bare ankle

“Eeee by gum lad thee don’t ‘ave a clue do thee?”

“Eeee Granddad thy don’t ‘ave clue bout what?”

“The allure son……the allure of fully robed comely lass where only a glimpse of bare ankle is revealed. Eeee what a thing that were back int day.   Not like tis now where the girls give more than glimpse of anything and everything the brazen hussies that they be.”

“What doth thy mean Granddad?”

“Well take your Grandmother lad…….she were right cracker in her heyday and that’s no lie. She scrubbed up well and would dress tut nines. Sometimes though there would be tiny glimpse of ‘er naked ankle……….I’m telling you son a nifty glimpse of ‘er bare ankle could cause a cascade of fly buttons from ‘undred paces……..more erections than Isambard Kingdom Brunel could build bridges.”

“What be fly buttons Granddad?”

“Fly buttons lad were what kept todger int thy trousers and were undone only when one felt need to water ‘orse as and when tut bladder were full.”

“Like the zipper wot we ave today Granddad?”

“Yes lad much like said zipper………anyway yer Grandmother were quite a looker back then…….maybe she ‘as put on inch or two round waist over years but she were really something when I first met ‘er outside Barraclough’s Chippie in Harrogate…..’er filling face with firm pink skinned saveloy…….me with chips ant a right nice lashing of curry sauce on top at time and contemplating the pharmaceutical basis of beef dripping, a subject that has always fascinated me.”

“Granddad, me mum says Grandmother is built like proverbial brick shit house and that ‘er ankles would better be named shankles whatever shankles are.”

“Well lad your mother were always awkward cow wit spiteful tongue. No lad, thing is…….the point I’m trying to get across is one of erotica……..you see lad back int Golden Age of Bare Ankle Glimpses, when only thing you could get on female nudity front were ankles it made the chase for the heart of lass all the more worthwhile……….I mean to say it took me eleven long years of courtship before I even saw your Grandma’s bare breast but it were worth it, even though we had nine kids by then……it were only cause I walked in unannounced having tended to ‘oming pigeons when she were suckling youngest infant by hearth that I caught that glimpse of female nipple for first time in life yet it be a memory I treasure all my days……..any way lad what thee be doing this weekend……..I’ve eard tell there be ‘ferret down trousers’ contest at working men’s club on Saturday…….sounds the sort of thing thee might like?”

“Me Granddad? Eeee I be going on date with Mavis from down south……I’m taking her to pictures and hoping for grope in back row of cinema.”

“Bloody heck boy…..dating bloody foreigner from down south. What’s got into you….are there not a sufficiency of Yorkshire lasses born and bred for thee. Thy surely know we don’t hold with mixed blood in these parts.”

“Eeee Granddad don’t thy worry Mavis told me she be ont pill so there won’t be any fears of mixed blood should good fortune come thy way ant I get leg across. Would thee like to see picture what I ‘ave taken of Mavis ont me IPad thing? Here Granddad caste thine eyes over this……..she is right nice thee will note.”

“Eeee by gum she certainly is well-developed lass whose early life plainly has not been blighted by either a protein or calcium deficiency…….some would say right, right, right nice if one were talking frankly. How is it son that she wears so little ont garments front……I mean its July and July int Yorkshire means a young lass like this should ave on jumper and thermal vest thus staving off potential for pneumonia.”

“True Granddad……best I ‘ave word in her ear……although I must say thy likes more than somewhat that with Mavis I get to try the goods out before making purchase if you get metaphor so to speak. Local girls won’t let me ‘ave a sniff ont shagging front thy knows.”

“Just make sure thee doesn’t catch that Venereal Disease boy…….they give tell all girls south off Barnsley carry the disease. ‘Appen you’d like to make good use of family heirloom int form of reusable rubber johnny – it were Uncle Silas’s very own and ‘e ‘ad cleanest chopper in Scarborough, legendary it were. Anyway lad how comes you can afford one of those IPad things………I’ve heard they be very expensive and what with you having not worked since mill shut I’d ‘ave thought it’d be beyond your reach?”

“Oh that Granddad………I purloined it I did off soft southerner int Leeds tother day……..Job Centre had placed thee int ‘otel there as porter…..trying me out…..seeing if I were any good before offering me position there. Soft southerner were staying in posh suite so I waited till he were down int bar then popped into his room and pilfered IPad.”

“Eeee by gum lad that’ll learn bloody southerners……never ‘ave cared for them. By way lad give Mavis one for me will thee.”

“Aye Granddad.”

This tale is loosely based around my wife and I staying at an hotel in Leeds where someone broke into our room while we were out at a wedding and stole her IPad! Obviously I don’t hold a grudge – much!


Filed under The League Of Mental Men

Shylock Humes In: The Case Of The Farringdon Funker


A Victorian gentleman pictured diligently checking the saturated fat content in a murderous, Amazonian dwarf outside Fortnum & Mason’s


By Edgar Alan Pose aka Gary Hoadley

Part one.

Shylock stood in Baker Street. He hailed a cab. The driver waved back and drove on.
Presently, he was joined by his friend and trusted companion, Dr Whatson.

“Have you hailed a cab Shylock?” asked Whatson.
“No, I thought I would stand here in the rain waiting for you”. replied Humes.
“Oh, why would you wait in the rain? Are you collecting evidence?” said Whatson.

