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This is a question Black sheep of the family II

Freddie Woo says: I was a bit friendly with this chap was once on Jeremy Kyle for what he called "brother and sister problems". He was such a family outcast they made him sleep in the shed. Tell us about your family black sheep.

(, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 13:10)
Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

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Cotton Picking Story.
Not about sheep but agricultural non the less.
My ancestors were split in the early 19th century when around half of them emigrated to the USA. G.g.g.g. grandfather Ruben and G.g.g.g grandmother Millicent struck it lucky and ended up running a plantation in Louisiana. Family diaries detailed occurrences familiar to those who have watched 12 Years A Slave. If anything the film underplayed the cruelty.
Probably the most horrendous episode logged was when, around the start of the abolition process, slaves started to disappear on a regular basis. Escape was virtualy impossible. Where would they escape to? The neighbouring plantation?
Over a period of 12 months around fifty slaves, ten percent of the workforce, went missing without trace. It was only by luck that my relatives eventually discovered what had been happening.
They were on one of their regular family picnics in one of the hundreds of charming copses on the estate. There was shade from the hot sun and a beautiful soft grassy bank by a sparkling, soda water brook. Couldn't have been more peaceful.
During the idyll G.g.g.g.grandfather had to answer a call of nature and went among the trees to a respectable distance from his family. What he came upon shocked him to the core. In a clearing, piled high upon high, were the corpses of slaves. They had all been brutally murdered then just thrown on top of each other and left to rot.
My Gx4 grandfather was beside himself and rushed back to break the news to his wife. On sight she could see there was something seriously wrong. "You look terrible Ruben, what on earth has happened?
He replied, "I think I've just stumbled upon the blacks' heap of the farm, Milly"
(, Wed 26 Feb 2014, 21:09, 5 replies)

(, Thu 27 Feb 2014, 18:21, Reply)
My cousin used to be the blackest of black sheep
He just loved the alcohol. Couldn't get enough. Drove drunk, and spent time in prison.

Then he decided to sweep out his attic.

It was a warm day, and he was wearing shorts as he drunkenly swept the dust. He lost his footing and fell down the steps. He landed on his feet, but as he fell, the broomstick snaked up his shorts. He was violently rammed through his anus by the broomstick, up to his diaphragm. There was an eight-hour delay getting medical attention, because of the absence of a visible wound. Colostomy, therapy, months of suffering.

So, he set aside the drink, went back to school, got a degree, landed a babe for a wife, and found inner peace.

The end.
(, Sat 22 Feb 2014, 11:12, 19 replies)
Saw an entire pen of black sheep once.
Apparently they used to live in the neighbouring pen with their white brethren, until a wolf got in and they had to clear the fence between pens for their freedom. The blacks ones made it but the white ones couldn't jump.
(, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 16:07, 1 reply)

(, Thu 27 Feb 2014, 18:24, 1 reply)
One day at school, a young Keith Chegwin went along to his careers officer.
"I've decided that when I grow up I want to be a pub", he announced proudly.
"Don't be ridiculous" answered the officer, "everyone knows that Cheggers can't be boozers".
(, Thu 27 Feb 2014, 14:34, 22 replies)
"Violently assaulted" by a bunch of Tory boys.
A friends uncle was a mildly prominent local politician back in the day, local party chair, council leader and Lord Mayor a few times etc. A bit of a slightly racist "old school" populist career politician, but outwardly an upstanding respectable old bloke.

His son however, fell fairly far from the tree. He was the archetypal crack snorting, smack heading, drug dealing, lowlife. If it could be snorted, smoked, injected or conveniently inserted into his body he'd have a go. He successfully hid this behaviour from his parents for many years. When he found himself in hospital or the police station he'd spin a yarn about how he was just a victim or was being persecuted by people because of his fathers position and the stuck up old sod believed him for far too long.

Beaten up outside a McDonalds at 2am on a dodgy council estate? Some blokes didn't like the fact he was the Lord Mayors son. It had absolutely nothing to do with him trying to rob them of the crack he'd agreed to buy from them.

