Letter to LOMM – Confused

 

Lomm Top

 

Dear LOMM,

I wented on a trip yesterday to the Papplewick Pumping Station.

Ware I fond many old enemies of Grate Britain lurking about all over the place?

AlfThis confused me sumwot, as I pride misen on ceeping up to date on these fings.

I took a fottograph of sum of them and enclose it wiv this letter for yor staudy and komment pleese.

I’d really like to know worrit wer all abart.

Thank you.

Yorn,

Professor Algernoon Wainright MP.

Advisor to Nicolas Clegg.

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The Great London Beer Flood of 1814 – Diaries found!

Beer04

Mayhem followed the flood

Beer02An unlimited, free supply of beer – it sounds wonderful doesn’t it? But when it is over one million litres in volume and in a tidal wave at least 15 feet high, as it was in the London Beer Flood on 17 October 1814, the prospect seems less appealing.

Two hundred years, a broken vat at the Horse Shoe Brewery on Tottenham Court Road flooded the local area with porter, a dark beer native to the capital, killing eight people and demolishing a pair of homes. Did they die happy?

Beer01

The Horse Shoe Brewery

Beer06Marissa

Esmeralda Burger

Beer07Marissa

Landlord Marissa

We have Esmeralda Burger the great grandmother of Marissa to thank for the discovery of the diaries she found when she was burying some overseas investment receipts in her cellar in readiness for her accountants visit.

She was happy to hand over the diaries to our reporter Juan Inchcock. She released him from the cellar two days later and he limped back to the office to hand them in for publication with a rarely seen smile on his face.

She had explained: “Granny Esmeralda was a social lady, and not averse to a drop of Porter herself. I think that was what helped me in buying the Open Arms Inn here, but we do not sell Porter… perhaps we should?” With my modelling and wrestling career taking up so much time I can’t devote enough time to the Inn really. By the way, would you like a ____ (This word was erased from the manuscript)  Juan replied; “Oh not ‘alf!”

Beer03churchy

Benedict Churchmouse

Benedict Churchmouse (54), the clerk on duty, told our Ace unpaid unhygienic ex-gas lamp light wick trimmer WordPress reporter Jaun Inchcock what happened:

“I was on a platform about 30 feet from the vat when it burst. I heard the crash as it went off, and ran immediately to the storehouse, where the vat was situated. It caused dreadful devastation on the premises – it knocked four butts over, and staved several, as the pressure was so excessive. Between 8 and 9,000 barrels of porter* [were] lost.”

Beer02aPorter* Porter is a dark style of beer originating in London in the 18th century, descended from brown beer, a well-hopped beer made from brown malt.  Iy is still sold today. The name is thought to come from its popularity with street and river porters.

The beer inundated the nearby slum of St Giles Rookery – an area of poverty and vice which inspired Hogarth’s ‘Gin Lane’ – flooding the cellars where whole families lived.

Reports of people stealing the beer and getting drunk followed the accident.

Recorded views of the locals at the time:

Beer09MSjudge

Ebenezer Steeden

Ebenezer Steeden, the local part-time Barnaby Rudge (Judge), Peel Street Runner and Liquorice Allsorts sorter reported:

“I wor mayhem I cun tell yee. I had ‘ell of a job keepin’ the riffraff outa moy cellar wot had got flooded with the porter yer see. I had to send the wife out for more buckets, but she got mugged ont way back wiv em like. Luckily I wont on duty so I couldn’t go out to tackle the mobs although I’d ‘ave loved to. If yer know any landlords who’d like a nice bucket or two of Porter, I cun let em ‘ave em fer 3d a go like!”

Beer05GzCl

Dodger and Zebedee

Dodger Danton: local terror to the constabulary and loose women of the Tottenham Court Road area and part time dentist and horse-cart repairer. Also a partner in crime with Zeberdee Gaztops.

“Would yer Adam an Eve it gov eh? I wus just ‘avin me army and navy with me roasted rat, un all ‘ell let loose like. I ‘ad a butchers un saw all the Porter running darn the road see. Well I thought, don’t be an Hampton un got missen out with the saucepans like collecting it best I could. Got me uncle Bert wet but that didn’t matter. I got Gaztops who wus lodging with us like to come and help me, but he was already out there like with me guzzunder and bucket bless his cotton socks. No need to visit the Battlecruiser that night. Or for a few more, when we did get back he’d ran out of Porter – so I offered to flog him some cheap like and he threatened me wiv bird lime time like. Still, he did buy some and me and Gaztops wus well pleased wiv the profits.” Mind you, wiv all that gettin’ wet I did have problems with me Chalfont St. Giles!”

Beer09Gaz

Gaztops Grabyergoolies

Zebedee Gaztops: Fish porter, alcoholic and bouncer of the times.

“Great wonnit guv! Hic…”

We spoke with Zebedee’s great grandson Gaztops Grabyergoolies outside the nightclub he was on the door of, unfortunately disturbing his attendances to a certain dancing lady whp immediately put her face mask on.

Juan looked up into his face and asked him meakly: “Mr Grabyergoolies, your great grandfather has been mentioned in a diary that has come to light about the Great London Beer flood of 1814. What do you think about that then Sir?”

The last thing that Juan remembers until he wole up in hospital was the great finger pointing at him and Mr Grabyergoolies dogs growling.

Beer08GCGC

The photo Juliet bought for Juan

It was while he was in the hospital that his partner Juliet Littlegets brought him some old magazines to read. And he realised that he himself had a great grandmother who lived in the area at the time of the flood.

Juliet brought him some old photos from the family album later that day. And quipped as he perused them : “Maybe she was givin’ you a wash in Porter? That might explain why yer so slow witted uneducated and microscopically equipped yer bloody midget!” She left the ward.

Leaving Juan to think about what she had said. He called a nurse and asked her for a dictionary so he could discover what microscopically meant.

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Arboretum Pond-side Cafe – Under New Management (Updated)

AChead

AC01

The Original Arboretum Pond-side Cafe

Juan Inchcock, retired Gas Lamp Light Wick Trimmer and Ace unpaid reporter for the LOMM Weekly Gazette brings you all the details of this fascinating move in management of Nottingham’s Arboretum Pondside Cafe.

The Pond-side Cafe situated in the picturesque crime ridden Nottingham Arboretum has been bought out by the waitress Shirley Prodworthy.

This transaction was prompted by the three owners no longer being able to give the time to the business that they would have liked.