“He get’s worse” Shylock said to himself. “Can you hail a cab please, Whatson?”
“Right ho, Shylock…Caaabbb!”

A cab pulled over, the driver sat under his rain cape. The horse had a crap.

“Where to guvnor?” asked the driver.
“Limehouse” answered Shylock.
“That’s a fair old trot guvnor”. said the driver.
“Just get there as quickly as you can”. ordered Humes.
With that, the cab took off at great speed, leaving our heroes on the pavement.
“I think we should have gone with him Shylock”. said Whatson.
“Would have been a good idea” sighed Humes.
“Did you give him the address?”. asked Whatson.
“Not yet”…answered Humes.

Later that day, Shylock and Whatson arrived at Cooks Pie and Mash shop. Limehouse.

“What is that awful smell Whatson?” enquired Shylock Humes.
“It’s not me Humes, I had toast for breakfast” answered Whatson.
“Let’s go into the shop and speak to the proprietor” said Humes.

Inside the shop, the smell intensified, Humes held a handkerchief to his face.

“Mornin dear” said a small rotund woman. “Can I ‘elp you?”
“Good morning Mrs Meatflan, my name is Shylock Humes, the world’s
greatest detective, and this is my friend, Dr Whatson” .
“That’s nice love, ‘ave you come abart the smell?” said Mrs Meatflan.
“Yes, where is it” asked Whatson.
“In the corner of the yard aht back” replied Mrs Meatflan.
The two men made their way to the back of the shop, they opened a small
wooden door and stepped into the yard. The smell was overpowering.

“My god!” exclaimed Whatson.
“Yes” replied Humes. “What vile creature would leave a thing like that!?”
Mrs Meatflan came to the door. “Wot is it then?” she asked.
“That” said Shylock, pointing, “Is a malodorous, gaseous, escape from the lower bowel otherwise known as a funk, and it’s a very nasty one to boot”.
“Oooh err!…Why leave it in our yard?” said Mrs Meatflan.
“We shall find out Mrs Meatflan, and have the devil thrown in prison” said Humes.
“Can we go now Shylock, I’m feeling a bit Tom an Dick”. asked Whatson.
“Immediately Watson, the funk is effecting your speech!” cried Humes.

The two men exited the pie and mash shop.

“That was close Whatson, you nearly became an Aaw Gawd Blimey” said Humes.
“You mean…” answered Whatson.
“Yes…An East End Cockney!”.
“My god! What would Mrs Whatson have become?” asked Whatson.
“A washer woman in the Old Kent Road I fancy” . replied Homes.

Humes and Whatson made their way back to 221A Baker street. Once inside
they drew a large fire and then drew the curtains, Humes drew a self portrait.
With the art work put away, the men began to discuss their new case.

“Do you think the Funker is a local man Humes?” asked Whatson.
“No, this evil criminal lives near the City of London” answered Humes.
“How so Humes?” said Whatson.
“He can disguise his funks by using the sewers to get to his victims”. said Humes.
“You mean, he lives in the sewers?” exclaimed Whatson.
“Are you deaf?” asked Humes. “I said, he uses the sewers to get around”
“Pardon?” replied Whatson.

There came a knock at the door. Both men sat waiting. After a minute, Humes spoke.

“Go and answer it then Whatson” demanded Humes.
Whatson opened the study door, before him stood a tall elegant woman.
“Good evening Madam, how may I help you?” asked Whatson.
“Is this the home of Shylock Humes, the worlds greatest detective?”.
“Certainly is, what would you want with him?” enquired Whatson.
“I am Lady Pardon from Paddington, my husband, Lord Pardon is in
Poland pressing Polish Prime Minister Prozchev to pardon Parsons, the
Polish protagonist, prior to the punishment Polish parliament will pronounce”.
“Pardon?” answered Whatson.
“Let her in!” shouted Humes.

Once inside, Lady Pardon explained, that while her husband had been away,
a strange and pungent smell had permeated the Pardon’s residence in Paddington.
“My god!” exclaimed Whatson, “You don’t think!”
“Yes” interrupted Humes. “I feel it could be the work of the Funker”.
“And now he is targeting the rich and privileged”. said Whatson.
“We need to act fast” said Humes, nodding off to sleep.



Filed under Humor, Humour, Spoof

Inchy’s True Tales of Woe: The Angling Holidays: Lockerbie


Robin Hood (Lousy ale) Angling Club

Mates: Bill Bates, and Jock Kirkpatrick, and Mad Ken.

W25HeadsozWe’d rented a cottage in Lockerbie for the week, feeling assured that Jock would show us the places to find the best fishing.

We filled up the Austin J4 van with the fishing tackle, baits, and fodder we thought we’d need and set off in the van, the box that Ken dropped on me foot didn’t cause too much bruising.

W25 Charles1Ken was driving first, then I did for a bit, then Ken took over again. We got just over the English/Scotland border before we got lost.

We used to have a little bet between each other each day we fished, £1 for the biggest fish caught, £1 for the most fish caught, and £1 for the biggest weight of fish caught. In the event of a draw or no fish caught, we used to donate the bet money to the NSPCC.

We arrived (2 hours after the ETA), found the owner, and ensconced ourselves in the cottage.

4WoesElephantWe agreed I’d do the breakfasts and snap, Jock would do the evening meals, Bill would do the cleaning, and Mad Ken would do the driving. Nothing if not democratic we were.

Next morning, after breakfast, we went on a recce to find Lochmaben to suss out the fishing.

