Local News Snippets – Part 23⅞ths

Will justice ever be seen again?

Will murderers ever are executed, slain,
Although hanging is looked upon with disdain,
Are all MPs against it? I can’t ascertain…
Convicted to life in prison, they should remain,
In prison, it’s easy for them to get cocaine!
Many have broken out again and again!
The injustice of the legal system drives me insane,
Execution will never return; is it concrete, certain…
Then again, in a few years, although by then inane…
People will realise life on earth we cannot sustain!
Too many people to feed will cause our destruction,

We have to urgently reduce the world’s population,
3 million murders a day, and we lock them away,
Feed them, medicate them… well, this is no way…
I suggest we use the skills of our local electrician,
To electrocute murderers or try decapitation?
Get rid of the scumbags that infest our Nation,
And remove their breeding stick; that’ll do the trick!

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

Local News Snippets – Part 23⅞ths

We’ll start off with a report on the Covid pox,
I imagine there’ll be more soon on the monkeypox…
Or maybe one on the return of chickenpox?
But first, we’ve Covid yet, outfox,
First, I’ve got to get my head around Firefox,
Then when time, I’ve got Germoloid my buttocks,
While Nottingham scum work out the new car locks,
I must order some new diabetic kneesocks…
Then get through the day full of shocks and shlocks,
I’m waffling again; sorry if I got you in a flummox!

Released on bail, it makes me wail…
So he can get more drugs and ale?
Didn’t know what it was, his conditional bale…
Tell him not to drive? That’s a fairytale…
Not to get drunk, on spirits or impale a female?
He mustn’t run away to Wensleydale?
I’m guessing, him responding to his bale? A dwale!

Blimey, reminds me of my mother. Regretfully!

Yet another one does a runner!
Parole boards’ reputation gets murkier!
Deterrents for crime get flimsier,
Scumballs are getting treated kindlier?
Escapees are getting more regular…
None-returnees are getting cunninger…
And I’m definitely getting portlier!
That’s nowt to do with escaper…
Who’s a  naughty boy and a fibber!

One thought appeals. Best not say!

Despite my total lack of winning anything gambling-wise, for about 62-years now – I anticipate and expect a win of some sort shortly. Surely?

See his sneer? He’s got no fear…
He may well like it up the rear,
Will he settle in the nick? Or disappear?
Things happen, and he may even get leerier?
I’d sooner he dies slowly, contracts malaria,
He can be educated on how to be friendlier…
Be good if another prisoner went for his jugular!

Learn summat new every day!

Gorrum!

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

Proletariats from all around the land, Bless them…
Cheltenham, Birmingham, Nottingham or West Ham,
Wherever; realise that MPs & the law are a sham…
Anytime now, expects riots with a wham!

Inchcocks Photographicalisations, Ode & Diary

Photographicalisations & Diary

♫Fings ain’t wot they used to be…♫

Little did I know the above-written ode would turn out!
I’m worried now; I think I had a memory blank or blackout?
Mistakes n everything I tried to create… a mental wipe-out!
It took me all day to get the blog done, a mind whirlabout…
Problems lasted hours… in fact all day, or thereabout?
Couldn’t get to grips with the day, time, everything, a doubt?
I had to keep stopping when the brain went on a gadabout…

Cataracts and glaucoma made things worse…
The noisy, clang-banging Herbert above made me curse…
Went to the Porcelain Throne; the evacuation was vicious,
Rock-solid: it took me half an hour; this is not fictitious!
It felt about the same size as a trolleybus!
One aspect was not painful or scary; quite the reverse…
Painful, yes, but no bleeding from the rear end, thus…
Washed and did the Germoloid creaming. Oh, that soothes!

From Grammarly, mistakes of all sorts, I was being told,
But I pressed on, which I thought was rather bold…
Dizzy Dennis joined me; Herberts’ noises could still be heard,
Why do I feel so bad could still not be answered,

So what I’m waffling on about…
I did my best, but without any doubt…
Faults mistakes you’ll quickly pick out…
Dates and times mostly, serious and nowt…
From start to finish, throughout…
I suppose this Ode is a criticism redoubt!

I can’t really put a date as such,
The photos, taken over 2½ days,
It may be mixed up datewise in a rush…
To get this blog done… with my mind in a haze,
I dun me bestest, please don’t underpraise…

I’m depressed and in pain, in many ways,
I really have had much betterer days and praise…
The coming of tomorrow and better days,
I’m hoping the confusion doesn’t overstay…
And depression finally breaks away!

Forgive any duplicated photos put in,
With wrong dates & times, I know it’s a sin!
The ailments are bothering me out and within,
My hopes for improvement are relatively thin…
Good job that I don’t drink, or I’d have a gin!.

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

Photographs & minimal Memories

By Jimminee, and jolly good heavens above, what an absolute improvement on yesterday’s sphygmomanometerisationing for the level of blood pressure! Comparing it to Thursdays, nerve-wracking 285 Sys!

It tumbled down to 148, and very welcome it was to see it!

The pulse had dropped as well.

 

Another good result from the thermometer.

It was a dead-on target at 35°c.

I think I was; I had a losing battle against Sock-Glide Glenda again in the wet room. SGG 3 – Inchie 0! It all happened so quickly. Having completed getting the socks on, I was, with only one tiny bruise on the foot, and as I stepped over the frame to grip Glenda to remove her… And seconds later, I was on the deck, entangled in her framework! With a bruise that anyone would be proud of on my shoulder. But then…

Getting up back to my feet (bear in mind I had not got any glasses on at the time). I lunged at the grab-rail to assist my getting up… and missed it entirely! I then had a new bruise to add to the shoulder and wrist ones on my flabby belly as I went back down again and made a painful connection with Sock-Glide-Glenda… again! A few scratches as well, but they are pretty. The Carer said so when she came. She was well impressed with the shoulder bruise. But her favourite was the blotch come bruise on my left man-breast nipple; she was very keen on the pinkness and swelling. Hahaha!

The Iceland food arrived. I’m sure I’ve put all these on before, but it won’t hurt for anyone who may order beef chunks from Iceland to see the photographs of the three packs I bought again. They were all within the sell-by date, too!

On Special offer, I just looked at this close up of the red and khaki coloured lumps they’d sent! It was the same or similar colouring? It reminded me of the only time I’ve seen horsemeat served.

The JS Sainsbury delivery. In the centre of this picture, on the right, you’ll see three tiny sourdough cobs that cost more than the milk roll bread. Talk about hard! Gawd, blimey, they were 80% crust. Did my teeth no good. But I ate what I could salvage from the concrete balls of sourdough later on? 

The ‘Best’ potatoes all had growths of bruises on them.

Can’t recall what night I made this meal. But I can remember enjoying it pretty well. The fishcakes with peas in them were tasty enough, the potato waffles were terrible, as were the fish fingers, all vegetarian. The tomatoes tasted excellent, cake and banana, but the vegan cakes cost more money. The potatoes and peas were disappointing. Taste Rating: 6.5/10.

I think I’ve shown this photo, but I am not sure. Sourdough bread, the Polish style one, mushroom pate and tomatoes, a soft imitation cheese portion, were almost as bad as the cakes. But that bread and pate. Was gorgeous.

.

Mike Fries: A good looking, Mafia-type, $23 million wage earner – no, I’ll take that back, he is not an earner to me.
But, I admire his cunningness in convincing his paymasters at Liberty-Global, to pay out $15 billion to buy out Mr Branson’s Virgin Media. Then instructing the UK telecom call-centre team, never to mention Liberty-Global to any customers? Thus, Mike Fries cannot get his $15b internet service to run for a day without going down several times – and Richard Branson gets all the name-calling and abuse. (He’s clever, you know!)

