Inchy’s Alphabet Ode

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Forgive the references to Starmer.
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ALPHABETICAL A
There was a time that I was awesomer,
Although in some traits, I was awlfuller,
Friday’s dances, the girls at the Astoria…
To them, I was an acroparesthesia,
That was before I got apraxia.

Famous for my ability to talk bilgewater,
A bumbling-babbling, foolish blooter,
Searching for something boshter,
But always something of a boondoggler,
Then came a new ailment, bradykinesia!

I had a mini-todger, questionable cisgender,
I’ve still got it attached to a catheter…
Bald, so no worries over my coiffure,
Accepted as a bypasser or circumventor.
Never a winner, a 3rd place I’d chanticleer!

I’ve become an expert, frequent dégringoler,
Never was a fraud, cheat or deceiver,
Now, I suffer from dementia & dysphoria,
Unlike Starmer, I’m no denunciator,
The wrong word to describe me? Debbonaire!

Coffin-waiting, yet things can still enrapture,
A natter, laugh with a friendly talker…
CBD, magic mushrooms with elderflower,
Of course, I no longer use the chest expander,
Finances dwindling; I must curb expenditure!

I’ve led my life candidly, honestly, foursquare,
Getting annoyed at things that are not fair,
Like Starmer, PM, who lied to win, fibber!
Who loves a backhander, the freeloader,
Guaranteed to cheat, lie & work a flanker!

I’ve never been a dynamo, hero or go-getter,
I got cataracts then and still have glaucoma,
My failing brain & body is getting me grumpier,
I’ve avoided being a grammaticaster…
Now I’ve become a graphomania!

I’m an expert on my haemodynamometer,
But the stomach & body is getting heavier,
Mentally, I anticipate getting habromania,
There’s not much in my brain for it to hinder…
Only dementia, my brain’s house-sitter!

We’ve Starmer, every day getting iffier,
Putin, who’s several countries inferior,
Hamas, Israel, peace inviting…
Amhara, Yemen, with Houthi insurgency,
Ethiopia, Myanma, Paraguay… insanity!

No wonder the world is getting jitterier,
Proletariats just want life to be joyfuller,
Leaders going for the citizens’ jugular,
Janitor, junior, juror, or justificator?
We have Starmer, the lying junketeer!

I find myself becoming more klutzier,
And unfortunately, more knaggier,
And maybe a snip more kludgier,
My ageing body, positively knurlier,
If only Starmer would act kindlier!

Can Starmer’s reign get any lousier?,
Can I get any more loonier?
If things go right, will I live any longer?
Do I want to? Can I get livelier?
Can I rid myself of this lacklustre?

Will Keir get even more of a miser?
£160,976 a year for Nottingham’s Mayor,
She is Councillor Carole McCulloch,
Why does the East Midlands have a Mayor?
Clare Ward, £93,000 a year, did I mishear?
A deputy Mayor on £46,500, Holy Mother!,

The end of the World is drawing near…
Maybe not caused by anything nuclear,
Possibly by a Green Peace neglecter,
Oligarchs, wars, or my Auntie Nora?
God, Allah or Jesus from Nigeria?

The end of the World is now less obscure!
Humankind will be the orchestrator,
A World leader on an overnighter…
To prove they are more affluent occulter?
The most efficient proletariat ostraciser?

I now get more confused with my photocopier,
Camera, computer, & getting to Jupiter,
Anything mechanical, & phantasmagoria,
Also, of course, my own psychasthenia,
Not to mention my bladder’s parasitemia!

My right testicle went all quadrangular,
Had I a disease, a bug, a queller?
This concerned my partner & querida,
She said I’ve seen things queerer!
She’s such a quick quipster!

Life may yet get rosier,
Contentment can reappear,
The logicality of this may not register…
Old Father-Time may be the reawaker?
I once tried to be a ropedancer!

My happiest job? A gas streetlight snuffer,
There was not much joy to share…
My contentment did scatter,
I tried to become a sketch-writer,
But had a life of being an own-goal scorer!

Keir is an addicted taxation tchotchke,
Pensioners Farmers, has he got theophobia?
He’s given the trichotillomania,
Although an excellent thimblerigger…
I’d love to be his gravedigger tomorrow!

I feel like a foreigner an uitlander,
I’d like to be a uranographer,
Last week, I had urinemia,
Sorry, we said adieu,
To the EU,

Starmer? I’d willingly do his vivisepulture!
He’s an untrustworthy liar & morals-violater,
To Labour promises he’s a vilifier,
They may be lies, but he’s a good verbalist,
Out only for selfprofit, a viveurist!

I was once fun, a wassailer,
Not like Starmer, the waghalter,
The profitmonger, liar, wiseacre,
He should go to hell or heaven, whichever…
My hatred for him will never wither!

Years ago, I’d kowtower, I was a yeasayer,
But now well aged, I’m not so yellow,
I admit to being a peace-loving yawper,
Unashamed of loving a good yatter,

Proud to be compassionate, a zoolater,
My ability to spot a zeitgeber,
I love clothes blue, purple and zaffre,

I love food, especially zakuska,
I’d love to shoot Keir with a police zapper!

