Showing posts with label Bit of fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bit of fun. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 06, 2022

Alto-Inchie Returns

ALTO INCHY RETURNS...

INCHY: Ayup, your back again then Alto? Not seen you for ages.

ALTO: How did you know I was here; I was in clandestine mode?

INCHY: I reckon that Doreen Dementia can detect yer, I certainly knew you were creeping about in my head...

ALTO: Rowlocks! I reckon it’s another Alto trying to sneak in...

 

INCHY: Whatever makes yer think that then?

ALTO: Well, I’ve been having troubles with Alto Control Room Monitoring Section, mate...

INCHY: Mate? Calling me yer mate? Summat serious then I take it.

ALTO: Of yes, not-half Inchy. I slipped up a bit with not picking-up on yer suicidal tendencies, and the ACRMS found out… some sneaking Alto had snitched on me…

INCHY: That’s not right... some foreign Alto snitching on my Alto! Can I complain about this?

ALTO: Why?

INCHY: Well after three-score and ten and a bit of having you pestering and trying to make me miserable, these past few weeks, I’ve sort of missed you, and you are mine?

ALTO: That would have brought tears to my eyes if I’d got any!

INCHY: Don’t be soppy, it doesn’t become you, where’s your sarcasm, nit-picking, foul language, insinuations, and determination to destroy any contentment I have, gone?

ALTO: It’s a sad tale, my friend...

INCHY: Hang on then, I’ll make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea and get back to yer... owd yer horses… I’ll be back…

ALTO: Thanks, Inchy... I appreciate that…

 

At this, Inchy hobbled off to his kitchen and made the aforesaid brew; totally confused. Alto, thanking him, calling him a friend and mate? Not a single insult or put down uttered? This could be serious. What if the new Alto takes over? He could well be worse than Alto Inchie?

 

INCHY: I’m back Alto-Inchie. Who is this invading Alto anyway, and why does he want to take over control of me? I mean, fair enough, we’ve had some set-to’s, barnies and verbal battles…

ALTO: I’ll explain mucker! This Senior level Alto, failed in his mission on his last assignment, and got the sack, and has gone rogue on the ACRMS. Being such an experienced Alto, they cannot reel him back into the fold, and for some reason, he’s chosen you as his next target?

INCHY: Who did he fail with?

ALTO: Ah, well, he was Alto-Putin...

INCHY: Putin! The Russian one?

ALTO: Yes, I’m afraid so!

INCHY: How did he fail with Putin? Good Gawd, he’s launched the attack on the poor Ukraine, and...

ALTO: Yes, yes, but it’s been 133 days now, and he still hasn’t won the war, has he?

INCHY: So?

ALTO: You really ought to read-up on the ACRMS rules, I’ve sent them all to your brain to be studied! Rule 9920043847076/Putin/WorldWar-93939g954h, Failure to achieve prime target within 130 earth days of formulation; will result in the said Alto (Alto-Putin in this case), being relocated to a proletariat target.

INCHY: Oh...

ALTO: Anyway, I’ve got a hell of a fight on my hands with this Alto-Putin, he’s good; too good for me...

INCHY: Well?

ALTO: There’s only you who can help me, my old pal?

INCHY: How?

ALTO: Simple, if you commit suicide from depression, which of course is my prime-aim, we can beat Putin-Alto, and save the world, you'll be dead, but famous!

INCHY: Ah, so if I top myself...

ALTO: Yes... but it’s got to be through depression at all costs, otherwise I fail in my Prime-Mission, do you see? Then I will get extra powers in payment from the ACRMS, and I can use them to defeat Putin-Alto! Hari-kari, whatever you want to call it, through chance-medley and or depression is a must way to go, Inchy. The ACRMS will not accept death through execution, accident, euthanasia, or mercy killing!

INCHY: How are they going to know?

ALTO: I’ll know, but proof will be needed. I’ve thought about this, and a suicide note should do the trick, my old chum, something along the lines of: “I can no longer cope with the confusions of Doreen Dementia, Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, Nigel’s Neurotransmitters Failing, Cataract Cathleen, Deaf Dominic and the hellish bad luck and problems are all beyond my capacity to understand, alleviate or solve. Anything of any value I leave behind is to be shared between all of my relatives and friends. I leave contact numbers for all three, in the first-aid box, in the ambulatory oxygen tank racking.”

  INCHY: Alto, do I detect a little sarcasm creeping into the conversation there?

ALTO: Hang on, I’m getting a message coming in from Alto-Putin...


INCHY: Alto-Putin?

ALTO: Yea… hang on... I’ll be back…

 

Inchy started to fret a bit while he waited… A sense of his being conned again was growing… rightly so!

 

ALTO: Hello?

INCHY: Well, what was that about, Alto?

ALTO: He just sent one question for me… You pathetic dummy!

INCHY: Eh? What?

ALTO: Alto-Putin said: “Did Inchy fall for it?” Hahaha!