I imagine that if any proletariat call-centre person was caught mentioning the name Liberty-Global to any poor Virgin Media customers… The least they would come away with would be getting knee-capped & sacked?

He’s a Smoke & Mirrors expert. A figure-conjurer of the highest order. The bosses at the top get the complete treatment from his financial sleight of hand and legerdemain skills. They likely actually are being convinced by Fries of the competency of Virgin Media? Which, of course, does not exist.

There’ll be some financial hocus-pocus going on that convinces the top dogs of his profit-making for them, even if only on paper, so’s to speak. It’ll be out of my league!

I believe his flimflam, hanky-panky, and double-dealings will never be caught. So effective are his smoke & mirrors techniques.

This is a shame because despite wishing him a slow, excruciatingly painful death for his cheating ways and knackering me up every day with his Virgin internet repeatedly failing.

I like his style.

I’m jealous probably. Hahaha!

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

Evening Carer’s just called. Another new gal, pleasant enough with me. I insisted she had some treats, a nibble and a drinkie for putting up with my constant moaning about life. Hehehe!

It’s late now; I’m ready for summat to eat and a kip. I’ve got some spuds baking, pod plead in the saucepan, and a veggie pastie to add to the potatoes if I don’t fall to sleep first. I’ll try to get this finished in the morning.

I’d like to stay awake long enough to get some sunset shots. If Colin Cramps visits again when I get down, I should at least get the sunset photo’d if no sleep. Har-Har!

As I was going to have a check on the fodder cooking, I heard a clattering noise from the room I’d just left. I went back to investigate…

The new giant faux-fur brown throw had somehow or other, slid off of the £300, c1968, second-hand, decrepit, rickety recliner, taking to the floor with it: my Wood-Waking-Stick-Walter, Picker-Upperer-Percival, Shoe-Horn-Horis,  a towel, two pairs of trousers, a pot of Cheeselets, two bottles of spring water, and two cushions! Harrumph!

I got things sorted things out again. And then went back to the kitchen to get the meal prepped and served up. No sunset as such, but the view was eerily misty, enough for me to take a snap.

photographicalisation. Served up the fodder. Two veggie pasties, two potatoes baked, halved and plant butter added. fresh garden peas and tomatoes. A banana and pot of dessert. Taste Rating: 7.8/10.

I got sorted and down to try and stay awake long enough to watch my first episode of Grimm. It started at 22:00hrs, which is too late for me normally. I remember checking the schedule, and it was 15 minutes before Grimm started on the same channel… and thinking at last I’ll get to watch it… Of course, Sweet Morpheus got me, and off to kip, I went before seeing the program start!

I woke a few hours later, a selling channel was on then. I rose for a wee-wee and needed the Porcelain Throne as I was on my way to the wet room.

Rock-solid again! A good hour I was in there, going through pain and having to make it worse by giving my best supportive efforts to constantly edge the concrete torpedo out from the rear end. Gawd it felt good afterwards, though!

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

Inchcocks Local News Snippets – Issue 31⅕th

Issue 31⅕th

I’m pleased to be able to report,
This issue has less violence of a sort,
Minor stuff, no murders, that’s a comfort,
Cause I may find one later, to import…
There’s no need to feel distraught,
There’ll soon be more, for me to flaunt!

Here we go…

Mental Health Act, I worry about it a bit…
Many members of my family have known it…
Malcolm, and others, they have seen fit…
Locked up, losing their citizenship…
One chap, they even gave him the snip?
He hurt no one, ever, but he still got zapped?
Now my family have gone off to the crypt!

Yet none of them had committed rape or murder,
If the mentally ill are considered a danger…
Could we not have discovered this much earlier?
Stop waging war, spend money wiser…
I’m getting confused, I’m not a scaremonger…
Drug gangs, Putin, murderers, muggers and pillagers,
Greed for cash… to show off and swagger!

Nor am I in my right mind, due to Doreen’s Dementia,
I’ve not led a life, with very much adventure…
But the mentally ill can be more of a danger…
Cause we rarely find out, before they become a killer!
That they have a problem, but a lawyer is a great deluder…
Claiming mental problems, voices hear, trickery here!

As with the parole board, that frees many a murderer,
To kill again… can justice really be absurderer?
So many innocents, now laying in their sepulture…
Because of the legal system, and its pathetic nomenclature!

Life imprisonment, they get out in ten?
This is not rare, it’s happened so often…
Judges pretending that the case is disproven…
Like backhander taking referees, the Government to please,
Keep the scum out of prison, the cost does displease…
It’s cheaper to make them into parolees…
So they can murder again, and with such f’ing ease!

Fair enough, put her in hospital, to play with frisbees,
She can be assessed regularly, by overpaid committees?
She’s better now, all the parole board might agree…
They may say no, either way, it doesn’t bother their fees!
Will mental murders ever start to decrease…
Is the legal system bothered at all? That’s the wheeze!
I’m sure we could find a way to help earlier, Please!
Before we have yet another innocent, deceased!

Humankind, seem to be losing the ability for conferring…
As well as bantering, bartering, and also, discussing…
Although some other qualities, they are practising,
Like moaning, complaining, thumping, mugging…
Battering, stabbing, lying, cheating, conning…
Grovelling, drinking, drugging, belching, killing…
Bedevilling, befuddling, begalling, belittling…
Caterwauling, shoplifting, fiddling, crime and spitting,
They have taken to with eagerness, and willingness.

This violence is getting a little close to home mate!
Like Putin, who validates it’s okay to annihilate!
Drink, drugs and sex, can easily overstimulate,
They put men on the moon, dead cells rejuvenate…
Shame the proletariats’ brains won’t recalibrate!
Mistakes my those in power, they just replicate…
Knowing their failings are worse than Watergate!

Oh, yes?

Even closer to my Woodthorpe Court, great!
Burglaries, break-ins, what a spate…
I think I’ll hibernate and vegetate?
Till Jesus returns, not long to wait!

Conditional bail? Sounds dodgy, to me?
What are the conditions? What do they be?
Why have they let this animal roam free?
Justice is farcical, in this country!

I’ll try to follow this one!

Local Postcode Crimes v National

The NG5 4DZ Crime Map. Been busy ain’t they?

A scumball like that does not deserve a lawyer for free! At least he got a prat of a lawyer, who could only tell the judge that he’d been a good boy, in mitigation. With his record, how he got off so lightly just proves my saying that the law is an ass!

This Below is really sad… Heartbreaking!

Everyone is a loser!

RIP Ray Dixon

ROGUES GALLERY

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Local News Snippets: With Ode Comments, Part 11⅛th

Local News Snippets
With Ode Comments
Part 11⅛th

Nottinghamshire News

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

How many more people are the Government and Parole Boards going to get murdered? Why are the namby-pamby, battling for prisoners-rights, pathetic parole board members getting it wrong and freeing so many killers? Why do killers have so many rights? Other than to get to use the gallows, they should have none!

On March 9, 1950, a young Welshman living in London was sentenced to death for one of the worst crimes imaginable – the brutal murder of his wife and young child. After a whistle-stop trial lasting just three days, Timothy Evans was convicted and subsequently executed for the murder of his wife Beryl and 14-month-od daughter Geraldine. So, again, who was to blame?

And they do – REPEATEDLY!

Following the unmasking of Christie, a campaign led by many prominent journalists and newspapers sought to highlight what they said was a miscarriage of justice. Still, two official inquiries ordered by the Home Office found nothing wrong. The first, led by John Scott Henderson QC, upheld Evans’ conviction, concluding that Christie’s confession of murdering Beryl Evans was unreliable because it was made to support his defence that he was insane. The second, chaired by High Court judge Sir Daniel Brabin, found it was “more probable than not” that Evans murdered his wife and that he did not murder his daughter – contrary to the prosecution case in the original trial. Yet still, they get things wrong! Jailed ‘for life’ (Hahaha!), but freed to kill again: Shocking new data reveals that 149 criminals have joined the ranks of ‘double-lifers’ over the last ten years to kill again! Our legal systems gang of rich misfits are guilty themselves yet once more.

