I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

I’m Determined to destroy Depression!

2Tue08a

I decided, in a dream, I had yesternight,
Depression, I’ll resist, beat and outfight,
I must be strong, determined, not contrite,
I’ll be honest with myself, not like a Blairite,
My approach, will-power, must be definite!
I’ll have courage, like a brave medieval Knight,
And continue to show my vigour and fight,
Although my confidence may be finite,
This misery, I will surely try to expedite,
I must give this depression, no respite,
Ridding myself of this soul-destroying plight,
Who knows if I can, I just possibly might?
Then hopefully, I’ll get some sleep tonight,
And for supper, I can have some toasted Marmite!

Created during an aberrant spell of semi-confidence.

No Brexiteers were harmed during the production of this waffle!

Coronavirus Calypso

A spur of the moment, impulse, load of drivel, created, as Inchcock woke up. He asked me to pass on his apologies, as he was temporarily in Defcon 2 mode, mentally.

5Fri007c

Remember These? Of course, the hoarders will!

Coronavirus Calypso

Going into self-isolation,
As is most of the nation,
To get the toilet rolls in?
The chances? None to thin,
Coronavirus, payment for our sin?

Tellurians, you must not bump into,
Tatterdemalion or the well-to-do,
Urges to touch, you must subdue,
Cut your hair in a basin cut hair-do,
Having sex is still under review!
But pigeons can still bill and coo?

No food in the shops,
Bread, milk, you might find a few,
You’ll have to fight and argue,
Battle with the determined queue,
Then blood and insults will spew,
The language was very blue!

You might try home delivery for food,
To sustain you and your brood,
If you do try home delivery food!
To the delivery man, do not be rude,

Self-isolation; is wrong, some folk argue,
But I’ll not be involved over this, thank-you,
HMG responses seem so impromptu,
Certainly going to cost us revenue,

Self-isolation, so many folk rue,
A bit of good news is overdue,
Confusion over what we must do,
We mustn’t shake hands too!
Is mankind’s end really in view?

Stuck at home, what do we do?
Clean shelves and dust that statue,
Pen some extra veins to your tattoo,
No food in, so no chocolate to chew,
Can’t get out to buy, so no making stew,
Your plans and orientation, gone askew!

Sit, read a book, perhaps of Fu Manchu,
Back of the fridge, mouldy Danish blue?
You’re starving now, crumbs for tea, that’ll do!
Dig around the sofa, for crisp-crumbs residue!
The nurse’s visit cancelled too,
Mind froze, stagnated, what will ensue?

Where is the spirit of World War Two?
Is it the end, will you ever again hear a cuckoo?
Is it to be, that you’ll not see another cup of tea?
Farewell, to your beloved tasty Glengettie brew?
Your mind gets depressed, whatever can you do?
Finally, you get a plan made and worked through!

Escape! Find food, and hopefully, a toilet roll too!
Your plan to go shopping, sanctioned by the Tenant’s escape crew,
How to get out though, whatever can you do?
They don you with a wig, to hide your bald head from view,
You know you may not return, but offer your neighbours, a thank-you,
Creep out, staying in the shadows, your walking stick oiled too,
Arrive at the store, but what a sight greets you…

Header7

But it’s the future, your deja vu, hitherto!

Empty shelves, fighting, greed, at Sainsbury’s too!
Little fresh food, no toilet rolls, not even a tissue!
This is now a serious issue,
You give an Achoo – but ominously, nobody blesses you!

WDP 003a

Published in Support of the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society

Inchcock’s Wet Walk in Nottingham!

Inchcock’s Wet Walk in Nottingham!

Inchies wet wander to Nottingham City Centre,

The rain would not relenter!

He got soaked, cold, and this he does lamenter! (Oh, dear!)

5Fri10

I started with my viewing the floods on the park,

I went out to picture it and fell over a lump of bark,

The flood was big enough to float the Bismarck,

Time to catch my bus, the flats I did disembark!

5Fri12

I got roughed up getting off of my bus,

Cursed getting soaking wet, Oh, I’m a right wuss,

But I pressed on to the Poundland shop,

My first port of call stop,

In search of some pfeffernuss!

5Fri13.

For a Police car, that’s dodgy parking,

No blue lights were flashing?

No Ossifers were in sight,

Should I investigate, make sure all’s alright?

But I didn’t, there might have been a fight!

5Fri14.

Shopping all done, I came out of the Poundland shop,

T’was all dark, it reminded me of Betty Wainthrope,

Made my way to the Bargain Shop, for some codswallop!

5Fri15

It was still cold and rainy, though,

I found a nice thick big throw,

At £19.99, I bought it, so…

5Fri31

In guilt, I found myself basking,

At the price that they were asking,

My mind needed an MOT and debunking!

I paid and left… Sulking!

5Fri017

I hid under a bus stop,

And emptied the rain-filled trolley-top tray,

From my shoes, I tipped the water away,

Then to Trinity Square, I made my way.

