getting to the Slab Square, Inchy gor out his camera for a snapping away session.
He saw the little crowd and paparazzi outside the Council House steps, he went back into Sherlock Holmesian mode, and took a close up[ phot of whoever was on the steps. This person came by. Inchy got a decent shot of his/her head. 
Inch repositioned himelf a bit closer, and waited for the right moment to get a view of what was going on. Nice zoomed-in photo for once. Asssumed to be the Sheriffess or Mayoress of Nottingham? Again, not single Policeman in sight today.
The tatterdemalion, dour, malagrugrous, weary, tellurian, dangerous populace of Nottingham, were showing a bit of itnerest, at least. Not many of them had face-masks on, but it isn’t law yet to wear them outsdoors yet, methinks.
The lad poddled his way wit hdifficulty up Queen Street to get to his bus stop, and caught a number 40 back home, to his never-restfull, beloved, always something to worry about, four years being upgraded and not finished yet, Winwood Heights. 
He was the only passenger when the bus moved off from the terminus. P
The first passenger to get on the bus, was Face-Maskless. 
As the chin-mask wearing man got up tp get off, he gave Inchy a cautionary scowl, that was a bit threatening. 
This is St. Anns Valley Centre, 2 Livingstone Road, Nottingham NG3 3GG. 
The record, as Inchy explains:
He arrived back at his Woodthorpe Court, along with the mysterious wonders of, the Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations and Kehuas. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Wairuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum. Usually, without rupture or displacement within the building. To cause havoc, fear and frustration, as they dislodge time itself, in their aspirations and skulduggery, to complete their given by Satan mission; ‘To annoy and scare the bejesus out of, and the pants off of the old energumenist, Inchcock’.
He bought three things, none of them needed,
He hobbled along Milton Street then,
Sadly, he made his way to the end,
A photo of Pelham Street he did take,
Then one a shot backwards up Clinton he did make,
Long Row, too, where he took some more,
Off towards his bus stop in the Slab Square,
The rain came down, he took shelter from it, 
En route, Slab Square was photographed, 
He sheltered from the sudden rain, 
He got in his flat, 
03:35hrs: I stirred late in the day for me. But late getting to kip, but I got almost five hours sleep in! So, that was nice! 
I got the bucket, and it’s not easy carrying it while using Metal Mickey (four-pronged-walking stick), to the wet room and cleaned and sanitised the tub. I had a Wobbling-Willie-turn, but no injuries this time. The right hand assumed a Mr Spock salute afterwards. Hahaha!
I used the stick thermometer and was pleased to see that it was almost the same as yesterday, at 34.6°c. Slightly higher than it has been, but it is nearer to the recommended temperature for an old going senile, chap wot-like-I-am. Haha! 
The BP sphygmomanometer gave forth satisfactory readings for the first time in months! Sys was well down. But, I anticipate things will go back up again tomorrow. Ah, well!
I had to make an imitation dash back to the wet room, in response to the sudden tummy ache. And rumblings from within the innards! 
Things started as they have been like for several days now. I got down on the raised plastic seat, and the evacuation started at its own pace and then stopped part-way. Out came the crossword book, I winced and grimaced with the pain, and waited for yonks for the action to restart. (Actually, I had one of my most successful Throne-Crosswording sessions-ever) Smug-Mode-Class-3-Adopted! When things reactivated, it was a case of ‘Ooh, argh, 
yikes’—Khaki-coloured, difficult, foul-smelling, and so messy. But no bleeding from either Phuvana Furuncle, or Harold’s Haemorrhoids. Smug-Mode-Upgraded to Class 2! 
rew of Glengettie tea and got onto the computer. As I sat on the swivel chair, PAP (Psoriatic Arthritis Paul), presented me with some sharp, persistent pains. However, only in the right knee? With the odd failings on Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters, the occasional SSS shakes, and the knee, it was not an easy job updating the Wednesday blog. Especially with many trips to the wet room for the SWAT (Sprinkly-Weak-Apricot-Tinged) configurated wee-wees. 
But, with my being a super-fit, robust, educated, and full of vim and enthusiastic young person, I stuck at the task. Ahem! Got it finished and posted off to WordPress. Sent the Email links, went on Pinterest, WP reader, and finally on to Facebooking.
Went to get the ablutions sorted out. A stand-up Job, cause the window cleaner might be calling early later-on, don’t want to miss him. It was yet another, unexpectedly, grand, Fantastic-Ablutionalisationing-Session! Toothache Terence a little annoyed, just the one dropsy. No, I say NO, dropsies doing the shaving! Fantastic!
The sky suddenly went all dark, so much so, I got the camera and took a shot of it through the balcony windows from the computer swivel chair. 
Half an hour later, Deana arrived. She helped me out a lot today. After investigating the message on the phone for me, she found it was for Fire Alarm testing? Which has been done a fortnight ago, then by the firemen who attended the false alarm the following week? She explained that I had a medical appointment on Saturday morning. They rearranged the test for Wednesday 16th, twixt 0800>1300hrs.
I got some fresh peas podded, and cooking in the saucepan. Then checked the slow-cooker potatoes. 
Got the medications taken, and served up the nosh. As part of my abysmal efforts at dieting, I had another fish fodder food dinner. Bootiful! 
