Alto-Inchy nearly became visible!
.
What the hell are you on about?
Do you believe in the Morlocks?
No…
Bet yer don’t know who they are?.
I couldn’t give a sod who they are or ain’t.
A simple question, no need to gerrall upset abarght it, me old fruit…
Oh, frug-off! I don’t know where you’ve been, but the last three days have been heaven without you! Wherever you’ve been, can’t yer sod-off back to it…
No, no, no… I’ve been visiting the Morlocks, and I am the first Alto-Ego to do so!
Bollocks!
Ah! Yer see, you really don’t know who the Morlocks are then, do you?
I told you I couldn’t give a rats arse about who they are; why do you want me to know about them, whoever they are? I think…
Ah, but yer doesn’t think, that’s why you’re missing out so much… No! Let me finish…
Oh, go on then… let’s have it…
Well, you smarty-pants know-nothing. The Morlocks inhabit the earth’s inner and underside… and have done for longer than any tellurian life forms have, even before…
Is this going to take long? Only I can feel the need for a crap coming on… which will mean I’ll have had two loads of crap today… Hahaha!
Look Dumbo! This is important; I’m not kidding either. This could benefit both of us, and we can have a lifetime of fame… Well, fair enough, not you, you’re about to snuff it anytime now, at least I’ll be the most famous Alto-Ego ever…
I’m not interested nor bothered about dying – that’s cause you, yer foul-breathed bully Alto, have made me this way. With yer constant putting me down, decrying me, making me so depressed, frustrated and angry, fed-up with failures, this never happened before I found you lurking in my body and mind!
Well, that’s so nice of you to say so, and admit it too! I may have misread you a little. To know that you appreciate all my efforts to maintain your grumpiness, self-hatred and demoralised at all times – I think I
I’ve got to admit it; you’ve done a cracking job. So, go on, tell me about visiting the Morlocks then…
They told me how I could gain some visibility to humans! The Morlocks could see me clearly all the time… but I didn’t like that. I couldn’t sneak upon them, and they knew where I was all the while. No, I shan’t be returning to see them again. Thank heavens, tellurians don’t have this ability! But this gaining part-visibility is excellent! Again, I have supreme and individual capabilities that no other Alto-Ego has! Meaning I can scare the living daylights out of my current human, that’s you, of course. And learn to go fully visible with a bit of training. Of course, your time is nearly up, so I might go a little easy on you cause we’ve been pals for a long time now, and…
‘Ode on mush! Let me get a hold of this. You’re using me as a guinea-pig to practice yer visibility training? After telling me how much yer appreciate my help? You’ll likely give me a heart attack, and my limited time will be shorter…
Oh, yes, did you not see the outlines of weapons on me when I arrived? You should have; I’m a little disappointed that you didn’t, cause I wanted…
Screw you! You scumball! How would you feel of you had a limited life span? You’ve destroyed my self-confidence and frustrated and depressed me; I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t responsible for giving me Vascular Dementia… Ah! You were laughing at me, you horrible Alto-Ego! I just got a glimpse of an outline of the form you’ve taken…
Keep it cool, man! Well, I say man… Hehehe! No need to start getting new abilities now. You’ve got little time left to use ’em anyway! Why gerrupset? At long last, you’ve worked out that Alto-Egos distribute such ailments… Hold on, yer going red in the face now, that’ll do yer no good, Inchcock!
Why the pluck do you want to give innocent humans a mind-crippling thing like dementia? Are you telling me that you Altos are responsible for the ailment?
Of course, we are, Blunderbrain! It’s the easiest thing for us to inflict on humans – that’s why so many of you get it. Gawd, you’re thick! I mean, it’s not exactly easy, cause when we pass it on to you, we’ve got to wait twenty years before we find out if it has been successful or not, so you must appreciate, we have done it for our own good, yer see…
Gragnangles! How does yer work that out then?
Oh, Inchcock, you are so sad. You cannot see what’s happening at all, can yer?
Worrya mean?
Look at your ailment graphic above, and that’s not got the Kathleen Cataracts, Glaucoma Gladys, or Doreen Dementia on it yet, has it?
