My late uncle Ken
Quirky rather than unhinged. The ones I've heard about include booking a course of driving lessons. First thing he asked the instructor on getting in the car was if he was going to teach him to do skid turns. When told no he got out of the car and didn't bother with this tedious driving lark.

Next was when the county boundaries changed and Northumberland/Durham became Tyne and Wear. Not happy with this Ken applied to say his piece in an "Independence for Wallsend" (working class to the point of flat-caps part of Tyneside) stylee in the House of Lords, as is any UK citizens right, however loopy the cause.

So he booked his time before their Lordships, booked his hotel, got his speech sorted, and....... slept in, missing his slot.

What with the daddy Shipman-alike, no wonder I've got no mates.
(tinypod will never learn. Ever., Thu 5 Jul 2007, 18:36, Reply)

Yup, another grandparent story
....Though not mine. A mate, Rob, possesses a crazy Scottish nan. She's convinced he's called Joseph, and frequently gives him a pound for sweets (hes 21 now and about 6'4"). My introduction?

"Joooseph! Why's it so foggeh!?"
"Its not, Nan, its your cataracts."
(Cheesecake Like a cake...But cheese, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 18:20, Reply)

At the moment, my Gran's a bit ill
This means a lot of relatives come by to try and help, sit by her side and chat to her. It's caused a lot of upset in the family. On the plus side, everybody's started acting ever so slightly crazy.

- My Aunt keeps turning over a photo of me and my Gran. Why? Because Gran looks a bit pale in it.
- A certain Step Aunt doesn't come round at all. Her excuse is that she's "too busy at the church". She's a cleaner whose hours are 5am-6am.
- My cousin, in a band, has helped by writing a song called "Crazy Ill Granny".
- I've started posting my family's crazy breakdown on the internet
( __, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 18:20, Reply)

beer, ties and train sets
I spose this isn't that crazy, but i find it quite amuzing. Whenever my uncle & family come over, he always manages to fall asleep, full pint in hand, but never spills a drop. He is also a fan of the all singing, all dancing christmas ties and has a model railway running round his garden. I'm sure there's more, I'll put them on when I remember.

Sorry it's not that funny, that's the craziest my family gets... hold on... that's like claiming they're sane. Maybe just more sane than others..? Anyhoo, first post first page! Woo!
(woohoozibob was very bored and thought 'heck why not' on, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 18:11, Reply)

Out to lunch
This QOTW seems very familiar so I'll pearoast my grandma (PEAroast not spit...)

One day I was round at my Grandma's sorting out some wiring for her, she popped her head round the door to say she was going down to the shops and would I like anything? I asked her to pick me up a Mars bar as I was starving.

Later on she came back and said "I didn't get you a Mars bar but I've got you a packet of batteries instead"


Length? never mind the quality, feel the width....
(Cliche Guevara Predicatably revolutionary since, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:45, Reply)

My Dad
He is a legend in his own lifetime at the factory he used to work at really so many stories to tell about him.

Like the time he hid a faggot down his trousers pretended to shit himself and ate it in front of his work mates.

Pissed in a blokes cup and glued it to a desk so when it was forcibly removed not only was the cup fucked you have piss on you as well.

Filled a mates car full of Styrofoam packings when it his birthday and then used two rolls of clingfilm to wrap it up with.

Waded into a flooded tankroom in just a pair of wellies and his pants as he didn't want to get his overalls wet.
(Barry Chuckle has gone out in the thong to feed the pigeons, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:39, Reply)

My grandma.
She's bloody crazy.

Obsessed with airplanes. Flat full of cats adopted off the street.

Every time she comes to visit she brings me a toy airplane (Still thinks I'm about 12).

Constantly phoning my mother to tell her how her 'flatmate' (Read toyboy) has to work on the weekend.

I try to be out when she visits.
(Xstopher, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:24, Reply)

Driving home one night
after a wild party somewhere in London, my dad had to giving directions to his mate. "Straight across the roundabout" were his words, and they were taken absolutely literally by the *slightly* intoxicated driver.

There sure were some puzzled people the next morning seeing a beautiful set of tyre marks carving a straight line through the grass centre of the roundabout.
(LandmineCat 's board sig, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:14, Reply)

My uncle once shot a blackbird off our TV arial with a shotgun
my Great uncle once left his false teeth at our house, needless to say, it was quite a shock when we found them.
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:13, Reply)

She's not even a relative
but she is my "Aunty Blue" for some reason.

Proper dyed-in-the-wool posh lady in Sydney whose husband made loads and loads on money in shipping, and then died. He'd had a lot of influence in the city which had covered up her oddness (by discreetly paying for it I think), but now she just carries on like before and it's frankly scary to be around.

