Fishyfishy
Well arn't you the pompous twat? Speaking as someone who actually has one of these "made up" mental disorders and has suffered private hell because of it, i'd have to say you don't know what the fuck your on about and you should take your own fucking advice. True it's a bougie problem but it's very much real and i added the disclaimer so as not to patronise my relatives and as for the people who think of themselves as crazy but don't suffer from nout, so the fuck what? Self awareness is a valuable tool and it's something you look like you fucking lack. To summarise your a fucking twunt who doesn't know what the fuck their talking about and should really save your misanthropic bent for more deserving cunts like yourself.
(Joey Stall, Mon 9 Jul 2007, 3:04, Reply)

Cunts.
Dear all of you KERAAAAAZYY PEOPLE!

Anyone who likes to talk about how mental, how absolutely bonkers, how off the scale, or how mad as a badgers cock they are, you aren't. You're a boring twat who made up a mental personality and probably just talks a bit louder than normal to make yourself seem more interesting.

Shut up.
Thanks.
x
(fishyfishyfishyoooh Tonight I will be Miss Saigon, Mon 9 Jul 2007, 2:21, Reply)

My Nanna
Is the best Nanna on Earth, albeit a little bit scatty.

Every week (10 am Sunday morning) my Nan phones me. If I'm not at home she'll phone my mobile. Both my home phone and my mobile have an answer machine. Normal people would leave a message. Not my Nanna. The voice on the answer machine (me) is evil and trying to keep us apart. If she talks to them then they will not pass on the message, in fact they will take the message and make sure I never receive it.

My great uncle died, I never found out until my mum phoned me after the funeral to ask why I wasn't there - my nan and the answer phone.

My grandad was taken into hospital - again I was the last one to know because of the damn answer phone.

Two weeks ago my Nan needed to go shopping - I live 70 odd miles away and don't drive - guess who left a message on my answer phone.
( no longer a user, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 23:15, Reply)

I'm not mad
but one day last week, I came to work and some of the staff had turned up not wearing sea gear (the usual yellow waterproff 'oilskins', boots and a lifejacket) ... I reprimanded them, and they just looked weird at me. Fortunately I was able to find some from one of our suppliers and the day was saved, by lunchtime they were all equipped, but at least two of them had "forgotten" how to wear their life jackets., Now, THAT is mad.

So we had to waste another hour doing lifejacket instruction and practicing man overboard procedure etc etc before we even started work. Sigh .. half a day lost, due to some sort of crazy monday morning madness.

Surely this can't happen in every bakery on a Monday can it?
(flipper is going to die in a bizarre gardenning accident, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 23:03, Reply)

We're all nuts I tell ya!!
Well, my Dad is a bit of a hoarder and loves bargains. One memorable time was when Asda were doing a special offer on toilet rolls... most people would buy a few every now and then, enough to get by... not my Dad.

We had enough bog roll to last us over a year, bearing in mind there were 3 of us blokes, and I was in that stage of puberty where I was cracking one off like there was no tomorrow, and he had almost no standing room in his bedroom due to it being full of the bloody things!

Also he would moan if we got rid of tinned good s that were 7 years out of date and filling up the cupboards...

And isn't patient at all.... he once made some homemade beer... couldn't wait for it to settle and drank most of the keg.... only to throw up everywhere, bugger off up to bed in a drunken stupor, leaving my mum to clean up :p

I wouldn't change him for the world though, I loves him to bits :D

Also my aunt has been diagnosed with happy dimensia, which although is sad, at least she's blissfully unaware that she's lost her faculties- I wanna visit her but her mind is back at a time when I was only a baby, so she wouldn't recognise me :(

And as for myself... I used to freak out when in crowds and at one point never left the house for almost weeks on end. Luckily I got through it and although sometimes reclusive, overall a helluva lot more confident though still can't talk to random people without shaking like a leaf and looking stiff as a board lol
(Mr_Squiffy mostly I'm farting in a bag to give to the needy, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 22:31, Reply)

Oh yeah...
My uncle writes down six different sets of his predictions of the winning lottery numbers, weekly. I can't imagine the outcome if one his 'predictions' came true. Totally mental..
Apparently my mum gave my twin brother and I mescaline in our baby-milk in the early seventies, we were living in California then. When I quizzed mum about this, she said, 'Well, it's what we did in those days...' Obviously I don't have too many recollections of having a bad baby trip, but fucking hell, that's insane...
(samuelmanual, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 22:25, Reply)

My ex's mum
My ex's mum is a loony. I had being going out with Sarah for about two weeks, and her mum rang me up and started blathering on about something or other, after about five minutes I got the impression she was trying to tell me that Sarah's dad had died. He hadn't.

