Inchcock: Currently Up For Adoption

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!

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

Inchcock’s Make ‘Em Laugh Series

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

Inchcock Gets Cosmetical & Medical Upgrade!

Billum from near Ohio said he could help me,
Said that he’d create medicines to make me feel pain-free!
And operate, to make me look less ugly & scary,
Of course, this could not be done for free,
There would be a discounted $150,000 fee!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The Consultation

Nothing to worry about at all, he told me,
It’ll be painful, but very luckily,
You’re used to agony and have tolerability,
You’ve paid now, so no revocability!
Owt goes wrong, and I reject any accountability!
It may take a while, so first, you must take a wee-wee,
Operating, I don’t want to get sprayed with pee,
HRH Lisa will be assisting me!

They gave me an Aspirin and a shot of Drambuie,
They started; I prayed there would be no Whoopsies…
Or that I’d come out looking like a chimpanzee,
I wasn’t worried, not to any degree,
I could soon be pain-free and good looking? Yipee!
As I drifted off, I could see HRH Lisa, looking at me,
They told me I came around the following Tuesday!
But no mirrors could I see?
Billum said you look fine, you should write a ditty,
And gave me a mug of Glengettie!
No time for chinwag or causerie,
“I must fly, another patient waiting to see me”,
With that, off he did flee!
I joined Lisa on the settee,
She was very kind to me,
Gave me a mirror, I saw the reality…
Still, yer don’t like to complain, do yer?

Stuck In The Lift Ode

LIFT WOOPSIEDANGLEPLOP

THINGS GOT WORSERER!

Made redundant, for another job I applied,
I’ve done Nationwide deliveries before, I lied,
Naughty of me, not at all justified!
I fancied getting out and about Nationwide,
Room on the 12th-floor, Which would be wise?
Up by the stairs? No, the lift I did decide,
Into the cage all alone, nervous, not petrified…

The elevator shuddered to a halt, was it alright?
The panel gave a beep-beep, and flashing red light,
An hour later, I was in a pickle and plight,
Interview time had passed, but last night…
I made some sarnies, tomato and Marmite,
Tucked into them, and pondered as I might,
On the missed opportunity for the job…
That made me want to sob.

For desperate for a wee-wee was I ever so!
Another hour before they rescued me, though,
I needed that wee-wee first; I had to go!
Found a toilet, boy did the urine flow!
Searched for DHP offices high & low,

Aha, gorrit, and in I did go, with agusto,
Then found I had another problemo…
‘You’ve come to the wrong place, don’t you know!’
Smethwick you want, east of here you must go,
She tried to ring them, they were incommunicado,
‘They’ve likely all gone home,’ leaving me in limbo!

Trying to look dignified, back to my Triumph Toledo,
To look at the map… but oh, no no no!
A security guard saw it driven out by a fellow,
I called him a useless so and so!
There was this man, me, a saddo fatso…
Crying and screaming like a soprano… although,

I got another interview for the job, you know…
I didn’t get the job, of course, which is no curio!

Memories of Woes

Inchie’s Lockdown Escape Advice (To four holiday locations in a day) Oh, Yes!

Can one cope with the lockdown, and still get vacationing done?

The piccies and odes below, show how Inchcock managed this fete, feet, feat!

I started my wondering, my holiday,

The junk room I was in, so I did stay,

Watched video, although no BluRay,

I viewed episodes, of Red Dwarf and Stingray,

Had nibble of yoghourt, strawberry,

By gum it was nice, to escape as they say!

My next vacation, to the kitchen, it was untidy,

Washed my socks and blue beret,

I was content, not uptight or snidey,

In fact, I was moving well, not torpidly,

I was relaxed, my mind working unhurriedly,

So I left the messy scullery,

Then went on a tour of the balcony!

The windows let in the ice-like rain,

Leaving me wet, cold and  unhappy again,

Although stubbing my toe was a pain,

But this trip out wasn’t mundane,

The bleeding left me with a bloodstain,

My slippers’ll have to be cleaned again,

But my sense of humour I did retain,

Porcelain Throne, needed, that I must not retain,

I hope it passes easily and is not a painful strain!

My most used and popular room of them all,

A place where I’ve had many a fall,

Accifaupas, Whoopsiedangleplops I have in there,

Well above my fair-share,

The wet room, always something to hurt, scare or enthral

Good stuff too, to be fair,

Sometimes on the Throne, I see passings in freefall,

Others, with blockages, nothing moves, at all,

Yes, the seat seems to get heavy wear,

At times in there, there’s little fresh air,

Bleach & disinfectant I do share,

It’s a losing battle, but do I care?

