Where hope would once prevail

This morose rubbish was penned by Inchcock when he was at his lowest.

Having just missed a second appointment at his Dentists!

It flowed from his now even-more depressed mind easily. Too easily.

But, the old fool still posted it. Bless the poor old twit!

GC33

Where hope would once prevail

Where hope would once prevail,

Now there’s not even a contrail,

I’m  not exactly hearty & hale,

My failings, oh, I so want to wail,

My hopes have begun to pale!

Overweight, I’ll never be a Chippendale,

I believe I was born to fail,

Will my fortunes improve, my good flail?

No, more chance of finding the Holy Grail!

My good luck, I store under a fingernail,

My Accifauxpas, ever-grow in scale,

As my body does, it looks like a whale!

Whoopsidangleplops arrive, like a gale,

Worries, fretting, now no sleep to avail,

Still, it’s given me time to write this sorry sad, tale!

If anyone want to buy it, it’s for sale!

Evenin’ all!

Inchcock’s Trip to Nottingham wiv his camera! Comments in bad rhyme!

2Tue28

Inchcock’s Trip to Nottingham

1Mon05

I started out on my trip to town today,

I got through to the lifts, to my dismay,

The elevators all 12-floors below,

I waited patiently before I could go,

I had the scenic view to peruse, though!

1Mon05a

Walking through the link-passage again,

Welcomed by the pouring rain,

Trapped my fingers in the swipe-door, the pain!

I chatted with Angela and Elaine,

Out to get wet, but didn’t complain,

T’was nice to get out of the flats again!

1Mon05b

Off the bus, greeted with a jogging student’s glare,

I just tossed him back, a similar stare,

The rain worked its way, through my jacket,

I wouldn’t mind, but it cost me a packet!

Nottingham City Centre, I wondered why I ever went there!

1Mon06

I remembered though, it was to buy food, starting at Aldi first,

 I hobbled my way down a rainy Glasshouse Street,

At the shop, I bought a lot of fodder, even some Bratwurst,

Then paid, wandered off, for my spending was incomplete,

To Bargain Buys, they’d no potato cakes, that made me curse!

1Mon07

Mansfield Road, rain and Pavement Cyclists abound!

Next a bloke on a Lambretta, I cursed, and moved on,

Nottinghamian’s serenity, smiles, were not to be found,

As to Trinity Square, I was soggily bound!

En route, this bit of Street Art below, I found,

1Mon06a

It lay there, wet, upon the ground,

On Old Street, it was found,

Broken bottles nearby, a battleground.

I moved away, like a limping greyhound!

1Mon08

I got through Trinity Square, left via Kings Walk.

Not many folks about at all?

No one to say hello to, or talk,

Then we had a little rain squall!

1Mon09

Parliament Street had a few more folks around, I have to say,

Unemployed, Students, shoplifters, muggers, no policemen though.

The rain started pouring heavier, not a nice day,

So many eateries in one place, how do they all make any dough? (Hahaha!)

1Mon09b

Down Market Street, I did wobble along,

The rain temporarily having stopped,

I think I sang a joyful song,

The tram gave out a melodic ‘Klong-Klong’,

I might use this photo later, as a ‘Thoughts’ backdrop!

1Mon10

A damp Slab Square, where did the people go?

Is it the rain, are Social Services Inspectors lurking?

Which department are they from, if so?

After illegal immigrants, or claimants working?

A mystery to me, I don’t know.

1Mon13

Nottingham’s cheerless Wheeler Gate, depression flowed,

My target, in Turquoise, the Poundland shop!

Competing coffee shops each side of the road,

Staff sneering at each other, as a goad!

I came out of Poundland, with a massive load,

Two bags on the trolley handles, it went all over the road,

I spent so much, I wondered how much I owed!

1Mon14

To the bus stop home, along South Parade,

Though the tatty, unkempt Slab Square,

A slight Accifauxpas, I’m afraid I made,

The rain started again there,

Got my brolly out, the one for which £10 I paid,

It fell to bits, and to be right and fair,

  I couldn’t bend down, so I left it there!

