Here are some terrible crimes being committed, That will never be lessened or ameliorated, While issuing laughable, pathetic sentences… And obviously guilty scum, even get acquitted! Judges and Parole officers aren’t assassinated.
Prisons are losing many an inmate… Out on the run, not waiting for their release date… They’d be freed by the Parolees and only had to wait… Judges give them ten years… you’ll have to do two, mate… A policy of being kind, as they kill… I can’t explicate!
Part Two of Nottingham’s Animalistic Crime Snippets Plus, a rare bit of good news – I hope
I nearly got caught by these scamming swine!
At 03:40hrs the other morning, I was drinking wine…
The mobile phone tune flashed, did opine,
A text message tune. Had someone forgotten the timeline?
To me, this looked all genuine and fine,
With the NHS website on a lower line…
I got back to my alcohol-free wine,
No need to take any ranitidine!
But I fretted over it, oh, this worrying of mine… Dithering, vacillation and my mental decline… Carer Richard, fast becoming a mate of mine, Investigated, found the telephone number online, Do not use it! It was a Scammers mobile line! Richard’d saved me from another dwine!
Whoever took this photo is a braver person than me, Eight men fighting in front of your home are, ayee! I’d hide behind the curtain, likely needing a wee-wee, Full marks to the photographer, heroic of thee…
What going on with violence in this country?
I suppose it’s similar in Liverpool and Coventry?
Italy, France, Ireland, America or Germany?
Gangs, some worse than were the Mafia family!.
No peace for the lad’s family. Indeed, there will be no justice in the sentencing if they are found guilty.
Oh, the poor unfortunate little chickadee,
Sentenced to six years in prison… he’ll soon be free…
The Parole Board won’t let him serve more than three,
These overpaid do-gooders really wrangle me!
So are so many paedophiles walking free,
But we can’t cure them, you see?
Why are they let off so easily?
Bent judges? Or full of sympathy?
Do judges and parollers suffer from epicaricacy?
Don’t approach him; he’s dangerous?
Life imprisonment; in an open jail, Jesus!
Why, with such dangerous scum, be generous?
With his record, he’s not likely to be abstemious!
He wants, he takes, violently, certainly not adiaphorous!
He’s cleverer than they thought and stays anonymous…
Till he went on telly, sticking his finger up at us
A letter just arrived from the Doctor,
I know, it was a bit of a shocker…
I thought she’d died; bless her,
It’s been so long since I saw her… November?
I hope she’s not got any sneerier…
I’ve got to make an appointment without failure…
For a Severe Frailty Revue… what can I do?
Cataract ops that’ll make me blind are due?
One on the 15th, then the 18th, not one, but two,
Then the dentists are due around then too…
Dementia Doreen keeps putting me in a screw…
Neuropathy Pete, sending me in a mental stew,
Plans, thoughts, ideas, and intentions are all askew,
Ask for help, they tell me, and that I’d do…
Sounds logical, but to where and who?
Drunken rages; the man needs help, assistance… but he’s, had support before, but he gets more violent, his partner is in desperate need of help, but shows impressive residence and loyalty… why? I don’t know. Likely because she is so scared of the slob? So it’s heartwarming seeing the caring about the victim judge telling him, after issuing the pathetic sentencing, that he will only serve half of the prison term before being released?
Justice is all we want to see?
Something to make the victim worry-free!
I agree that there is no guarantee…
But slaps on the wrist are fiddle de dee…
The justice system has gone all namby-pamby!
The Sun Glasses arrived through the door,
Squashed through the letterbox, Cor!
But unbroken, what is more,
The price tag on them read £15.54!
But I paid £4.94, a bargain for sure…
Plastic tag keeping them closed, or…
I’d try them on, but I can’t open them anymore…
Kathleen’s Cataracts, eyesight so poor,
Now, even so cheap, they’ve lost their allure!
Sad as they come…
Ha, Ha, Ha!
Well, that’s no surprise!
I’m not saying I was not a bit of a tearaway, But, I see more crumbling of morals day by day, Manners, politeness, honesty… all in decay… Empathy, caring, and understanding float away…
Uneducated, unemployable youths today… Join gangs for self-protection, they say? Can’t get a job, to violence they stray… Yet they’re experts on scamming and eBay?
To a degree, it was the same back in my day? But we knew when to give way, not like today… Instead of a one-on-one fistfight, now it’s a machete… Gun, knife, anything to harm and kill nowadays!
If I asked to tell them to be kinder and pray… Then I would end up as one of their prey! They rely on drugs and their illegal distillery, As they age, those not yet killed move on to spivvery, Get too old for burglary and robbery… To become au faux with blackmail and bribery… Some will start wearing ladies’ hosiery… And, if there’s any justice, catch leprosy!
Apparently, he also had charges pending for arson,
Drug supplying, TWOC and mugging with aggression,
He resisted arrest in June, giving a PC an abrasion…
Which bled, and the PC needed a blood transfusion,
Some good news, although he was bitten by a police Alsatian!
Luke Riley was jailed for 18 years; what are the chances?
Guilty of 11 child sex offences… it brings hatred & tears!
Including two counts of rape of a child under 13 years!
The Parole board’ll free the swine after 10, sad dears,
To enable him to rape again, of course…
They’re as guilty as he is, but what is worse…
For another child, it’ll prove disastrous…
Parole namby-pambies deserve some adverse…
Black Magic, hexing, a witches curse,
Locking up, hanging, at least something mortiferous!