It’s rubbish, I know, but a bit of fun?
Cheers, Each!
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Ignitible Inchy: Wednesday 17th April 2024

My New Psychoanalyst
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I burst awake at about 02:10hrs. About three hours after nodding off. The need for the utilisationing of the felt urgent. So I hastily fumbled my way out of bed. Whipped off the nocturnal catheter pouch and hastened to the wet room. And  en route. Got myself seated, and sat sitting there for ages for the evacuation to start. When it did, it was slowly and painfully.  The constipation Conrad controlled monster crept out so painfully with intermittent fears that something was going to burst in my rear end as it excruciatingly slowly emerged. I felt like I’d just done 3-rounds with Mike Tyson by the time the cement-like torpedo finally clunked into the water.
A giant leap for mankind, a painful, bloodied, cast iron sort of evacuation for me! I’m not joking! I had to sit there, and had a go at the crossword, and awaited the sensation left in my behind to ease off! I think I may have looked up at the heavens and questioned why? Why me? Why? Hehehe! 
At least apart from the blood, there was little else to clean up. Well, apart from me. Germolene and Germoloid creams were applied to specific personal areas that were in need. I emptied the nocturnal pouch while in there, taking it off first, of course.
As I got into the kitchenette, I was pleased to see the misshaped moon on display. I tried to get a decent shot. The second one was out of sync, too. Not by much. Am I getting betterer? Hehe!
Got the waste bags gathered into one ready for collection. Good of them to take the bags for me. Much appreciated
Made a mug of Glengettie tea, and got on the computer. Boy, I was doing so well at first. Getting on with it and without anywhere near as many Whoopsies and Accifauxpas, as usual, have been doing lately. I think I allowed myself a mini Smug mode. Haha!
That was fatal, of course. The mind-blanks began within a minute; things were better today. I was hitting the wrong combinations of keys and forgetting what I was doing. FND and made sure of this. My hopes were dipping.
The result is misery!
The clouds were coming into view from the kitchenette window. A decentish shot was taken.
Off back to the wet room and the Porcelain Throne again.
It was a long wait for anything to happen again, but when it did, it was as near to normal as anything that had happened in the last week. I think it was an advantage to Trotsky Terence; the score rating was about 60-40. 
I made myself another mug of tea as the day brightened up and the free-floating puffer clouds appeared. It was absolutely beautiful to see. Nature can be so glorious!
I went out onto the balcony to get a sunny shot of the end car park, with its mudslide looking low and little for a change.
Within an hour, the sky was looking conceivable of bringing a spot of rain. the clouds were proud and looked almost magnificent to me. When I got around to putting the above snap in the blog, my well-known 
pareidoliaing saw the birth or escape of a baby cloud from his parents in the sky. I put some eyes on him in a copied photo so you can see what I mean when you compare the two snaps. arrived. With her usual calm fashion, she sorted the medications, checked the letters, and reminded me of the Doctor’s visit in the morning. She also checked the emails that confused me. I’m still waiting to hear if anyone else in the flats has had a British Gas one telling them that the supply would be cut unless we get a no-charge new meter fitted. I reckon they are trying to force us onto smart meters! There have been some horrendous mistakes for customers who have had them fitted, greatly overcharged, errors found, and compensation getting is nigh on impossible!

Carer Kimberly did the night call. She discussed medications and Peptac and said she would call next time and after, which was good. We usually find something to laugh at and joke about, and she seems to like my sense of humour. .

RAIN SNOW & HAIL AT THE SAME TIME!
Suddenly, as I looked out of the balcony window, it was like a totally different view. Dark, dank, and with a heavy dollop of rain, snow, and hail belting against the windows. I stepped onto the balcony and snapped three shots in different directions of the downfall: ahead, to the right, and then to the left. It really belted down, yet only lasted for an estimated three minutes, then started brightening up again.
A few drops of rain were still falling, though, as I took these snaps of the front car and the park.
The wind was dying down, too. I took them all through the window’s panes of glass, of course.
Within an hour, this is how the view from the kitchenette looked!.

What a changing day’s weather it has been today. 
The wind had died down.
And I spent a long while just looking at the clouds. Well, talking to them as well. It did no harm; it gave me someone to talk to. Not that they answered me, of course. Hehehe! Then again, many people tend to not answer me as well. Haha!
I pressed on with the blogging, on and off. Between getting carried away with something like a bit of dusting, searching for the AA batteries, which I know I put somewhere safe, and trying to get the can opener to work, things like that—you know, real important stuff. Suitable for a mind-wandering ex-genius to tackle & keep his keen, alert, active mind going at a fast rate of knots. Har-har!

Blimey, look at the time! I’ll get some fodder made, methinks, maybe Lamburgers, potato waffles, tomatoes, and some milk roll bread, with tomato ketchup and pickle. Pickle? That reminds me, I’d better empty the catheter. Hello, two shades of yellow in the bag? Summat is not quite right about this?
I put the potato hash browns & Lamb & mutton burgers in the oven. Then I went back to save work and sign off.
Photographed these two of the clouds on view through the kitchen windows.
Both the long and zoomed-in shots. Showing what looked like to me, many things within.
A sea horse? An animal’s head? A floating bust? Also, a mouse?
This was a very nice nosh: tomatoes, hash browns, crispy onions, and, of course, the lamb and mutton burgers brought from Asda. I put each burger between two slices of Milk Roll bread and dipped everything, bar the tomatoes, in a pot of Heinz Ketchup with Pickle before eating. Great! 

Carer Kimberly came. Socks taken off. Medications were given. 
I just wanted to get to bed to make sure I could get up in time to prepare for the Easy-Link lift to the surgery in the morning.
While washing the pots up, I took my final shots of the day. Gorgeously placid sunset just gone pictures.

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TTFN

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