Another time she rang me up and went on and on about "the woman with the drums", which turned out to be Evelyn Glennie. Don't know why.

The one and only time I saw Sarah loose her temper was when her mum was standing there waffling on and on and cleaning a plastic carrier bag. Why would anyone clean a crappy Tesco bag that you get for free?
(Bob the Builder killed Captain Alex, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 22:20, Reply)

catharthis paralysis
My entire family are borderline, where do I start? Oh yeah, my third stepdad, he once tried to level all the earth in (large)back garden by towing a 12ft ladder, which he harnessed up to himself with an old tow rope he'd found in the back of his treasured Austin Princess. He completed this task over a few weekends, just in his skimpy tanga-pants and black leather ankle boots, showing off his be-paunched physique and frightening tattoos. The most memorable tattoo was the image of the frowning samurai, probably unhappy about the sword plunging through his forehead and coming out of his mouth, with big blobs of blood spattering towards his fist.
Or maybe I should elaborate on my psychotic uncle, who rings up and tells me which train/bus/plane to get anywhere in the UK from anywhere in the UK and then tell me where the engine components are fabricated and when they're assembled etc.... This would be reasonably OK but boring behaviour if it weren't for the fact he lives in British Columbia, Canada..
He then grinds on about how the Chinese shouldn't be allowed to drive, as they don't have peripheral vision!
I could go on and on.....(and then some)
(samuelmanual, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 22:11, Reply)

My grandad
Was put in a mental asylum.


Craaazy...
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 20:56, Reply)

Coffee
This happened today, and seeing as it fits the criteria of the QOTW, I'll tell me tale.

So I'm down south visiting my grandparents and not being to far from London we decide to head down to the Royal Academy of Arts to meet up with my cousins (one of which is an arty type too).

Now my grandma and grandad are basically the Buckets from Keeping up Appearances. My grandma is very self aware and likes to think of herself as very upper class and my grandad, seeing this, winds the hell out of her. However, he still is forced by her to do everything. For example, she asked him to get up from the table to pass her some plates which were well within reaching distance the other day.

So we arrive and sit outside just to catch up. My mum heads off and gets some teas and coffees. Meanwhile, my cousin presents me with a pop-up leaflet he's been given from work, which is basically a square box that srings open with elastic bands attached with the effect of bursting out of the envelope when opened.

By now everyone's mucking around with this springy box when the drinks arrive. So it's passed back to me and, surprise surprise, it pops out of the envelope. The box hurtles through the air, with not much speed being only card, and straight into my coffee, with enough force to knock it over. Coffee spills all over me and me grandma's legs.

Disaster!!! Well, not really on the same scale as the Asian tsunami, but in my elderly grandma's eyes this is... being that she's wearing white trousers. Everyone instantly surrounds her with their sympathy, me and my cousin holding back our laughter. My grandad failed at this and started chuckling. Big mistake.

Luckily, due to this I'm out of trouble as my grandma lauches into my grandad, not for laughing, but because she actaully believed that he'd thrown it at her. Not the box, but the coffee. How she came up with that assumption, I don't know. She's not senile, just can't accept that accidents happen.

She also blamed my grandad for smashing a glass bowl on the kitchen floor while she was in there yesterday. He was in the living room with us, reading the paper.
( Butters and his titanium codsocket, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 20:02, Reply)

I was going to post an amusing story about why I was late
except I wasn't paying attention, and that joke's already been made several times this question.

Sorry I missed it.



...I'll go sit in the corner now then.
(Pavlov'sDog is all out of pavlova, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 17:39, Reply)

My Polish granma...
...not so much crazy, as deeply prejudiced against certain people.

eg. My brother asking "Aren't Poles quite anti semitic?", to which she replied "Is like, he is a nice man BUT he a Jew."

Also "Telling the truth, the good Germans, you can count then on your fingers"
(leningradcowboy, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 16:38, Reply)

The female parent
My mother, being a stressed out work-a-holic and general worrier, feels the need to over describe every little thing in any and every way possible.