No mention of Brayan’s admission of getting 139 illegals into Nottingham last year. No doubt he runs ten properties in the Nott’m area, which is all owned on paper by his Sister back in the city of Kirkuk in south Kurdistanin, and them being room rented out… Ah, Gorrit! Bet he’s shopped on the bosses of the slave trade? That’ll be why they have been treated so lightly for the despicable crimes they have committed? Profiteering by getting the poor lost souls into the country hidden in vans, and making them pay through the nose for years! Gits!
His defence? Almighty God wanted me there! I wouldn’t have thought that Putin would be too bothered?
I bravely hung out of the window this morning…
To take this photo, it was cold, I was shaking…
I hurried it, all done in a twinkling,
But, getting back in, Glaucoma Gladys was itching…
The hospital told me there’s to be no scratching!
The Cataract left eye, not even any touching…
So, I stubbed my toe instead… Hello, the mobile’s ringing?
Who can this be a three o’clock in the morning?
The message above, you see, was somewhat confusing…
I thought the tune was a telephone ring…
But no, definitely someone was texting.
Was this genuine, or was someone hacking?
Mayhaps a cold-caller pestering?
A con-job, this’ll need careful handling?
Carer Richard’s due in two hours; I’m praying…
He’s the lad to help, no quibbling!
It was getting lighter later but not much brighter,
Shut the window, trapped finger… blood blister!
Dropped the ointment and trod on it in a fluster,
But my bravery, I did muster…
Proud, I felt like a boshter!
Three visits, over £2,500 worth of stock filtered…
Had they not caught him, he’d have made a fortune!
Luckily they got him as he faltered…
He’ll be out on parole by the end of June…
To carry on, and Wilko will be pilfered!…
He punctures a stranger’s lungs, fractured his sternum, stabbed him in his chest, he’s on drugs of course – and what do the good old protect the public Crown Court turnips give him for this unprovoked attack? 10 months in Young Offenders holiday camp!!! Then tell him he’ll only serve half of the sentence and be released on licence… I can help but remember the 30 murderers who were released early and all killed again! The 44 early release prisoners who raped again! The 9 who stabbed again… the 11 who raped again… And my biggest hatred, the overpaid yet inept Parole Board scumbags who allowed these to happen – they should be found guilty of the offences of their freed early prisoners!
Just thought I’d mention it.
Inchcock Meal Snippet News
Mushrooms: Nicely seasoned for once
Pickle Balls: Enjoyed them
Apple: Too hard for the teeth to cope
Strawberry dessert: Too sweet
Veggie Hot Dogs: Terrible binned them
SAD LATE NEWS
e-scooters: Eleven deaths and over 1000 injuries were reported across England, Scotland and Wales last year. The use of privately-owned e-scooters on public roads is illegal. The figures alone should be enough for the Government (sic) to act on this.
The poor woman’s family do not want any bother or attention, and they have asked to be left alone, to mourn.
What with these e-scooter killings and injuries, the repeated releasing of killers & rapists early by the Parole Board, who murder and rape again… It baffles me.
I think of odd things, many sorts, some ulteriorly… Some thoughts are of electrical technicality… The TV stopped working, the DVD too… The computer does its own thing, getting me into a stew, The help pamphlet is all written metrically, But I was educated in inches and things imperially!
I write thoughts in an ode, mostly inferiorly… Cause my sleeping is now all somnambulistically, I went to the Porcelain Throne, and it came out like gooey glue! Concentration is hard, lack of kip I rue… But making these crap odes, I still pursue, I don’t think I love owt else I do…
But dreams and hopes, I had a few… Into the ether, they all got threw, Oh, dearie me, Throne time again, stinkaroo! What does the future hold? Do I want a preview? Whatever, if any, will not hold any bijou… I know! I’ll give myself a sanity interview?
Thursday 2nd June 2022
From my scribbled notes: 30% of which I couldn’t decipher or guesstimated.
04:40hrs: I gave up trying to stay asleep; the jumping awakes were endless again! Rose for a wee-wee. (Unreadable) Something to do with the Canon camera?
Put the kettle on, made a brew of JS Extra-Strong Brown Label tea, and tried to sort out the Canon camera’s problem. Gave up and went to make another brew. This time, using the rather delightful full-bodied Thompsons Signature tea.
Very tasty! Took a photo from the kitchen window, through the glass.
Took another photo of the view using the flash. I can’t remember why; maybe I could have been testing to see if the flash worked? I’ve still not remembered what the original fault was? I used the Fuji after this. So whatever it was (I’ll remember soon) had not been righted or mended yet. (I’m assuming here?)
The Boot’s Chinese made Blood Pressure machine’s sphygmomanometerisationing gave me a bit of a shock this morning! I checked on the NHS DVT site. SYS 174, DIA 67 and Pulse of 88.
Ah, well. I got the body temperature done. It’s a little low again, but it has been for weeks now; I don’t feel any worse for it… I’ve got the eyes, Doreen Dementia etc., to worry me more. It’ll be back down tomorrow, I expect.
A lot of squashed up scribbling on the notepad here. Tea, view (but I can’t find any photos of it?). Bogging, hard work, errors, mistakes… Finished blog, sent off, emailed link, Pinterested and Facebooking.
Window cleaning Joe arrived. Nice chap. He lets me waffle on without looking too bored at me. A good quality that is on a man. There is some more undecipherable squiggling here… no, I can’t make it out.
Ah, this I can… the swine!