AC4Mr Gaz-tops is investing his time in writing his first book ‘My Part in the Great Train Robbery and the Brink’s Affair’. He is currently having his picture taken by the professionals.

CliveJailbarsMr Clivey-boy was unavailable for comment when we tried to approach him, but the desk officer expected him to released on bail later that day.

Mr Churchy is to devote more of his time a volunteer care worker at the ‘Guidance for Young Ladies Institute’.

Mr Steedon has decided to stand for Parliament as an independent under the banner of ‘If yer can’t beat em, join em campaign.’ We understand he is using what monies raised in the sale to buy poison gas and armaments?

AC02We found Ms Prodworthy at the local boys youth club where she is a part-time volunteer ‘Prospects Potential Assessor’ for the lads. She granted us an interview:

Juan: “Good morning Ms Prodworthy, could you tell us about how this change in ownership and management came about please?”

Ms Prodworthy put down the young lad she was assessing and replied: “Yes, when I was the part-time waitress there I always thought that the bosses were not fully committed to the enterprise. Every day they had deliveries from unmarked white transit vans by drivers with nervous ticks. The goods they were bringing were in large plastic bags of white powder. I was unsure if it was salt or sugar. When they got me weighing out half ounces and putting it in little bags, I knew something was amiss. Naturally I breathed in some of the powder and I liked it.”

Juan: “Was this drugs then?”

Ms Prodworthy: “Who cared?”

Juan: “I see?”

Ms Prodworthy: “I started slipping a bit of the stuff away fer meself like, and it soon added up. Then I flogged it off cheaper than wot that lot were doin’ like see?”

Juan: “You seem to be changing into using a local Nottingham accent Ms Prodworthy?”

Ms Prodworthy: “Sorry about that, it’s the lads at the club you know… I pick up no end of stuff from them!”

She looked Juan up and down and smiled at him, then continued: “You’ve got to blend in. Anyroad… I mean anyway, I decided that it was wrong of me to sell these abdominal drugs and with the cash I’d raised I bought them out and got control of the Cafe.”

Juan: “So, what changes are you planning on Ms Prodworthy?”

Ms Prodworthy: “A few new recipes on the menu of course can be expected with extra.. er salt and sugar perhaps?” She gave a knowing look at Juan and asked him if he had considered working in a cafe, because there could be several benefits for him!

AC3She loosened her blouse and broke into a smile a man could have died for than added: “Well? Answer me you nelly faced burke!”

Juan stammered out something about having to leave. After he apologised Ms Prodworthy lowered him back to the floor and released her hold on his neck.

An altercation ensued.

Juan passed out smilingly and an ambulance was called for.

More to follow when they release him from the Queens Medical Centre hospital again.

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Nottingham Police Commissioner Steedenski Demoted! (Updated)

MShead

MS001

LOMM Chief Editor Clivey-boy Knuckleduster at work in his office

Shock report from unpaid LOMM reporterMS02 Juan Inchcock (68) via champion ace carrier pigeon (Gaylord 2nd) just received in the loft of LOMM Times Daily Gazette by editor Clivey-boy Knuckleduster. Who despite there being no proof that the story is genuine, has decided to run with it. (Straight to the Sun. Where he sold it for a quick profit and bought Juan Inchcock a packet of Microwave sausage in payment).

MS01Juan managed to try and interview Mr Steedenski as he came out of Police headquarters immediately after losing his job and asked him:

MS03“I understand you’ve lost your position as Nottingham’s Police Commissioner Mr Steedenski? And after only two weeks in the job too?”

Mr Steedenski kept ultra calm in the face of this tigerish reporter’s questions. He clouted him around the head and replied:

“Little do you know Da da da, da da mate! I have not been sacked at all, I just wanted a change of duties that’s all mush!” He poked Juan in his left eye and pulled him to one side down an alley…

When the ambulance arrived Juan was still in a state of shock and couldn’t recall exactly how he’s got the bruised ribs, black eyes or the inserted truncheon.

Being a rather persistent type of pillock; when he was released from the Queens Medical Centre Juan continued his quest for the truth and located himself outside the ex-commissioner’s home, and awaited his arrival so he could again attempt to interview him.

MS03aThree days later the postman saw Juan’s prostrate body in the bushes, dehydrated and called for an ambulance.

As they waited a barely conscious Juan asked the Postman Churchy if he had missed Mr Steedenski’s arrival. Mr Churchy told him he had got the wrong house, Mr Steedenski lived four houses up the avenue. He also questioned the parentage of Juan.

When Juan was released from the Queens Medical Centre he again ensconced himself in the grounds of Mr Steedenski’s real house though this time, and planned his entrapment of the ex-commissioner.

MS04The commissioners wife came out of the house and cunningly smiled as she kneed him in the groin area, rammed his left arm up his back then dragged him into the mansion and deposited him unceremoniously in one of the state rooms, where Mr Steedenski who was relaxing watching some women’s beach volley ball on his 46 inch screened television.

“Here Mike” she said to her husband “I found this lurking about outside near the Rhododendrons.” With that she flicked Juan around his ear-hole passed wind and left.

Mr Steedenski laying in a luxurious chair with his feet up on pouffe, glanced at Juan and said: “Alright mush, I can see yer ain’t gonna give up… I’ll tell yer the story.”

This perked Juan up, and he whipped out his pencil and pad.

“Truth is I was getting well fed up with taking all that responsibility and I asked em if I could become a Traffic Warden instead of Police Commissioner!”

Juan looked a little confused.

“But” he added “With a bit more power like. Having the gun with me will help me to sort out the scumbag idiots who park in disabled bays yer see. And the wife can show me how to use the weapon safely and accurately like.”

Juan was still confused.

MS05Mr Steedenski reached over to his glass of champagne andhad a gulp and added: “Wait ‘ere I’ll put me uniform on and yer cun see what yer think.”

He came back in his uniform and adopted the pose he intends to use on transgressing motorists with the deadly finger point. Then asked what Juan thought about it.

Juan thought about questioning the need for a firearm that was holstered on his hip… but said he thought it was very nice.

His wife returned into the room and asked Mr Steedenski if they were going to let this misshaped hapless short-arsed decrepit so called reporter to leave or are they going to arrange for his disappearance like.

The fact that she was carrying a Glock pistol, and then pointed it at Juan with a knowing smile on her face concerned him somewhat.

MS06

Her other half thought about this for a while, then said: Yer, go on gal, enjoy yerself.

Juan immediately went into begging and pleading mode…

To no avail!