We asked a local resident, sat on the verge with a bottle of Iron Brew, which direction the Loch was in, and we think he said, “Right straight up the hill, carry on, it’ll be on our left!”

After about five miles, with no sight of Lochmaben we thought we must have passed it somewhere, and spotted a chap ambling along the lane, we stopped and asked him.

His reply was double-dutch to Bill, Ken and I.

As we drove off none the wiser, we asked Jock for a translation, and he said he’s no idea what he was talking about, he was born in the Outer Hebrides and couldn’t understand what the man was saying any more than we three Sassenachs could!

We got the map out, and decided to carry on to Motherwell instead. A further ten or so miles on, we saw the sign for the Loch!

W16 phone

Something wot we never seen!

After five days fishing the four of us had yet to get a bite, let alone a fish, and was out of pocket on the bets.

We found a pub called the Midland Hotel out in the wilds, and visited for a pint and a game of dominoes. The landlord came from Derby. At ten o’clock, he told us to go into the bar side and drinking will continue in the cellar! And he was serious.

Sure enough, at ten o’clock we went into the absolutely packed out bar, and within a few minutes, everyone was filing through behind the bar, and down the steps into the cellar, which proved to be a fully equipped bar, with tables chairs, and piped music!

Around about midnight a pair of legs appeared walking down the steps from above, they were wearing black boots, and a black pair of trousers… as it came down, it revealed the bottom of his tunic, his torch, and the shiny buttons on his uniform – yes it was a police officer.

I thought “Bloomin’ ‘eck, we’re for it now.

But no, he spoke to no one, just walked to the bar and grasped the pint that had been poured in silence for him, belched, turned and disappeared up the steps. Amazing!

W16 5 guineasThe electrics played up on the van, and with Mad Ken the only one with any knowledge of the engine and mechanics of vehicles, he toyed with it for ages, and sure enough, he got the lights back on. No indicators, but at least we could see where we were going.

My turn to drive us back to the cottage, and I tried to followed the three sets of verbal directions being given me, while attempting to read the map and drive the van.

We set off, and in the middle of the wilds… splutter, jump, jerk.. stop! We had ran out of petrol, but the fuel gauge read half full, the electrics playing up again?

The lads kindly elected me to walk to the village or whatever it was we could see in the distance. It took me about an hour to get there, there was three cottages, a big house, and thank heavens a garage! I enquired if he could assist us, and judging by his body language (I could not tell clearly what he was actually saying with his accent), he wanted me to join him on his Land Rover, and we went to the lads waiting in the van.

We were towed to the village, and the chap had a look at the van, and decided spare parts were needed and told us he could get them in a few hours, and then it would take about 2 hours to sort the panel out.

He kindly said we could pay his missus, and she’d provide a meal for us while we waited, and led us to one of the cottages. As we walked down the path to the house, the door opened, and the man’s wife ducked to get through the door, and came out to greet us.

She was about 6’5″ tall, muscular, wide, and scared the shit out of us. But needs must and we went in and settled in the front room, while she conjured up a meal for us.

Part7-2She came back in with a massive plate for each of us, fully filled with fodder. The only thing I could recognise in the offerings, were the tatty-scones, as for the other nourishment on the plate, well I’ve no idea, but it tasted okay to me.

That cost us nearly all of the money we had left, still we were going home now.

We were away in our now working van by about 1900hrs, and by 1925hrs on our way home… we were lost again.

When we eventually arrived back in Nottingham, I dropped Bill and Mad Ken off, then took Jock and myself back home. (Jock and I lived in the same terrace of two-up two-down hovels)

The house had been burgled in my absence, and there was three bills lying at the foot of the letter box than needed paying!

A disappointing holiday to say the least.


Filed under Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men

Inchy’s Letter to LOMM 19

01bDear LOMM,

It was with a heavy heart, I had to forward my resignation from the Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, Nottingham Branch.

My letter to Mr Alphonse Connumall, the OPPKAS Chairman/Treasurer/Donations Secretary:

Dear Mr Connumall,

I hereby give notice of my intention to cease my employment with OPPKAS, giving 7 days notice from the date of this letter.

Whilst I have enjoyed certain aspects of the work and assignments that I have carried out on your commands over the years, I hope you have been pleased with my humble efforts. I have not received any wages from you for 16 years now.

It was last week that I discovered that there are no Pregnant Kangaroos in Outer Peruvia. Apart from one Non-pregnant Kangaroo in a zoo, in Outer Peruvia.

I am sending the last of the monies I have raised to the usual account: Msteeden0338403993/channel.islands as usual.

Yours Juan Inchcock.

I got no reply to the letter.

Do you think I may have been conned all these years?

W23 TwilightJuan Inchcock

Victims Lane



Filed under Humour, The League Of Mental Men

Inchy gets Star Role in new Nottingham Movie (Updated)


Inchy get to be New Super-hero in film to be produced in Nottingham

A small Nottingham budget film company named 4Ms (Mike’s Majestic Monochrome Machinations Inc.) has acquired pro tem financial backing from Walt Disney Euro, to go ahead with its brand new super-hero film series, to be filmed in Nottingham.



0101abbAs I approached the companies new main studio, I was greeted my one of the owners a Clivey-boy, along with a rather gorgeous young lady at his side (He appeared to be involved in fund

0101craising for the film I assumed), and the company financial director working behind a desk outdoors, and I was pointed in the direction I needed to go to find Mike, the majority shareholder in the company.