It’s an exciting bit of writing here… Best I can make out; what it says is: Blu snaps Herb? WP Reader…
Ah, that’ll be Herbert, the contemptuous, hoity-toity, holier-than-thou, can’t-do-wrong chap living above me making noise again.
The tootsies and toes looked a smidge bedraggled when I came out of the wet room. It had not gone all that well in the ablutionary session either.
When I took a wee-wee, the product escaped in trickles, yet the after dribble lasted three times as long as the main event did! Then came a cropper on the trolley wheel… I’ve not done yet… Little Inchies had to be cleaned again and medicationalised… which means. Then as I was leaving through the door, there were no injuries this time. In fact, I went into a scenario! The lesion and toe were enough for me to cope with anyway.
Took a snap of RVD’s (Red Van Man’s) parking in the end car park. Someone had beaten him to his favourite, ‘I’m not bothered’, illegal no parking chevron spot.
Hehehe! I felt a little sorry for him, really.
I got the nosh sorted out and served up. I enjoyed it but fell asleep eating it, woke up, and finished off the cold meal without any bother or interest. I just accepted that Dementia Doreen will be with me forever now. Not a pleasant thought.
Carer Lisa arrived as I was about to take the tray through to get the things washed up. Nibbles and plonk offered in thanks. Nice gal.
I came over, all accepting again. There is nowt that can be done about Peripheral Neuropathy; I’ve accepted that from the off. But Doreen’s Dementia is the one ailment that’s getting to me. I leave taps running, cooking on and in, the stove… and I honestly can’t tell you what day or year it is… Yes, I can. (Just looked at the computer! A depression with a difference suddenly tonight. A smidge of morbidity with it… no, no, that’s not the right word… erm… a type of self-declaration, come of affirmation of any ability or interest from anyone, in trying to help me out. My mind is crumbling… well, the body is not doing much better. Hehe! Yet I accept the situation because, as I see it, there really is nothing to be done to help with the Dementia or dying peripheral neurotransmitter battles. I hope to live and love it long enough to get the teeth, eyes, and hearing treated.
I sat there for a couple of hours in utter silence – Yes! The Thought-Storms had abandoned me for the first time in months. Actually, this bothered me a bit! I was saved by the World-Wide-Hum, and both started being noisy in the extreme… but I think I welcomed it. I managed as blank a mind as must be possible. Still, the overriding view of acceptance, nothing to be done, lingered... I noted the time, 21:00hrs, as I tried to get some shut-eye. At 21:03hrs, the Thought Storms with apparently recharged batteries kicked off!
Sweet Morpheus didn’t stand a chance. I lay there fighting, talking to, and cursing the self-nit-picking, derogatory Thought Storms. Never had them as bad, and in the end, I got up around three o’clock for a most unwilling wee-wee, and again I suffered from the. Now I was feeling somewhat fed up in the extreme! So, I went through to put the kettle on… Continued below!
As if I wasn’t in a self-hating depressive, elegiacal, had-enough mood already: I got in the kitchen and realised I’d left the hot water tap running! Naturally, the water was stone cold. But it got worse!
I spotted that I’d also left the fridge door open! Self-denigration and a sense of fear or apprehension came over me. Which I was almost wallowing in? When the bowels demanded that I visit the wet room.
This case is entirely different to yesterday’s evacuation. Trotsky Terence was in charge. Gooey, messy… and it took me ages to get things cleaned up. I must have dropped or knocked over the walking stick four times, yet my self-anger calmed down! I developed a new to me outlook! A semi, but weak determination not to let things get to me. Because things will not get any better, I can try to alter my responses? It’s not doing me any good getting all het-up! I tried to find last night’s ‘Acceptance Mode’, and sure enough, things calmed down.
I remembered the high BP of Thursday and went to finally make a brew of Thompsons’ Punjana, relaxed as much as I could, and got the sphygmomanometer going. And sure enough, the BP was lower. SYS 147 (from 174), DIA 70 (67), and Pulse at 81 (88). According to the NHS, today’s reading is acceptable; 60-85 bpm is suggested. According to my Chinese Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co, the body temperature. Ltd™, contactless thermometer, was 33.6°c, up a bit.
The feet still looked and felt a little sore.
But have often hurt me much more,
I must stop moaning anymore.
I can’t put it any blunter,
Accept things, as said thereinbefore
It’s the only way to perdure!
I spent many hours on the computer, updating blogs, correcting cock-ups, and eventually getting the blog done and posted. Then, Pinteresting, WP reading, and WordPress Comment making.
T’was an unexpected pleasure to see that Carer Richard called this morning. He didn’t have time for a good chinwag as he had another call to do, bless him. He listened to my tales a while, I offered nibble and drinkies of his choice, and off he went, we exchanged all-the-bests.
Back to the computer, but Mr Fries, the $23million a year salaried leader of shit Liberty-Global, let me down yet again. This week, about 12 times, the overpaid, number-juggler & cruncher has proved his inability to get a Virgin Media internet signal to stay on in Nottingham. Please don’t think this has created jealousy and hatred for the scum-bucket. Oh, no!
When Mr Fries managed to get a signal back, I spent many hours doing the top Ode for this blog and updating it. I was doing well… until…
The smoke & mirrors man, the fiddler of figures, and incapable of running an internet service without losing the signal, Mr Fries, the Mafia looking character, fails again! Humph!
While waiting on Mr Fries to get his minions to resupply Winwood Heights with his unreliable, pathetic, crap, overcharging, customer-hating enslaved people to get the signal back. I took a few photographs. Mayhaps I should send this to Mr Fries, so he knows where he is not sending, but overcharging for it, internet supply?
