Inchcock: CURRENTLY UP FOR ADOPTION

Would You Adopt Someone Who Listens To Music by Ivor Novello?

A slightly sub-standard, bald, 75-year-old, born in a bordello,
A life-long Nottinghamian, with an IQ of barely above zero,
A recovering alcoholic, stroke and cardiac victim, and dipso,
A short chubby, well-bellied little thing has his own yo-yo,
Hoping that someone can show him how to use it, you know!
Inchcock has a thing for Marilyn Monroe, although…
His doing anything about this have long gone, thus his yo-yo!
He can cook, drop things, walk into them, oh, and he’s a Virgo!

He Falls over frequently, but with help, gets up, giving it another go,
In many ways, he plods on with his ailments; he’s a bit of a hero!
At least the last time we spoke at the hospital, he told me so,
He’ll tell you of when he climbed to the top of Kilimanjaro,
But in reality, it was a steep hill in Ludlow,
And, he drove up the mountain, in his Triumph Toledo!
Vascula Dementia confuses him; I think he still has some gusto…
For the ladies, but sadly, his desires have long been fallow,
But he does like a pot or slice of cake or a limoncello.

His momentary spells of reality sadden him; he feels low,
What’s happening to him in old age, he doesn’t want to know,
Back into his deep mental haze, he’s a semi-contented fellow,
Talk to him gently, and he’ll get the message, Roger-Wilko,
Owt you want him to do will usually follow,
Even if his words seem bewildering and hollow,
There will be times when he seems bright and tally-ho!
Don’t miss his medications whatever you do, though!

Ablutioning-wise, especially shaving, the blood will flow…
Neuropathy diagnosed, amazingly he can be a cheery bloke,
Occasionally, he thinks he’s Clint Eastwood or El Zorro,
His neuropathy has shaken his right side since the stroke,
He tries to stay calm and can start the day being mellow!

He still cooks, using black bean sauce and BBQ, even Tabasco,
Now he knows the firemen by name, Colin, Brian and Joe,
Please, don’t let him run-free in Aldi, Sainsbury’s or Tesco,
He’ll panic if he can’t find you and may freeze, ipso facto!
Please forgive any of his mishaps or unintended peccadillo.
If you do misplace him, just call the police or a medico.
But operating the TV remote control, he’s messy & ultraslow,
His confidence is getting low; of course, it will not regrow,
Like certain body parts that hang below…
At least he’s stopped wearing his bra and using eye shadow,
His new Protection Pants have saved many a fiasco!
He uses his picker-upper to retrieve things dropped below,
And is contented to on DVD, his 1960’s TV shows!

He’s harmless to anyone else, this I can guarantee,
Making others happy and smile is his forte,
He shows no signs of toxicity and has congeniality,
He can’t help forever going for a wee-wee…
And he would like someone to adopt him, desperately,
He realises this would not come for free…
But has a limited amount of money,
Which he doesn’t find very funny,
He is totally free of hate and is never sarkie!
So, if possible, can you help and make him your adoptee?
He makes a great mug of Glengettie tea!
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Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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I started my wondering, my holiday,
The windows let in the ice-like rain,
My most used and popular room of them all,
Then there’s the Sock-Glide in there,
I had planned to visit the ground floor, 

Offlymuch I went, I did,
Down Winchester Street,
More trouble on Hood Street,
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Started up the hills,
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,







His near-miss at being run into again by another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist, (he says) drew a slightly more forceful response.
He walked across to South Parade, where he took a shot of the side of the Council House. Not many folks there, so he turned back and took one of the Square. 
He hobbled down Arcade Walk. Amused at how the Nottinghamians were totally ignoring the signs written on the paving stone, to keep to the left.
St Peter’s Square; and the silence was overbearing.
He says he felt like a disaster was about to take place, as he avoided another of the many Nottinghamian Pavement Cyclists.
Back wearily up Exchange Walk, with his famously-reliable EQ, telling him that hassle of some sort was on the way
Another Pavement Cyclist came into view.
Then another one, too!
This one came close to hitting the old codge, he came from the rear. 
The old scrote carried on his way up to the bus stop, and a final Pavement Cyclist belted by him. He claims he was tired, pee’d off and Dizzy Dennis was visiting him again at this stage. There might be something in what he says cause he can’t remember the bus ride back to Winwood Court! 












