Lament to the end of the Weevil War – or is it?

Lament in Ryme

To the End of the Weevil War – Or is it?

Willmott Dixon started to upgrade my minuscule flat,
New windows were installed, that started the waring combat,
EIBWBBBs (Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles) and a bat,
All came in and immigrated, hibernated, and that was that!
T’was eighteen months ago; and a long time is that,
They ate the food, and I was often bitten at!

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It cost me hundreds of pounds,
Bug killers and traps did abound,
My coughing was the loudest sound,
But the poisoning of my lungs was allowed,
No help came, although I protested very loud,
I got the blame, NCH responsibility they disavowed!

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I found the battle, very fascinating,
But no signs for months of their abating,
They found my apartment very accommodating,
And with the little Weevils, I started acquainting,
Although mixed in with some aberrating,
At least their bites had no sting!

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Spraying Rentokill three times a day became a realisation,
Their cunning skills at survival caught my appreciation,
The Rentokil put me more than them, into aestheticisation,
The numbers grew rapidly of their aggrupation,
If I was ever to win this war, this losing altercation,
I needed more help, stronger ammunition!

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My health suffered from this losing situation,
My battle plans were in need of analysation,
I planned to use bleach, and soda as acidification,
But they just swam in it, I was losing with ambiguation.

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Of victory, I had no hopes nor anticipation, furthermore…
The effects of the spray left me with a cough and snore!
My further pleas for help, others did ignore,
Until another flat got the Weevils, they got help from me for sure!
Slowly the Weevil numbers faded, not so many anymore…
But occasionally, they’d return, these nasty, Weevil detrivore,
Last week, they came onto the keyboard while I used CorelDraw!
But yesterday was the first day when I saw them no more!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Oh, sod-it! I just went to make a mug of tea and spotted this. Tsk!

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Oh, Woe is me!

Christmas Day Morning: Inchcock ‘Aching All Over’

I woke up this Christmas Day Morning:

To find that the only parts of my horrendously Billy Bunter like body, that didn’t Ache or Hurt, there the left index finger and the right side of my right elbow!

I found myself singing, Johnny Kidd & The Pirates song, as Aching All Over in place of their, Shaking all over. The idea came to get some humour out of feeling so poorly, and I set about making this graphic, putting my version of the song in the yellow letters.

Dec 25 2018

Christmas morning, and all I could do was create this bit of fun.

Sad, innit?

Hehehe!

Hope you have a laugh, and a jolly good holiday!

TTFN.

 

Inchcock’s Ode to his beloved EIBWBBBs!

Just a few thoughts and recollections about Inchies EIBWBBBs

(Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles)

Dec 24 2018

Having got acquainted with my beloved EIBWBBBs, who arrived when the new windows were being fitted in the apartment, I think I would miss them now if they were to move on to another flat. We’ve had many happy times together:

Oh, how they loved the new Spare Room Window, with its holes in the filler and plaster and the cracks to hide and play in!

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Of course, the new balcony being built brought them out in their hundreds, only to be slaughtered as their Guardian, Inchcock, spent hundreds of pounds of the last eight months of their sojourn in flat 72!

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Above and below, the EIBWBBBs favourite hideout, the Wet Room. With its holes in the wall where could escape into the kitchen to the walk-in cupboard, climb in the wash basin for a swim, on the curtains so they could play at dive-bombing Inchcock when he has a shower… best of all, they had the escape route down the drain on the floor!

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When the balcony door was installed, they had a wonderful time coming in through the cracks in the plaster and holes in the sealant.

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The Kitchen was popular with the little mites.

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Not Classified but interesting!

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Before arriving here, as inmate 72 at Woodthorpe Court, I’d never seen a Weevil before in real life.

I have now!

Hehehe!

Bless ’em!

Inchcock’s Thoughts of the Week – In abysmal imitation rhyme.