She fired three rounds in a cold calculating precision ridden style as she laughed out loud!

MS07 Juan was further confused when he realised he felt little pain and could see no blood on the 2 square inch of his chest where the bullets were professionally fired and  he felt the impact?

She laughed manically and spluttered out that she was using blank ammunition.

Mr Steedenski chirped in at this points with: “Blanks” Bloody blanks? After all I’ve taught you and you use blanks?”

Well she replied, you’ve been firing em for long enough ducky!

Juan escaped as the Mr Steedenski and his other half were wrestling each other on the carpet – smilingly Juan noticed as he ran out of the door. 

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Inchy’s Diary Week 06: W/E 19th October 2014

01M01Head

Inchcock Today: Monday 13th October 2014

01M02

Up at 0415hrs tending the ‘Inch’ yet again.

01M04I’ve got to go see Dr Vindla this morning for it to be checked along with me blood pressure. Must remember to tell her about it leaking so much again.

Down and made a cuppa – bit worried about me nto wanting to eat in a morning nowadays? Took medications.

Hurried me LOMM posts and got em posted in about three hours.

Dank dark and drizzly outside this morning – a bit like inside really! Hehehe

Awaiting Asda delivery. Hope it ain’t late or I might miss me Doctors appointment. Supposed to be here twixt 0700 and 0900 hrs?

Asda arrived with five substitutions on me order. Never mind, but I’ll have to give the substitute for me body spray to Dr Vindla cause it is for women and the scent is a bit sweet like.

01M03Got myself sorted out latrine-wise, and set off to the surgery.

Heavy rain now.

Dr Vindla now concerned about me ‘Inch’ and told me to ring a number she gave for an appointment along with a letter, for the G.U.M. City Hospital Clinic.

I’ll look up G.U.M. hang on a sec…

I’m back, just like Arnold Schwarzenegger, well…

Apparently G.U.M. is Genito-Urinary Medicine? Mmmm?

Got back to the flea-pit and tried ringing them a few times but was put on hold every time with canned music, and a bloke telling me he is sorry to keep me waiting – please hold.

I decided to go to the City hospital and take the letter and try to get an appointment in person. What’s the chances eh?

I think I can catch a bus from the City Hospital afterwards to the QMC Hospital straight through?

Ah well, out into the rain again…

I walked to the bus stop, arthritis in the knees not too bad this morning, but the ‘Inch’ is stinging somewhat and the hands are a bit bothersome with sticking and not wanting to do as I request of ‘em.

01M04aaWell soaked in the rain, I boarded a bus and dropped off on Hucknall Road, and walked to the nearest of the five entrances to the site. Found a location site board and entered to have a gander at it to find the G.U.M. building.

The sign told me (It didn’t speak like, it was wot I read on it you understand like) I should be at entrance number 2 – so I walked back to look at the sign number at the entrance I’d just come through yer see.

It was number two, so I turned back to read the sign in more depth and  blow me down – the first building on front of me was the one I wanted… is me luck changing I thought?

I wearily entered and approached the chappie on reception. I explained it all to him and he made me an appointment for tomorrow morning at 1030hrs bless him.

01M04aI ask him where I could catch the Medi-link bus and he told me. So I caught it to the Queens Medical Centre. Got some more of me Operation Sea Lion book read en route.

Took another photo of the front of the premises to try and catch a bird that was unknown to me… but it shot off too soon.

01M05Went in and got me INR blood level checks done.

They were not too busy, so I told them me tale and gave em a laugh and had a little natter with em… oh and gave em there nibbles.

I enjoyed that and felt a lot better in myself when I departed their company with a wave and good wishes.

Trundled along the being mended road and caught a bus back to town.

Still raining a bit.

01M04bThe bus was very full and I was lucky to get a seat thank heavens.

The bus passengers sounded a sickly bunch, so many of the poor devils sneezing and coughing.

I got some good reading in on the way, and ate a pack of seaweed and a packet of savoury nibbles too. So maybe me appetite is returning?

I had a wander around town for a bit and wrote down me appointment for tomorrow and set me alarm to remind me on the mobile phone. When I was doing this a young chap next to me said: “You don’t see many of them models nowadays do you, how long have you had it – it still works does it?”

I replied: “Yes it still works for an old un, just like me… just! He laughed out loud.

I love giving folk a laugh, or even just to make them smile.

Now in amazingly good spirits considering me current situation, I stood up to walk to the bus stop to catch one to Carrington… and how the idiot on a Mobility scooter missed clobbering me I don’t know! Tsk Tsk and Tsk!

Got home (If that is the right word for it?) made a cuppa, took me medications, set about updating this, then had a look at blogs and Facebook for a bit.

Tonight it should be Minced Beef Hotpot, followed by a mini pork pie then iced lollies. If all goes to plan of course.

TTFN all.

02TuHead

Tuesday 14th October 2014

02Tu01

Up at 0400hrs WC.

G.U.M. clinic appointment at the City Hospital today 1040hrs.

No blood from the ‘Inch’ at all but by gum (G.U.M.?) it was swollen sore and tender!

Made cuppa and took medications then did a bit of Internetting.

Had good scrub down and got read for me trip to City G.U.M. Hospital Clinic.

I called in the launderette on the way and told Big John and Mandie about me visit to the City Hospital preventing my doing me laundry, I’ll have to do it tomorrow if possible. Gave em a laugh yer know.

Caught bus to the clinic, walked in and saw the reception bloke and tool a seat in the ‘Mens Waiting Area’ after filling in a form that needed to know everything it seemed to me.

Started to read me book, but by the time I’d read a few pages, a young looking female doctor came and introduced herself. Then took me through to a little office for interrogation.

I gave her the letter from me Doctor and she perused it, then started with the questions about my sexuality, habits and history.

We then walked into a tiny treatment room, she told me to dropped em and sit on the bench awaiting her return. I did.

She put a light over me ‘Inch’ and got down to examine it – a smile curled onto her face for just a fleeting second, but she managed not to laugh bless her.

If it was so swollen with the infection and was its usual size I think she might have laughed though?

She was concerned about the swelling and asked questions about how I managed things. Without too much difficulty I answered.

She put a paper towel over me ‘Inch’ and left the room to consult with a colleague.

She returned.

They had decided to give me some Miconazole Steroid Nitrate (How much does it cost for the day-rate I thought hehehe) Hydrocortisone cream.

She departed and told me a nurse would come and give the cream and instructions to me.