Sometimes, I think I must be bilingual,

Frustrated, my language can be, erm… individual,

Naughty words used, I do declare,

When the flush doesn’t work, despair!

No wonder I’ve got no hair!

Then there’s the Sock-Glide in there,

Gives me many a nightmare,

It nips, pinches finger-ends, traps your finger hair,

Blood flows using it’s unfair,

It drives me, nearly nuclear…

””””””””””””

I had planned to visit the ground floor,

But the situation down there was desperate for sure,

Trying to find a way out, I stubbed my toe,

Perhaps later, I’ll give it another go?

Still, I mustn’t complain, though!

Written on the spur of the moment, I apologise!

Inchcocks 6th Lockdown Escape – To the Pharmacy

Offlymuch I went, I did,
To fetch my Fenbid-40 & MacroBid,
And a tube of Fenbid,
Although it cost me my health and a few quid!

The road was blocked by traffic parked on the pavement,
But I didn’t relent,
A passing car missed me,
To the floor, I nearly went!
Down Winchester Street,
It was a brave feat,
The brakes don’t work…
I carried on, my mission to complete!
More trouble on Hood Street,
Blocked pavement again,
But I an not to be beat!
Went on the road again, such a pain!
Got on Mansfield Road near Rhodes,
But where were the folks?
No muggers, bikers or Schaghticokes,
I think I’ll buy some Artichokes!
I stopped to look down Hadyn Road for a while,
Little traffic, few people that made me smile,
I moved on after a while,
Realised I’d forgot to take my mobile!
Started up the hills,
To fetch my pills,
To cure my ills,
Up ahead, the cottages and vills!
Aha, a Pavement Cyclist was seen!
He scowled at me, he didn’t seem too keen,
On my putting him in my camera screen,
His face looked a little adamantean!
Over down the hill to Carrington,
A place of muggings, violent action,
Blimey, my poetry is terribly bad…
What’s your reaction?
Got near the Chemist shop, a little late,
The retailer shops looking in a bad state,
I wonder, what is their fate,
Bankruptcy, for you mate!
I entered the Chemist shop straight away,
No welcoming smile, did they display,
I wished I was far away,
I tried to look happy, appear to be gay,
My emotions were in disarray,
Got the tablets, and I was away!
I called at Lidle, to get some food, spend my brass,
Noticed, the yobboes had smashed the window glass,
Coronavirus, made the yobboes mad and crass?
Did someone think the glass, a canvas?
Was it done by some drunken dumbass?
Done by a gang of anti-maskers, out to kickass?
Good job the window was made of plexiglass!

I must apologise for the patheticness of this rhyme,

But writing it, I was unwell at the time,

Anne Gyna, stopped me feeling sublime,

My future as a poet is not worth a dime,

But I’ll try to get it better next time!

Inchcock’s Third Escape from the Lock-Down, to Nottingham. Photographically recorded!

Inchcock’s Third brave but stupid, Escape from the Lock-Down

We understand, that the Nottingham City Council Security, the Police, and the newly-formed Boy Scouts Woggle-Anti-Lock-Down-Escapers-Retrieval-Team are after him, again!

He arrived at Upper Parliament Street, where he spied and ogled some Nottinghamian ladies, on his way into the Poundland Store, had a Dizzy Dennis visit, and came out with more unwanted goods, such as Zoflora disinfectants, Carnation milk pots, Cooked beef misshapes, and 3×8 bags of his destroyers-to his diet, Frazzles!

He paid the lady, who helped him when he had his funny-turn and dropped his money on the floor, thanked her and made his way to the Bargain Shop on Milton Street. Observing a pair of fine legs-displaying young Nottinghamiam lady, crossing the road against the cross-walk lights. He forgave her we understand.

He patiently waited for some fine bottom-shaped, Nottinghamian Mothers to get there ankle-snappers locked securely in the pushchair, then entered the store. Hoping they would have some of the Pakistani made potato cakes, and lemon air-spray in stock. They didn’t. But the old fool felt so guilty at the thought of not buying anything, he bought a pack of four-mini oven trays, for £1.99, and left to walk through Trinity Square, up the incline, so as to take some pictures of Trinity Walk, but got yet another visit from Dizzy Dennis, and hobbled down to Upper Parliament Street.

The first of the Pavement Cyclist he saw on the short hobble, all-but ran into him. He claims to have called out, “You silly boy!” and waved at him.

Investigations are underway to find out what he actually shouted!

He limped down Queen Street to Nottingham’s Slab Square.

His near-miss at being run into again by another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist, (he says) drew a slightly more forceful response. The old grumpy claimed he said “Tsk! You rascal!”

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.