Mike was in the process of interviewing a little known actress called Letitia Prodworthy for the lead female part in the film. Where she was prodding with her left hand on the photograph, we’ll leave to your own imagination.

Actors originally considered for the starring role (Until they realised they could get Inchy for a pittance of what  the others wanted paying) were:


Majority share holder of the company, Mike explained the idea and plans for the series to Aged Arthritics Association Entertainment reporter C. Verilittal; “We had noted that there are currently no really ugly, disabled, or elderly super-hero’s making films nowadays. In the old days we had Ernest Borgnine in films, and the likes of Cannon, and Kojak on the Television”.

01001fInchcock came into the studio/shed, pushing his supply of medications in a trolley and disappeared into the WC. We tried to interview Inchy, but he’d just started to take his afternoon medications, and thus would not be available for over an hour.

Mike coughed then continued; I believe we have come up with a character that can fill all of those traits, with our new 68-year-old virgin actor Juan Inchcock. He is keen to learn, and likes the idea of becoming well known and people talking to him.

We offered him £15,000 a film to start with, but he thought that would be too much for a novice like himself, and demanded we pay him £50 a film, but he wanted free cups of tea, time off to feed the ducks, private medical cover and £10,000 for the Nottingham Hospice. So we readily agreed. After hearing the list, I had to agree that Inchcock has all the natural attributes that can be used in the films, originality, ugly looks and he comes so cheaply too.

The immediate advantages of our using Inchcock in the role are:

Inchcock: This will be presented as a novelty, and never has a smaller novelty been revealed on film!

Impetigo: His Impetigo can be used as a slow motion weapon, as he passes it on through touch to the villains!

Hearing Aids: These can be used as radio transmitters, oral sat-nav, or radio receivers. There is great scope for many uses, never before used in movies!

Spectacles: Never have cracked NHS plastic-framed thick lensed spectacles been used by a super-hero in films before, another first for our company!

Arthritis: This will ensure a perfectly balanced and genuine limp is caught on film, and the screams of agony on bad days will be genuine! And how many stars of the past do we see dropping things unexpectedly as their fingers/hands freeze up? Inchcock will be so original in the part.

Colostomy Bag: Never knowingly been worn before by any super-hero in films, yet another first?

Medications: Never has a super-hero been filmed having to stop to take his medications throughout the production, a first for us once more!

Pot Belly: We anticipate this being used in the combat scenes, like a miniature Big Daddy would have used his.

Bald Head: The perfect example, naturally shiny, it can be used in the sunny scenes to blind his opponents with the sun’s reflection. There has been a few bald super-hero’s with a bald head, Kojak, Yul Brynner etc. But never one with such a misshaped head as Inchy!

Bow Legs: Apart from cowboy hero’s, bowed legs have not been used in super-hero films before!

Inchy’s stutter: He’s apparently had a stutter when he talks to members of the opposite sex since the age of nine, when he was caught in the girls shower and certain comments were made about his appendage, which brought on his phobia. As far as we know, there are no other lead actors with a stutter in the industry, another first for Mike’s Majestic Monochrome Machinations Inc.

Few Teeth remaining: This will make it so easy for us to use false teeth getting knocked out on set! Saving money again!

Ready-made Scars: Perfect for simulating injuries obtained in his fight for justice in the films. His cardiac surgery scars, groin scars from Hernia and cancer operations, leg/groin scars from Prostate surgery, stomach wounds from Duodenal Ulcer procedure, a multitude of head scars and dents to make use of, crushed toes scar, left two arm scars, three right arm scars, one left leg scar, left knee operation scar, right knee wound scar, two left hand scars, one right hand scar, four facial scars, and his misshaped in the boxing ring broken nose, will all be of immense value to us, and save a fortune on special effects.

0101dWe caught up later in the day with 4Ms Mike, as he was working on the script at home. He said: “It is hoped, that the Nottingham production of the as yet untitled super-hero series, will begin in March 2015, as soon as the £25.00 financial backing from Walt Disney is confirmed. I’m sure the film industry and its fans are getting very excited about this new concept. I just hope Inchy doesn’t kick the bucket before he can get a chance of success and fame, and for us to make a mint from his singular qualities as a cheap pillock.”

The theme to be used, is that of an 80 year old ex gas lamp wick trimmer from Nottingham, comes out of retirement, only to find the street gas lamps are no longer being used. This annoys him so very much; he sets about finding a source of cheap gas, and reinstalling the Gas Lamps to Nottingham’s streets.

Which age demographic this is aimed at is still a mystery – but the use of Inchy in the role is pure definitley genius!  (Perhaps I shouldn’t have the word stroke where Inchy is concerned?)

Late Extra:

Unfortunately last night, Inchcock was making some baked beans on toast in the studio/shed, and he fell asleep. The pan caught fire, and the studio/shed was destroyed.


We tried to talk with Mike, but he was not available in Nottingham, or his Monaco Villa for an interview.

0101deInchcock was rushed to the A&E at the Queens Medical Centre, where nervous staff greeted him like a long lost brother.

4Ms Clivey-boy managed to film the paramedics as they rescued Inchy, the film they informed us, will be available at £50 a copy.


Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men

Inchy’s Weekly Diary 02


Monday 8th September 2014

Up at 0500hrs. WC.

I’ve arranged for me deliveries to arrive today. Morrison’s and Asda nosh, and me toaster via Yodel.