No wonder freed killers don’t target judges, lawyers or parole officers!

I wonder what would happen if they catch the scumball?
His lawyer will claim he’s going demential?
He took a pain pill once, and now he’s hooked on Ketamine Special?
His ten past convictions have only been financial?
He’s a Covid doctor and must keep his job; it’s essential?
An Auntie touched his knee; his emotions were conflictual?
He got raped by a male cat; unsure if he’s homosexual?
His teachers forced him to play football?
All he wanted was to be an intellectual?
Hit his head, twixt right and wrong are not recognisable?

Conning the judge? Easy, malleable, manageable, and manipulable!
The barrister tells him his clients’ past crimes are nullifiable…
He admits to this charge, for it is not deniable…
Really my client is the one who is pitiable…
He’s not stabbed or raped anyone for weeks; surely that’s praisable?
His motives were not malignant or questionable…
Although his actions he now finds regrettable…
Would a case of Glenfiddich 1937 be acceptable?

A potential trial in September?
Nothing about our legal system is certain,
Then October, maybe even November?
The judge has to break for tea and a frangipane,
Or not at all, unless the judge can keep sober…

And how long before this pair of shits is free again?
By the look of them, their dink must be high-octane…
They don’t look respectable or humane…
They ought to be stuck on top of a weathervane…
I’d sentence them both to an overdose of lidocaine…
I bet the soft judge sentencing, he’ll maintain…
While locked up, they cannot to innocents give pain…
They’ll be out, molesting, hurting and raping again!

An eighteen-year-old attacks five… Holy shit!
Hands and arms of officers and guards he bit?
Well, you can’t say he has no drive and spirit?
Every officer took some form of a kick or hit…
One guard thinks the lad broke a digit?
It took five of them to get him in the car, then the git…
Another officer got kicked on the chin; Gawdamit!
I hope the police carried a haematocrit!

Good heavens, what next! The Black Death?

A fifteen-year sentence?
With an 8-year extended licence?
Eh! What’s all this nonsense?
Chicanery or maybe ambivalence?
Hope it’s not the judges’ munificence?
I looked it up; it proves this judge has sentience!
The additional term in the nick… With I hope, quiescence!
To keep people safe from his concupiscence!
Fancy a judge showing some prospicience!

Looks decent to me?

Well, dang my eye, a conflicting report?
The changing figures seem a little distort…
One set gives fears, the other one comfort?
Still, I’m going to get myself all fraught…
I’ll chew on my bar of strawberry noughat!

What a dodgy looking set of villains!

Elizabeth Dodds, prosecuting, said the steroids, a class C drug, were worth between £90 and £120 on the outside, but in jail, the value increased tenfold up to £1,200. When questioned, Kirkland – who has 139 offences to her name, mainly for shoplifting – announced: “It was just tobacco.” Hahaha!

Alternative accommodation to be found?
Somewhere mayhaps snowbound or icebound?
Somewhere suitable six-foot underground?
Where food has to be begged for or scrounged?
Where freedom again will never be tasted or found!

Well, I’m back to my usual on the find three-houses competition,
Not that this encourages any mardiness or derision!
I never expected to win, although that would be a sensation!
If I was to win anything, I’d lose my identification…
As the unluckiest person in the world, in any Nation…
I’ve not won owt for donkey years; I’ve lost the motivation!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Late Snippet

13 and 12 months. Do they look like they’re bothered? No wonder I have no faith in the future. There will be more and more violence – and fewer and fewer deterrents.

The End Is Nigh!

Ah, well! I’d berra get summat to eat then.

Inchcocks Local News Snippets in Odes – Issue 4⅜

Nor Human Traffickers!

Local News Snippets in Odes – Issue 4⅜

What do you think has caused this stabbing?
The first thing that comes to mind involves drug taking,
Perhaps it could be protection racketeering?
Lot’s of affluent students in Nottingham educating?
Of course, with kids, there’ll be sex rampaging,
And students getting drunk, meths drinking?
Which is more interesting than wordsmithing!
No doubt greed, jealousy, drugs or loathing!

They say it’s the twelfth fire on this estate…
The third in two months, a dodgy state,
Most on sites involving freight…
Or waste, recycling bases, what does this connotate?
I’ll let you know if I find out owt at a later date…

The gal had been taking drugs into prison, for hubby,
Well, they are not married; they met at a drugs orgy,
Making the prisoner an awful lot of money…
Well, for highs, they both have an affinity…
The Judge showed a lot of affability…
‘Go home and give your children a big kiss?
That sounds a bit naughty and cheeky?
From a Judge? What the hell is this?
I don’t want to sound finicky…
Does he want her to supply him cocaine or a kiss?
Mayhaps on the day the Judge was tipsy?

Just to show you how I’m keeping up with my usual luck in the gambling stakes. Humph!

Well, another Constabulary mystery?
Whatever has occurred? Was it unsightly?
Something vicious, frighteningly?
Eight police vehicles attended… Getaway!
Murder, terrorists or? What unpleasantry?

Bank robbers hiding? A car with no MOT?
Folks signing into their own homes to have a brew of tea?
One more police car, and there’ll be none free!
Trouble at Mill here, I can see!

I read these figures apprehensively…
I sense a Government con here; we’ll see…
Corona Virus, all about money, money…
They’ve upped tax, food prices, and to me…
That’s what they wanted to do, disagreeably!
Help kill off the NHS… do you agree?
There are more folks with the virus around me…
Grenfell, why’s no one been punished, Lordy Me!
Tories get voted in again! They get off scot-free?
Disgusting! Absobloodylutely!

Her killer doesn’t want to be involved in the inquest of his wife, who he murdered? But you would like to know the outcome?

And he’ll be Freed to Kill Again. I guarantee it! Knowing our Parole Board pillocks!

Scumballs!

I think that Lucifer is winning.

What’s the plan, God? Got any?

Pathetic PC sentencing here, methinks?
The legal system, I believe, stinks!
Scared to death of sentencing Muslims?
I can understand that; I come from the slums…
The future scares me…
From terrorism, gangs and every bent MP,
Today’s youngsters will never be free!

At least he only threatened to kill!

That’s the spirit, Judge. Lock ’em up! Seven years equates to about three methinks. With good behaviour?

A Cruel Tax!

I am so delighted to report on this sentence.

A jury of six men and six women took two-and-a-half hours to return a unanimous guilty verdict of manslaughter on Lawson Byrd, who deliberately caused the death of 19-year-old Gianne Obafial.
But they cleared him of the more severe charge of murder. During a two-week trial, Crown Court heard how the defendant, also 19, drove at and then over Mr Obafial in Mercian Way and headed off up Abbey Street.
Giving evidence, Byrd claimed he had no intention of causing the fatal injuries his victim received. Instead, he told a jury he “panicked” after seeing ” a glimmer of metal” in the waistband of Mr Obafial’s trousers and thought it was a knife.

BOLLOCKS! If that had been true, he could have got back in his murder weapon and driven off! Judge Shaun Smith QC said: “Mr Byrd, you have been found guilty and criminally responsible for the death of Mr Obafial, but they have decided you did not intend to kill him or cause him really serious injury. The bullying toss-ball was sentenced to jail for 12 years for manslaughter.

Convicted murderers have got less. I’m tickled pink!

See what I meant above?

Spotted this on Facebook

Interestingly, I spotted the Meridian logo on his uniform. The same company that Nottingham Council uses and tend to my needs. There’s no getting bored with them. In the two months that I’ve been using them, they have failed to turn up six times. Twice coming after midday, which meant it was too late for me to take my medications… in case the evening Carer came. Hehehe! 