I pulled up me trews and waited.

The nurse came in, very nice personality too, and told me to apply the cream morning and night after washing the ‘Inch’, and how much to use. The cream Brand name Daktacort must be kept in a fridge between applications. This was vital she said.

She said it should last for 2 weeks, but if things don’t begin to improve after a week I was to return to them.

“I bet that the sting and cold will wake me up in a morning? “I said to her: “Oh yes it will” she replied smiling.

I thanked her ad made me way to the bus-stop.

Dropped off in Carrington and nipped in and bought some ham and a tomato fer me tea/dinner/lunch/supper.

I got into the flea-pit without any signs of yobs.

Put the Daktacort cream in the fridge, and took some thins out of the fridge to defrost, and put a pack of seaweed in me bag ready for the morning to nibble at the launderette.

‘Inch’ is a bit tender at the moment, but not much bleeding.

Can’t half feel it when I walk cough or bend down?

Took medications and washed ‘Inchy’ – that was when the blood started to pour again. I got really worried it took ages to stop it and when I applied the Daktacort cream, it came again!

I rang Sister Jane to update her.

Several times I had to use the kitchen towels and this scared me for a while. Couldn’t or dare not go to sleep for hours as I had to keep cleaning myself up and hoping it would stop, which eventually it did. But I couldn’t settle and kept checking.

‘Inch’ is a bit tender at the moment, but not much bleeding.

Can’t half feel it when I cough?

Took medications and washed ‘Inchy’ – that was when the blood started to pour again. I got really worried it took ages to stop it and when I applied the Daktacort cream, it came again!

I rang Sister Jane to update her.

Several times I had to use the kitchen towels and this scared me for a while. Couldn’t or dare not go to sleep for hours as I had to keep cleaning myself up and hoping it would stop, which eventually it did. But I couldn’t settle and had to keep checking.

03Wheader

Wednesday 15th October

03W01

Sprang awake around 0230hrs.

WC.

I cleaned up the many screwed up bloodied kitchen towels and packed them safe in their own black bag for disposal at the chemists later.

My ‘Inch’ was so sore painful and inflamed, but not bleeding proper, just a bit of leaking.

0320hrs I came down to the fridge washed and applied Daktacort cream. Only seepage of blood now but the tingling like pain was most unwelcome. It seems like I cannot concentrate on anything else.

Now the angina and a nasty cough have developed. Tsk!

It hurts at the least contact even with the underpants; I dare not remove them for fear of contact with any zips.

Talk about tender! And applying the Daktacort cream straight from the fridge makes yer jump painfully a bit in the morning I can tell yer!

I wus nearly too late to take me morning medications because I’d spent so long sorting the poor little ultra-tender and glowing ‘Inch’ out. Tsk!

Feeling tired drained and lackadaisical. Still interested just enough to like to know how and what brought about this problem with my ‘Inch’ in the first place?

I searched for me hearing-aids wot I lost again and came across an old written diary for last year, I perused it for last October and the entry was not good then.

I posted it on me status on Facebook for a bit of fun and a warning to other decrepit elderly personages:

“A year ago today, I set out on me walk to the hospital for me INR level tests – Got knocked over by a mobility scooter – lost me bus-pass – one of my hearings-aids batteries packed up – caught the wrong bus to go home – got mugged in the alleyway to my street – got home and found I’d left the cooker on and it was still smouldering from the resultant fire.

The police kindly gave me an incident number.

As I went upstairs to retire and console myself, I fell backwards into a rather unseemly pile at the bottom of the stairs, luckily I had me mobile on me to summon help in getting me up again. I broke me walking stick.

I will not be going out today!

Better safe than sorry I says…”

Still sneezing a lot today.

Did some graphics and posts for Inchcock, gorrum posted. Took me ages and of course Coreldraw9 kept crashing.

Bit of Facebooking too.

Feeling hungry now, earlier than usual.

Went up to clean me poorly Inch, but forgot the Daktacort cream was downstairs in the fridge.

Had to use a fair number of kitchen towels before it stipped bleeding, but far less than last night.

Made a cuppa and got back to Facebooking – then of course the ‘Inch’ began dribbling blood again. Not as bad as I thought though, it’s the fact that I’m running out of clean clothes now. Must get meself down to the launderette in the morning and get a good walk in.

When I washed ‘Ichy’ it was agony drying him, so tender. Applied the Daktacort cream from the fridge – not so much blood this time.

04ThHead

By GUM he leads an exciting life dunt he?

Thursday 16th October 2014

04Th01

0310hrs: Sprang awake, WC, and tried to get back to sleep – no chance. Tried reading my Brian Clough book.

0415hrs: Descended down to the fridge to get the Daktacort cream, returned upstairs tended a very inflamed and painful ‘Inch’ – by gum that stings yer know. Hehe!

Back down returned the torture cream to the fridge, started laptop, kettle on and took medications.

The laptop took ages to load and then wouldn’t let me open any programmes like Word. Oh dear…

Pressed restart and it began downloading updates:

Made another cuppa and read a bit of a book while I waited.

0550hrs: Updates finally downloaded and installed!

Laptop running but oh so slowly!

Managed to get me Diary posted on Inchcock for yesterday.

Got the things ready to go to the launderette.

04Th02Went up and beautified missen and set off fer launderette.

Mandie was on duty and we managed a few natters and laughs.

The ‘Inch’ felt a bit odd, but no blood. (Yahooo!)

I got the washing done and dried and hobbled back to the dump with it.

Set out on a walk into town.

04Th03The rain stopped as I was reaching the cemetery.

Poddled on into town and walked through Vic Centre and out the other end and called into the Pound shop.

Got a microwave dish, cheapo DVD and a bag of bird seed. (By gum I know how to live!)

Took a photo from the walk-over.

04Th05Avoided a mobility scooter and then nearly walked into one parked up – Tsk!

Caught the bus back to the flea-pit.

Tiredness and weariness came over me again so I took me medications a little earlier than usual and tended to the ‘Inch’ – boy did he bleed this time! But the cold cream from the fridge making me jump less now I’m getting used to it.

Head down, usual dreams/nightmares and apart from waking to use the WC, I slept for ages more than usual.

05fHead

Friday 17th October

05f02

Jumped wide awake again around 0420hrs.

WC.