Well?
Listen, what’s yer worst worry, not counting being deaf, and can’t see much? Go on; I’ll wait while you muse over it…
Erm, not counting being deaf and can’t see much?…
That’s what I said, no rush, take yer time Inchcock; not too long, cause yer ain’t got a lot of time left, have you?
I’m trying to think here; I don’t need you confusing me more…
Exactly my point!
Wot?
I’ll keep quiet; let you work it out then…
Ponders: Erm, Duodenal Donald and Bladder Belinda have been bad today… Cathies Cartilage and Peripheral Pete have been playing up for a day or two… Dizzy Dennis and Sock 
Glide Brenda have had me over at the weekend…
Then, I scratched my head in the wet room, and it bled a lot… but I’ve since found out the Warfarin INR blood count was a little out of range; they’ve changed the dosages now. 
Summat happened on Friday, what was it? Oh, yes, The blood pressure sys went up to SYS 205 and DIA 88, and the Pulse had gone up to 97 bpm. I 
remember that. And having in the right eye (red-eye) subconjunctival haemorrhaging, which cleared up after two three-a-day days of eye drops? Ah, that’s summat I’d 
forgotten about. I must ask for some more of the eye drops. Colin Cramps has visited me for the last five nights, Little 
Inchies Fungal Lesion has been bleeding… and wee-weeing is painful, and sprinkle at the moment. A good job is that I’ve got a large stock of PPs (Protection Pants) in-store in the wet room to use. But Harold’s Haemorrhoids are stinging more lately but not bleeding as often as they 
usually do… Although the change in the INR level might be causing the bleeding on the arm after a blood taking session?
Even so, forgetting things is mayhaps the worst thing, so it’s Dementia, Doreen?
Yes, Alto, are you still there?
Aye, I’m waiting for you to tell me that it’s Dementia Doreen; that is the worst worry you have!
Well, pickle-my-walnuts! How did you know that?
All part of Alto-Inchie plan and design matey! By giving you Doreen to keep you worried, see how all the other ailments fade into the background?
I’m not sure… I suppose there might be summat in wot you say…
Even my being here, like it or not, takes your mind off of the ailments a smidgeon!
Yea… but we always end up disagreeing, which is not good, is it?
Or, is it indeed?
Anyway, hours ago, I asked you why you had a weapon with you. Well, why?
Just showing off what I learned from the Morlocks, Inchcock. Don’t fret; they are not real weapons. I don’t need them…
Har-Har! What you mean is you cannot fire them… you do not have the capability or physical skills needed to shoot them, innit?
No need to get sarkie with me, mate! It’ll only get me going making you feel tiny, a fool, an idiot, incapable of manual sex, mini-cocked, bald, socially unacceptable, pot-bellied, uncouth, smelly, repugnant, despondent, uneducated, lonely, miserable, uncouth, ugly, uncultured, underprivileged, scatterbrained, and pestiferous. Deserving of condemnation or execration… a totally pathetically inept old, repugnant fart, unwanted and uncared for, a coffin-seeking has been, who…
Has yer finished yet?
For now, yer!
Oh, good. I shall not return the insults, just suggest you go forth and multiply. Hopefully, with you never returning again…
Hahaha! The only reason I’ll not come again will be when you are dead, so keep on wishing, dumbo!
Oh! See yer anon then; in the morning, Alto?
Cheers, cocker!
A much confused Inchcock got ready for bed, did his ablutionalisationing, and climbed into his £300, second-hand bought, c1968, nauseously beige-coloured, not-working, rusty, rickety, crumb-holder of a recliner. And once again sensed the presence of Alto-Inchie, watching him ready for a verbal attack… As if prearranged, they started on a rhyme-a-line verbal battle…
Oh, you back again, come to lickspittle?
See that, no welcome again. Is your nastiness congenital?
Worrever yer want, be quick, cause I need a pittle…
Why can’t you be a little more angelical?