On two occasions, they came late but early enough to allow me to take the prescriptions. My trouble… one of many, is having Vascular Dementia, and some days, I don’t realise if they are late, and my mind wanders off. Sad, but true! If someone was to contact me and let me know what’s going off, it would help. The other two times, no one came for the morning visit at all. I often wonder if I am being charged for it? However, and notwithstanding…

The Caring Industry is like the Security Guarding was when I worked for them. Under-staffed, underpaid, and so hectic you wouldn’t believe it! So, I can relate to the branch managers and the staffs’ frustrations. People not turning up and informing you ten minutes before their shift starts, and not showing at all! The good Carers are precious but have to cover all the time for a few. Just the same with the Guards. I have some really caring Carers who call on me, so patient and understanding. The industries are so competitive, with so many available, but none can be 100% reliable. What can they do? Charging more, thus paying higher wages, is a no-no for growth. Sacking bad time-keepers would be a pleasure for some managers, I know… but things would be worse then!

So, I have empathy and understanding of these problems. But that does not offer a solution, does it? Shame!

Luckily, I no longer have to struggle with those problems… nowadays I work to walk, do the ablutions, control my dementia, the eyesight failing with glaucoma, cataracts, and saccades all to be treated with a prospective up to 43 weeks to wait for the first

cataract to be done, the wait again for the other eye to be done. Hopefully, they will be using the Phacoemulsification method. I pray they might do both eyes lens replacements at the same time.

Then, glaucoma in both eyes as well needs to be sorted. (Eye drops only, I think?) Then the saccades in the right eye.

I’ll be getting my telegram from the Queen or King by the time I get around to having all these done and get to have an eye test done to get new lenses from the optician!

You can bet the dentist, DVT, or Cardiac appointments will come when I’m having the eyes done. That happened when I had the stroke; I went back to the bottom of the list. Hehehe!

I’ll just press blindly on!

The Nottingham Lads News Snippets in Ode

Inchcocks Local News Snippets in Odes

Welcome to the Local Nottingham News Snippets Selection. Chosen this week, with many crime reports omitted; Cause I thought you’d be getting fed up with reading them. Ahem!

———————————————————————————————–

A 19-year-old lad, the police suspect of violence,
Part of a gang of yobs, who fractured a lads skull,
Arrested and out on bail as a subsequence…
I hope he’s learnt his lesson… what a load of bull!

Cases down by 7.5%, this should make us hopeful,
Nae… almost glad, nearly joyful…
Then I see this snippet below…
Mmm, what do we know?.

And then…

Jonathan, the criminal, impervious to the right thing to do,
Yet people fall in love with him… desiring him it’s true!
The women want to meet him, and pas de deux…
And some fellas fancy him too…
Well, I’m jealous, and I admit to you…
When sentenced, I hope they deport him to Timbuktu!

So, the robbed family, and all others too…
To keep safe, here’s what you must do…
Be Vigilant, get burglar alarms and CCTV,
Get monitored ones, although it’ll be a high fee,
Ten cameras should do, to keep a good view…
Mayhaps a double-barreled shotgun, or a few?
Should it be sufficient to make the burglars Depardieu?

May they be spotted by a policeman on his beat?
What am I saying, a PC on his beat… they are obsolete!
Get a suitable spray to get them with… spirochaete?
Bribe then not to rob you; ecstasy might be alreet?
Buy a taser, but please do be discreet…
Just for the taxman, ask them for a receipt!

Killer Matthew Farmer, who smiled and winked to police after stabbing his ex-partner 21 times, has been given a life sentence for this murder in his absence. There is a minimum term to serve 29 years before an application can be made for parole.

So, murderer Matthew Farmer turns into an Angel wannabee?
I see the ploy of his solicitor, whoever he may be…
He wants to prove remorse to people on the jury?
No, too late for that; it must be the Parole Board, you see…
To impress the virtual killers by setting them free early!
So when he applies, it may go in his favour… Lordy Me!

Shame he couldn’t kill himself as he did his partner so easily…
If the turd wanted some help, he should have asked me!
So three decades, no tax to pay, better off economically?
Do prisoners have poll tax or rent to pay? Surely…

It would only be right and fair that murderers should do?
Let them earn it, give them hardships; it’s overdue!
If one wants to die, he has the right; indeed, that’s true?
Ban luxuries, give them a book written in Hebrew,

Let them keep their smuggled in or prison-grown weed…
And then, in suicide next time, they can succeed!
I’m not calling for hanging or the use of a thumbscrew!
I just pray that murdering discontinues.

Well sorted, Sir!

I fear this blight is World Wide, seemingly…
The so-called artists, ignorant, are sickeningly…
Uncaring of the damage and ugliness they bring,
They all have a humanity and compassion deficiency,
There is no solution; the law is fiddledeedee!

When my carer read this out to me,
Although it’s happening is sad, you see…
I just couldn’t help bursting out with a “Hehehe!”

YourArea Scratch Card

Three tries this week to find three green houses.
Not doing very well, am I?

The Nottinghamshire Police are gathering injury after injury,
They get little support from judges or the jury…
Parole Board pillocks freeing prisoners early…
No wonder the officers are so grumpy and surly…
Arrestees think the courts are like a matinee!

Another murder in Nottingham then…
Saying nowt about this one, I’m not in the ken,
Little to report other than violence again…
It may get better… but when?

Horrendous!

The very cheek and impertinence,
No insurance, no tax, and no licence,
No MOTs either; he didn’t want the inconvenience,
He was bailed under his own cognisance!.

There is no detail of what offences are marked on, nor the time or date. Be interesting to see one v the present day?

Inchcock’s Local News Snippets in Ode

Who is a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

So, who is worthy of the sarcastically Inchcock invented name of a Grobble Knumphchuckle?

A ‘Grobble Knumphchuckle’ title recipient has most of Anthony Charles Lynton Blair qualities and attributes. But the chosen few have the added ‘quality, ‘skill’, ‘trait’, ‘ability to have failed in their chosen sphere of financial skullduggery, hustling, or whatever position they have conned others out of to get employment and absolutely phenomenal salaries! (I’m not jealous at all). 

The hated few, selected band of natural, proper, worthy candidates that have been granted the name by both Inchcock and his Alto-Ego Inchie! We start today with the current Top Dog himself…

Mike Fries (Left)

Distraught UK Customer on the right!

Grobble Knumphchuckle? Yes!

A most deserving case. He has all the traits required. Plus, I am dead-jealous of his salary during the Coronavirus he’s paid himself, of… wait for it… $1 million a week! According to the internet, difficult to be sure if this is true as Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet keeps going down several times a day… and ever upwards in cost!

No wonder he’s smiling! I Can’t blame him!

Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global

Who acquired British cable group Virgin Media for $24 billion!

Virgin Media’s new owner faces a shareholder revolt for paying its boss $1 million a week during the pandemic. The American chief executive of London-based Liberty Global pocketed $52 million (£36.7 million) last year, even as the broadband and TV provider was hit with a deluge of customer complaints.

A number cruncher? Conman? Mafia-backed?

Who knows. He appears hubristic, conceited, self-assured, smug, arrogant, daredevil, self-asserting, shameless, procacious, scoffing, impervious to failure, and a moralless bloke?

Then again, if I was getting away with conning my bosses, shitting on my Nottingham customers, and an excellent number-cruncher and bean-counter as Fries: And getting away with it, paid a fortune to fail… and cunningly hiding the actual figures so cleverly, I might be the same as he is?

Which does nothing to help me get the over-priced, ever going off-line Virgin Liberty-Global Virgin Media internet to work?

You try to sign off and try another company! Huh!

Fries Virgin-O2 Deal?