Visiting from the UK a few years back, we went to visit for the afternoon and she took us to visit her son. Who was on holiday at the time on an island about 2 hours drive and a ferry away.

The drive was bad enough - we had to grab the steering wheel at one point to avoid a bus.

The ferry was even worse - she tried to not pay because her husband had known the owner of the ferry company once.

But the worst bit was the look of horror on her son's face as she turned up at the tiny beach house he was renting with his family and told him we'd come to stay.

He knew nothing of this. Hell, _we_ knew nothing of this. In fact, we soon discovered that if we didn't take the ferry straight back to the mainland in the next half an hour, we'd be stuck there all night sleeping three to a sofa.

We made what apologies we could, and ran for the jetty, leaving him to sort his mother out.

The next day we hid, having told the hotel to pretend we'd left town.
( chthonic, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:09, Reply)

first page
woo hoo
( Dances with Rabbits Back to Education i go, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:09, Reply)

Where to begin?
Most of them to be honest - theres always an element of your family that you're ashamed of.

At leat thats what my mum said at the police station.

Meh.
(TAZ220 Not giving a toss since, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:07, Reply)

My cousin..
is a Professor of Mathematics and Computing at a large University. He had his first degree by 20 and was a professor when he was 30.He is also (according to Mensa) within the top 5% most intelligent people in the country. He is brainy.

A few years back, we were at my Aunt's wedding. In the middle of the speeches (which were boring and largely in Serbian anyway, so being English, both ourselves and my aunt couldn't understand a word), he bought out a Sooty puppet, and started playing with it.

He actually did a good job of making the puppet look like it was interested. When asked why, he replied "Because Sooty hasn't seen a wedding before".

Then, there was my other, rather drunk Cousin. He'd decided he was going to walk home. Trouble was, the wedding was in Northampton (we had all arranged a place to stay), and he lived in Andover. I got charged with walking home with him. I headed off in the direction of my Aunt's house. "No", he said, "I want to go home". So, being near the M1, I pointed to the southbound carriageway. "Go down that, it's only around 200 miles. You'll be there in a month". Then grabbed him, and dragged him to my Aunt's.
(Ok, I'll get me coat, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 17:03, Reply)

My wife
fucked off with my son. I would describe that as crazy.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:54, Reply)

My Uncle is a fully paid up member of the BNP
but he's a fantastic toy at family gatherings. He's like a wind up car, feed him enough of what he wants to hear about immigration and he's off, no holds barred. Some of the most sweeping cure-alls for this national "cancer". Both his wifes parents died from cancer. On he rambles at anyone in the room, even Mrs Mimsy, who is Spanish. Unabated, this tirade continues until no more red wine is available.
His best friend is Sri Lankan.
Absolute fruitcake.
( Fetid Mimsy Bouncing Back!, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:50, Reply)

my dear grandfather, may he rest in peace,
was known as what you might call "a character" in his local town. He wasn't senile or stupid or dangerous, more a kind of joker in the pack.

He went through a phase of writing letters. This included a letter to his own bosses while recuperating from his first heart attack that went along the lines of "Thank you for the card. I was wondering, when I am at work, I do what you tell me for X hours a day and am paid $Y per hour. I am currently working 24 hours a day on getting better, exactly as you have told me to - when will I get my overtime pay?" Anyone else might have got disciplined - but seeing as he was good old [Grandad], he got a personal apology, in the same tone and humour as his letter, from the top boss.

He taught my sister and I to walk to the shops with one foot on the kerb and the other in the gutter. He taught us songs full of foreign slang and swearwords (we were too young to get it) which drove my grandmother bananas. He spent the best part of a year scouting for local playgrounds so that the following year, when we went to stay for the summer holidays, we could visit a different playground Every. Single. Day.

Crazy as hell but in the best possible way :)
( Batsgirl, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:48, Reply)

My Great Aunt
She was adamant that the correct way to drive a car was down the line in the middle of the road. At 70mph.
I only once got a lift with her...never again.

She eventually gave up driving when, having arrived home, she decided to park up by her house. Instead she drove THROUGH her garden wall and into the garden, totalling the car in the process.
Every other driver breathed a sigh of relief that day...

Sorry it's not really all that funny.
(Asharin Stabby stab stab, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:42, Reply)

My grandad died at Auschwitz.
He fell out of his guard tower, drunk. The crazy fool.


(I know, I know)
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:35, Reply)

A story on my dad, this time...
As I mentioned, a good portion of my relatives are Canadian farmers. My grandfather moved to the US before Dad was born, but Dad spent a fair part of his childhood on one farm or another during the summers.

Apparently one day Dad and Cliff were so bored that they decided to go out and have some fun with the chickens. They pretended to be judges in a courtroom, accusing the chickens of various crimes. If they found the chicken to be guilty, Dad held the chicken on one end of a board that was propped up over a chunk of firewood, and Cliff jumped on the other end of the board to launch the miscreant skyward.

