Inchcockski: Searching for Sanity & Logicality – In bad Rhyme!

Gerald James Timothy Algernon Archibald Inchcock

The Nottinghamian lad knows he is losing it, big time.

Mentally and physically, getting help is hopeless,

 He gets uptight, but he’s completely harmless,

Depressed, untidy, ill and charmless,

He can’t commit suicide, he ain’t got the time,

Even his words don’t properly rhyme!

 

WDP 1Lda

Inchcock: Sadly searching for Sanity

Somewhere, in his tortured labyrinth of a brain,

Lies logic, intelligence, but he can’t find them today,

The brain is active but rarely reliable or decisive,

Also, hesitant, feeble, and the memory’s gone away,

 Some details it retains, and admires he does say,

Mostly about medications, Red Dwarf and Will Hay,

 But his desire, longing for sanity, will not go away!

 

WDP 1L

 However, his efforts, hopes and plans are derisive,

 The mentality-seeking strategies are not conducive,

At least not for 74 years… that’s including today,

He redoubled his spiritual side, and started to pray,

Again in hopes, he’d be semi-sane again, one day,

He talks to his EQ, that’s hyper-sensitive.

 

WDP 1Lcb

He wrote to an Agony Aunt, that was digressive,

 He revealed all, and thought that was impressive!

She said she couldn’t help, and she was sorry,

But why did she throw herself under a lorry?

Inchy thought that was a touch impulsive and excessive!

Regaining logicality, will he ever find a way?

Or remain an idiot, until his dying day?

Another thing, why do his wee-wees always over-spray?

 

This blog was produced without a warning disclaimer.

No claims made for any educationalistical prowess of the author.

Donations and mental assistance will be gladly accepted.

In the event of the writer snuffing it, kindly donate to the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, Nottingham Branch. 0115 999999.

Thank You

WDPT02L

A Whoopsiedangleplop Wet-Walk in Nottingham

01a

Amidst a Thought-Storm, an idea came,

For a little ode, a bad one, oh the shame!

But Inchie had to put pen to paper and write it,

Cause he got wet and went arse-over-tit!

But he knows he is to blame,

Still scribbled it, all the same!

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

0001

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

A volgivagant life brings on mental strife!

WDPT06R

Formulated by Inchcock, while he was medicationalising Little Inchies Fungal Lesion

5Fri02


Thought of the Day

2020 ttJan 11

Disclaimers:

No animal life was harmed in the production of these odes.

Allergies: They do contain a nut, & can cause laughter (Maybe)

These thoughts have been veganistically prepared.

The contents of this blog discourage suicidal tendencies.

Remainers & Leavers are encouraged to enjoy.

 

Befuddling Thoughts in bad poetry, from Inchcock! Part of the Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe series

6Sat05

WDP 2019B01

I had a thought, the other day,

It would not go away,

But here I am to write it down today,

Huh! I’ve forgotten what it was, Oh, lackaday!

———————————————————————

WDP 003f

I was caught laughing on Monday morning,

The Doctor was worried,

To the psychiatrist, I was hurried,

Now I’m no longer able-bodied,

I believe insanity is dawning!

I’ll have parsnip soup tonight, curried!

———————————————————————

WDP 003k

I worry a lot nowadays,

Through my mind’s confused haze,

Why am I not confident, there’s a trail to blaze?

I’m old, decrepit and stuck in my ways,

 Life’s a pain, it’s been wretched in recent days,

Freeing yourself of worrying can be done; the Doctor says

Watch an old DVD of Dawson’s ‘Say’s Les’,

Act like Tommy Cooper, and wear a fez,

I worry a lot nowadays!

———————————————————————

WDP 01 right

Doing the ablutions is not an easy task!

I’ll cut myself daily having a shave,

To ease the pain, I take my hip-flask,

Whoopsiedangleplops committed,

Dizzy Dennis calls, and blood is flittered,

Shaking Shaun, makes me feel all forlorn,

The dropsies fall, sometimes landing on my corn,

Then I droppeth the showerhead,

Though sometimes, the Sock-Glide instead,

The Sock-Glide removes chunks from my finger,

But in the shower, I become a singer,

An older Elvis, I’m a dead-ringer,

Apart from being short and having no hair,

And I can’t sing, to be fair,

Life can be so cruel and unfair, so there!