ETAs given:

Asda nosh 0600>0800hrs

Morrison’s 0900> 1000hrs

Yodel 1100>1300hrs

If they all come at the agreed times I can still get then to me Warfarin level tests this afternoon, otherwise if any one of them is late, I’ll end up with two tests tomorrow at the hospital and the laundry to do. (We’ll see how me luck runs)

Made a cuppa, took med’s…


Started laptop, did graphics and finished posts.

I got loads done and posted, and had to wait at the window for me deliveries.

Asda nosh 0600>0800hrs – Arrived 0705hrs

Morrison’s 0900> 1000hrs – Arrived 1000hrs

Yodel 1100>1300hrs – Arrived 1919hrs


I was late with me evening medications. ‘cause I was waiting to the Yodel delivery that came – and I was late with taking me evening medications.

Ah well, I’ll go and get me tests done tomorrow then…

Tuesday 9th September 2014

Up at 0500hrs.


Blood cleaned up.

Came down and found I’d left the front door unlocked overnight, Tsk!

Started laptop, did a bit of WordPress viewing – Totally forgot about my laundry, made a cuppa and took me medications.


Got  the nurses treats and forms filled in ready for the INR tests, got missen prettied up (Mammoth daily task that) shaved and washed.

Set off to the bus stop, and caught bus into town. Called in Tesco and got some cream cakes for the gals in haematology, then caught bus out to the QMC hospital.

Mon01busFinished off me Eric Morecombe book en route, I’ll take that with me other bits to the Nottingham Hospice shop tomorrow (Said him fully confident that he’ll remember).

I took photo of the bus when I got off of it. A Mercedes bus, private company but I’m allowed to use me bus-pass on em.

When I got to the Queens Medical Centre entrance, I was Mon02qmcgreeted with about a hundred people waiting outside, ‘cause the fire alarm had been activated. Yet through the window I could see dozens of people noshing away in the cafeteria… well they don’t call them that nowadays do they now it’s a Coffee shop, where you can take out a mortgage and buy a cup of fancy coffee.

We were soon admitted, and I picked up the free Metro Mon02anewspaper en route to the Haematology dept for me tests, took a ticket and sat awaiting me number to be called.

I got in, and the nurses were tickled pink with their cream cakes and nibbles.

Being as I’d caught the buses to get there, I decided to take a walk back into town to keep the knees oiled like.

Mon03MercAs I passed the old entrance gate to Wollaton Park, I noticed it was now occupied by the Mercedes company, sad that.

Further down Derby Road on me hike, I saw the Rose & Crown public house had been done-up. Thought it looked so nice, I took a photo of it.

I limped on, and when I passed Canning Circus, I took a Mon04Rosedifferent route through the (Privately owned and ran ‘Park’ area), that I thought would bring me out near the Audio centre I use.

It didn’t.

I eventually came out on Maid Marion Way, which suited me better, because I was going to the Chinese shop to get some veg-meat snacks. Which I did.

Mon05apubWalked down through the town centre, not many folk about today.

As I passed a pub on me way to catch a bus to Fulton’s in Arnold to get some more microwave sausages, I saw through the open doorway, two deadly Mobility Scooters, with the drivers downing the plonk on the seats next to them. Scares me you know, these scooters, well the drivers if em. No law saying they need to take a test, or have insurance. This made me wonder about drink driving on a Mobility Scooter? I shuddered”

Mon6aScootCaught the bus to Arnold, and popped into Fulton’s, where I managed to get some sausages and lollies.

I crossed the road, and waited at the bus stop. I’d put me bags on the floor to sort out me bus-pass, and a Mobility scooter driving lunatic drove over one of me bags! She just carried on as if nothing had happened. I whipped out me camera and took a snap as she drove on regardless.

Caught the bus home, by which time I was shattered and weary.

Got me head down to try and sleep, but…

Wednesday 10th September 2014

Up at 0400hrs.

WC (Making it four last night Tsk!)

Started laptop, made cuppa, then WC.

Got me bag ready with the Nottingham Hospice things in, then I did some work on posts for the blog.

Shave: dropped me razor and broke it, so I used a throw-away one, wash, teeth done, cleaned tootsies and glasses, changed bandage (Must remember to get some more soon), applied me creams and pain gel.

Set off on me walk to Sherwood’s Nottingham Hospice Shop, nice day, hope it doesn’t bring out the yobboes… crossed fingers.

Gave em me bits at the Hospice shop, and caught the bus to town.

Got some bread to feed the ducks with, and caught bus to Derby.

Fell asleep on the bus, bus only for a moment or so.

The Derwent riverside had loads of folks, dogs, mobility scooters, and yobs around, and hundreds of ducks. I observed the mallard ducks were bravely getting a bit nasty with the immigrant giant Canada geese in their fight to get to the food being thrown to them. I hope WTh01Campbell doesn’t hear about this? There seemed like thousands of pigeons in the melee. I was so fascinated with this, I forgot to take any photographs though. (Huh!)

Had a walk into the Eagle shopping centre market: Dead as a dodo in there, and even more stalls closed down. Mind you, there was still the Mad Mobility Scooter drivers danger ever present.

Had a walk about for a bit, then I caught the bus back to Nottingham. I got on the one that takes the round-about route so I could enjoy the scenery for a change. But fell asleep before it got to WTh02Draycott, a very kind lady woke me up at Beeston… I felt such a fool!