I came down to the fridge to use the deadly Daktacort cream on my poor little tender ‘Inch’. He bled a bit again, but not as bad as last night. Surely it should start soon to bleed much less? If it carries on I might go back to the G.U.M. Clinic on Monday. Mind you, maybe not Monday I’ve got me QMC Warfarin INR level checks and GP appointment. Busy little me. I must point out to my doctor about me ribs seem to be sticking out more and I’m losing meat and weight. Mind you I’ve wanted to lose weight for a while, but now it seems to be dropping off despite my eating more than I have been?

Went back upstairs to find me mobile phone… well a search of all the usual places failed to find it and I was getting annoyed with myself.

I tried the old trick of doing something else to see if it worked.

I took out the rubbish to the bins in readiness for the arrival of the Waste Control Technicians.

Then carried out another search for the mobile – no luck.

Sneezing now! Huh!

Gave up the search and got dressed proper like… the mobile was found in me trouser pocket!

Down again and started the laptop (Still so slow I think the end is nigh?)

Medications and a cuppa taken, then the search for me reading glasses took place…

Found em within 39 minutes, naturally I had left them in my shopping bag???

I did some blogging done and went on Facebook. Meritt Hutton had posted a site that tells you which car you should be driving after a few questions being answered.

05f03I tried it. Mine came up with a Ford Model T!

Did some more Facebooking and blog reading got yesterdays Diary finished and posted off the Inchcock blog.

Closed down the laptop and went up to prettify myself. Not a good session, the ‘Inch’ started bleeding again, I cut missen shaving and banged me head on the sink when I bent down to pick up the razor I’d dropped because me finger were stiffening on their own again. It’s a life innit? Tsk!

I got the things ready to take to the Nottingham Hospice Charity shop, made sure I’d got me glasses, hearing aids in, mobile phone with me and bus-pass, and set off on me walk into Sherwood.

About half way there, I thought the sky was looking beautiful, dark but beautiful and decided to take a photo of it and got the camera box out of me bag – me Empty camera box out of me bag! Double Tsk!

Ah well… I plodded on and handed in me donations at the Hospice shop then crossed the road to catch an Arnold bus to get some ready meals from Asda.

I got on the bus, and fell asleep, waking up to find the driver informing me “This is as far as we go mate!”

I red facedly got off the bus and wondered where the hell I was!

I walked through the estate hopefully in the right direction and came to a T-junction – left or right I had to decide – why is there never anyone around when you want to ask directions?

The road was almost at the top of the crest of a hill, and I knew Front Street was low in comparison with the surrounding area, so I went left and walked down the hill. Good job it was all downhill too!

After about half a mile or so I recognised the area I was walking into and knew if I kept straight on for a couple of miles I’d come into Arnold Front Street.

Not having been down that road for years, it brought back some memories to me to muse on as I hobbled along. I enjoyed the walk actually.

By the time I got to Asda, me feet were really stinging summat rotten, but the arthritis was amazingly not too bad at all?

I called in Asda and had a poddle round getting a Cumberland pie a Sweet potato and carrot Shepherds pie and a thick-sliced wheatmeal loaf on special offer.

I caught a bus back to Carrington – trying to make sure I didn’t fall asleep again and rang the bell to get off at Church Drive but the driver couldn’t have heard it… or I didn’t press it right? So I pressed it again and he did let me off at the next stop bless him.

I fed the birds en route and got into the dump and put the nosh away (Seeing the Daktacort cream lying there silently mocking me made me cringe a bit Hehe) and I made a cup of char.

Started the laptop to do this rubbish for the blog.

I searched the web to try and find a route map for the 57 bus so I could doctor it and made a graphic of where I had to walk due to me nodding off on the bus again.

05f04

I’m struggling with me fingers today, hard to type with accuracy.

I think tonight I’ll have curried beans and sausages with loads of bread – followed by an iced lolly or two! I bet Cameron isn’t gonna eat any better?

I bet nihilist Cameron isn’t gonna eat any better?

It was horrible! (The food… well the food and Nepotist Cameron really Hehe)

I took me medications and tended to my ‘Inch’ – less blood tonight.

Noticed bruises all down both my shins?

I took me medications and tended to my ‘Inch’ – less blood tonight.

Noticed bruises all down both my shins?

I took me medications and tended to my ‘Inch’ – less blood tonight.

Noticed bruises all down both my shins?

0701

 

Saturday 18th October

Up at 0400hrs, awaking with a start again?

WC.

Cold this morning.

Got down and started laptop, kettle on and got the Daktacort cream out of the fridge and gingerly treated ‘Tender Inch’ – who I think was not so tender as he has been! But then again, this morning I didn’t wake up with the usually excited ‘Inch’. Very little blood at the moment… good eh?

I spent many hours on the Internet: Facebooking, League of Mental Mening, Troll Free Zoning and emailing. And jolly well enjoyed it too.

Also got some graphics done for later and few posted – and Coreldraw9 (up until now anyway) has only crashed once! Brilliant.

Going to have Cottage pie and sausages with bread dipped in for tonight’s nosh. Followed my further nibbles no doubt and Iced lollies? I’ll stop the weight dropping off somehow.

Big John phoned earlier, he can’t get to the Second World War exhibition at the Papplewick Pumping Station today, but might be going tomorrow and will pick me up on the way if he does go. Nice of him I thought, decent chap. I must remember to get me camera ready if we do go. I still find myself wanting to check that I’ve got enough film yer know – sad, but age permits a little eccentricity surely?

I want to get to the Alley shop in Nottingham city centre this week coming to take some photo’s and maybe try the nosh there.

Sandra from Troll Free Zone advised me to clear my cookies to try and cure the slowness of me laptop. Took me ages to fins put how to do it, but I got there in the end.

Of course I could not get into Facebook, WordPress, Google blog or owt else without signing in again… a few hours spent there trying to remember/find me passwords etc. Tsk! Wait till I try to get on the other sites… oh dear!

Bit of a set-back in the ‘Inch’ healing stakes, rather a lot of bleeding when I doctored the little mite tonight. But not so painful though.

05fHead

Sunday 19th October 2014

0702

Bad night, kept waking up in semi-panics but have no idea why? Did this about four times I think. Weird and uncomfortable that?

Got up WC’d and came down thinking it was about 0200hrs and realised it was already time for me morning medications 0455hrs!

Maybe it was because I was excited about going out to Papplewick Pumping station exhibition with Big John later? He said he will pick me up around 1200hrs. Must get me things ready soon so I don’t forget later.

Made cuppa and took me medications then set about treating tiddly ‘Inch’. Only a little blood this morning, but the stinging was enough to make me cringe a tad.