But there’s help out there somewhere,

I just don’t know where. But do I care?

———————————————————————

WDP 09aR

Nowadays, and I think it’s a real pity,

Life’s full of astucity, atrocity and a definite caducity,

It’s still easy enough, for me to be friendly and witty,

But sadly, only through a silly internet ditty,

Doing hoovering, hand-washing and other domesticity,

Brings pain, agony in all its ferocity,

Arthur Itis, Anne Gyna, neurotmesis axonotmesisity,

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, with their tenacity,

All combine, to stop the housework,

Someone call saying; ‘Look at this filthy dust. You idle burke!’

———————————————————————

GCPram

But life’s always been depressing,

It started when I was born you know,

Worries were soon rampant, though,

But I had my health,

  Even if, no wealth,

Britain had its Commonwealth,

I got through using cunning and stealth!


This post was formulated while Inchcock was waiting in the Mary Potter Treatment Centre for his ankle-ulcer, and bruised thigh from his falling off of the L9 bus to be treated. During which he had his Peripheral Neuropathy diagnosed.

Just thought I’d mention it, like.

Part of: The Nottingham Lads True Tales of Woe Series

 

Inchcock Today – Tuesday 24th December 2019: Trousers split, almost lethal trip to get some more. Hehe!

1 Dec 24

2019 ttDec 24

24th December 2019

Finnish: 24 Joulukuuta 2019

01Dec 24

22:35hrs: I woke full of guilt at letting down the sweet phlebotomy nurse, Christina, yesterday. I continue not liking myself this morning. Grumph!

I was forced to rise out of the c1968, second-hand, nauseously-beige-coloured, rickety recliner, to make my way to the GPWWB (Grey-Plastic-Wee-Wee-Bucket), for a weak, SS (Short-Sprinkly) wee-wee. As it ended, the sudden urgent demand for the Porcelain Throne arrived. I grabbed the stick and hastened to the wet room. By Jiminy, it was a close call again! But, the evacuation, although it was a tad painful and quick, it wasn’t messy at all, just a few smatterings of blood. Just about what I deserved with my messing Christina about, I thought.

I took both sets of medications, being as I had yet again forgotten to take last night’s. Humph!

WD 150.0.0 With a determination, I set about updating the Monday post. I had an idea for a stand-alone post on the Nottingham Street Art I’d pictured yesterday, so meant to get on quickly… but:

Virg D brown2

After a long time. I don’t think I got it back on; it returned of its own accord. I typed as fast as my ailments would allow me to…

WD 150.0.0 But:

Virg D brown2

I was getting frustrated now. So did some CorelDrawing. Then the internet returned. Phew! I got on and finally finished the post and got it sent off. Finally making a start on the new post

Then: WD 150.0.0

Virg D brown2

When Mr (well paid) Fries, Liberty-Global Virgin Media came back on a long time later, it was super fast! For about ten minutes! Then I went back to its struggling to keep up!

I pressed on with the photo-funny comment blog. Gawd, it took me hours and hours to get done! But I got there.

2Tue01It was time to get the ablutions done. I had to get them done earlier than usual, in case the Angel nurse Christina came again, I pray she does. Off to the wet room, then.

But I got sidelined when I took the mug to the kitchen for cleaning, and I got carried away doing the handwashing first. The jammie bottoms, socks and a long-sleeved shirt. I anticipate that the jammie bottom should be dry enough to be moved onto one of the airers by about February next year. Huh! The right hand has lost a lot of strength since the onset of the peripheral neuropathy, then and the stroke. I did my bestest to wring them out, I was not very successful. Still, I don’t think it makes anything worst by trying. That bit of effort I make, might even be slowing things down on the idiopathic neurotransmitter problem?

WD 150.0.0 Well, that was totally different from the last session. I knocked the stuff off of the floor cabinets again, so many things went on the floor! Two little knicks shaving, dropped the toothbrush, carbolic soap several times, the flannel, the shower-head, and all bar fell over getting the trousers on! The sock-glide battle ended up with me getting a few bruises. Pee’d-off Mode Adopted!