He told our reporter, that he wanted after over a year and a half, to go into the M&S Foodhall, to get some treats from there ready-made meal section for himself. Shame that. He could not gain entry with his walker to any door but one, all the others have stairs or step that needed tackling to get in. So, after a long painful hobble around he found the doorway, and for his bother, got walked into by two rather large ladies coming out. He could not tell what they said to him, but the words were accompanied by some well-used, superior class sneers and curled lips.

Then he had to walk for what seemed miles, to get to the lift down to the Food Hall. Luckily, there was no one wanting to use the lift, which pleased him, but felt odd, the place used to be very busy all of the day? When he got down, it was a very sad sight! The Coronavirus has had a shocking impact, for M&S. Fridges were curtained off and not in use at all! The usually well-stocked shelves looked bare, by comparison now. 

The fool paid £2 for a tiny bag of small potatoes, £1 for a mini tray of basic mushrooms, £2 for small-box of Frites, and £2.50 for four minuscule potato-rostis!

He got to the checkout and had another Dennis Dizzy visit, and Stuttering Stephanie hit him. He claims he was overcharged, but who knows, in the state he was in, owt could have happened.

The poor old senile nincompoop struggled to get up the lift and out of the one door he could use, and onto Lister Gate again.

Back wearily up Exchange Walk, with his famously-reliable EQ, telling him that hassle of some sort was on the way. Which didn’t take long to arrive!

He took a zoomed-in shot with his little Canon camera towards King Street, as a Pavement Cyclist zoomed by his, and he felt the draught the speeding idiot made!

Another Pavement Cyclist came into view.

Then another one, too!

This one came close to hitting the old codge, he came from the rear. Inchcok refused to tell me what actual words he shouted at this Pavement Cyclist.

This particular Pavement Cyclist gave our Nottinghamian pensioner a few looks!

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!

He says he didn’t see a single policeman all day!

The can recall getting off of the bus though, he cracked his ulcered ankle on the trolley-walkers right-hand back wheel!

This was written and potomagraphed, under great stress. Just thought I’d mention it!

Inchcock’s Doze, Prompted this Little Prose

Inchcock’s Doze, Prompted this Little Prose

Old Inchie fell asleep,

His nocturnal dreaming was so deep,

He managed as least, an hour of sleep,

He woke up, a quivering mental heap!

Here are the few bits, his memory managed to keep.

I was being pursued, by a mob, so violent and profligate,

Through corridors, offices all in an abandoned state,

They fired guns at me, I wondered what is my fate?

Then came across, a securely locked gate!

“Hello,” I thought, “You’ve had yer lot, mate!”

They caught me up, one with a tattoo on his forehead,

“Death to Inchcock, He must be bled”, it said,

Other’s followed on, I was surrounded,

But it was them, that became dumbfounded!

They removed their helmets, and put spectacles on,

One said: Ayup, he’s a right odd one!

I revealed and flashed my furuncles at them,

I squeezed the biggest boil, the pus you couldn’t stem!

 The purulence peppered into their faces,

Couldn’t have done a better job, if it was faeces,

They all ran off and were gone!

But the gang may come back, so to be sure,

I thought I’ll batter my way through this door,

I used my chin to batter my way through, why, I’m not sure,

But I remember, it was bloody sore!

I got outside, I was so elated,

Success? Surely this for me isn’t’ fated?

Victory for me? I was addlepated!

Out I climbed, and fell off of the roof!

Off to the hospital, to get medicated.

To the operating theatre, I was taken,

The anaesthetist smiled as he grabbed me by the neck,

As I saw the writing on his hat

And, I thought “Oh, flipping ‘eck!

And that was the end of that!


Inchcock was under the influence of liquid codeine, morphine sulfate, several pints of Strongbow cider, a swig of Dettol, and a bottle of Domestos lemon bleach.

But his suicide effort failed, so he wrote this ditty instead.

Hahaha!

Merci Mon Amis!

A Few Words of unadulterated hogwash

A Few Words of unadulterated hogwash

The Neurotransmitters, are nearly as dead as a mutt,

But other things were dwelling on my mind,

I can’t get the flaming fridge door to shut!

Cut me finger opening the window, no plasters can I find,

The toilet gurgles, and the hot water tap’s kaput,

I fell over on Friday, but the paramedic was kind,

The Bus Pass? No idea where it been safely put,

Little Inch’s Fungal Lesion bleeding’s unconfined

Hello! This time it’s a toe I’ve stubbed and cut!

I’ll have to go, cause I’m all behind,

But the belly is bigger, I’ll eat another chocolate nut!

Thrown together in a fit of frustration

at the election result!

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