So, I took more photographs while waiting for Fries, the £23m salaried boss, to get the Liberty-Global signal again.
Only one vehicle was parked, snuggly on the no-parking yellow chevrons at the end of the car park on Chestnut Way. Only one vehicle in, RVD (Red-Van-Man).
The front car park opposite my beloved Woodthorpe Court.
The car park faces Winwood and Winchester Courts.
Hello, he’s off again. Clunk, clatter! Back to the photographicalisationing…
Then, a photo of the beautiful clouds in the sky.
Not many folks out there; I suppose they are watching the ER celebrations for the Queens?
The Queen was praised for “staying the course” as royals joined dignitaries at a thanksgiving service for the Platinum Jubilee at St Paul’s Cathedral. Referring to her love of horse racing, Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell said she is “still in the saddle”, even though she could not attend. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex joined for their first royal event together since leaving the UK two years ago. Meanwhile, the Queen, 96, watched the service from Windsor Castle.
Well, the Royal Family members all look happy, don’t they? Charles has waiting so long to get the Throne I don’t think he’s up to it anymore. Hehehe!
I got some spuds boiling to make cheesy mash with.
Well done, Mr Fries! The internet’s back on again. Touch of well-deserved Sarcasm there…
Got the meal prepared and served up. Cheesy topped halved boiled potatoes, baked off to crisp the red Leicester cheese. Veggie sausages, baked beans with Henderson’s relish added, wholemeal cobs, tomatoes, and a banana.
Halfway through it and watching a Heartbeat episode on the box, I was in my element. The evening carer arrived. Chloe, nice gal. Got the meds sorted and had a little natter. She took the waste bag with her to the shoot for me. I locked the door and got back to finishing the not so hot meal. Dementia Doreen and number-cruncher Liberty Global’s Mr Fries are to blame for confusing me as to what time it was. Hehehe!
With its pink-tinged coloured streaky clouds, the sky looked absolutely amazing to me tonight. No doubt that Mother Nature is a beautiful beast! I can’t recall being so interested in the skies all my life.
We need to start straight away protecting this planet. We’ve polluted it uncaringly, not a thought for the future generations… if there is to be any. And all for gain and personal profit. So shadow-benders and number-crunchers like Mr Fries can earn $23 million a year, and Putin can do a Hitler in attacking other countries! Nowadays, he is doing it risk-free. No Americans to save the day for Ukraine, like they did for the UK, France, Poland etc., sad.
Got down in the £300 second-hand, decrepit, c1968, rickety recliner on a mission to get some sleep. Huh! Well, I did, but it was hours later!
END OF THE WORLD THOUGHTS in Ode…
All tellurians have something in common – caducity!
Humans have greed, jealousy, egocentricity & abstrucity,
The majority get cheered from money, not true felicity…
They destroy the planet with great feracity…
Believe me, mankind has this ability, fruitfully…
To gain their lucre, they’ll use violence and feracity…
Every one of our nation’s leaders leads with lubricity!
I suppose this Ode reads with a certain mordacity?
So, let’s save the earth with haste and pertinacity!
I looked in the mirror last night; a terrible sight! It was as if I’d been battered in a fistfight, Blotches, pale eyes, a depression, it did incite… How do I get into this mentally-inspired plight? The physical ailments, I’m coping with them alright… Although some of them can at times be a fight… Cataracts, neuropathy, deaf, etc. have ruined my rike, I’ve no confidence left; I feel like a troglodyte!
Was my being born an accident or oversight? Mother ran away, was the start of my many a fike… In social interactions, at 76, I’m still a neophyte… Which doesn’t explain why my eyes and skin are so white? The red patches remind me of the pox and bryophyte… But I’m going to stop worrying… well, I might… Things come to me, ailments, fears and many a blight… What future I’ve left is not looking too bright!
I need to do something, like mind-defragging, Free the tension, keep the tongues from wagging, Cause it’s no use hiding and camouflaging… My failures, incompetency and my not belonging! My faults in the future, I’ll be acknowledging, I’ll start with cutting out the foul language and effing… Cut down my time blogging and cybersurfing! From overeating, I’ll start abstaining, Why do all that, you may be asking? I can’t remember now, and that’s alarming!
YOU CAN TELL HE IS CHEERING UP A BIT, CAN’T YOU
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Friday 27th May
04:30hrs: I woke with the usual jump but soon regained all possible control (Which was not a lot) of my brain. And responded niftily to the call from Bladder Blair for a wee-wee.
Washed and made a brew of Thompsons’ Signature tea. Got on the computer and started to get the photos on.
These on the right are from last evening after I’d got the nosh consumed and settled down in the £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, difficile, crumb-covered tatty recliner.
But I kept getting up again to photograph the sky.
Resettled but dozed for half an hour and shot wide awake again. Humph!
And the glow from the sky was coming through the curtain. I just had to, and I did, get up yet again to take these three pictures on the left of the evening late sunsetting.
These were a lot more colourful than the earlier ones.
The first one I took and made was while making a brew of Glengettie tea. By the time I’d made the mug, the rain had stopped, and the whole sky had changed colour with some interesting orange-hued puffer clouds near the horizon.
Mother nature never seems to stop amazing me.
I started to update the Wednesday/Thursday blog. Then within minutes, I had to return to the wet room, in need of the Porcelain Throne. So, I did!
A messy Trotsky Terence controlled evacuation again, but not as bad as yesterday. Not one of my better ones! I opted to get the ablutions done while I was in there.