For example, here's an excerpt from a typical conversation.
Mum: Can you get some milk for me?
My inner monologue: We must be low or out of milk, I'll just go to the shop and get some.
I stand up to get my coat.
Mum: Only, we've ran out of milk and Dad want's a cuppa.
Me: Ok
Mum: And you know how he hates that coffee mate stuff.
Me: Yeah...
Mum: So if you could just nip to the shop to get some...
Me: No prob Mum.
Mum: I'll only be about a quid, I'll give you it when you get back if you want.
Me: No, that's ok Mum.
Mum: Alright then, semi-skimmed, two pints in one pint bottles.
Me: Ok.
Mum: It's usually the blue bottle tops.
Me: Yeah.
Mum: And if you could do it in the next few minutes that'd be fine.
My inner monologue: I'd be buying it now if you weren't still talking to me.
Me: That's ok Mum.
Mum: I'm just boiling the kettle then. Ooh, make sure it'll stay in date for a while won't you.
Me through gritted teeth: Yes Mum, I'll get you the out of date stuff just to piss you off, how's that?
Mum: Oh, you are a one. *smiles* See you in a few then.

She recently went on holiday. She called me when she got home and spent almost an hour talking about the food on the plane.
She had the pasta, Dad had the beef. The beef was dry and tasteless, while hers was alright, but had that funny taste all in flight food has. It's probably from the plastic they coat in in.
/rant
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 16:04, Reply)

My Mother
Is utterly convinced that she is a direct descendant of Helen of Troy.

God alone knows where she got that idea from, she is fom a north Nott's mining town where everyone had the same nose and forehead and were all descended from the same two neanderthals.
(Elnicko Nearly pub O'Clock, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 15:46, Reply)

all men are brothers

so all stories here are actually my stories about my crazy relatives.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 12:36, Reply)

QOTW
I was so self absorbed last week that I forgot to answer...

Sorry.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Sun 8 Jul 2007, 12:36, Reply)

a distant cousin..
This guy is approximately a third cousin or something like that. I've only met him once, when I was a young kid, he's aout 20 years older than me. He had a few psychological issues at school, but had generally cleared up by time he graduated from university and got a job in the City. He got a brief posting out to Bogota, which he completed in a most professional manner... until he was at the airport due to fly home. For reasons that remain obscure (but possibly have something to do with the local marching powder) he decided, half-way through checking his bag in, to rip his shirt open to reveal small bags of powder taped to his chest and scream "I'm smuggling coke!" at the top of his lungs. After a brief chase and a beating by the cops he was restrained, at which point they found out that it wasn't coke, it was flour. After much international wrangling he was shipped back to the UK and straight into a home, where he remains to this day.
(franktard, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 11:33, Reply)

The other half's mum...
I was invited round to Sunday dinner (I'll NEVER turn down a Sunday roast regardless of what it involves...well, within reason). Great food - I dunno why, but women always feel the need to 'fatten me up' and keep pushing food on me. After dinner, we were all sitting there drinking and her mum was talking to me while pouring herself some wine...only she still had the top on it. I was almost pissing myself laughing and it took her about 3 minutes to work out why...

Length? like I said, about 3 minutes until she realised...
( snee held his breath since, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 11:29, Reply)

Not a relative but
still pretty crazy, Walking home from work I was greeted by an elderly woman standing in the middle of the road (on one of those concrete "islands" you can cross on) talking worriedly to herself. Being a bit of a samaritan I went to her and asked if she was ok and if she needed any help, only to get the reply "FUCK OFF CUNT! YOU'LL NEVER GET MY BABIES!". Ahhh, the colourful life of York's Demented.....

Length? Not sure, I didnt see any babies with her though...
(Pheonix1386, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 9:08, Reply)

Life begins at
My dad is widely regarded as a handsome fellow and is popular with the ladies. He is not fat, for which I thank fuck in light of the following story -

For his 40th birthday, he was given a novelty g-string with an elephant's trunk on it, and a pair of socks featuring a naked spread-eagled woman with bobble-knitted 3D boobies and the words PARTY NAKED. He entertained us for the remainder of the evening wearing nothing but these items.
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 3:35, Reply)

My Dad's family:
Aunty O = electroshock therapy
Uncle J = Jewish pig farmer
Uncle R = spiritual healer
Aunty M = brainwashed slave of a woman wet-nursed by a witch (allegedly)
Uncle C = living in bizarre menage a trois with girlfriend, her ex, his thai bride and the baby
Dad = raised Catholic, now a Buddhist (sanest of the lot), spends a lot of time dressed head to toe in beige (including hat, tie, socks and shoes).