Dropped off in the city centre, and called onto the Chinese Food Shop and got another pack of the vegetable nibbles, as I liked the last one much. The girl in the shop is I think, falling in love with me, as she ignored me far less viciously than she did yesterday!

Caught the bus to Carrington.

Dropped off the bus thinking I’ll call at the GP while I think of it. A chap stopped me and asked for directions to the City hospital, no problem for me, so I gave em to him. Then I walked home forgetting about the GP again.

Made a cuppa then updated this tosh. So tired now.

Slab InchyThursday 11th September 2014

Kept waking up all night. Woke up at 0505hrs.


It felt like I’d had a different bad dream each time, but I could only recall bits of the last one;

I was leader of the country; I stopped production of all nuclear, atomic, nerve, gas and germ weapons, and ordered that they be buried as deep as possible underground, but with a failsafe detonation system attached. I held a meeting at 0930hrs and told the world that if they do attack us, we would detonate all of our weapons underground, and this would destroy the entire planet! At 0938hrs the first missile landed in Stalybridge. At 0942hrs, I detonated our stockpile, and found myself along with everyone else, in the queue at St Peter’s gate… not sure what happened then.

How I can remember the times is amazing, yet I forget so much other stuff that I’m sure was in the nightmare? I’ve vague memories of George Osborne being in the nightmare somewhere?


Got down, started laptop and made a cuppa, took medications.


Blogged for a bit and did some graphics ready for later use.

Got me things ready for the launderette, and set off.

Got the machine going after the big gal on duty today made a fuss of me… well she said “Good morning”.

WTh09INRI got the togs in the drier when the washing machine had done its bit. And walked over to the GP to fetch me prescription. I got a rollicking for not replying to their Email giving me my new medications dosage.

I humbly apologised and told them I would not let this happen again. Then gave them some nibbles to eat.

Went over to the chemists, handily located next door to the launderette, and got me prescribed extra pain killers, gel and dermatological cream.

Back to the launderette, and got me Spike Milligan book out to read.WTh04

Folded the togs into the bags when they were dry enough, said farewell to the big gal in the launderette, but she was on the phone and didn’t hear me like.

Got home (Using the term in its loosest sense), put me togs away, got me Nottingham Hospice bag that I prepared earlier, and set off on a walk to the Sherwood.

WTh05Noticed some nice old cars parked up on the way, looked like they’d been parked up for years.

Arthur Itis was causing extra bother in me left knee this morning.

I called in Wilko on the way, to see if I could get any microwave plates and dishes – couldn’t find any though, but I did get a cheapo can-opener to replace the one that collapses while I was using it last night. (Curried beans all over me and the floor… Tsk!)

Got to the Nottingham Hospice Charity shop, and the girls there thanked me for the donations and nibbles wot I took ‘em. Bless ‘em.

WTh06Crossed over the road, and called into Holland’s to get some pistachio bars, but didn’t have any in, so I didn’t.

Noted a mobility scooter parked outside the bookies, gave it a wide berth!

I was limping a fair bit now, as I passed the Police contact point on the other side of the road, where the burglar alarm was going off. No chance of catching anyone there as the police only occupy it for two half days a week.

WTh08Further along I passed the new pub, there were three mobility scooters outside of it; glad I didn’t pass it later when the drivers were staggering out and putting lives at risk by driving em in an intoxicated state!

Got near the top of the hill, and suffered a few dizzy spells. Realised I’d not had me hat on for about half a mile, so put it on, despite looking a twit in the warm sunshine. The spells stopped after a few minutes, and I continued the walk back to the dump.

As I turned the corner into my street, a bloke with two bull terriers walked past me, neither had a lead or muzzles on. I could see a fight taking place between two women at the far end of the street… so nice to get home innit?

I got in, WC. Laptop started, made a cuppa, and couldn’t find me cheapo tin-opener?

Updated this tosh.



Friday 12th September 2014

Woke up several times as usual during the night. A very active Arthur Itis in me left knee still visiting and a new tummy ache – but more concerning at the moment, Montezuma’s revenge (diarrhoea) each time I woke up I utilised the porcelain pot!

As I write this, I’ve been up about half an hour, laptop on, made cuppa and took me morning medications and I’ve been back up to the WC twice already. No make that three times… back in a bit…

 I was only just in time. Oh dear, that was unpleasant.

Looked at some blogs, checked emails. Then worked on creating graphics for me next post – However, for some reason when I tried to export me art to jpeg, it would only export as monochrome!!! Confused, I searched the web for help, but could find none applicable to me problem?

Whether it was Coreldraw or the laptop causing the error I don’t know.

Frustrated, I finished using mono smudges and gave up.

Took the rubbish out to the bins.

Got a wash up, and went on a walk to the Nottingham Hospice Charity shop with some stuff.

Stopped off at continental shop and got some bread and boscek.

Then after dropping off me stuff at Hospice place, I called at a computer shop in Sherwood and asked them if they could supply me with a laptop powerful enough to cope with Coreldraw, and a Coreldraw programme disc, and how much would it cost if so – they could not.

I crossed the road and tried at another computer shop, “Could you supply me with a laptop powerful enough to cope with Coreldraw, and a Coreldraw programme disc, and how much would it cost if you could – they could not.”