O2 and Virgin Media have confirmed plans to create a new company through merging. The deal establishes a quad-play (broadband, TV, phone and mobile) company that will rival BT. The combined business will have up to 40 million commercial and residential customers and be worth over £31 billion.

However, several issues, including regulatory, will need to be worked out as the ‘deal’ progresses.

Quote From Fries

Mike Fries, Chief Executive Officer of Liberty Global, said: “We couldn’t be more excited about this combination. Virgin Media has redefined broadband and entertainment in the UK with lightning fast speeds and the most innovative video platform. And O2 is widely recognized as the most reliable and admired mobile operator in the UK, always putting the customer first.

Putting the customer first?

Oh, my mistake, I thought for a minute that Fries was claiming that was what Liberty-Global Virgin Media were doing… even he is not brave enough to make that claim… is he? He was talking about 02.

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

Dear Mr Fries:

The figures and statements I’ve found on the internet, maybe pre-juggled or crunched, appear better to the investors. This searching the web and creating this blog is not accessible when Liberty-Global Virgin Media here in Nottingham, England, keeps going down several times, every day! I find it confusing.

Hehe! I am what used to be called a Silver-Surfer, although I am bald. I struggle with disabilities, stroke, heart-surgery recovery, and vascular dementia. Not that this would bother you in any way! Empathy is obviously not in your dictionary. Knowing how to run an internet service that is even close to being semi-reliable is also beyond your capabilities, but hey… we’re only customers!

Statement

 Liberty-Global businesses operate under some of the best-known consumer brands, including Virgin Media-O2 in the UK, VodafoneZiggo in The Netherlands, Telenet in Belgium, Sunrise UPC in Switzerland, Virgin Media in Ireland and UPC in Eastern Europe.

My Response:

Is your internet none-reliability the same everywhere, Mike? Or do you have something against the proletariat pensioners of Nottingham, on the tiny island, UK?

Statement

Our global investment arm, Liberty Global Ventures, has investments in more than 75 companies and funds in the fields of content, technology and infrastructure, including strategic stakes in companies such as Plume, ITV, Lions Gate, Univision, the Formula E racing series and several regional sports networks.

Reads impressively; At least to anyone who isn’t cursed with your destruction of Virgin Media reliability. Are there any vestiges of mock customer service and Liberty Global’s constant, Nottinghamian internet failures? Several other unhappy old silver-surfers are using Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet (when it’s not gone down, of course) in these blocks of old folks flats that would like to know. Why am I asking you? Proof of my senility here!

Statement

Liberty Global total number of employees in 2020 was 23,000, a 13.86% increase from 2019.

My Response:

Are the imitation customer services team, electronic or even the human variety occasionally gagged? Do they have scripts to read from? Have you told them never to mention Libert-Global when someone calls? That is if they can get through and the LG telephone is working. Thus, Mr Branson can be blamed for the abysmal service we are receiving?

Statement

Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to residential customers and businesses.

My Response:

I think you’ve missed a word out of the above Liberty Global statement… Should it read, Liberty Global is a cable company providing video, broadband internet, fixed-line telephony, mobile, and other communications services to UNFORTUNATE residential customers and businesses?

Have a good day!

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

..

Ill Inchcy – Sunday 28th February 2021 Diary

TFZer to the rescue!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Sunday 28th February 2021

Latin: MMXXI die 28 Mensis Februarii

01:40hrs: I stirred into imitation life, realised that I was not coughing or bringing up anywhere near so much phlegm. And it felt good, indeed, at last, the symptoms from the lethal to me Convid-19 AstraZeneca vaccine was weakening, after a full week! I spent a few moments fearing the second one coming up…

The innards bubbled, I adopted the Porcelain Throne – Defcon Two-Mode. And I fumbled my way out of the grotty, £300, second-hand, c1968, unsteady, not-working, incommodious, sickeningly beige-coloured, haemorrhoid-testing recliner, caught my balance of sorts and hastened to the wet room.

No sooner was I seated, and with Trotsky Terence in complete control, the vagariously doloriferous evacuation began. The discomfort and pain were soon over, but it was an Oh, so messy affair! The regular black and dark red mini-torpedoes funked like never before! 50% liquid! Bits of blood could be seen as I rose to assess the results of the dump.

The entire toilet roll plus was needed to clear things at the rear end! Gallons of water was used from the sink to remove the gooey pipework, funking, multi-coloured evacuated product! Many flushes later, things seemed to have been cleared.

The reliable, made in Hong Kong, the contactless thermometer showed a lower reading this morning, of 37.0°c-98.6°f. But this was still a smidge high, methinks?

The usually dependable, trustworthy, Chinese manufactured Boot’s Sphygmomanometer failed on the first two tries to come up with a reading.

On the third attempt, it worked, but the SYS was high at 180, DIA at 75, and the PULSE was 89bpm.

I updated the Excel file with the new figures.

Then took the missed evening medications and making up the moring one to leave in view so that I didn’t forget that one later, as well. Humph!

I made a start on updating the Saturday Diary. SSS Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley and PP, Peripheral Pete, were giving me their ackamarackus tricks, which slowed me down with my progress.

As I was going to make a brew of Glengettie, the rumbling innards kicked-off again – which worked out well as it happens.  I was only feet away from the wet room door at the time and was soon in and sat on the raised plastic seat…

Oh, dearie me! This session was worse than the first one and more Accifauxpa-ridden, too!

  • The content was just the same style, but there seemed a lot more of it!
  • Not so much blood escaped.
  • I had to restock with toilet rolls and kitchen towels. Ultra-messy, and so much of it, gooey, gelatinous, gunky and semi-liquid at the same time!
  • Foul-smelling, evil-mephitic and noxious!
  • The clearing of the evacuated product took far longer this time. Several refillings of the tank, and many flushes, eventually did the trick!
  • Then, when I thought everything had been cleaned and freshened, I spotted a clump that had, I assumed, ejected itself as I position myself on the seat.

Embarrassment, shame, disgust and the futility of my hopes all lingered for a moment or two, teasing, humiliating me. I got things cleaned up.

Then I returned to the kitchen.

I took this photographicalisation through the kitchen window, it didn’t come out well, did it? Humph!

I got the updating finished and posted off to WordPress. Pinterested, a couple of yesterday’s pictures, then went on Facebook catch-up.

I made another brew. Then read and replied to some comments. Had a read of the Health Unlocked Peripheral Neuropathy site letters. And made a start on this post.

Well, time to get the ablutions sorted out, then. Off to the wet room, I trotted.

Well, just look at those legs, will you? Spider and iliac veins hardly noticeable! Clopidogrel almost gone! And the weals, lumps, myasthenia gravis, with no signs of any Idiopathic Polyneuropathy.  Admittedly the socks cover the ankle ulcer, but it was very faint.

I wonder if the Tate Gallery might be interested in buying a picture of my amazingly improving legs and knees? My pins photo would cost a lot less to the idiots who run the Tate Gallery, and if I may say so, are more artistic than Mr Andre’s ‘Pile of Bricks!’

Arthur Payne, Gallery Assistant, quoted in the Evening Standard, n.f.d. 1976: “These bricks have really brought the public in. They can’t make head or tail of them. Nothing has attracted as much attention as they have!”

Inchcock response: “It’s a shame something that is nothing to do with art should be bought by the desperate for fame, fools at the Tate Gallery!”

Of course, it doesn’t bother me! Oh, no!

Ablutions all done, I set to getting the walker-guide box filled with waste-bags and got them ready to rake to the waste chute.

I found another letter had arrived.

Worryingly it was from British Gas, an assured sign of price rises or confusing changes of tariffs! Sure enough, on opening the lying, two-faced, cheating, conning, unreliable, ignorant, mercantile, profit-seeking, undependable, unpredictable, untrustworthy, capricious, expensive, over-charging, anti-customer orientated, costly, compassionless, and pachydermatous British Gas envelope; I found an increase in payments! But it didn’t bother me!