Despite, the old hero’s Diarhorrea Trotsky attack, his Accifauxpas, tumbles, toe-stubbings, Haemorrhoid Harold’s Return, his Bleeding Fungal lesion, visits from Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun and Shivering Sandra, his leaving the hot tap running again, and falling asleep in his computer chair (Him, mot the tap!), and his depressed state of mind: He is proud to present this week’s Thoughts in even more pathetic rhyme than last time!

Dec 23 2018

quip

 

 

 

 

Inchcock Today: Morning Thoughts: In a rhyme of sorts. Plus RIP to the Weevils. Hehe!

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I wondered what each streetlight and house light might be hiding?

Each morning light out there,
Someone in despair?
Someone washing their hair?
Alcoholics here and there?
Old chap asleep in his recliner chair?
Up there, a plane in the air?
A shoplifter in their lair?
Perhaps a millionaire heir?
A vicar with a prayer?
Someone eating a fresh cream eclair?
Someone hearing burglars downstairs?
Old folks playing solitaire?
Even someone happy somewhere?
Someone, to admit voting for Tony Blair?
Someone with their Cocaine, necessaire?
A street-sleeper, future billionaire?
Someone battling nasty spyware?
Someone short on their bus fare?
A cross-dresser in his lady’s wear?
Someone singing ♫Be my Teddybear♫?
A mugger waiting in a thoroughfare?
Terrorists, planning guerrilla warfare?
Someone trimming their armpit hair?
Politician, changing his nom de guerre?
A Christian, reciting the Lord’s Prayer?
Looking for a policeman, full of despair?
Some might be out, taking in the night air?
Some with a food cupboard that’s bare?
Stealing a car, phone or a Frigidaire?
Some in places, not wanting to be there?
Loyal, abstainers or having an affair?
So many bodies and minds in disrepair?
In Brexit, they find nothing fair-and-square!
Voters for Brexit, Oh yea!

Are we all going as mad as a March hare?

I thank you!

1Mon01

A few WHERIBWBBISA Official Photographs of Weevils attacking in flat 72 Woodthorpe Court over the last few months or so… You get to like ’em after about six months!

A few from November:

 

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A few from October:

 

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A few from September:

 

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A few from August:

 

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A few from July:

 

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A few from June:

 

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RIP

Inchcocks Thoughts & Views on this Sunday Morning: In sort of rhyme…

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Also written in the hopes of sum clever psycologikal doctor mite be able to help Inchcock in his fite for sanitty, edukasion and luv. FanK you.

The morning sky was coloured a soft dark blue hue!

Will someone want to speak to me today, but who?

I could do with a chinwag or gossip, one’s overdue!

What are other folks out there today, got to do?

Will they wake up all mixed-up and confused too?

Will I keep my sanity, bladder control, empathy and virtue?

Will today be peaceful, or full of blunders and hullabaloo?

Will I get to clean the wetroom, of Weevils and mildew!

Will I be able to think clearly today, or will I misconstrue?

Will I have Faux Pas, Whoopsidangleplops, make a Boo-boo?

Fall-over, dizzy-spells, fall asleep, bleed… I have a deja vu…

But I’ll stay cheerful, well, I’ll do my bestest to try too!

If fit enough, have a game of squash, bungee-jump or kung fu!

Phone Mrs May, or my Vow of Celibacy, I could renew?

In the above two lines, I’m afraid that I fibbed to you!

I hope anyone reading this, has a better day, I really do!

The £300 second-hand recliner, needs oiling, too!

My nocturnal-nibbles cut down on, nothing to suck-on or chew!

My fungal lesion’s swollen, tender, bleeding and gone blue!

Just another lonely Sunday for me to get through!

Ah, I know what I can do…

No, I don’t… Yes, I do, I’m going to…

I’ll sing a song… but that will upset the neighbours too!

Well, they already rightly think that I’m a little cuckoo!

But that’s a fair assessment and point of view!

Oh, dearie me, I’ll have to discontinue!

Must hobble-off now for yet another poo-poo!