I caught the bus into town, and called at the first computer on Mansfield Road, asking them “Could you supply me with a laptop powerful enough to cope with Coreldraw, and a Coreldraw programme disc, and how much would it cost if you could – they could not.”

Went a few shops up to the other computer shop “Could you supply me with a laptop powerful enough to cope with Coreldraw, and a Coreldraw programme disc, and how much would it cost if you could – they could not.”

Went to computer shop on Upper Parliament Street, “Could you supply me with a laptop powerful enough to cope with Coreldraw, and a Coreldraw programme disc, and how much would it cost if you could – they could not.”

Frustrated beyond tolerance I walked to PC World and asked the same question there: they could not.

Really down now.

Caught the bus back to the flea-pit, bitter, twisted, annoyed and pissed-off!

Tried again to sort out what the problem really is using internet Coreldraw-help-pages (Thanks Mike) but no luck at all.

A bitter old man tonight – but hey-ho, monochrome will have to do for the foreseeable future for Inchy. (SHIT!)

Hah!, and double Hah! Me radio’s stopped working now!

1600hrs: I tried removing Coreldraw9 and reloading it – oh dear, here I go…

1720hrs: No such luck, still not working properly!


Now the yobs are lurking again.

Saturday 13th September 2014


HTopDiaryI was throughout the night making use of the WC. Rumbling runny stomach ache, and each time I woke up, I felt sorry for me about the Coreldraw/laptop situation.

Arose at 0500hrs WC, cold this morning, stomach churning, down and made a cuppa, laptop on, tried saving in colour on Coreldraw but failed again, a black and white world for me now. Tsk! I can import any graphics wot I dun earlier straight into WordPress in colour or straight from me camera, but any I create or doctor since will only save to disc in mono.

WC (Cor blimey, wot an aroma!)

I hope I do not have any accidents with the runs when I go to see Sister Jane later at jumble sale where she is a volunteer at the Friary United Reform Church Charity Jumble Sale in West Bridgford.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAHaving utterly failed to get Coreldraw9 to export or save anything I’ve created or doctored in colour, and feeling a tad depressed, I closed everything down and did me ablutions.

On me walk/limp into town, I took a photo of the building where I hope, God willing, to move into. Sheltered housing flats, they are to the right of the Baptist Church in the photo on the right.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACarried on with me limp hobble into city centre, and caught the bus out to the Friary Church. As I was walking own Musters Road, I espied a Computer shop and called in to see if they could help me with getting Coreldraw onto a new laptop and how much would it cost please. With a puzzled look on his face, he didn’t know what Coreldraw was, so could not help me. Feeling low, and with a grumbling tummy, I carried on to the church.

Then had a dizzy spell, luckily it passed quickly this time.

At the church, I searched around the jumble sale that qwas in many different rooms, and found her busy behind her stall, serving and watching for jumble sale-lifters, and there were many of those.

Managed a few little natters with Jane, and then she told me that they had some books on sale in another part of the building in the front block, (Jane’s stall was bric-a-brac) so I took a look. Bought a book about Farcical Football Matches, it looks very interesting.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAHelp em clear up after the jumble sale, then waited outside with Jane for Pete to arrive to give her a lift home.

Took her photo while she waited, come out nice I think. (David Bailey – phrr!)

Pete arrived and I took me leave and got bus back to City. Avoiding the mad mobility scooters, skateboarders and cyclists on the pavements, I made me way to the bus stop, and caught bus back to the depressingly named home.

I started laptop to try and find out what had gone wrong with it or Coreldraw, but by the time it had loaded, I was feeling so depressed and tired, I turned it off, and retired.



Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire, The League Of Mental Men

Dr Hindley’s Bookcase: An Everyday Story Of Jibbering Folk


Dr Hindley’s Bookcase part 6

Memoirs of a consultant psychologist.

The proposed treatment and medication given to each patient must be arrived at only after careful consideration. Even when two patients are suffering from the same illness it does not necessarily mean that the treatment will be the same, it has to be tailored to the individual. As an example I once had two patients, both middle-aged men and both suffering from Male Erectile Dysfunction (MED) that were treated in totally different ways.

MED is by its nature both psychological and physical. The patient’s sexual drive declines with age and the patient realises that he no longer has the same libido and worries that something is wrong thus causing stress and exacerbating the condition. His partner notices and expresses concern which makes things even worse, thus the patient finds that he becomes trapped in a vicious downward spiral. Mr McTell was in just this situation, despite having a very attractive and somewhat athletic, albeit dim, wife when he was referred to me.

I always treat cases of MED by first interviewing both the patient and his partner together, as mental health issues always affect not only those that are afflicted but also people that are in close contact with them – or are unable to be in close contact with them in the case of ‘limp knob disease’ as I routinely  call it.

I instructed McTell to explain fully the problems he was having and insisted that he tell me just how embarrassed, small,  insignificant and useless he felt – I always found it much, much easier to build up someone’s self-esteem if I’d reduced them to a miserable, self-loathing wretch beforehand. Thus he told me everything, including all of the little moves that his wife had used to try to get him to perform (two of which I hadn’t come across before).

Well, what to do? After giving it some serious thought I decided that the best way to break the circle of stress would be if his wife could relax her need for physical contact from him for a while thus no longer inducing in her husband the stress resulting from the need to perform.I therefore sent him off with some mild anti-depressants and for the next month gave a session of treatments twice a week to his wife in my consulting rooms and also a couple of times in a cheap hotel near Earl’s Court. Quite vigorous they were too, but I’m nothing if not dedicated to my charges. It must have worked too as within three months McTell had run away with a Romanian barmaid from New Maldon.