I spat a little, cursed, sent a death wish through the ether, to Centrica boss-man, (who own British Gas,) Ian Conn, and the four bosses who raked in £2m bonuses as the customers were hit; with price-hikes! But it didn’t bother me! The profit-oriented gits are not going to get to me! Although, if I hear of any of them being cast-down and snuffing it excruciatingly painfully from Covid-19, it may cheer me up a little and bring a warm smile to my face.

I got out and into the lift lobby, with the rather well-filled box of waste-bags on the Trolley-guide and down to the tiny rubbish-chute at the far end.

I got in alright and even put the bags into the chute without any knocks or injuries down the tube. Getting back out was not so easily managed. There is not enough room to turn the walker-Guide around in the waste-room, so a spot of reversing is needed. I caught the trousers in the wheels coming out. Later I found a tear in the cloth and a spec of bleeding. It made me think of British Gas! I felt sick!

Out along the lift lobby in the opposite direction. The only art-deco end wall, I’ve not seen this on any other floor, seemed more attractive to me again. (Especially so with the bile being encouraged by British Gas!) I wonder if any other floors have this art-deco paint job on their wall?

I got back to the apartment, and I set about getting Josie’s nosh cooked and prepped. I was extra careful in the presentation of the extra cheesy, buttered and sea salted potatoes. They tasted good when I tried some; I hope Josie enjoys them. The strain-free tuna, mini-tomatoes, Surami sticks, roast onions, and today for a change, fresh garden peas and leeks added. A disc of the cheese she likes was left unopen, in case she fancied it later on. A can of Sainsbury’s Rum and coke added. I delivered it just before midday. I could her Josie talking to her sister on the phone as I rang the bells. Handed her the tray and explained about the peas and leeks and new drink. Again she asked why I buy the drink when I don’t drink it; also, I told her, ‘So you can drink it!’ today. She can’t understand it.

I washed the cooking utensils from her meal making, and I had a look to see if I could get in a slot with Iceland. I got one alright for next Tuesday. I hope they have the bread available this week.

I made just one more graphic on CorelDraw and made up my meal of the day. Potatoes with the rest of the garden peas and leeks, a few crispy onions, tomatoes and some horrible tasting cooked turkey pieces. But I did eat it all. The early weariness dawned.

I got the pots washed again and became rather insipid, and the tiredness came on rather quickly for some reason. I think I put the TV on and turned it off after a few minutes to search for Sweet Morpheus. But sadly, success was denied to me!

It was many hours before I nodded off. Yet I felt so weary and couldn’t understand why I wasn’t already snoring away? I do remember the door chimes going – that would have been Josie returning the food tray, I assume. But I just could not get up. The gal knows that if I am in, the door is never locked; she can open the door and place the tray and cutlery though the door. But the poor thing has a memory about as good as mine is, Hahaha!

Frustration was growing the longer I went without nodding off. It was as if something was determined that I would not get to sleep?

I lay there, started to plan the World Economic recovery from Covid, worked out that aliens would be seen openly next August 28th, and realised I had not had a wee for many, many hours.

Finally, I must have nodded-off, cause I woke up, in need of a wee-wee…

.

Bitter-Inchy, Tuesday 23rd February 2021, Sarcastic, anti-AstraZeneca Diary!

High-Class TFZer Bins!


INCHCOCK TODAY

Tuesday 23rd February 2021

Yoruba (Nigeria, Benin, and Togo): Ọjọ Tuesday 23rd Kínní 2021

01:20hrs: After managing to get my body to move for the first time in hours (mind you, I had to, to use the Porcelain Throne), I clambered my way painfully to the Throne Room.

I was well unwell, and the symptoms of the Covid-19 vaccinations remained as strong as ever on me? The rasping cough, sneezing bouts, muddled and befuddled brain, and the evacuations were still of the mostly yellow liquid with stringy lines of black and red liquid covered bobbles flowing into the bowl! A little bleeding and a lot of pain involved. Am I just unlucky or what? Silly question!

As I sat there, full of despair, I recalled bits of a repeating dream I’d had. But by the time I’d got the pen and pad I keep in there, most memories had disappeared into the ether. I remember I kept going into a store that sold model railways, and things began to shrink until I could no longer see or recognise what I was looking at? The chesty coughing with accompanying sneezing started again.

I recalled the nurse yesterday advising me to send an email with the details of how I’m not coping very well with the Covid jab reactions. It all feels so long ago now, during all I’d done was sit down and mope, fall asleep, dream, wake and mope, fall asleep… Life is not good! Clarity of thought no longer exists! Oh, I did try to eat something, but it was not very successful.

I took the morning medications, and sneezing and coughing once again, I made up the email to send to the surgery. I searched Mr Google, asking what news they had of reactions to the Covid vaccine details:

A load of cobblers that. If anything that others in the flats, and what the nurse told me about her patients (Including her Mother) are have been through! Which is similar to how I am at the moment.

I made up the email and sent it off. I don’t expect a reply. I just thought the surgery might be making real details of the various side-effects?

I began to update the Monday Diary. Got it finished in an amazingly swift time, due to the brilliant Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters and SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) both behaving so well towards me! Grrreat! I posted off the Diary, emailed the link, Pinterested a photo, and went on Facebooking catch-up.

At this point, it dawned on me that I’d only been to the Throne once up to now? An improvement, that is? Fingers crossed! But let’s not get too excited, though, Inchy!

I went on the WordPress Reader section. Then I had a look at the comments. A fair few in today, my concentration had moments of clarity with them in answering. Another possible good sign that the Covid Vaccine may be relenting a smidge?

I took a chance and made a brew of Glengettie Gold.

Another plus, the tea, as with everything I eat or drink, tasted all wrong to its characteristic flavour. But it was a little less acidy this time!

Then did the first (pre-dump) one of the Health Checks. The reliable old Boot’s Sphygmomanometer, manufactured by ZDEAC (Zhongshan Daguan Electrical Appliance Company Ltd) in Guangdong, China, shown another decent set of results. SYS at 149, DIA 74, and Pulse at 84bpm. Good enough for me!

The Chinese (Hong Kong) made by Shenzhen Relee Electronic & Technology Co. Ltd, contactless thermometer showed a healthy-looking in the green, 36.4°c-97.5°f.

Ah, back to the Porcelain Throne! A copy cat evacuation as the last one. Mostly yellow liquid with stringy lines of black and red liquid covered bobbles flowing into the bowl! But, no bleeding this time! I got washed and cleaned up; it needed a few flushes to clear things away.

I walked into the door frame, leaving the wet room, again banging where the vaccine had gone into the arm, and for the second time, there was very little pain? Peculiar, to say the least?

I got the kettle on to refresh the mug of Glengettie that had gone a little chilly and decided out of the blue to venture out into the balcony, determined to try and get a couple of decent photographs taken in the early morning dimness.

To say I was using the Canon, I was pretty pleased with them for once. This Canon does not do darkness very well at all usually. I had a lot of failures before I managed to get these two. Refreshed the mug and did another Post-Dump Health Checks.

The Sphygmomanometer gave another set of decent figures. SYS 151, DIA 69 and PULSE at only 79bpm! The Chinese made contactless thermometer, proffered up a reading of 36.8°c – 98.24°f, a little higher than an hour ago?

I made up two templates. Sorted them, in order with the others, and got the ablutions done. No doubt I’m beginning to feel in better shape this morning, now.

I enjoyed the ablutionalisationing today. The brain seemed to be working a little better as well. The teeth cleaning and nasal blow-out went well, only two dropsies!