The teeth bled; I dropped the razor and banged my shoulder on the sink, bending down to retrieve it. Then proceeded to give me several cuts shaving, under the chin, the ear-hole, and…wait for this… my left index finger! Then as I looked in the shaving mirror as I was cleaning it, I saw the blotches all over my face! Worra state! And the eye sockets looked proper pink?
Carer Valerie arrived. She got the medications sorted out, and we managed a little natter between us. And Val took the laundry with her and the waste bag, saying as Arni did… “I’ll be back!” Hehe!
I went back onto the blog and got it finished and posted off. Pinterested some photos and got on Facebook catch-up.
Then the Amazon Morrison order arrived. A lovely foreign lady, polite and sociable gal, bless her cotton socks. Three items were out of stock. And the onion chips were substituted with curry chips. Not sure that I will be keen on them, but, you never know, they might taste alright for me. At least I got the red potato fritters and one of the three battered chips I wanted.
Then, I got the things sorted and stored. There didn’t seem much to go in the freezer, which was just as well cause there was no room in the drawers anyway. I did get a loaf of bread in.
The fridge didn’t look anywhere as near full as usual after a delivery? Was I getting good and ordering less?
Well, no, not really. Why the heck I ordered a packet of Thompson’s Signature tea bags? I don’t know. I’ve got six packages of Thompson’s Punjana, two of J Sainsbury Red label extra strong, and a box of Glengettie in stock already? Oh, and a bix of Co-op 99 as well!
I got the flower treats that should have been coming on Monday for today. My EQ told me to. There will be something occurring on Monday medically, mayhaps, he tells me? I rang Warden and Desktop dancer Deana to tell her they were here, and when she came later, she kindly took a bunch to Francis for me. I can’t recall their names, but there were two different types. She had a choice of whichever she fancied.
I returned to finish off the Facebooking and then comments on WordPress. I got a call from my precious Hristina, the Warfarin DVT blood nurse; she will be calling twixt 10-1200hrs on Monday for the following test sample. I added it to the Google calendar. Got the Blood Pressure figured out. A bit high this morning. But this does happen now and then; it may have been with me hearing Hristina’s voice?
The body temperature was low, but nowt to worry about.
Carer Valerie returned the laundry for me. Thanked her, and off she went. I visited the junk room to hang the clothes. I was disappointed in the state of the jammie bottoms, all creased up, one leg inside out. One long-sleeved tee shirt was the same with the arms. The trousers were crunched up and creased. I must try to get Meridian to stop doing the washing for me… and paying them!
The tap tapping and noises that sounded like something metal-like being dropped kicked off. Still, he’s been quiet up till now.
Made an order for Iceland next week. Then got the nosh sorted. Oh, Boy, were those curried potato chips tasty! Yes, they were! Buttered mushroom pate sarnies, gherkins, red and orange tomatoes. A banana to follow and a worthy 8.3/10 for taste! Lovely!
I got settled to await the arrival of the evening carer, who was a smidge late, not that it mattered. I started to watch a Heartbeat episode, and every few minutes, I’d nod off for a couple of minutes, wake up, and off again. Most aggranoying, as I’d not seen this episode before. Tsk!
The evening carer arrived, medicated me, and asked if the laundry was ready to collect. I said that Valerie had done it this morning. A nibble and can of plonk were selected, and she took the waste bag with her.
Locked the door and got settled to watch the second episode of Heartbeat on the box. But, No! I kept nodding off again and shooting awake after a few minutes, only to drift off again and repeat the procedure?
Somehow I did manage to nod off, but it was hours later.
My much blotchy pot-marked face, A sign of age, rotting and decays? To be expected, I think nowadays… Like wee-weeing in spurts and sprays. Or losing memories that fade and stray… Along with confusing, baffling thought waves… Needing a kip each day, before midday… Recalling when one was alive, in one’s heyday, You’re looking towards the next pension day, Coping with Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley… Deaf, cataracts, depression Monday to Sunday…
My excrescences, give me haute couture, If that’s the word, I’m not really sure… I wonder if the Tate would make a sculpture? I’d like to be a giver, cheerer-upperer, enricher… Or an MP, maybe even a frontbencher? Perhaps best, if I stay as this demented old failure, Although I’m sadly an incompetent botcher… A harmless old fart who’s into pareidolia… Awaiting St Peter’s greeting as he says, ‘Gotcha!’ Possibly, my brain may have caught paranoia?
The number of humans on this earth is 7.87 billion at this time… On the global internet, the users add up to 4,321,740 and 9! So your chance of your blog going viral is fine… But don’t expect it, as I did, then found a steady decline! I hope you do much betterer with thine! My last one got two likes and comments; one was mine!
It’s Doreen Dementia and Liberty-Global I blame, It’s fun to me, but it’s all money… a shame! Their service is as much off as on, and it’s a game… Farcically, ownership Liberty-Global disclaim! Telling the call agents not to ever mention their name!
Liberty-Global owns Virgin; the boss should resign!
For Mr Fries knows not what he is doing…
Or though maybe he does, he makes money fine?
It’s overpaying mugs like me that he’s screwing…
His bosses think that everything is fine…
With Fries shadowy, manipulative money moving,
All on paper, mist and mirrors… this profit maker-divine!
A gorgeous gal wanted me in the early hours of this morning…
Of course, I knew that I was probably dreaming,
This very fact, I found a little perturbing…
She insisted on closer, passionate probing,
To my delight, she was acquiescing…
We were soon manipulating and bouncing,
She was ready and asked for another trouncing,
No problem for me, and I began eagerly disrobing,
But my performance, I think, was unconvincing…
Surely she should have been rejoicing?