 

Inchie’s, Make ‘em Laugh Series


Monday, July 04, 2022

Inchies Multitudinous, Meandering Thoughts


Whatever happened to the apples of Britain?

No more do we see any Winter Pearmain?

One thing never changed, Britain’s brain-drain…

Antisocial behaviour rife, for years, and does remain,

Yobbo gangs, threatening, mugging, causing fear & pain.

Names... where are the Grizelda’s, Alberts, and Morgaine?

Manners and empathy are also on the wane!


And, where did this go, the cure-all tincture?

For toothache, headache, grazed knee… any discomfiture,

Forgotten names used to be replaced with doojigger,

Kids seem to be getting less pain tolerant, queasier,

And cunningly clever, with their selective amnesia!

Doctors are hard to see, getting fussier, nit-pickier,

Life is being centred around the blogosphere!

 

Youth tending to rely on drugs, handouts, and crapulence...

Manners dwindling nowadays, it is not worth tuppence…

There have always been the uneducated and dense,

I had little schooling, thus my ignorance and diffidence,

Never had a chance or skills to gain any effulgence,

I tend to go from self-lecturing to reticence,

My fears and self-loathing showing accrescence!

 

Most transmogrified, is the UK’s jurisprudence…

Parole Board murderers show not guilt, but impenitence,

Freeing killers early, to murder again, with idempotence,

Politicians so full of their natural grandiloquence,

Minister, MPs, showing very little signs of self- consilience!

No prosecutions for Grenfell… causing truculence…

Political skulduggery, they have turned into a science!

All the above and more, has caused me the loss of my mojo!

 

Damned Dementia Doreen, means that I must use Word-Hippo…

What bit of control I have mentally, is minimal and slow?

My physical control of my own limbs? Impossible, it’s a no-go!

Peripheral Neuropathy, Dizzy Dennis, Shaking Shaun have a beano,

Daily making life painful, and distorting the brain’s dataflow…

How I can do these odes is a mystery, a curio!

 

HIGHLIGHT

Buying my second-hand TriumphToledo…

It cost me £195 you know…

Even then, that was good value,

I drove it away, for mate Geoff to review,

Off to his house, he was on furlough…

Pulled up near his house’s hedgerow…

The mounting broke, and the engine fell through!

Dust, rust, sparks and petrol all over the place, flew,

Not such a bargain after all, what a fiasco!

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MUSINGS OVER AILMENTS

It used to come naturally to me, but I no longer have astucity,

A cowardly wimp nowadays, I’ve lost my audacity,

Also gone into the ether, is my physical mobility…

Thanks to Dementia Doreen... also my mental agility,

I’m clinging on desperately, to my veridicality.

 

I’m unsure of the level of damage, mentally,

Confusion has developed with great ferocity...

The eyesight? This could be an approaching fatality?

The short-term memory, well, that’s another divorcee…

She broken her connection with the brain, you see!

 

I can no longer hear, see, and I walk (wobble) rather awkwardly,

Shaking Shaun, Dizzy Dennis, Peripheral Neuropathy Petey…

Duodenal Donald, Reflux Roger, Cataracts Kathy,

Arthur Itis, Saccades Sandra etc., are driving me batty,

Nicodemus's Neurotransmitters, all draining my energy!

 

Why do I give names to my various ailments?

It’s all part of my plan, to maintain some renitence,

I think it’s vital, to offer some resistance…

I realise that there’s no chance of rejuvenescence...

Dying nerve-ends untreatable, but that’s common sense!

 

And I want to avoid going on antidepressants!

The end must be nigh, I expect no resurgence...

Some days, I can accept things, with a sort of sentience…

Discussing with myself in my nocturnal somniloquence,

A Carer came in and caught me once, but no consequence!

 

Some days I feel so alone, a bit like a Yeti...

Then, I may rise from slumber, quite jubilantly,

Every morning, requiring a pain killer and a pee!

That’s another thing, Cancer of the bladder, but it’s okay...

They found it while mending my hernia, and lasered it away!

The bladder now half the size it was in my younger day.

Half the storage capacity, so I keep wee-weeing away!

Keeping the wee-wee bucket handily close, a short distance!

 

I used to love having moments of reminiscence...

Many a good, and many a bad experience...

Torments me, they can sometimes be intense,

Then the memory fails, thoughts turn to nonsense...

Making no sense, hogwash, utter stultiloquence!

 

On a bad a day mentally, I can change moods so quickly.

From feeling rather contented… It can turn so swiftly,

To a Dracula depression, my thoughts can turn ugly,

Self-hate and loathing, fears, shame, predominantly,

Sometimes I can come out of the darkness, resplendently,

The next failing, forgetting, fall, and back, maybe unjustly…

Into the world where thoughts rumble darkly,

 

Minutes later, I may be making a mug of Glengettie tea…

Whistling to myself merrily…

Rather unfrequently,

Yet almost happily?

 

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NEMO MORTALIUM OMNIBUS HORIS SAPIT