2Tue02WD 150.0.0 I took a photo of my legs, and cannot find the lens cover anywhere now! Still, at least the pins are looking a bit betterer this morning. Arthur Itis. Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Hernia Henry, Shaking Shaun, Back-Pain-Brenda, and even Saccades Sandra and her oculomotor dysfunction are all being kind to me. Anne Gyna and Dennis are making up for the inactivity of the others, mind. Tsk!

WD 150.0.0 Then I ripped my trousers when I bent down to put the slippers on! Gawd, Blimey!

I began to update this post. 10:25hrs now, no sign of the Blood Angel. So it looks like I’m in trouble again. Oh, dear!

I visited the WordPress Reader. Had to stop when the intercom chimed up. A male nurse had come to take my blood. I didn’t need my EQ to tell me he was not happy. He tooketh the haemoglobin, and I offered him a drinky for Christmas. He chose a Whisky & Coke, half-smiled, wished me happy Christmas and was off. 

I got the things ready to catch the bus to town, to get some replacement trousers.

WD 150.0.0

I didn’t realise it then, but I do now,

I’d forgotten to put the camera in my pocket,

When it dawned, I said Crap and Holy Cow!

How do I get through life? But I stumble through, somehow!

I made my way down and dropped off the bags in the chute en route, and saw the Caretaker Stewart and had a quick natter. Then, along the link-corridor to the warmer Winwood Court lobby and through to the big social room

Where I bumped into Nottingham City Home’s Generalfeldmarschalless Housing Patch Manager/Catwalk-Model, Angela Gould, who twinkled her eyes at me, told me off about something or other, then waltzed away with a taller, younger, better-looking, fitter, cleverer, educated, richer, confident, had his own hair and a full set of teeth, bloke. Who was not wearing hearing aids and could walk without medical aids. Humph! Spit! Hehe!

Spoke with John-Herbert, then made my way out to the bus stop. Mary-Jean, Chrissie, May and many other tenants were gathered, and I had a listen to the gossip and handed out the nibbles. Getting on the L9 to town, and getting out the crossword book after depositing my bottom in a side-saddle seat.

As we arrived in town, I realised that I had not got my camera with me. Crap and Holy Cow! What a pitifully-inadequate, imbecilic, dotty, docile, memory-challenged toss-pot!

WDP 003hWD 150.0.0 I went into the battle-ground known as the Poundsaver Store. I was battered and barged, trod on, shoulder-charged walked into, and nearly knocked over a few times, as the gentle Nottinghamian’s around, cursed and fought each other to get things from the half-empty shelves. It was a shame I went in really. If I had not torn my trews earlier, I would not be in town now! Grumph!

WDPh 01WD 150.0.0 I got to the self-serve tills and came out with various things. Dettol, more Toffifees, Ginster Beef pattie, some eau de cologne, smoked almonds, woolly-bob-caps and orange digestive biscuits. I paid up in cash after the machine refused to accept my card!

I was so annoyed with myself as I saw endless photographicalisationing opportunities I could not respond to, on my way into the Victoria Centre, where the Salvation Army Band were giving it some stick with the Christmas tunes. I risked life and limb to get to the lift to go up to the Victoria Market. The elevator cage went between the first floor, down to the Market level, ground floor (where I was), and down to the car park below. The first few times it came, it was cram-packed and I just waited patiently, while having my ankles repeatedly clouted by pram wheels from behind. Eventually, I got in the cage. But had to up to the 2nd level, all the way down to the car park, and back up where I started, the ground floor, then down to the car park again, and finally to the market level. As I got out, I left to Tut-tutting, and a loudly spoken, ‘Old folks with walkers shouldn’t be let in when it’s so busy” for some unknown reason?

WDP 10LWD 150.0.0 I hobbled to Abdhul’s stall to get my trews. But it was all abandoned now in there, many stalls emptied out. So sad. Abdul looked lonely and depressed when I arrived. And, he only had two pairs of trousers in my size! I’ve used this stall for years, and most trips he would offer a choice of five or six pairs, if not more for me to choose from. Sad times for the lad. I bought them, despite the grotty colours, and then repeated the farce to get back down in the elevator. Shame I can’t manage the escalator nowadays. This time a lady helped me sort out which floor I was on, I had to laugh at my own confusion.

