Fri 14 Dec 2018
Inchcock’s Thoughts
Onward into the unknown!
A bit like life really. Hehehe!
Tag: Bit of Fun
Ageing can be a little Confusing – Inchcock’s Explanatory Ode
The pointlessness, confusion, mayhem, of morning thoughts, will no doubt affect the elderly. Even the alcoholic, chain-smoking, ones are at risk!
If perchance you can make any sense of these Inchcock Thursday morning ponderations wot he wrote this morning, then it is time for you to seek more help and support. Age Concern – PDSA or the snug in the Lions Arms?
Should you reach this stage, my personal advice would be to avoid thoughts of the National Health Service, Grenfell, the Government or Brexit!
Inchcock Today: Morning Thoughts: In a rhyme of sorts. Plus RIP to the Weevils. Hehe!
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!
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:
A few from October:
A few from September:
A few from August:
A few from July:
A few from June:
RIP
Inchcocks Thoughts & Views on this Sunday Morning: In sort of rhyme…
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!
Evening Skies, from Inchcock’s Kitchen Window – Part of the The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe series
Evening Skies, from Inchcock’s Kitchen Window
Views that started Inchcock’s brain rambling off, thinking, pondering over and worrying about everything. Frustrated that he can do nothing about anything nor even comprehend, understand or communicate with his own mind!
The sky tonight: It’s polymorphous really did impress me,
The dying sun, struggling through the darkness, expressly,
Should have inspired a song, probably from Elvis Presley,
Magnificence flowed, from apex to apogee,
The above line is wrong, I couldn’t find another word to rhyme, you see!
Ah, the joys of living up high up in the clouds, primarily,
Where I can feel abandoned, sometimes get a bit dizzy,
Seek happiness… but that’s another story,
Viewing this landscape installs much inner psychoactivity,
I had to break off a while, I’d had too much curry,
So off to the Porcelain Throne in a hurry.
As to the reason for the natures ostentatiousness, I’m not privy,
Why mankind’s existence? Finding out is no tantivy,
No point in searching, so close to my logging out of life’s activity,
I blame my failure, on my brains under-activity,
Also on my abundant impecunity,
My lack of faith and the absence of any divinity!
I’m aware my brain has an impaired cognitivity,
My physical condition deteriorated, no longer of its high-quality,
Ailments abound, and the midriff is a superabundant mass, too much quantity,
My life’s actions have had little bioactivity on others, that’s a sad pity,
Relationship-wise, there’s been a paucity!
Fellow workers seemed to be more successful, with greater superiority,
They had confidence; that bosses mistook for ability!
Too late for me now, as I approach my senility,
Now I’m classed as having a disability,
I mean apart from my natural stupidity!
Porcelain Throne evacuations, now show great fluidity,
This occurs now with a pungent consistency,
The monthly medications increasing, remind one of mortality,
The brain wakes in the morning with even more veracity,
Often with thoughts lacking in reality,
But I do my best to keep my humour and morality!
I try to keep my medical appointments with accuracy,
I do my bestest, to avoid any turpitude and degeneracy,
Keeping my perambulations regular and ambling, not sprightly,
Sometimes I forget to take my medicines nightly,
When I do miss them, I accept the pains, quite quietly,
For it was me who caused them by acting deficiently!
I wrote these words in a mood, benignantly,
I dream of helping others to have a laugh, but not confidently,
For I fear that humour’s now being received with severity,
Not with a smile, merriment, or joviality,
Still, the photographicalisations came out chromolithographic.
I blame folks worrying, over the UK’s Brexitaliticalisationing!
Inchcock’s Political Graphic Funnies – The latest ones on Brexit
Winwood Heights Upgrading Progress. Part Two – The truth! Humph!
Update on Nottingham City Homes Upgrade of Winchester & Woodthorpe Court Flats
After over a year of hard work, we Elderly Nottinghamians, are about get the new unwanted light and view-blocking Balconies finished off.
Today, I went out to get some medications, and on my return, I was faced with the regular challenge to get back to my beloved Woodthorpe Court Flats.
Thanks to them all, for keeping us from getting bored and keeping us healthy by our dodging the plant, lorries, and cars over the last months.
Mostly, for a lonely old soul like me; I appreciate the freeing of the Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles from the external walls. So they could invade my flat.
I’m growing to like them now. And the exercise I’m now getting in trying to kill and catch them has done my Hippy Hilda, Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna and Dizzy Dennis no end of good.
Just thought I’d mention it.
Woodthorpe Alcatraz Pensioner: Now up for Adoption!
Would you like to help this 72-year-old young Inmate to find a life again?
The management has no other option to put Inchcock up for adoption.
Although getting on a bit in years, he has no problem in manoeuvering to and from the cell blocks daily. His stratagem, as with many of the 
He sometimes goes out during his exercise period, to the wood behind his block.
Should you not get along with Inchcock after taking him in, don’t worry. He is suicidal, and few well-chosen words of reprimand, reproach or if desperate, an unwarranted tongue-lashing for something he didn’t do, will suffice.
The Nottingham City Council have made arrangements for his funeral, if he snuffs it before the upgrading is done, anyway.