Cause I’m trying to sleep, and along comes you with your prattle…
Oh, that’s nice, to cheer you up I call twice…
Pig-off Alto, you’re the nasty one. Not nice!
Well, me helping you must come at a price!
Sod-off, I’d sooner be visited by lice!
I only came to tell you what day it was, Christ!
I think you are definitely agathokakological!
Your wording is anti-logical…
Tommyrot, you know that I’m sociological…
More like demonological!
Do you know what the words mean you are using?
Well, not all of ’em, but I find it amusing…
Amusing? I cannot allow you any of that, or contentment, entertaining, or smiling!!!
Was not? I’m just asking…
You nitwit, it’s the reason for my being, to cause you pain, confusion and much inconveniencing…
You do that alright, with your constant word-mincing…
Doreen Dementia has got to you again; you’re word misplacing and mispronouncing!
You horrible Alto-Ego, I wish I could give you a trouncing!
Well, that’d be better than us kissing…
Can’t we just calm down and start pleasantly talking?
Nae, you’d only start grumping, moaning and trumping…
That my unwanted, human-hating antisocial Alto would be due to your tormenting!
Well, I have no morals or body, like you who are in a state of decay…
Hey, hey, hey! You’re having a dig at me again. Oh, lackaday!
A?
A? Are you referring to my doomsday!
Yea! When you snuff it into the ether, your body and mind will stray…
No salvation, just nothing forever and a day…
You might try to pray…
But you’re faithless, right or wrong, who is to say?
Your end is nigh, and it makes me sigh; you could be dead by midday! Hahaha!
At least your fatty body will waste away…
Oy, Alto, You are betting sarky and bitchy!
Yes, thank you, it’s just my way…
I suppose I’ve led my life abstemiously…
That’s the spirit; at least your painful, pathetic, sad, pointless existence was led altruistically…
Altruistically? I’ll check that on the online dictionary…
Don’t waste your time Inchcock; your lack of education left you with a mental block…
And what about forgetting things, losing time, dates, days, keys, codes and the odd-sock?
You’ve not had a lot of luck, have yer? Remember when you were conned by the financial Shylock?
Aye, and being shot twice, made redundant three times, heart failure, Mother running away, ending up in the dock?
Duodenal Donald, going deaf, poisoned, being treated with lice, Shock after shock…
There’s a lot of my history you seem to know, Alto? Have you always had access to my memory box?
Oh, yea! From the go, mate. The first word I heard on this assignment was your Mam’s when she said to the midwife, “I don’t want it; throw it in the Trent!”
Cor, you heard it all, so it was true then, but that’s no consolement.
Aye, I saw it all, the fights twixt yer parents, the police collecting Mam for trial and imprisonment…
Oh, and the tin bath hanging outside on the wall in the yard, outside coal house and toilet, you getting bullied at school… yer life then wasn’t exactly suent!
You having your heart broken by Grizelda, playing truant…
Your fumbling attempts with Mavis from the end house when drunk…
Alright! Enough! Imperfect as my memory is, there are some things I’d like to forget, many a stunt…
Now, here you are 70 odd years later, done-in, pissed off, disabled, and languescent…
I remember the happy times when I lived in digs on Wilford Crescent; my life was incandescent!
Me too; I had a bit of a fling with another Alto…
Ah, but yer couldn’t have sex together, though?
Too true, but it was bliss, till she had to go… so sad though…
Why? Let your story flow…
Do you remember a geordie in the digs by the name of Joe?
I certainly do; that was sad. Heart attack, Joe died as he laid a double-six domino…
. Well, my affair of sorts was with Joe’s Alto-Ego…
She was transferred and assigned to another human called Domingo.
Wilford Crescent was good for me, bad for you, but there you go…
Yes, I lost concentration while Alto-Ego Christine was around… my making you miserable and depressed was not so profound…
I never thought of you as being capable of loving anyone…
Yes, to me, from her backside, the sunshine shone!
Which sounds emotional, as she didn’t have one…
What?
Arse!