I got to Queen Street and met a lady from our beloved Woodthorpe Court, that lies somewhere between the twilight zone and a wormhole slipping through a tear in the fabric of space & the spacetime continuum, illusion, delusion, & hallucination! That frequently has only one lift working, most taps are leaking, toilets that take well over an hour to refill after being flushed, blocked wet room drains, windows that are lethal to open, a fire alarm only 50% of residents can hear... oh, I got carried away there, sorry!

The lady and I had a sort of chinwag as best we could en route home. (Hearing problems!) I’ve spoken with the lady a few times. She is a classy woman, and so nice natured and puts up with me well. We exchanged seasonal greetings, as I left the lift.

2Tue03Got in the apartment and got the things out of the bag and carrier.

I hung the trews up in the window to decrease them a little and added the hand-washed shirt from earlier, which was dry enough to start airing.

2Tue02aThe earlier handwashing was not ready, not dry enough yet to move over the radiator. Especially the jammie bottoms.

I got the oven heating up for the beef pastie and chips to be cooked.

Had a look at the TV schedule, and found some 2Tue06things I fancied viewing.

WDP 10R02LWD 150.0.0 When the kiln had reached 220° I put the McCain original oven chips in to cook. As you can see, there was the odd blighted chip, that needed removing first. I went through the remaining chips in the bag afterwards and found a dozen more of them. As the McCain advert says: ‘It’s no wonder they’re often called the perfect teatime chip’ Hmm? I  wonder if Liberty-Global Virgin Media are connected with McCains? They both might be competition to tell the biggest lies in their adverts? They’ll have to go some to beat Liberty-Global, they are as good as politicians at dishonest, deceitful, false claims!

2Tue04aWDP 13dLA proper feast this meal was. Beef pastie, tomatoes, beetroot and a portion of McCain’s blight removed chips. With caramelised onion chutney, wholemeal bread thins and some German smoked Bavarian ham that was just out of date, but tasted fine. Some fresh orange juice for afters. Flavour Rating: 8.4/10, super!

I washed the dishes, had a weak wee-wee, and got down in time to watch the Tremors ‘5’ film, that I had not seen before. The earlier ones I found hilarious, even though they were not meant to be comedies methinks.

The first set of advertisements came on, and I drifted off. Humph! I wanted to watch that one as well! Sulk-Mode-Instigated!

Nottingham’s Street Art with badly rhyming daft comments

1Mon16

Coffee Storage Area Queen Street, Nottingham

Nottingham’s Street Art

With chronically badly rhyming, daft comments

 

1Mon23

Swann’s Yard, off Long Row,

Has it been cleaned, if so, long ago,

The rats were running, to and fro,

The smell meant I soon had to go!

 

1Mon22

Queen Street, near the L9 bus stop,

Rubbish, waste, decaying food,

Wrappers from Bird’s cake shop,

Not really art, dirty and so crude!

Use it as a ‘Don’t Litter sign’ backdrop?

 

1Mon21

Ah, low windows on which to rest your weary bum?

Street-sleepers can watch the diners eat and suck a thumb?

Artistically, it has little worth,

It’s not worth a lot, but down to earth,

The Tate might buy it, they show other scum!

 

1Mon20

The famous rock hardened Nottingham chewing gum on show,

The Council can’t get it off of the floor you know,

People are still dropping it, though!

It won’t come off, I’ve had a go!

Petrol, bleach, I even tried a Brillo,

1Mon19

Chewing gum and a proper fork too!

Likely stolen from a restaurant,

Perhaps the Foo Man Choo?

They’ll take anything they want,

These Nottingham Street Artists do!

 

1Mon18b

This is a waste bin on the pavement edge,

Around on the floor, a pastie, nub-ends, and a potato wedge,

A bit of onion, and some phlegm and spit,

I don’t like this one a little bit,

I suppose it’s been done by kids at the college?

 

1Mon18a

The entrance to a Long Row store,

The artwork here is pretty poor,

I see there is no chewing gum on the floor?

But below, you’ll see some more!

1Mon18

Roll-up nubs, chewing gum and escaping fluid,

Simple, neat, by a King Street Druid?

Or a drunken phone addicted kid?

Columbidae Columbiformes Columbimorphae Aves, made?

Pigeons, it’s not, though their phoo is the same shade!

1Mon17

1Mon16a

Back to Queen Street, where there’s real Street Art again,

My enthusiasm is beginning to wain,

Cleaning this up is such a pain,

The culprits should be slain!