The batteries died in the dab radio. I wasn’t surprised; the six AA batteries never last longer than 3 hours in total. The biggest con! I left it turned off.

The shaving, well, I must have looked a little battered and bloodied afterwards, but the three nicks were only superficial ones. Four dropsies. I meant to get a photo of the chin; it looked impressive, but I was keen to get under the shower and freshen up using the lemon shower gel, and plenty of it was used! One clout against the grab rail when I dropped the gel and bent down to retrieve it. Total dropsies in the shower, just two!

As I dried off, I saw how the legs were almost perfect! I can’t understand why this improvement in their conditions has occurred. The old ulcer wound still lingers and occasionally itches. It seems the Clopidogrel arks and lumps that they told me would be with me forever have all cleared up? The biggest surprise is the Thrombophlebitis DVT are also absent?

Harold’s Haemorrhoids needed some tender treatment. I had no doubt cheered myself up somehow. I got the medications done and got dressed.

Then I got a few waste bags collated, and into the trolley box, and off to the waste chute and down the tube with them. I had just one box of recyclables and took that down in the lift to the green bin outside.

I had my first human contact for many days, other than medical personnel, and had a natter with Robert, the caretaker. I decided to have a hobble up Chestnut Walk to Winwood Court and call in see how the ILC’s were doing. I needed a bit of exercise.

I met with Penny, who was going to the bus stop en route. We had a laugh together. The Wardens were busy, said hello and wandered back to the flats. I was so annoyed with myself for forgetting to take the camera with me, Grrr!

I missed taking a shot of a murder of crows! I got back in the apartment and decided to take a couple of photos from the balcony in the daylight.

As bright as the sky was, the ground looked in shadows?

Then, made some spring water bottles up and added a splash of orange cordial and Jif lemon to them for drinking later on. I still think it’s a good idea to drink more yet.

I went on Amazon to see if I could get a Morrison order in. Bit of luck there, I got one in for today (11:20hrs) twixt    2:00 PM > 4:00PM.

Nice!

Unfortunately, I also got an email from the Email. About the failure to deliver the message I’d sent to the Doctors surgery about the Covid Vaccination problems! Humph! I’m all confused again!

How disappointing.

So, I tried ringing the surgery. A long recorded message was played, of which I could only hear bits and pieces of. It went to ringing, then another recorded message, ‘We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls…’ I rang off and gave up.

So, there is no way to talk to the Doctor and or inform her of the AstraZeneca side effects suffered, as the Nurse recommended me to. Just my luck to get the vaccine that is the worst one, the cheapest, and the one with the most side-effects! Remember folks, if you can, try to avoid this wicked, sick-making, Astra-Seneca crap, please do!

I searched the Government sight for assistance and found this significant bit of advice!

Hahahaha! Ask your doctor for advice? Great balls of uselessness! Not a cat in hells chance! I’ve been trying all day… Get in touch with your doctor? I’ve more chance of solving the World-Wide Hum while I’m on the Porcelain Throne there, thanks to the Astra-Seneca vaccine for the fifth time today!

So, I tried ringing the surgery. A long recorded message was played, of which I could only hear bits and pieces of. It went to ringing, then another recorded message, ‘We are currently experiencing a high volume of calls…’ I rang off and gave up.

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no! I don’t mind snuffing it early, thanks to the WHO, who said it had approved the vaccine produced by AstraZeneca-SKBio from South Korea and the Serum Institute of India.

Then I got a letter from the Government: Extending my lockdown to the 31st of March 2021. Oh, lucky me!

The New York Times said: After Admitting Mistakes, AstraZeneca Faces Difficult Questions About Its Vaccine. Some trial participants only got a partial dose of AstraZeneca’s vaccine. Experts said the company’s spotty disclosures have eroded confidence.

The announcement weeks ago that a cheap, easy-to-make coronavirus vaccine appeared to be up to 90% effective was greeted with jubilation. “Get yourself a Vaccarino,” a British tabloid celebrated, noting that the vaccine, developed by AstraZeneca and the University of Oxford, costs less than a cup of coffee.

But since unveiling the preliminary results, AstraZeneca has acknowledged a critical mistake in the vaccine dosage received by some study participants, adding questions about whether the vaccine’s apparently spectacular efficacy will hold up under additional testing.

The UK is believed to have spent between £24 and £28 per dose on the Moderna jab, the Daily Mail reports. According to the BBC, while the Pfizer/BioNTech jab has a price tag of around £15, Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine cost the government around £3 per thrust. So, I’ve also been vaccinated by the cheapest one available? It’s marvellous being so cared-about, innit?

But it doesn’t bother me, oh, no! I don’t mind snuffing it early, thanks to the WHO, who said it had approved the vaccine produced by AstraZeneca-SKBio from South Korea and the Serum Institute of India. I couldn’t give a fig now. Why bother?

I can’t get in touch with my doctor by email or phone. Professionals are telling me I must report the side effects to my Doctor… Glogknobbles! Mission Impossible! I’m fed-up!

I had a look to see if any comments had come in. Nope, not a one! Tsk!

The Morrison delivery tracker came available, and the shopper had one delivery; the next was mine. The chap arrived, but what he was saying on the intercom was impossible for me to understand. I opened the door, but he would not come in? I had to go down to meet him. That didn’t do me much good. Back up in the lift with him,  reluctantly, he wanted to leave the bags in the elevator, and he took my age etc., in the cage.

At last, he recognised I was struggling and brought them to the door for me, and off he trotted. Which was nice of the lad.

I was ell weary now. But, I was determined to get a meal of some sort.

I opted for Barbeque flavoured mackerel, surimi sticks, tomatoes, garden peas, wholemeal bread thins, and some misshaped cream eclairs for afters. The after-effects from the AstraZeneca vaccine meant things didn’t taste as normal by a long way yet, but a 6.5/10 for taste was given.

It went down alright; the sauce was a little hot, but that was okay, it helped to get some flavour through to the taste buds.

My hatred for being given this AstraZeneca vaccine, and the thought of having the second needle-full, depresses and scares me. As does my inability to report the effects to the Doctor.

My mind is still not right,

I’m in a terrible plight,

I’m losing the fight,

My sanity just might,

Be disappearing from sight,

My logicality is very slight,

Depression is at its height,

AstraZeneca vaccine; is my deadly Kryptonite!

Good night!

Inchcock Today – Thurs 26 Nov 20: I escaped to town on L9 bus – A Mistake!

Hello, hello! What’s going on?

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday 26th November 2020:

Welsh: Dydd Iau 26 Tachwedd 2020:0

—————————————————————————————————–

01:25hrs: As I stirred into imitation life, I spotted the untaken evening medications pot. I wondered why I’ve suddenly started to miss taking them so often, lately?

My mind was working away, alright. No thought-storming, just a gentle, unfathomable dribble of inanities, and confusion of half-worked out worries and problems – that dissipated as quickly as they arrived? Being replaced in perpetuity, with the need for a wee-wee.

 I encouraged the even greater-sized, fat-covered stomach to join the rest of the body in getting out of the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly beige-coloured, unkempt, fluctuant, ramshackle, broken-down, uncomfortable, dusty, rusty, decaying, rachitic, tatterdemalion, heavy yet tottery, rickety recliner. Some gnawing pains and a eurgh or two, a couple of boing-boings as the body-mass settled, and I was up catching my balance – but not well enough!

My balance did not equilibrise, and I tumbled back down into the recliner with a sickening thud! I hope that the neighbours didn’t hear it!

Which promptly set off BPB (Back-Pain Brenda), PKCCP (Proximal Knee-Cap-Cartilage-Pain), and Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding. Not to mention that I clouted my right elbow on the arm of the chair! I had to get back up to check the injuries over and clean up the fungal lesion.