Mr Rolph had exactly the same problem, although when first confronted with him and his wife I wondered how they had ever managed to play the ‘beast with two backs’ in the first place. Rolph himself was a small rotund man with bad skin and a facial twitch, while his wife was a heavily-built, muscular woman with a face like a smacked arse. Copulation must have been akin to 2 rutting rhinos going at it full pelt albeit with much less eroticism. I must admit that the thought of them hammering away was something that I tried not to dwell on (although I later used it as a self-cure for premature ejaculation).

Anyway, I bunged them a prescription for Viagra and told them to report back after a month which they duly did, describing in stomach-churning detail the full range of their subsequent nocturnal, gynaecological adventures.

In the end we had to kill them of course.

Gary Moore “Churchmouse”


Filed under The League Of Mental Men

Macho Macho Mental Men!

LOMM village people

Smudge by The Artful Dodger

Fitness training and beauty tips by Inchcock



Disclaimer: No fannies were strained during the making of this piece…much.




Filed under Humor, Humour

Clivey & Gaz In: Invigorating Inchcock

clivey mini me

Smudge by The Artful Dodger

Written by Clivey Dee

Tea and precious little sympathy by Gary Hoadley


Scene One: The Public Bar In The Boyleyn Tavern, Green Street, East London. The Lads Are Seated At A Corner Table.

“Fancy another pint Clivey? It’s my round squire”

“To be honest Gaz I’m too worried to drink right now son. I’ll just leave it at 15 pints if it’s all the same mate”

“Worried? What are you worried about Clivey? What is the thing that is currently worrying you mate?”

“It’s Inchy Gaz”

“Inchy? What you worried about Inchy for mate? The boy’s as fit as a butcher’s dog son”

“That’s just the thing though Gaz. He isn’t you see. He might put on this hale and hearty act on the blog and pretend he’s never had a day’s illness in his entire natural, but in actual fact nothing could be further from the truth mate. In short, the boy’s in absolute shit state son”

“Blimey! What’s up with him then Clivey?”

“Everything Gaz. That geezer is so riddled with plague and pestilence I’ve started calling him Old Testament Inchy”

“Fuck’s sake mate! Who’d have thought it? He always looks and sounds so well all the time”

“Precisely Gaz. He’s putting a brave front on things you see mate. Outwardly he pretends to be in blinding nick but inside he’s an absolute wreck of a geezer”

“So whaddya reckon then son? Shall we take him down the quack’s for a check-up”

“No Gaz, that is not the way forward with the boy in my view mate. I propose that we cure him ourselves”

“Behave yerself sheriff! We couldn’t cure a Lowestoft kipper! We’re cockney toerags not learned men of medicine!”

“We don’t have to be Gaz. We’re going to use holistic medicine to get the boy’s ailments squared away”

“Holistic mate? What, we’re going to drill holes in him?”

“Precisely Gaz. I see this brain surgeon geezer do it on the telly once. He drilled a massive hole in this half dead geezer’s Uncle Ned and a few days later the boy’s hopping all over the gaff like a bastard spring lamb”

“Sweet as a nut Clivey boy! When we gonna do it mate”

“This afternoon son. He’s just come through the door so let’s get a few ales down the bastard and it’ll save us having to hit him on the swede with a mallet later on…OI OI INCHY!… Over ‘ere son. Come and have a few sharpeners with me and old Gaz!”

Disclaimer: No Inchcocks began to feel much better as a direct result of this skit.



Filed under Humor, Humour


  Another diary entry by Kim Jong Un, Supreme Leader or North Korea.


Dear diary,

The last time my dad hit me was only a few days before he died. I cried very hard. He said I was a big fat loser and that North Korea would be lost if I were to become its Supreme Leader.

But then he died. At first I was sad, because my dead dad always knew what to do and I was afraid people might not love me as much as they loved him. So my first decision as Supreme Leader was to make a law requiring every North Korean to love me. Then my advisors told me that was not necessary, because the law already said I was very popular.

So I wondered if the law thought I was just as popular as my dad, who had just died. In my first week as Supreme Leader I decided to have an election. I figured if people thought I was so awesome they would all vote for me. Also, I didn’t have any competitors and the people were required by law to cast their vote. So all in all I liked my odds.

But then I figured it doesn’t make any sense to have an election with only one candidate. Plus I wanted to know if North Koreans love me as much as they loved my dead dad. That’s why during my first election the people could choose who they wanted as their Supreme Leader: Me or my dad, who had just died.

I won by a landslide.

There were some people that voted for my dead dad, but not many. Right before the election I had made a law forbidding people to vote for my dead dad. Political experts say that was a smart move on my end and that I reeled in a lot of ‘swingers’ that way.

I’m thinking of having another election one of these days. I’m in a winning mood and I like winning elections.

Your one and unly,


Paris Hilton, Kim Kardashian, Pamela Anderson, Hulk Hogan, Fred Durst…A lot of people seem to get attention from making sex tapes. It’s a bit of a career boost apparently. I wonder if me and my wife should make one. She said she doesn’t want to, but I threatened to insist. Haven’t made up my mind yet.


This cynical character assassination of a wonderful human being comes courtesy of Lenny Van Ree & Satire Nation.




Filed under Humor, Humour, Satire