Violently attacked outside a pub and robbed of all the drugs he was trying to sell? What really happened was some Tory boys set about him because of a rude joke he told about Maggie Thatcher.

Forcefully ejected from a night club and lost a tooth when he hit the kerb? He was thrown out because the bouncer "was a unionist bastard" who was rather unhappy with his fathers policies as published in the local rag the week before. Not because he tried to do lines of coke off the bar top.

Eventually it all came out and he was disowned by his father. But not because of the lies he'd told, but because at some point he'd had a child out of wedlock. And yes, a large part of the unhappiness from his father was the fact the child was mixed race and therefore a literal "black sheep".

Happily the old man did change his mind eventually and is now involved in his grandsons life and a great deal less racist. He still doesn't speak or acknowledge the existence of his own son though, who's continued down the career path of professional George Best impersonator.
(, Sun 23 Feb 2014, 2:08, 23 replies)
Manchester in the 70's
We had to suffer all them power cuts and stuff, making winter evenings really dark. We had to make our own entertainment by either candle or torch light. My father was well connected in the newspaper business around that time, and had met with Leslie Scott, of Oxford Games Ltd, who was trying to promote her, as yet, un-named parlour games. It involved building a tower of strips of wood, and pulling them out in rote until a player toppled the tower. She gave him a set and it became a real hit in our house.

I was ace at it. My keen eye for balance and my steady hand meant I could win 99% of every game.

Dad also took it to work, and used to set it up in Sports Editorial. The old hacks loved it, and eventually they got the joiners to make them their own set. Dad told me that couple of professional footballers from two of the local teams were coming into the office, and they were going to have a play off at this game for a photo-shoot. My dad hated the Red team, and he was Blue to the core.

He arranged it so that I would be in the office on the day, and using a set of pre-arranged coded instructions, the guy in the Blue Tie would pull the right piece of wood, and use my knowledge to beat the guy in the Red Tie.

I didn't know what Vegas was, and Deer Hunter hadn't even been invented, but I assumed it was the closest in high tension competition that anyone could reach. The hacks stood around, smoking fags, mugs of tea sloshing about, and the two footballers eyed each other's move across the editorial office desks. The tower was errected, and the match to end all matches began. Team pride was at stake.

Everything went to plan. Nobody took notice of the kid in the office, as I gave the Blue Tie subtle but essential clues as to which brick he should pull. Eventually the Red Tie toppled the tower, photos were taken, scotch was drank (not by me) and everyone in the office did some back slapping.

And that's how I became the Block Cheat of the Franny Lee.

Height: 11 column inches (400 words).
(, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 13:54, 1 reply)
something, something, something long story short I pisssed in my own mouth
(, Wed 26 Feb 2014, 11:04, 1 reply)
My family don't really have a black sheep to think of, however, whatever issues may arise are nothing to worry about compared to my friends uncle...
...an alcoholic smack head, who is currently residing in prison after an altercation with a man of similar class and stature. The outcome of this event was the uncle in question throwing a man out of a window several storeys up, then casually perambulating down to ground level to set the near lifeless body on fire, which he watched until the arrival of the police. Anyway, they shunned him because he moved to Aberdeen.
(, Sat 22 Feb 2014, 10:25, 9 replies)
Surprise Uncle
A few years back my Dad found an old family photo of my Mum with her two sisters and a young lad he didn't recognise, upon further questioning it transpired she had an older brother she had kept secret for most of her life, apparently he'd burgled a load of houses and ran away when she was a teenager and had never been spoken of since. The only contact he has made during this time was some flowers that turned up at my Gran's flat during her wake.
(, Fri 21 Feb 2014, 9:03, Reply)
I used to work with a non-racist Australian.

(, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 15:14, 7 replies)
My FIRST cousin did a charity parachute jump over India last year and I said I'd join him as it was to raise money for food parcels for starving Ethiopians.
Unfortunately we collided in mid air, my chute unfurled a bit too late and I drifted off course. Thankfully I got a soft landing on a pile of resin in the local insect farm. I was so thankful that I bought the whole lot of this stuff that had saved my neck. And that was my famine leap lacs heap.
(, Thu 20 Feb 2014, 13:22, Reply)

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