0120hrs: Despite feeling so drained and tired, I soon got on the computer and started to update the Thursday post.
and that fearful wet warm sensation was felt again in the lower regions. So, off to the Porcelain room, I poddled. Oh, dearie me. The Little Inchy lesion had been pouring blood again. Heck of a job stopping the flow. Time-consuming, painful uncomfortable and messy task. But, thanks to my adorning the Protection Pants, a lot of hassle afterwards was saved. Thanks to Michael, by the way.
Feeling reasonably pleased with how things had gone, I got another pair of PPs on and started to get the pyjama bottoms back on. Lost my balance and over I went, landing on top of the clothes warmer. Which, is now a custom-designed garment-warmer. With more bends in it that it came with initially, and a new bruise on the right wrist and Hippy Hilda unhappy with me. Tsk!
All refreshed, I went back to the kitchen to make the mug of tea.
I got the pain gel out to put some on the chest and wrist, and again Dizzy Dennis visited, and I went forward. Put my hand out stopping myself hitting the counter. Unfortunately, the gel tube of was in that limb! Comforting to know, that the cooker top, counter surface and crock-pot will be protected from pain for a bit. Hehehe, it shot out all over the place.
Blimey, it was cold out there.
Caught the bus into town. A crow of us got off, an all the others sped away from me? Well, I’d had a shave and shower and used deodorant afterwards and put clean clothes on? Mmm?
case. Hehe
Along Upper Parliament Street and crossed over the road near the Theatre Royal and down Queen Street to the bus stop.
Hilda Hip gave me a blast of twinges as I stepped onto the crossing.
Thankfully, it was not a really bad one, but it seemed to last longer than usual.
It didn’t-half pour out some sweet smelling smoke, through which I saw a pile of nub-ends thrown into a corner on the pavement, and thought it must be better for him than tobacco? The Vap thing, I mean.
Nottingham clean! And underneath it dozens of fag-ends! Hehe!
I poddled to the apartment and put the stuff away and got on with preparing the meal. So tired now, I did nowt but eat the fooder; and very good it was too! Did the checks and medication taken.
will be alright.
Health Checks and medications were seen to.
On the way out I took the rubbish bags to the chute, and empty balsamic vinegar bottle to the still overflowing recycling bin.
Along and up Mansfield Road and near the Sherwood Arms pub, this lass of a Nottingham Pavement Cyclist appeared riding towards me.
Up and over the brow of the hill. Only to be faced by another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist coming at me.
Further down the hill and the traffic began to increase.
Walking passed and leaving the altercation behind me, and would you believe it, another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist approached me, from behind this time! I had the camera in my hand still, but so fast was his speed, he was just tiny in the photo, and I zoomed in too! Tsk!
Today’s appointment is so early, after I got a TV magazine from the newspaper shop, that the Lidl store had not opened. So I had a walk around Carrington for a while reminiscing, unhappily. I came across this Nottingham Street Art near the lamppost as I approached the Lidl Store.
Began the march back into Sherwood, with all the foot-slogging yesterday, the feet were painful and stinging now.
Down the hill into Sherwood, and on the opposite side of the road, yet another one of the notorious Nottingham Pavement Cyclists was belting down the slope.
Near the top of the crest of the hill, yet another Nottingham Pavement Cyclist took my attention. He’d shot across the Pedestrian Pelican Lights at such speed, he nearly hit the lamppost outside the abandoned, soon to be a new Gym property. But he corrected his Wayward-Whoopsiedangleplop well.
Up over the top and down to the Woodthorpe Grange Park gates.
1258hrs: I nipped down to the hut with the cakes for the wardens. Obergefreiteress Julie was in. We had a friendly natter while she worked on her computer, and I put the cream-cakes in their fridge and set off back to the flat. I met Obergruppenfurher Warden Deana and the gal from the building company, and we had a conversation. They would be calling in the morning twixt 0900 > 1100 to do the balcony sealing off.
Got the fish fodder sorted.
Accifauxpa: Stopped trying to do this after I burnt the back of the hand on the oven sides. Antiseptic cream applied.
Checked the Emails.
Are these ailments all sempiternal, will any relief be possible?