Usually, I’d do this in the wet room, but had a tube of the Daktacort on the ottoman with the Health Check stuff. So I got on with most awkward and painful needs first—cleaning and stopping Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding, and applying the cortisone ointment.

Which, of course, was of no bother to a brave, heroic, healthy, young man like me. (Snortle!) Argh!

I used the also handily placed Phorpain gel, on the knees, and where I could reach around the folds of gross flab around the midriff, to BPB’s dwellings. A reasonably well-sized bruise was developing on the elbow.

Well, I’ve been awake for how long now? Ages! And I am still within four feet of the rickety-recliner, and still desperate for a wee-wee! Positively, not one of the best starts to a day I’ve not.

I considered having a few more words via prayer, with the Boss. But, being as my last week’s ecclesiastical discussion didn’t help any, I went for a wee-wee instead! A need for the Porcelain Throne arrived at the same time.

This session was the easiest, and least painful one I’ve had in months! Messy? Oh, yes! Due to Trotsky Terence winning the fight with Constipation Konrad, hands-down this morning! But, hey, the lack of pain and concrete torpedo removing, this was nae problem for me. I’m using up the bleach, and the once large kitchen towel stocks at a pace, mind. Hahaha! I’ve plenty of toilet paper rolls in yet, though.

I took two photographs of the morning view when I made a brew of Glengettie tea.

The moon seemed a little fuller this morning. I tried a wide shot, and it came out half-fairish with the lights.

Then I got the Health Checks done. The new thermometer colour had gone back to green, as a result, was down to an acceptable figure, I assume, 37°c.

Then the sphygmomanometerisationing. It didn’t work the first time, but okay on the next one. The SYS was still a tad high, the same as yesterday, I think.

I made a start on updating the Thursday blog and stuck with it. Dedicated, persistent, tenacious and indefatigability, like never before! But it still took me hours to get it done. Thanks to Nicodus’s Neurotransmitter relentlessly going off and coming back on-line with the brain. I admit to feeling a little smidgeon of pride when I eventually got it finished and posted-off to WordPress.

I even remembered to take the late morning medications! Swank-Mode-Grade 2 adopted!

Sent the email link off. Then did some Facebooking catching up.

I had a pot noodle for brekkers, but the photograph I took of it has done a bunk from the SD card – again! I did some comment replying on WordPress and had a look at the gallery of new stuff. Some cracking photos on there today!

I took another window view picture, zoomed in this time, on the Sherwood Health Centre area.

Then I tended to the ablutions next.

A right mixed bag of incidents, good and bad today.

The dropsies we variable and Nicodemus kept making and losing contact with the neurotransmitters. Fair enough, that’s to be expected. Most items were dropped, some several times, like the toothbrush, razors, soap and shower gel bottle.

The tiniest of cuts shaving on the lip had to be ‘after-shaved’ to stop it bleeding. Ooh! However. Showering, not a single dizzy hit me!

I couldn’t see it, but I got a reasonable picture of it all the same. That I assume to be from the plopping back down on the haemorrhoids and hitting the elbow on the recliner arm earlier?

I dropped the towel and grabbed the shower chair to lean on to lower my rotund but horrendously wobbly-fleshed body down to retrieve it… I may have got another bruise as I hit my shoulder on the metal seat support. Ah, well!

The feet and pins looked really good and almost normal. Finished drying off, got the deodorants on, and did the medicating. I was surprised at how little piles had bled, considering the strength of the wallop I gave them going back down in the seat. Mixed results then?

I did some updating of this blog.

Then took a snap of the weather outside through the balcony windows glass. Frosty on the ground, a few droplets of rain, not much wind, and the cold sun trying to come out.

This decided me, I am going out later. Only on the bus to town, and calling in the Poundland shop, to try and get some cheap disinfectant, toothpaste, pork pie, and if they have any, cheap canned garden peas. Then I can not bother to use Morrisons again!

I turned the computer turned off, dug around to find the bus pass, keys, etc. Then, I  went through the ‘Bag-of-nerves’ routine of double-checking things before leaving and set off.

Lift down to the ground floor. The upgraders were busy working on the lift and main lobby areas.

I was careful going through not to hit or fall over anything. And got the trolley through to the front doors, and exited safely out into the cold sunshine.

I hobbled along and called in Winwood Court to ask Deana if she could help with next weeks Carrington Pharmacy prescription collecting. No one in the holding cells, so I exited and went out to the bus stop on Chestnut Walk.

A few folks out there. Caught the L9 to town. This was the worst-ever bus ride to town. I’d forgotten all about the problem I had last time I went on a bus, it was that long ago, and immediately wished I’d not gone out. The battle of having to hold onto the trolley as I sat there was hard work at every hill and corner the bus took.

The driver, as he dropped of the few passengers he had, told me not to get off here, and he moved up to get close to the kerb for me to alight. That was nice of him, and I got off unhurt! Hehe!

I walked wearily down Queen Street, and Dizzy Dennis and BPB both kicked off. I decided then, I’d get to the Slab Square and walk to the Poundland Shop, try to get the fodder, and go straight back to the bus stop. I wasn’t feeling too good.

The shop did not have any of the things I wanted, apart from the milk pots and disinfectant. But of course, as is my want & bad habit, I went into a ‘buy-it-anyway’ mode. I ended up amassing Whirls, the milk pots, Dettol disinfectant, toothpaste (Yes eve more, but they were £1, Morrisons are £1.50), Toffeefees, Oxo cubes, and chip-shop gravy granules in the basket.

I must have looked worse than how I felt, cause a young lady at the self-serve tills, took one look at me and said she’d put them through for me, asking if I was alright, as I looked very ashen. Another lady inquired if I’d like her to call for an ambulance? The assistant lady put my things through for me, showing concern for my health still. I gave a can of the Gin & tonic from the trolley thanking her.

A bit unnerving that was! Fair does, I was feeling a tad rough, but I must have looked at death’s door. Still, if that’s what it takes to get some attention from females. Hahaha!

I got outside, rearranged the trolley and bag for easier handling, and made my way through Slab Square to the bus stop.

The git of a Pavement Cyclist came from behind me, I felt a draught, he came that close to me! Straight over South Parade without stopping, into the square. He was delivering food to somebody. I hope they enjoy it.

Naturally, this did not bother me at all. Oy. Oy, Oy!

As I got to the top of Queen Street, as the bus was just coming in, a couple of ladies waiting, inquired if I was poorly! This was getting worrying now! Hehe!

Another horrendously painful trip home, worse now I had the extra weight in the trolley to keep a hold of.

Getting off of the bus at the flats, was dodgy, it was a good distance from the bus to the pavement to cover. The waiting inmates at the stop, each offered an odd stare to me, but said nothing? I checked my flies, they were secure!

I hobbled to the wardens holding cell to ask about help for the prescriptions, but no one in again. Can’t be helped, I’ve almost a week to try and sort it yet. If the memory doesn’t let me down, Har-Har!

 I got back to the apartment and battled to get the trolley through the door, and new fatigue came over me. I was done in!

I unloaded the purchases, Dizzy Dennis and  Conrad Confusion took control. I proceeded to get the Chilli-Coon-Carne with baked beans, and gravy added, burning the saucepan in the process. I scraped the saucepan and left it in soak.

The meal was devoured with delight, even though I think I fell asleep eating it at one point? Conrad Confusion was taking a firmer grip on me.

Perhaps it was because I felt so weary, but the meal was only given a 7/10 (on notepad). I cant, read the rest of the scribble, so don’t know why.

Cleaned up the saucepan and pots, I must have, they were all washed and dried when I woke up later on.

I took the evening medications early and was soon in the land of nod.

Waking up still a tad confused just before midnight. Not in a confident frame of mind, and Conrad Confusion present again. And the Thought-Storms active. Flibblegonkackles!