Apparently they had launched several of them before Dad got hold of a bird who had full intestines. I still think it was making an editorial statement about him as it emptied all over him...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:33, Reply)

According to my Dad's Auntie....
I look like a 'young Harry Belafonte'

f7.yahoofs.com/users/45c21540m60f44ac3/b50c/__sr_/c4f1re2.jpg?phYY0lGBZ4udwD5W

Lets just say Im far too 'Caucasian' looking for any sane person to confuse me with the Jamaican-American 'King of Calypso'
( bigmeuprudeboy is using powerpoint or paint...have MERCY, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:32, Reply)

Grampa
My grandad, for whatever reason, needed to climb a tree about 10 years ago to cut down a branch that was upsetting him. My gran told him that if he fell and hurt himself to not come complaining to her. After a few hours of not hearing any swearing she took a look out the window and saw him sat by the tree having fallen off and broken both his legs.

"You said don't call you if something happened..."

After recovering in hospital and back home to do his bricolage, he then managed to cut off bits of his fingers with a circular saw. He swears the dog ate them.

After recovering from that, back in his garage, he needed to open a little tub of super-glue. What with the newly mangled hand and what-not, he decided to use his mouth and efficiently glued his gob shut.

Ok, this time he couldn't "call" for help so OAP reasoning took over that he could deal with this with a wood file from the shed and shred his lips back open. Still alive and kicking though he probably doesn't remember any of it :(
(schrembot says nah..., Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:29, Reply)

Where to start...
My grandma, when walking down the street once, became aware that her knicker elastic had snapped. Her response? To keep walking, and when they reached her ankles, she just stepped out of them and kept walking. She used to dye her hair all colours of the rainbow, but when I was born, went to the hairdressers to get the dye stripped out, and get it bleached white so she could be a 'white-haired granny'. Turned out she didn't need the bleach since once they'd stripped the dye out, it was already white.

My grandad thinks he's my uncle and hasn't been able to differentiate between me and my family's cat for years. He also sexually abused my mum for several years, precipitating a whole load of not-so-good loopiness in my family as a whole.

One of my other grandmothers is Irish and Catholic, and used to be a nurse. She's so unbearable that people in her local high street will dive into the nearest shop to avoid her and her incessant talk of who's ill, and who's dead. She's not happy unless someone has an illness she can discuss. She went to New York once, and couldn't sleep. So she went to the Subway and got the first train to a place name she recognised. She quite happily wandered around deepest, darkest Brooklyn for several hours, talking to randoms. It's my considered opinion that they were more scared of her than she of them. Oh, and once she got really annoyed about having to stop at a zebra crossing for a guy who was a phalidomide (sp?) kid, and referred to his 'little flipper arms' and how he shouldn't be allowed out in public.

I could go on, but the conditions of my day release say that I mustn't.
(firemasque, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:28, Reply)

My grandad
My grandad hates magpies so much that he sometimes hides in the garden for hours with an air rifle waiting for one to land. Hes never been quick enouhg to shoot one
(Tony Coca Cola, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:20, Reply)

My great nan lived till she was 104
She came to our house one day and held her knife by the blade and tried to cut her food with the handle.
(Spokes, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:18, Reply)

There's a good reason for my name.
Sadly, I think I may be the looniest of my family- which is saying something, as half of them are Canadian farmers!

But how many of them would have stopped the plant manager as she was chewing me out in public by making a cryptic gesture in front of her face and intoning, "These aren't the droids you're looking for..."

(It worked, too. She stood there with a stunned expression for a moment before she burst out laughing.)
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:13, Reply)

My dad........
...used to tell me and my older brother that the bubbles in fizzy drinks were poisonous and that if you ever swallowed toothpaste you would die............Git!!

He's still like it now, 25 years later!
(jidler changed his name on, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:11, Reply)

My great Aunt
Told my dad that the previous evening she had swum across the River Tay. Her wet bathing suit was on the radiator. She was in her 90's and we may never know if she did or not...
( BadBadman saw an incorrect comma placement on, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:09, Reply)

me too
but only on Wednesdays and Bank Holidays.

On a more serious note,after years of drug abuse (nothing nasty - just copious amounts of the usual substances enjoyed by hippies and ravers), obscure taste in music (me=hardcore punk, fiance = little raver chick) and enjoyment of gory horror films (both of us), my dad reckons that my little boy (due 9 weeks and counting) will be grow up to be a somewhat disturbed individual.

Bit like me with hangover but on a more permanant basis I suppose.

9 weeks........whooo hoooo!!!
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:07, Reply)

erm
me?
( M o D, Thu 5 Jul 2007, 16:03, Reply)