Inchcock knows many of the Fire Service personnel himself.
And he has watched them as they attend the average twice weekly false fire alarms to Woodthorpe Block. And I can say that none of these emanated from his Evil Boll Weevil Ironclad black biting beetles infested cell.
So, another possible worry about adopting Inchcock is deleted.
He has grown to like his Evil Boll Weevil Ironclad black biting beetles.
If he is adopted on his release, this will mean so much to him, knowing he no longer has to kill the creatures every day, to avoid being bitten.
It was mentioned at the last Block Wardens meeting, about the amount of what he calls Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas he suffers. This is nothing to worry about, we don’t, just ignore him, and he’ll go away back to his crossword book, no problem.
If Inchcocks becomes defiant and will not do as he is told, here is the advice of the Oberführer and Gruppenführer of the Winwood Alcatraz Wardens Union and Training Brigade. Just ignore him, unless there is some valid point to his moaning, then pretend to listen intently, then ignore him. It works a treat!
In the rare event that he persists, offer him a scowl, and threaten him with eviction and being moved to a prison cell in a rough area of Nottingham. That always quietens Inchcock down, for us.
As long as you live no more than two miles from Carrington, in Nottingham.
He enjoys the hobbling to and fro, and seems to get some satisfaction from the telling-offs and reprimands when he arrives at his surgery. He is also in 
No need fret over his medicationalisationing needs at all.
He can take his medications, albeit that he gets them wrong at times, this is nothing for any prospective adoptor to worry about, though.
In the event of his snuffing it while in your care, call for a quick removal of the body. Inform Nottingham Winwood Alcatraz Wardens Union on 0115 955 0029, and he has a nose ring he keeps with him, at all times. It is the only thing he has left of any value, but it could fetch up to £1.50, so worth searching for.
The Social side of things can be a bit daunting for Inchcock.
His social skills are somewhat limited, but he does try his best, although without much success. But credit to him for trying.
One handicap with his doing the laundry is his persistent habit of finding odd socks. This does not matter to him, or that he is that short-sighted he usual wears odd ones anyway without realising it.
Well-versed in electrical work and planning.
He is the envy of many other prisoners, at how he keeps his cell arranged.
But they usually get a laugh.
Naturally, they are part of his many flunked escape plans.
So, if you can help us with this overweight, deaf, short, bald, Duodenal Ulcer, Anne Gyna, Reflux Valve, Harold Haemorrhoid, Hippy Hilda, Hernia Harry, Dizzies Dennis and Shaking Steven ailment suffering old Inchcock, and take him away, please get in touch.
Thank You
Bank Holiday Weekend – Inchcock doesn’t like em!
Worrisit abarght Bank Holidays that upset the Old Git?
Days without any buses to get him anywhere,
Spends too much time sat in his computer chair,
Days stuck communicating with the blogosphere,
Tormenting his haemorrhoids in his recliner chair,
Global-Virgin will fail again, but this is not rare!
He thinks back to 1962, when he had an affair,
He eats, no one to talk to, he gets chubbier,
Ever increasing weight, makes him feel even barmier!
His neighbour residents go off but to where?
To visit friends and families, kids or maybe an heir?
They go to the Bahamas, New York or Guinea-Bissau,
He can’t afford a holiday away, that’s not fair!
Leaving the sad repugnant Gerry, lonely and in despair,
No buses, can’t get to see his Sister Jane to eat one any donair,
Then pass wind and get thrown out, with Janes usual flair.
Wondering why he is short, fat and has no hair,
No social skills, not distinguished or debonair,
His body and mind in a state of disrepair.
Feeling down, he sometimes gets out of the chair,
In search of biscuits, cheese curls or a chocolate eclair,
If his breasts get any bigger, he’ll need a brassiere!
How will he cope this weekend?
Will his depression ever mend?
I fear he may do something that might hyperextend…
His sanity, health and his stomach may well distend!
When will his eating ever end?
No, hang on, he might yet kick this depressing trend…
Red Dwarf’s on TV later – but he’ll never stay awake to the end!
The reason for this pathetic rhyme not making much sense, and the gammaticalerrors, are put down to Inchcock’s lack of education, his being stupid, his losing the battle against the Pestering Ironclad black biting mini-beetles/weevils and their being no buses for him to use.
Inchcock’s Thoughts of the Week in Rhyme
The ironclad-min-biting beetles, I’ve had to avoid,
They’re quick, and refuse to be destroyed,
Nowhere left that I’d not disinfected and scoured,
They move faster than flipping Concord!
Failed efforts to conker them, left me losing my sanfroid,
Fly spray, bleach and boiling water utilised and deployed,
The result? Next day, an even bigger-beetle hoard!
I ordered from Amazon, beetle-killing pads, effective I was assured,
When the van arrived it had none on board!
Soon I was hindered, and very annoyed,
Liberty Virgin Global, left my life in a void,
The internet connection was again destroyed.
Curses and oaths emanated from my thyroid,
So often, I was frustratingly forced to be internet underemployed!
I wished I had in my prescriptions, something made from Opioid!