And as her knickers, she was replacing…
I attempted some more romantic seducing…
I found it embarrassing what she was saying…
“I’ll not call again; there was no pain – Where’s this leading?
I’m just glad I was only dreaming!
I thought the visit before was on the wet side… But this evacuation was even more undignified I failed to get there on time, my aim was wide… I cleaned things up, taking it all in my stride, In doing this, I felt an iota of pride!
Cleaned, refreshed, but I went from Jekyll to Hyde, As I started to get things all antisepticised… I dropped the Germoloid after it had been applied… And trod on it, swore, and boy, how I did self deride! The contents squirted all over, and my frustration intensified!
But this Throne visit had yet another downside to it… Leaving the wet room, I misjudged the width a little bit, Missed hitting into the frame; I gave myself a little merit! Stubbed my toe on the airer; fell, hitting under my armpit! All this cause I urgently needed a flipping sh__!
Thought Storms Erupted
The Thought-Storms erupted, irking, they attacked, Insults, fears, and failures were lurking and squirted… Self-loathing, diffidence, vacillation were not appreciated New worries, old ones, insecureness… amalgamated! It’s Thought-Storms like this that are most hated!
The cause of the forebodings could not be authenticated, For reasons, causes, I waited and waited, breath abated… Nothing was solved, understood or elucidated… The logic-testing thoughts, endlessly circumlocuted, My mind was failing, nervous and bloviated!
My resistance was worn down, crumbling, it wilted… My own thoughts could not be filtered… However, slowly the tormenting mind vegetated, Which was good; the brain needed to be rested… Along came a new wave of dichotomies to be wherrited!
There was a damsel I wanted to impress, She was chunky, and I’d heard, easy to undress… She loved a laugh and smiled at my stupidness… But she admired men who showed fearlessness… What could this whimp do with his faintheartedness?
I pondered, deciding on using fictitiousness! Told her I was going bungee jumping, most unchivalrous, Where? she asked – ‘Darley Dale on the bus…’ I’ll come to see you, she said. Oh, excessiveness! Now to face my acrophobia… but not be loveless?
I got the motorbike mended, off to Darley Dale, Picking up en route, the bonny lass, called Abigail, I arrived at the festival and put on a swagger, to no avail… From inside, my stomach churned; I must’ve looked pale… I was putting myself through hell for a desirable female!
Nervous? Me? Yes, I could hardly breathe or inhale! Searching for an excuse, I was feeling foolish and frail… Yet I was laughing along with my beloved Abigail, I looked up at the cherrypicker platform I’ve to scale, Fear of heights and cowardice… will I die at Darley Dale?
I found a resolution by fearing being mocked should I fail… Idea! Thump a Policeman, then they’d take me to jail? But no, I must do this heroic act to impress Abigail! If I live through this, fall in love, I’d tell the tale… Or should I run away and search for the Holy Grail?
They booked my jump for about 1400hrs… I sneaked away to the Pretty Flowers… A quaint pub on the road to Alton Towers… I drank three ciders and four pints of Guinness! Enough surely to get me out of this? I’ll never get up the ladder, being so pissed!
Walking back to the fair, when I was getting near… The fresh air must have taken away my fear… But it may have been something to do with the beer? I started whistling and greeted the gang; I was feeling queer! I cheerfully got into the bungee-jump helmet and gear!
.In the jumpers tent, all the others, some in over-leathers… Nervously talking and bragging, being sick the others! “Who’s first up?” most of them dithering and nervous! I called, “Me first, captain!” The others finished their reefers… Momentarily I thought, Did I take my beta-blockers?
Too late now, and I felt like a performer in a circus! Abigail cheered me as I ascended, I slipped on the ladder, hit my midriff and got winded, Not enough for my bungee jump to be rescinded! No stopping me now that I’d ascended…
I pressed on out to the platform… was this all a dwale? Got out to the edge… shirt off, like a Chippendale… Everyone from below could see I was a male! The wind… suddenly blew a gale! Down onto the ice-cream pole, my body did impale!
A Red Cross man arrived first. “Here, take this aspirin, cock!” The whole thing was a shock and schlock! And, I’d laddered my new knee-length bamboo right sock! Why worry about that… it’s poppycock? Mayhaps I’d gone into PTSD or shellshock? The police arrived and arrested me for TWOC!
Oddities whippersnappers may encounter, like leprosy, An honest politician (Joking!), or water on the knee, Have ten children; some are yours, at most three! Go to Scotland for the whisky and to find Nessie… Soon realise your sanity is becoming an absentee!
Cuddle up to and grope a gal, all nice and cosey… Sweet words are shared, things getting lovey-dovey! Then find out her name is Arthur and not Rosie… No need to feel embarrassed, daft, or dozy… Fake an excuse, rush off, and send him a posey!
One day you may become an abductee! The kidnapper demanding lots of money… Before he’ll think of setting you free… But no one will pay; you’re not famous, yer see? He’ll likely keep you as an adoptee!
You’ll eat strange foods, & plain foods, like onion bhaji, Liqueurs, cannabis cheesecake, and beetroot coffee? Pickled walnuts, fingernails, and chocolate garibaldi… Even if financially up a gumtree… Try anything, as long as it’s free!
