Inchy is visited by Alto-Inchie and Thanatos

Alto-Inchie: Ayup Inchy, I’ve come to cheer you up!

Inchy: Christ, that made me jump, you plonker, fancy materialising when I’m on the bog!

Alto: I’m surprised missen, when I call on yer,  yer usually always on yer blog! Hehehe!

Inchy: ‘Ow, come you’re talking in my Nottingham Meadows accent then?

Alto: Well, I’m gonna miss yer when you clock out, kick the bucket, snuff it…

Inchy: Just hang on a second here… do you know summat I don’t about my departure from this miserable mortal coil?

Alto: Well, yer… I was talking wiv Thanatos, formerly known as Azrael, and better known to humans as the Grim Reaper. The personification, embodiment, and spirit of Death yesterday…

Inchy: He’s real, then? What does he do?

Alto: He collects humans to carry them off to the underworld when the time allotted to them by the Fates has expired, and recaptures souls escaping from the underworld…

Inchy: Owd-it, let me clarify this: you are an Alto-Ego that goes around getting into humans’ minds just to annoy them. Is that right?

Alto: Spot on dog-breath! You might have made a rotten stinking mess of your earth life, dumbo, but I reckon you’ll make it in the underworld; the surreal is more palpable to you than reality is… I don’t blame you, really…

Inchy: You don’t blame me, really. For what?

Alto: You’ve gone through a lot; yer one only a handful of humans that have ever recognised an Alto-Ego when we visit, and you know that it actually you, you’re talking to!

Inchy: Well, that comes naturally, dunnit?

Alto: Not to anyone who’s sane; it doesn’t…

Inchy: Meaning, insinuating?

Alto: Let’s look at the help you’ve had over the years, shall we?

Inchy: Help? Me? Erm… all right then… worra yer mean like?

Alto: You had a rough childhood; no question about that is there…

Inchy: Suppose so, but it didn’t depress me, just took it as a normal life…

Alto: Exactly, Inchy! Despite the struggle to reach your teenage years and become a temporary alcoholic, you pressed on, gave up the drink, until your brain got infected…

Inchy: Infected?

Alto: Yer; starting with Dementia Doreen, I know you give each ailment a name, see. Then you got the Peripheral Neuropathy; I’ll not mention your being made redundant at 60. Then, you worked in Security, the only job you could find, and got yourself shot twice.

Inchy: Oh, kind of yer not to!

Alto: Next, you had the stroke, then confirmed with Cogniscent Impairment Iris & Dementia Doreen.

Inchy: Sound bad, dunnit?

Alto: It was and still is, mate! Yer now in yer Coffin-Expectancy-Years but won’t get one because you’ve prepaid for yer cremation funeral already. Not to forget your mechanical Aorta Valve heart operation of course. And going deaf.

Inchy: A long list innit Alto?

Alto: I’ve not finished yet, Inchy…

Inchy: Oh!

Alto: All the ailments mentioned have brought on Constipation Conrad, Arthur Itis, Cartilage Collapsing Chloe and Carole, Duodenal Donald, Lymphorrhoeas Leslie, Anne Gyna, Back Pain Brenda, Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Reflux Roger, Bladder Belinda, and Prostate Paul. Cathies Catheter Contraption,

Inchy: Have yer done?

Alto: No! Left Hip Pain Hilda, Leg Papules leaking Fluid, Leaking Leg Papules Leonard, Colin Cramps, Diabetes2, Acne and Eczema, Ankles PN electric shocks, Harold’s Haemorrhoids bleeding, and giving you monolithic-moods of massive depressions! And your latest one, Non-Epileptic Seizure Disorder… he needs to be given a name yet, you know! What about Seizure Disorder Sid?

Inchy: Oh, you noticed? Yes, Sid is fine with me…

Alto: Had I been a human, I’d have paid to send you to Switzerland or Dignitas for active euthanasia years ago. Don’t use the  Samaritans; they’ll only try to talk you out of it…

Inchy: It’s weird, I know, but you seem to be in a caring, compassionate mood.

Alto: After my chat with Thanatos, the Grim Reaper, I got the feeling that he will be with you soon, and he will. He is excited and looking forward to collecting your Soul…

Inchy: Marvellous! But why? He must be so busy with the Middle East battles, diseases, and Ukraine and Putin’s Russian deaths; why would he bother about my demise?

Alto: As I said, he is interested in seeing how you go on in the underworld…

Inchy: Underworld? Is that hell?

Alto: Well, yeah! But an ethereal one, not like the Bible supposedly tells us.

Inchy: I don’t follow that…

Alto: I can’t tell you much about it, as Alto Rule 403320/b/death/keep.schtum prevents us from passing on any details you see. They don’t want any souls escaping and making hard work for the already overworked Grim Reaper.  

Inchy: Why?

Alto: Wiv all the wars going on again, the poor chap is up to the neck in ‘Soul-Collecting’…

Inchy: Well, he can miss me if he likes, it that helps!

Alto: Yer missing the point, mate. Yer Oligarchs, Politicians, Parole Board Members, Warlords, and the like, will not go to the underworld; it’s just pure hellfire for them.

Inchy: I like the sound of that!

Alto: I shouldn’t tell yers really, but, as I’ve grown to like yer…

Inchy: Yes, yes, yes…

Alto: The world ends shortly, as I mentioned to yer last month, but a new planet has been forming in the outer universe interplanetary space… Well, it’s being done by the unknown to anyone apart from the universe’s Altos and Thanatos workers. It should be a complete regenesis by August this year, which, as long as you are in the underworld by then, you will be able to start life again on a breathable planet. I am most intrigued to see how you get on with it… And Thanatos needed a good laugh!

Inchy: You’re pulling my plonker, ain’t you?

Alto: Yea… Hahaha!

Alto-Inchie v Inchy Odeing Argument

The usual blog has been delayed, folks...
Things depend on the procedure I’m having down by the Medico’s in the morning. But I anticipate a few scribbled notes may replace the next few days’ usual, magnificently written and presented Inchy Blog.

Adored by many people all over the globe. I hope they both understand why I have to deprive them of their usual daily, witty, intelligent meanderings of the old chap from Nottingham.

I expect to be back on Thursday… or Friday.
They won’t keep me in as long as they did King Charlie, nor I expect, will the Doctor tell me to take-it-easy for several days. I anticipate coming out of the operating theatre and being thrown in an ambulance or taxi and lifted home. Argue about the cost, and report my return to the flat as I always do to the Management. Last time, they didn’t know I’d been in hospital. Hehehe!

Keep well, muckers! (Both of you).

Prompt: What’s your definition of romantic?

What’s Inchies definition of romance?

Well, it’s difficult for me, you see…
Romance, for me, means anfractuosity.
I tried acting kindly and altruistically…

No girl would dance with me.
I’ve tried to find romance assiduously,
I lack the equipment, sadly…
Never acted with spite or belligerency,
But the girls were above my quality…
I don’t seek revelry or anarchy,
They thought of me as avuncularity,
It’s not been a voluntary abstinence…
Too late now; I need a catheter to pee!
Too old to get myself into a frenzy…
But of course, I’m a bourgeoisie,
I’ve no romantic traits discernibly…
I still wish some kind lady would adopt me!

Hehehe!

My one true love, Grizelda, & Me!

TTFN