Laptop started relatively quickly this morning – but when I tried to open word it took a long time to open and then with a post on it I did months ago? Then Chrome took even longer to open.

0703The angina is not so bad today at the moment, but I have developed stomach aches of a rather intense nature: I hope this does not stop me going on me trip out?

Big John came at 1310hrs to pick me up, then we collected Big David from is flat and we set off to Papplewick.

 

Apart from the wind and drizzle I had a good time wandering taking piccies and chatting to people.

Towards the end I was getting weary aching and tired. But so glad I went.

When BJ dropped me off, I was only capable of taking me medications and getting my head down. I forgot to treat my ‘Inch’ with the cream!

Inchcock’s Status:

Tired weary but content….ish.

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Wave Of Apathy Sweeps Nation As Satirical Mag Announces Halloween Edition

soz halloween edition FP

I bet you can’t wait can you? *cocks pistol*
 

http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

There was practically no reaction at all on Tuesday of this week as Soz Satire, a satirical magazine famed for it’s anonymity and risibly poor content, announced the forthcoming launch of their Halloween edition.

Editor-in-chief, Clivey Dee, 21, told an empty press conference in York Hall Bethnal Green.

“The lack of reaction has been absolutely astonishing. We haven’t been as studiously ignored as this since we launched the Bumper Xmas Edition in 2012! In fact I’d go as far as to say that the sheer apathy, combined with a kind of hurtful refusal to even acknowledge our existence, has taken our breath away.

“To be honest we can’t wait to get cracking on the November Guy Fawkes issue. The prospect of miserably  looking at the turgid viewing stats each day, and the crestfallen looks on the faces of the writers when they realise no bugger wants to read their dismal output somehow makes it all worthwhile”

The magazine the critics have dubbed “The Kim Jong-un of humorous publications” due to it’s worldwide unpopularity, did receive one or two grudging testimonials after going to press however:

“Hot damn! Are you serious? This is awesome news! I’ve been giving those limey sonsofbitches a wide berth for years!”The Onion

“Fuck’s sake! This is absolutely fucking diabolical! Ignored by millions you say? Those poor cunts!”The Salvation Army War Cry

“Tragic news which has saddened us all at these offices. I always found their work wonderfully uplifting, flashing and winking like a prism and yet redolent with the acrid stench of decay and death”The Beano

“EYE CANT REED BUT EYE’M SORREE EVREEBODY FINKS THEY ARE SHIT”The Times Higher Educational Supplement

“Christ my bloody joints are killing me!”The Rheumatism And Arthritis News

“A shocking blow to the world of quality satire. My thoughts are with their families at this difficult time. I wonder what colour panties they were all wearing when they were given a wide berth on the internet” Women And Animals

“Can ye no see ahm too drunk tae comment ye barmpot! Noo get tae fuck oot o’ here ya fuggin’ bashtas yersh!”The Scotsman

“I have never seen eet. But for zem eet must be veree deeficult to take”The Arsene Wenger Bugle incorporating Popular Optician.

So if you’d like to see for yourself what none of the fuss is about, click this link shortly before bedtime to guarantee yourself an absolutely first class night’s kip.

http://sozsatire.wix.com/soz-satire

Warning: This magazine may contain traces of humour but I wouldn’t bank on it if I were you.

Clivey

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Wet Time Stories

kim.jong.un_portrait - Copy Another diary entry by Kim Jong Un, Supreme Leader of North Korea.

 

Dear diary,

I wet my bed last night. That almost never happens. I told my wife she did it and she believed me.

But after breakfast I went to see my doctor. My doctor is a nice woman, very smart. But I’m smarter, because I told her a friend of mine had wet his bed, so she wouldn’t think it was me.

“Does your friend wet his bed more often?” my doctor asked me.
“A few times every year,” I said.
“Does your friend have any psychological issues?” my doctor said.
“I don’t think so. Dennis Rodman is always very nice.”
“Does Dennis Rodman have a lot of stress in his life?”
“I don’t think so. Everybody loves Dennis Rodman. He is the supreme basketball player.”
Then my doctor paused for a few seconds. She was thinking.
“Do the people of North Korea like Dennis Rodman?” she asked then.
“I think only the people of North Korea like Dennis Rodman,” I said. “Sometimes other people make fun of him, but I know he’s only doing his best. But when you’re as awesome as Dennis Rodman, people start making fun of you because they’re jealous.”
“Do you think Dennis Rodman may be scared sometimes?” my doctor asked. I thought that was a very good question, so I thought about it for a while. Then I said: “I think Dennis Rodman is probably very scared. That’s why he’s friends with me. We help each other out.”

In the end my doctor told me that when somebody is so very awesome, it’s scary, because you have a lot of responsibility. People look up to you. Everything you do is observed and judged and if you do something wrong, the punishment is very severe. My doctor said only people in North Korea could ever understand what that must be like.

She is a smart woman. I like her. I think more women should become doctors. My doctor isn’t mean like House.

My doctor said Dennis Rodman should take some valium to ease his mind.
“You can give me valium and then I’ll give it to him,” I said because I wanted it for myself.
“Don’t they have valium in the United States?” my doctor asked. I did not expect that.
So I said: “No.”

My doctor totally believed me. Of course now she can never leave North Korea, but that’s okay, because I like her.

Your one and unly,

Kimmy.

P.S.
Why don’t Pringles come in a bag? Once I eat half my hand doesn’t fit in anymore. And then I have to tilt my Pringles until they fall out, but I always spill some, especially toward the end when it’s mostly just crumbs. I do like how you can seal Pringles after you opened them, but I never use that option.

 

This harrowing portrait of one of the world’s greatest leaders comes from Lennard van Ree of Satire Nation infamy.

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FOR THE LOVE OF GINA

GINA

An extract from the book ‘Tony Blair’s Peculiar Dreams’

The first rays of sun were streaming in through the brambles of my recently fashioned home within a drainage ditch aside the A23 near Gatwick. Quite a comfortable spot if the truth be told and certainly better than the disused pillar box in Rye where I had wintered previously by a long stretch – never could get a full handle on sleeping upright!

Whatever, the promise of a warm spring day fairly enlivened me. What to do? It was then that the thought struck me that I hadn’t seen my old Auntie Maud for an age, wizened old boot and miserable cow that she is. I’d been waiting for her to pop her clogs for donkey’s years you see what with her being worth an enormous fortune and me being her only living relative.   Plainly the need to stay in her good books was compelling so yes this would be the perfect day to look her up.