Will you be an owner, manager, or employee? Mayhaps a hippy with long hair and a goatee? Drugged up to eyeballs, living in a fantasy? Marching against bombs and nuclear energy… Just like your Mam and Dad did in 1953!
No need to use a snickersnee or machete… Wounding or killing is plain bizarrerie… It could be you’ll need a necropsy? All through greed and your bellicosity, Finish now, with hatred and animosity!
Keeping on the straight and narrow takes fortuity…
To hide your weaknesses and frangibility…
We’ve only one life each, not an eternity
Staying honest and non-aggressive shows dignity!
At St Peter’s gate, of wrongs, you’ll need deniability,
It’ll be no good pleading for mercy, circumstantially!
When it comes to things financially,
You must avoid showing credulity!
Moneylenders, Bank managers, show crudity…
But do it to start with using misleading civility!
Muggers and robbers take your cash with audacity!
As you get older, you’ll go much more often for a wee-wee! With little warning, you’ll rush to the WC… But, you won’t make it in time very often you see… I know, cause every day this is happening to me! It’ll dribble or torrent, with no controllability…
The protection pants offer little comfort to me… But less protection, as I increase my bellies adiposity… Struggling, Little Inchie gets stuck in the zip… agony! I wet myself; wetter than if on a water-skiers jetty! It bleeds, I cry… this is ageing – it’s not very pretty!
To give up and let whatever will be, be, Inchcock needs help, an advisee… His confidence is low, can’t hear nor see correctly, Sorting timing and transport problems presently… Memory and mind blanks are persistently… Worryingly scary words, guilt at being so portly? Can’t communicate… he’ll need help shortly…
He’d like assistance without condescension… Problems with his hobbling obamulation, Going out? His last two trips caused panic hortation, He wee-weed himself, oh, vociferation!
Staying in now, he expects a call from the hospital, Missing it could be fatal… to the depression, he’d hurtle! His mind’s confused; it does justle and jostle … Poor old sausage… he worries more than a little!
Before the stroke, he was no mathematician… Now he needs the help of a physician… What can he do? He struggles in making a decision! Mind blanks and tumbling seem his new religion?
Appointment with the can’t test him yet, optician, Cataract ops first to correct his vision. Same with his local dentician… Good job, he hasn’t got a cosmetician! (Haha!)
Small print from the NHS and bank in unison… This means letters and texts have little comprehension, Causing the lad even more worry and tension, He really needs looking at by a diagnostician!
He drew his fretting to the attention of the warden,
Feeling embarrassed, to him begging, is alien…
Warden Deana arrived for a helping me out session,
Who arranged transport for me? My thanks and veneration!.
Then, he felt cared for and cheerier, no question!
So, time to fret over other things, like his fundoplication,
shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley, Little Inchies Fungal lesion…
And the Cataracts forthcoming double operation…
Hid new rear-end boils, a painful conglomeration…
Also, Inchcock’s ear-holes blockage and tintinnabulation…
Worry about his glaucoma and banks documentation,
Not to mention his bank accounts dwindling emancipation!
Deana was his Carpathia, saving lives on the Titanic,
Although Inchie still looks like he’s going brassic…
Her help today was something of a tonic…
His life no longer seemed so chronic!
He even started whistling, although not acoustic,
It’s never been his most vital attribute, singing…
Then again, he’s always been gently altruistic,
Soft and daft as a brush from a yearling…
He missed out on schooling and educationing.
He’s never grasped algebra, geometry or arithmetic,
Yet he’s always had a yearning, desire for learning…
As a lad, he’d double pneumonia, constantly sick…
I don’t know how he ever made a living?
He was well-known as a bit of a schmendrick!
Always getting beaten up or something…
Mother ever being taken down to local nick…
He was spotty, with the littlest ever ding-a-ling…
He took a lot of verbal and physical stick,
So it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t sing.
He coped with thumps and insults from many a bully? He was a whimp who never answered aggressively… He plodded on, hiding from being treated abusively… There was little he ever achieved, ruefully… Scared of water, he played hooky every Thursday…
That was the swimming lesson day, nobody noticed… For two years of playing hooky, he was not missed, Dad took him to the fair and visited a hypnotist… I think it should have been to a psychiatrist, The 11-plus, Mummy was on the run, so that he missed, In meaningless employment, he languished, But he grew up the shabbiest; he became a motorcyclist! When old enough, he became an alcoholic, always pissed! Oddly enough, it’s similar now… he’s still not missed, He wears protection pants; he’s pissed at always pissing!
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Aha, got some photos uploaded!
I believe this was Wednesday’s nosh. Of microwave veggie sausages, disappointing Icelands crispy chips (That weren’t), and red and orange tomatoes. Not too bad a plateful. Taste: 6.6/10.
Wednesday’s sunset. I’m finding it hard to stay up for the later evenings now the clocks have been forwarded (I’ve even got all on mine done now… Haha!) Variations on a theme, I’m calling it.
Thursday morning rising.
Wen to make a brew of Glengettie. And I spotted from the kitchenette window the rather heavy rain that was raining down,
I took this shot through the narrow bottom pane of glass, camera up against the window. Gave it a different aspect… which reminded me of Grizelda (Slight movement in the lower regions).
Took the last two a few hours later on Thursday.
Incidentally, at this point, I took my eleventh wee-wee of the morning. Cor, blimey!
Three more wee-wees and an hour or so later, I went to mash the second mug (Thompsons’ Punjana this time) of tea. I snapped this one of the houses in front of the tower block.
I must say, it came out reasonably well. An accurate representation of the local dwelling at the front of Woodthorpe Court flats.