1Mon14a

Over the Slab Square, to the King Street/Long row junction,

Where the brain struggled to function,

I had a Dizzy Dennis cumulation,

1Mon14b

When the head cleared, and the brain regeared,

With admiration for architect Watson Fothergill grew,

Just looking at his work, my heart cheered.

1Mon14

On the way up Queen Street, the trolley-walker veered,

Very nearly tipping over, that’s something I feard,

It became so unruly, it understeered,

By gum, I thought, this is weird!

Ah, a big-clump of chewing gum from the wheel was cleared,

I must say, I was greatly cheered!

2Tue30

Thank You

WDP 003j2

A Little Trip To Merry Nottingham – Photographically & Poetically told

4Thu19

I arrived on Parliament Street, greeted by the smiling populace,

A cheery smile on every face,

Oh, how I love the place,

Mind you, I had my can of Mace!

4Thu19a

I called in the Poundland shop,

Shoplifters were arguing, having a strop,

I didn’t want to eavesdrop,

So I didn’t stop!

4Thu19b

I notice pedestrians crossing the road against the red lights,

But all was eerily quiet, no fights,

I bloke chucked out of Burger King, what a sight!

Another chap was as high-as-a-kite!

Then two gals started a cat-fight,

I ran away, and well, I might!

4Thu19cClumber Street, I rested, the knees were stinging and tight,

Along came two men, one on crutches, the other on a bike,

I told the biker, it wasn’t right,

Driving so close to me on a bike,

He told me to take-a-hike!

4Thu19d.

Why do folks do this, I wonder why?

Two imitation policemen stood nearby,

They said and did nowt,

Cause they have no clout,

I moved on and gave a sigh!

4Thu19ELong Row, above the Yorkshire bank,

1833, bet these were built with pride and swank,

But such architecture goes unnoticed, to be frank,

By youngsters, with acne and a look that is blank,

To them, workmanship & beauty is not worth a Franc!

4Thu19fLong Row businesses, failing so so much now,

This shop used to be Burtons food store,

Where you could buy pork, bread or a cow,

I miss it more and more,

I can still smell the meat, somehow,

Though we couldn’t afford it, we were poor!

4Thu19gAh, another pavement cyclist, for short, PC, I’ll call them,

One hand on his handlebar, texting on his phone in his hand,

He even spat out some horrible phlegm!

Some say they should be banned,

But not by the Greens or Lib-Dem!

4Thu19HA gathering of Nottinghamians resting,

Unemployed, students, and shoplifters?

The bored, the drunks, and Brexit debaters?

Look at their faces, it’s interesting,

They all glare at me, as if they hate us!

4Thu19iCity Centre, Long Row, and, the Slab Square,

Architecture by Fothergill Watson, who was the absolute best!

The man was a genius, with skill and flair!

Better than all the rest,

And, I’m only being fair!

4Thu19JQueen Street, I nearly got hit by yet another PC,

Delivering food, perhaps pizza, burgers, or a fricassee?

Maybe once again, one will run into me?

But I carry my taser, just in case you see!

 

This rubbish was wrote during an evil spell of the dizzies and shakes,

By Inchcock, while he ate his supper, of cheesy cakes.

I fank you!

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

 

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!

Inchcock’s wobble to Nottingham, in the rain. Wet-through, Water-logged, and Wringing-wet. Hey-Ho!

Inchcock’s wobble to Nottingham, in the rain

5Fri08

Got off the bus with some help from a stranger, walked down to town,

Galloping Horses were swirling or spinning around,

But no one riding on them, I found,

Damned shakes, I dropped the flipping camera on the ground,

Retrieved it painfully, and took some more shots from around.

5Fri09The overcharging food stalls, cooking their repast,

As Nottinghamian’s, just strolled past.

5Fri11The Nottingham Slab Square, It’s always there, It looked a right mess, to be fair!

5Fri12Off I plodded, to the Poundland Shop, 

T’was only a short little hop,

In search of drain unblocker and other codswallop!

5Fri13I entered the premises, soaking wet,

I bought too much stuff again, not to fret,

I still had a little money left yet,

I gave the helpful lady, a thank you, she is a pet,

And gave her a can of Gin & Tonic!