Back in the day she was quite a looker, a dancer at the Folies Bergère in Paris as it happens. Mind you raddled bag that she has become and auntie or not I certainly wouldn’t want to see her with her kit off these days – perish the thought! Yes Maud met her beau there, an oil rich Texan with more dollars than I don’t know what. The pair of them ended up with homes in Cannes, Vienna and a lovely Regency pile here in Blighty near Arundel. When the Texan snuffed it – nasty business I understand seeing as how he was found naked in a wheelie bin at the rear of a Bangkok brothel with a rose up his arse and his hair made up in the style of Marie Antoinette no less! Still Auntie Maud inherited the lot hence my continued interest in her wellbeing……. ‘Mine all mine one day soon for she is 93 and afflicted with haemorrhoids and obnoxious gaseous wind’ became my mantra.

Having spruced up the ditch a bit, ensuring my spare socks and underpants were neatly tied within a discarded Lidl’s carrier bag I set off early for Maud’s gaff. Sleeping rough and not having facilities that favour personal hygiene I had long since concluded that hitchhiking is not for me…..those offering lifts soon regret it as a I chuck up somewhat and many have kicked me out of their vehicles telling me that I should fuck off sharpish or take a sound kicking. So it was that I decided to take the scenic route through the fields and hedgerows of southern England on my trusty monocycle – one I chanced upon outside a pet cemetery some years previous.

By luncheon I had arrived in one piece at Auntie Maud’s. I rang the bell and was somewhat taken aback when a rather gorgeous Eastern European girl – certainly well stacked – calling herself Gina answered. I explained that I was Maud’s nephew and had come to pay her a call. Gina said in a rather sexy husky voice of gypsyfied cadence that she had heard all about me and that I shouldn’t worry or be embarrassed that I smell foul as she was used to that coming from Russia as she did. I must admit I found this arousing as no woman thus far in my life would come within a country mile of me what with my malodorous hum. Anyhow it turned out Gina was my aunt’s new live in carer – she could certainly take care of me anytime she wanted I thought to myself yet put that on the back burner for the time being.

“Shall I enter Maud’s abode then?”

“You velcome yet she not ear…..you can vait in drawing room if you vont,” so said the lovely Gina although frankly her demeanour indicated little concern for Maud.

“Out and about on her travels is she Gina?”

“Yes she ‘as left five days go……she be back soon I zink.” A sigh of indifference this time…..what a strange girl!

“Five days ago……..a woman of Maud’s age and failing health popped out five days ago……don’t you think that’s rather a long time?”

“Not where I come from is not.”

“Well it jolly well is in Blighty I can tell you……..don’t you think we should go look for her?”

Gina, now more interested in filing her nails just shrugged and replied, “If you vont.”

“Which route did auntie take……best we track her steps?”

“Back door….yes she left by back door.”

With that we both made for Maud’s rear entrance (so to speak). Immediately upon opening said back door I spotted Maud lying face down at the bottom of the steps. I descended two stairs at a time such was my haste and noted immediately that she was freezing to the touch…….indeed as dead as a Dodo’s dick. Bingo, her unfortunate tumble proved to be my lucky day, a thought I ventured to think aloud.

“Ow is it your lucky day?” asked Gina. So I went on to explain that I was the sole beneficiary to Maud’s estate and that I was now worth billions of spondoolies! With that Gina’s mood changed and she became rather gushing……all over me like a rash in point of fact…….this really was becoming my lucky, lucky day.

Once I’d dealt with the police and undertakers etc. etc. etc…….how tiresome that was……I popped along to the solicitors to get the probate underway and the Will sorted out. At least the ancient partner I met with was able to confirm that I was indeed the heir to Maud’s estate. So back off to what was, in effect my mansion thinking to myself, ‘Fuck the ditch and my socks and underpants’.”

Over the next couple of weeks Gina and I became very close……very close indeed. The first night she pointedly announced that a man of my standing should be cleansed and well attired and with that whisked me off to the ginormous master bathroom where she insisted she scrub me down. I was a tad shocked when she whipped her clothes off and jumped in the bath with me. Still I guess those are the tasks the underclass have to take on……..bathing the master of the land and all he surveys and all that bollocks. I must admit it was all rather fun especially so when Gina announced she had lost the soap and invited me to find it for her although for the sake of decency it is probably for the best I do not expand upon this point……I had in point of fact expanded sufficiently at that point any way!

After what seemed a lifetime – albeit just a few weeks – the estate was formally in my possession and even after death duties I was worth the princely sum of £2.5 billion. Not only that I was in love with Gina and determined to make an honest woman of her. She positively squealed with delight when I proposed marriage and shagged me on the spot. I did ask if she would do the same if I proposed again and she said I could propose as many times as I liked…….what bliss!

Our wedding was a quiet one at the local parish church, just me (I had no friends) and Gina’s eighteen brothers, seven sisters, parents, grandparents, great grandparents, several score of sprogs, forty seven aunties and five uncles plus some tethered goats and several border collies. I had had them all flown in from Gina’s home village on the Steppes of Mother Russia for the occasion. It was the case that there was that many of them they very nearly took up all the bedrooms of what was now my mansion. Leaving her family behind to take care of the pile we honeymooned in Monte Carlo and Venice although did not get much time sightseeing for we were at it night and day; an insatiable lust for each other.

The night we returned to England we flew in rather late in the day. The Arrivals at Heathrow was not what I had expected. All the signs were in a foreign lingo I couldn’t understand a word of.   Moreover none of the staff spoke a word of English……still we collected our luggage and made for the taxi rank.   There at the rank were any number of taxis of a design I had never seen before but had read about in magazines I had pilfered from rubbish bins over the years. There were Volga GAZ21’s and Tatra 603’s rust buckets galore in various shades of grey. Regardless, we took the first available cab, not that the surly unshaven driver assisted us with our bags in any way for he was sat at the wheel in a fog of cigarette smoke puffing away like a good ‘un. I didn’t have a blind clue of the language he was speaking yet presumed he required word of our destination. That is when Gina took over the conversation for she clearly spoke his tongue well – indeed the pair of them were getting on like a house on fire.