The rain was a lot lighter at last, as it shimmers on the roadway of what I think is Elmswood Gardens… a sort of modern-day Coronation Street… perhaps not!
Afternoon Chestnut Way ends car park investigation. The parkers, the red-van-man, continued with his fear of white guidelines for parking between, then I went to the kitchenette to assess the choice of vehicle colours.
The evening Carer arrived, treats were offered. Got ready to get my head down and took what I guesstimate as my 24th wee-wee of the day. Hope things calm down soon!
At this time of web-searching for Nottingham Crimes & News, things seem slow. I apologise for the scarcity of murders, muggings, shoplifting, wife/partner beatings, pickpocketing, and attacks on police officers in this Issue of Inchcocks Local News Snippets. Later I had one more go…
14 months for dangerous driving, 4 months for driving while disqualified, Four months for theft… sentencing softening? Licence endorsed, driving without insurance, denied! 14 months for aggravated vehicle taking… From driving for 33 months, driving disqualified, Alongside 22-month sentencing…
Of which he will serve half in custody? This convoluted sentencing confuses me? Just when will he actually be set free? Was this adjudicator just a big softy?
Mental Health! This shows how complex the job is for professionals to get right – each sufferer, possibly everyone, will have different lapses and ailments, not easy! There were no sarkies on this one after I looked up what the Priory Hospital was all about…
New Covid cases confirmed this last seven days…
For Nottingham and UK, leave me in a haze,
We are over the worst, getting better; an expert says…
Another said Nottingham cases are peaking on Monday!
You just can’t trust what they say nowadays!
Will Mr Wallace get locked away?
The Law is an Ass, just to paraphrase,
In prison now, they can order takeaways!
Mayhaps a Pizza, and hold the mayonnaise?
The police caught him, so they deserve some praise…
I, too, find loud music making neighbours annoying!
While the guests are drug and alcohol refuelling!
Partying, singing, drunk and revelling…
They think their noise is nothing but trifling…
They’ll be too intoxicated for any canoodling,
Then they may start fighting and brawling…
But working neighbours’ patience has a ceiling…
And revenge will have no curtailing!
I hate violence of any kind, especially against someone or thing weaker than the attacker. Whatever this dog did to annoy its owner, what he did is disgusting! The poor frightened thing! I hope the RSPCA can catch and convict the scumbag!
When sentenced, they said his smile was wide!
Well, it’ll be easier for him to get drugs inside…
His time in nick will make life simplified,
No need to go on the run; his worries have died…
Cheap drugs via visitors… sarcasm implied…
They’ll supply free meals, salads, pizzas and fried…
Doctor, dentist, I find to be undignified…
I can’t get my cataracts done outside…
Should I commit a crime and lose my pride?
Then I’ll be able to see things, with my eyes open wide!!!
Ah! Now I’m getting to the nitty-gritty crime!
I read some rubbish from a criminologist,
Who should have been a craniologist…
We should put fewer people away, they insist!
Studying criminals? Pointless, they should desist!
They’d learn more helpful stuff being an acarologist!
Then, have themselves tested by a psychophysiologist!
Can’t find what he was sentenced to, other than breaching a restraining order? I’ll do another search… Nope, can’t find owt? M<maybe he was already in the nick?
White Van man’s excellent Parking!
Within the white lines marking!
No exit-ingress blocking!
No chance of any grid-locking,
Straight as a die, amazing…!
Very RVM (red-van-man) irking!
Blood pressure reading was more controlled, Sys 150, Dia 71… But the pulse at 90, high-fold? I’ll check on the web… NHS say 90 is Gold! So today, BP returns deserve to be extolled!
The body temperature was not so good… 34.4°c, not as high as it should… Little Inchies fungal-lesion is losing blood! But things may get better; yes, they should… But of that, there’s little likelihood!
Blood-Taking Dressing Removed
I thought the drops of blood on the cotton wool had created a humorous face pattern. I took this snap of it. Hehehe! There is rarely any bleeding after the magnificent, caring Nurse Hristina comes to do the blood-taking job, bless her. 💖
This is something that I look forward to!
I’m Beginning to Master the Whistling Kettle!
This morning, I even heard it!
I’ve located the inside of the fill-level marking…
Changing to reading glasses first…
If I use a torch, so I can see the etching…
So underfill it, so I can quench my thirst,
Then it gets louder… the whistling!
Trapping the finger closing the lid is worst!
Tuesday Evenings Meal
A treat of healthy foods tickled many a tastebud!
Fishcakes and cheesy potato cakes went down a treat!
Smoked haddock in some, cheese too, t’was alreet!
Mushy pea topping in the cakes…
Fishless fish-sticks to complete…
But I didn’t have a pud!
The meal I ate and felt replete!
Changing the bag in the kitchen bin,
Gawd strewth… what was I seeing?
Argh! An Evil Ironclad boll weevil biting beetle?
Have they returned again – bringing their teeth so evil?
I went into a Sherlockian mode, sort of preautopsy…
I got the beast out of the bin, then had a wee-wee…
So glad it was all black, due to my achromatopsy,
It was a biting boll weevil – Whoopsiedangleplopski
Seeing just the one, enough to bring on catalepsy!
A good search around, I could see no more – Whoopee!
Evening Sunset Today
The sky went from grey to this colour within a couple of minutes.
But stayed that hue for only ten minutes?
Finally, a further tribute…
Puckin Chairing a Meeting
This photo really scares me! They’re his advisors too!