5Fri14Paid-up, and out into the rain again,

Arthur Itis and Anne Gyna were giving me a little pain,

Determined, to resist depression,

Mind you, I had indigestion,

And a slightly confused brain!

5Fri16On to South Parade,

Dizzy Dennis visited, unwanted,

So, progress was delayed,

He soon dissipated,

I was glad but amazed!

5Fri017I took a photo, down Exchange Walk,

Not many folks having a talk on their phone?

People all around, yet I felt so alone,

Chewing gum littered where the folks walked.

5Fri019aI hobbled, struggling with the three-wheeled trolly-guide,

Through the Exchange arcade,

And out the other side,

For these stallholders, I’m afraid,

Not much money will be made!

5Fri20King Street in the rain, showed another Council pain,

Yes, chewing gum on the pavement again!

I bet they don’t have this trouble in Bahrain,

I view ditching gum on the floor, with disdain!

5Fri22

5Fri23I crossed to the other side of Long Row,

Got under alcove-cover to take these, don’t you know,

The only permanent retailer was busy serving, on the go,

The folks in the rain, well, it’s better than snow!

5Fri24I was well wet, and a little cold,

Not good for me, now I’m getting old,

Good job I’d had my flu jab, the anticold,

Despite the rain, I had to be bold,

So I dashed, wobblingly, to the bus stop, wet and cold!

5Fri25T’was bleak on Queen Street, waiting for the L9,

5Fri26And the hands didn’t look very fine!

It didn’t look like it was mine,

But I mustn’t whine,

I mused of things like Mnemosyne,

Then took a moody picture, it came out fine!

5Fri27The bus arrived, and it brought on a smile,

It’s coming eased my cold and chagrin,

I went to get on, missed the step by a mile,

A bloke picked me and the trolley up, and helped us in,

I was alright after a while,

But this trip out, left me needing Codeine and Amoxicillin!

WDP 09L

 

A Few Words of unadulterated hogwash

A Few Words of unadulterated hogwash

WDP08L

The Neurotransmitters, are nearly as dead as a mutt,

But other things were dwelling on my mind,

I can’t get the flaming fridge door to shut!

Cut me finger opening the window, no plasters can I find,

The toilet gurgles, and the hot water tap’s kaput,

I fell over on Friday, but the paramedic was kind,

The Bus Pass? No idea where it been safely put,

Little Inch’s Fungal Lesion bleeding’s unconfined

Hello! This time it’s a toe I’ve stubbed and cut!

I’ll have to go, cause I’m all behind,

But the belly is bigger, I’ll eat another chocolate nut!

Thrown together in a fit of frustration

at the election result!

A Little Chunter from Inchcock. In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

1Mon05.jpg

A Little Chunter from Inchcock

In bad, nae, terrible rhyme!

It’s the day of the criminal, there is no more law,

Empathy, understanding have become just folklore,

I don’t see Police officers in Nottingham, anymore,

 Pavement Cyclists, beggars and shoplifters galore,

Street sleepers, who survive with skills of a detrivore,

Druggies, alcoholics, muggers, both old and mature,

While families dine, smoke cigars and drink their liquor,

All the time, making the poor, feel even sicker!

Disabled with Fit for Work Assessments, have to fight and bicker,

A blind chap got told he can work on a cherry-picker!

Jobseekers told to do psychometric tests, Glory Be!

But if you’re lucky, you’ll live to retire just like me,

But it isn’t what you thought, no rest and freedom, see,

Heart attack, Duodenal Ulcer, and I live on the twelfth-floor,

Peripheral Neuralgia, then a stroke and Arthritis, core!

What next I thought, and the lock broke on the door,

It was mended within three weeks, no need to be sore,

My hot water system went down, so I called help once more,

After nine days of being lied to, ‘We are coming today for sure,

Staying in and awake eight-until-ten, no chance of a bedsore!

But they mended it! It leaked, my clothes wet, the water did pour!

I slipped on the liquid, ending up injured on the floor,

Luckily, the stroke nurse called, so help came to the fore,

Depression and self-hating I began to explore,

I complained at the lack of help, this just caused a furore!

Now the haemorrhoids have returned, bloody and sore!

 

I fank You!

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