Mind you, Brexit is a bigger problem and stain!

Random, waffling thoughts from Inchcock!

7Sun13

I think that should be Milliganesqueness?

7Sun14

No animal (Apart from Inchcock of course) were harmed in this production

This blog is lactose-free & suitable for vegetarians and vegans

No artificial colouring or flavourings were used

Inchcock is a semi-free-range production

Organically reclaimed wording used

7Sun15

Vital Advice for Nottinghamian Senior Citizens, Part one – In Rhyme, of sorts

BNC01

They’re dangerous, uncouth and some are blind,

The ignorant swine are uncaring, and what’s more,

They often hit you, coming silently from behind,

Leaving your hand arm or elbow, feeling sore,

They test your sanity, patience and mind,

They’ve no warning bells or horn, that’s for sure,

Belting along the pavements, they are a bind,

It’s no use if you beg and implore,

For them to leave more room, not be so unkind,

The few who reply, use sneers, curse-words obscure,

To roads and cycle paths they should be confined,

Their insults, two fingers you’ll have to endure,

Best to use your walking stick – hit ’em on the jaw!

BNC02

But that’s no solution, not a good idea, you see,

Cause they are young, fit and violence-loving,

They offer scowls and are threatening to me,

Some ride at me, I have to do some manoeuvering,

Which ain’t easy with the walker to push, you see!

Empathy, sympathy, and understanding they are avoiding,

Making this old fart, run and flee!

 Taking their photograph may get me a beating,

But don’t give up the struggle, become an attritee,

Join me on my hobbles, bring a Glock, that’s the thing!

BNC03

They don’t scare me though… well, not too much.

Alright, the law-breaking and getting-away-with-it ‘Gits’ do!

‘Bonkersness’ An everyday pleasure for old folk!’

2019 April 17

It’s a shock, when you wake up, not feeling unwell,
Take your medications, and rub in the Pain-Gel,
The heart monitor might well need a new Duracell,
You wonder around without clothes on, au naturel,
But you don’t realise, till someone does tell.

You and youngsters are on a different parallel,
You worry about your leaks, do they really smell?
Will someone be waiting for you, down in hell?
Sticks to your dentures do marzipan and caramel!

You’ve a shoebox flat to live in now and dwell.
But you call it an apartment, so your pride can swell!
Retentativeness goes away, you’ll forget how to spell,
Your short term memory will never again excel!
Steps, climbing, will make you fear any stairwell.

Doctors, dentist, you’ll be part of their clientele,
Podiatrists, Opticians, analyst, maybe the as well?
Audiologist too, you’ll not hear your phone or doorbell,
Psychoanalyst, avoid talking about your death-knell,
Well, they have a profit to protect, and service to sell.

We’ll lose our logicality, patience and sense of smell,
And when the time comes for to heaven to travel,
Here’s the really-surprising bombshell,
We can’t take clothes with us, even if they’re brocatelle,
No knick-knacks of gold, silver or tortoiseshell,
But I ain’t got none, anyway – so farewell!
I wonder if I’ll see Dad, Mam, or maybe a pterodactyl?

 

2019 Aug 01

Neuropathic Mambo – A song by Timothy Price – Brilliant!

1Mon09a

Written to Spite the peripheral neuralgia!

Neuropathic Mambo

By Timothy Price

♫ When the legs go dancing on their own
Electric feelings shock my bones
Arms all flailing, fingers shake and role
Bumping and grinding out a neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shaking
Shocking ♫

♫ Neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ My knees get weak and start a shake
My arms go limp and then they quake
I stub my toe Ouch I’m still alive
Instead of Typing, my fingers do the hand jive ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ Neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shocking
Shaking ♫

♫ When the legs start dancing on their own
Electric feelings shock my bones
Arms all flailing, fingers shake and role
Bumping and grinding out a neuropathic mambo ♫

♫ Shaking, shocking, bumping out a mambo ♫
♫ Shaking, shocking, bumping out a neuropathic mambo
Shaking, shocking, bumping out a Neuropathic mambo
Shaking, shocking, bumping out a Neuropathic mambo! ♫

 

Here is the link to the song: Neropathetic Mambo

I Thang You.