5Fri018

T’was abandoned by the Nottinghamian folk,

Was it the cold and rain that kept them away?

No man nor woman in view, not even a beggar bloke!

If they had come, they’d have just got a good soak!

5Fri019

Same at the top end, the populace had gone astray,

Might keep the muggers away, I pray,

And the shoplifters, where were they?

What happened to the 45,500 students in Nottingham today?

5Fri20

Down to Parliament Street on my way,

No people in Frankie & Benny’s,

Spending their pennies,

The few folks around, don’t look too happy or gay!

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In Slab Square there were a few more Pavement Cyclists about,

Some, were delivering food, Mange Tout, or maybe fried trout?

A couple on Long Row were close enough to give me a clout,

But, I was too cold and soaked to give them a shout,

And, I’d got a runny snout!

5Fri21

To the bus stop, to go home again,

Arthur Itis giving me pain,

I think the rain had affected my brain,

For I was contented, why? I can’t explain?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

0001

Where hope would once prevail

This morose rubbish was penned by Inchcock when he was at his lowest.

Having just missed a second appointment at his Dentists!

It flowed from his now even-more depressed mind easily. Too easily.

But, the old fool still posted it. Bless the poor old twit!

GC33

Where hope would once prevail

Where hope would once prevail,

Now there’s not even a contrail,

I’m  not exactly hearty & hale,

My failings, oh, I so want to wail,

My hopes have begun to pale!

Overweight, I’ll never be a Chippendale,

I believe I was born to fail,

Will my fortunes improve, my good flail?

No, more chance of finding the Holy Grail!

My good luck, I store under a fingernail,

My Accifauxpas, ever-grow in scale,

As my body does, it looks like a whale!

Whoopsidangleplops arrive, like a gale,

Worries, fretting, now no sleep to avail,

Still, it’s given me time to write this sorry sad, tale!

If anyone want to buy it, it’s for sale!

Evenin’ all!

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

Gerald James Timothy Algernon Archibald Inchcock

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

Mentally and physically, getting help is hopeless,

 He gets uptight, but he’s completely harmless,

Depressed, untidy, ill and charmless,

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

Even his words don’t properly rhyme!

 

WDP 1Lda

Inchcock: Sadly searching for Sanity

Somewhere, in his tortured labyrinth of a brain,

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

The brain is active but rarely reliable or decisive,

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

 Some details it retains, and admires he does say,

Mostly about medications, Red Dwarf and Will Hay,

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

 

WDP 1L

 However, his efforts, hopes and plans are derisive,

 The mentality-seeking strategies are not conducive,

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

He redoubled his spiritual side, and started to pray,

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

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

 

WDP 1Lcb

He wrote to an Agony Aunt, that was digressive,

 He revealed all, and thought that was impressive!

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

But why did she throw herself under a lorry?

Inchy thought that was a touch impulsive and excessive!

Regaining logicality, will he ever find a way?

Or remain an idiot, until his dying day?

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

 

This blog was produced without a warning disclaimer.

No claims made for any educationalistical prowess of the author.

Donations and mental assistance will be gladly accepted.

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

Thank You

WDPT02L

A Whoopsiedangleplop Wet-Walk in Nottingham

01a

Amidst a Thought-Storm, an idea came,

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

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

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

But he knows he is to blame,

Still scribbled it, all the same!

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

0001

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

WDPT06R

Formulated by Inchcock, while he was medicationalising Little Inchies Fungal Lesion

5Fri02


Thought of the Day

2020 ttJan 11

Disclaimers:

No animal life was harmed in the production of these odes.

Allergies: They do contain a nut, & can cause laughter (Maybe)

These thoughts have been veganistically prepared.

The contents of this blog discourage suicidal tendencies.

Remainers & Leavers are encouraged to enjoy.

 

Random, waffling thoughts from Inchcock!

7Sun13

I think that should be Milliganesqueness?

7Sun14

No animal (Apart from Inchcock of course) were harmed in this production

This blog is lactose-free & suitable for vegetarians and vegans

No artificial colouring or flavourings were used

Inchcock is a semi-free-range production

Organically reclaimed wording used

7Sun15

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

1Mon05.jpg

A Little Chunter from Inchcock

In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

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

Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,

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

 Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,

Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,

Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,

While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,

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

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

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

Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!

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

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

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

Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Depression and self-hating I began to explore,

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

Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!

 

I fank You!

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

BNC01

They’re dangerous, uncouth and some are blind,

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

They often hit you, coming silently from behind,

Leaving your hand arm or elbow, feeling sore,

They test your sanity, patience and mind,

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

Belting along the pavements, they are a bind,

It’s no use if you beg and implore,

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

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

To roads and cycle paths they should be confined,

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

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

BNC02

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

Cause they are young, fit and violence-loving,

They offer scowls and are threatening to me,

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

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

Empathy, sympathy, and understanding they are avoiding,

Making this old fart, run and flee!

 Taking their photograph may get me a beating,

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

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

BNC03

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

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