As we drove the streets I was dumfounded to note that all the road and traffic signs were also in a foreign language and one that was quite beyond my understanding. Then as we passed a bakers shop en route I really couldn’t fathom why there was a massive number of dishevelled customers queuing right down the street and round the bend just so as they could buy bread. There were no longer illuminated street lamps yet by the light of the moon I saw more police on duty than ever before……hundreds of the buggers scruffily uniformed and most with a fag on……worse still they were all toting AK47 machine guns! More shocking though was that all the Curry Houses had been boarded up and even what were McDonald’s take-away type restaurants now had strange bill boarding the words beyond my comprehension although I did see punters outside nibbling away on what looked like rather unappetizing pickled white cabbage and dried herring.

“This is all a bit queer Gina don’t you think?”

“Is OK…….as should be I zinc darlink…….we home soon.”

Ah well I guessed all must be well…….still odd though and certainly couldn’t make head or tail of what was going on.

Worse still was when finally reaching home I noted that all along our mile long driveway there were peasant looking types standing around oil drum camp fires some rubbing their hands together, others drinking vodka neat from bottles. As we pulled up outside the house there were literally dozens of them, gypsy women by the look of them with cleavage aplenty dancing enticingly to the earthy music of the fiddle and further down thrown together choirs of menfolk singing what sounded to be patriotic anthems.

As I exited the taxi a raucous enthusiasm had plainly grabbed the crowd. Hundreds surrounded me, applause, pats on the back then some of the more muscular types amongst the throng held me aloft cheering………women dabbing tears of joy from their eyes………then pinned to the front door and in Queen’s English and plainly hurriedly produced poster caught my eye reading, ‘Welcome Home ‘First Secretary’…..Great Leader’.

“Zee dat is for you darlink……you now leader of this great nation.”

“How can this be Gina…..tell me what has happened in the time we were on honeymoon.”

“Oh nozink much darlink……it just that the rest of family come to live here……too many to count so zay have spread ow you say……..out, zay spread out all over country and zay are ‘appy ere darlink.”

Fuck me this is alright I thought to myself; never even once had I thought I’d be top dog and a billionaire with a beautiful wife too boot!

“Just the one question Gina my love, where are all the indigenous Brits these days? Haven’t seen one of my own since we touched down.”

“Zay are at corrective labour camp places in Ziberia darlink……most are at Gulag Kolyma in Ziberia…do not worry zo zay quite appy wiz it all.”

“Oh that’s OK then…..fancy a quicky before dinner?”

“For First Secretary I do anyzing……..anyzing you vont.”

“Do you know what Gina I think I might just buy West Ham Football Club…..um…..yes…..that should keep me amused while I’m doing leader type things…… what a jolly good idea.”

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Shop ‘Till You Plop. A Gentle And Effective Retail Purgative

Written By Gary Hoadley
Edited By Clivey Dee
Graphic By The Artful Dodger.

gaz mini me

“Oooh suit you sir!”

The Pub:

“Good evening Landlord, a pint of your best custard please”.
“Certainly Mr Thorpe. Birds Eye?”
“Yes please Bert, I developed a craving for it whilst hunting tower blocks in Africa”.

The Bakery:

“Morning Mrs Punnet, what will it be this morning my dear?”
“An uncut porn film, and an iced West End ponce please”.
“Would you like it wrapped in a badger’s scrotum?”
“No, thank you, I have brought along my own sand worm”.

The Butcher’s:

“Hello Mr Funnel, how are you?”
“Diverse and full of Carpathian Theology”.
“Wonderful, are you having a bus stop this weekend?”
“No Simon, just a simple transvestite holy ritual”.
“With Jesus and Moses?”
“Oh yes, it wouldn’t be the same without cow sheds”.

The Tailor:

“The ulcerated mouth and the pan fried eggs will
be ready for your fitting on Wednesday Mrs Horn”.
“Thank you George, see you on Planet Zog”.

The Restaurant:

“Good evening sir, good evening madam. Are you strangers?”
“Yes thank you. May we order?”
“Yes sir, Have you a Dalmatian in the yard?”
“Oh, how kind!  Isn’t he kind Rodney?”
“Yes, Miriam. Pony’s leg trotter for me please Nigel…on the rocks!”
“Darling, may I have a starter motor, with a side order of Penguins?”
“Certainly Madam, would you like two nuclear bunkers with it?”
“Yes! And I’ll also have a rudder and ball joint with Castrol Hypoid 90 gearbox oil you bastard!”.
“And what would sir and madam like to drink?”
“A bottle of Western Philanthropist 2056 please”.
“Perfect choice sir, I will return in Cyril Smith”.

The Corner Shop:

“Twenty Benson and Hedges and a box of matches please Mr Patel”.
“Get out you bloody madman!…And stay out!”
“Oooh errr!”
“Sorry about that, Mrs London- Pavement, we get them from time to time”.
“Perfectly okay Mr Patel”.
“Now, what would you like?”
“Twenty shirt- lifters and a box of dead condoms to eat now please Mr Patel”.
“Certainly…”

Editor’s Note: Gary Hoadley has now moved to a densely populated area in Florida…or at least it was densely populated until he moved there

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Letter to LOMM: Beggingly

01b

Dear LOMM,

I am an experienced pillock with some experience, amateur admittedly of wife’s somnamulism.

I seek an ultimate peroration of the disconcerting pickle I now find myself in. And thus, I am prepared to divulge the intimate problem in the hope that your sagacity, knowledge and phenomenal contumely vanial brain can supply me with the wherewithal to overcome my nequient understanding of the situation.

The good wife and other half and i have been together now for more than twelve years, we have had our ups and downs of course along the way.

Now she has in has to be said in the past been a bit naughty with the coalman, milkman and wicker bottom chair repairer.

However, six months ago I had a win on the lottery. She changed her ways and swore to me that I am the only man in her life now, and she started to grant me visits to her bedroom.

I asked if these visits could be arranged for when she is actually in the bedroom. And after buying her a diamond necklace from Harrod’s she agreed.

The following week, she said I could get into the bed sometimes.

The excitement was, she said too great for her.

Then the sleep-walking started.

There was no stopping her, and the Doctor who she went to visit on these walks told me not to try and stop her.

Then she started to visit a mechanic in South London, and I must say getting the car mended was nice.

Then she wandered off and caught a train to Nottingham meeting a 5’2″ 69 year old twit who couldn’t get it up anyway?

Then she returned one morning, and swore to be true and loyal to me if I bought her a BMW.

So I did.

She didn’t keep her promises and she has now left me.

But I have eased the pain by helping out at the local boys club.

The thing is, do you think I did right?

Yours

Cliff Rolf Glitter

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