That's the most bonkers of them, the rest are just a bit "eccentric"
( DeSpong currently knitting your suggestions - see profile, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 3:06, Reply)

My Dad..
Once told my girly friend while I was making breakfast "if he shags you as badly as he cooks, you should dump him". Great.
(alboyalex, Sun 8 Jul 2007, 0:52, Reply)

hmmm
She's not particularly of the crazy kind, but my dear mum thought that a red squirrel was the size of a human until very recently. She was given this impression by someone dressed in a squirrel suit on some kids tv programme. That's the most entertaing anecdote i can think of although my mum's cousin is a manic depressive who can't stand being around a lot of people and spends most of his days in his room at his rents, he used to develop weird spots on his body because of his condition which before we knew the extent of his illness led him to be branded a "fucking junkie" by me and the cousins from my generation. Oh yeah my grandpa also on my mums side changed his political support from Labour to those tories solely because they cancelled a plane he was working on at British Aerospace.

So thats all i have as far as relatives are concerned, of course i am probably lacking the most sanity from my family and i'll bore you with the stories when the relevant QOTW comes along.
(Joey Stall, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 23:13, Reply)

Crazy relative number 2
I do have a lot of eccentric great uncles - it makes me feel like I'm Bertie Wooster.

You have already heard tell of Great Uncle Stanley, mystic and Glastonbury elder elsewhere on this board - that's my dad's side of the family. Not to be outdone, my mum's lot have come up with Great Uncle Edmund, fraudster and, according to one historian, "pornographic diarist."

This was back in the day when you could, apparently, knock up at a major corporation's doorstep, pretend you're from the Chinese Imperial court, get them to give you a big wad of cash in return for some imaginary business deal, and then bugger off to live as a hermit in Peking before anyone catches on.

He also claimed to have had affairs with, among others, British Prime Minister Lord Rosebury, an Ottoman princess, Oscar Wilde and the Empress Dowager Cixi of China. These have been fairly widely dismissed as a figment of his imagiation.

On Wikipedia:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Edmund_Backhouse,_2nd_Baronet
(Richard of York gained battles in vain, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 20:41, Reply)

Crazy relatives?
Every single person in my family is crazy, including myself. None of us has done anything in particular recently but we're all as mad as a bag of badgers. And seeing Woohoozibob's it about his uncle managing to fall asleep with a pint and not spill any, my older brother, uncle, cousin and his other half were out for a piss up around London (I was only about 10 at the time so missed out on all the fun), after visiting several pubs and clubs and having a meal at a Chinese restaurant (where they were asked "What the fuck you want?" by the waiter) they went to an offlicence for a crate of beer. My uncle carried said crate almost all the way home before tripping over in the gutter, rolling over and standing up straight again in one fluid movement and didn't drop the crate or any of its contents. He does like his beer.
(OzEden is probably clinically insane, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 19:43, Reply)

My Mum!
I've already told you about my mum in previous QOTWs - the wardrobes through the window incident, telling me that the baliffs kicking the door down were Jehovah's Witnesses, etc.

But what really gets me about her is that she is a bit vacant.

Like when she voted UKIP to stop immigrants coming into the country. Even though her first husband is an immigrant and her son (me) is the son of an immigrant.

Or when the boiler broke down in the house whilst she was pregnant, one week from due date. She decided to fix it, despite the fact that midway through the task her waters broke and she should really have been calling my stepdad at work to take her to hospital. Still, at least the house was warm when my baby bro turned up!

Or when she dyed her hair gold for a works Christmas do and had the inevitable green tinge in her hair for about a month later.

Or when, in her punk phase, she got all her David Bowie records into a pile in the garden and torched them, because she didn't want to 'listen to that hippy bullshit anymore'.

I love my mum.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 17:55, Reply)

Sapphic
There's nowt as queer as folk, as my gran used to say.

Shame she didn't listen to her own proverbs, since she tried to keep my Aunt's lesbian tendencies from the rest of the village, including inviting unsuspecting young men from the next town to 'cure her' and buying her revealing clothing to make her 'more appealing to the right people'...
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 17:42, Reply)

Granny
My one surviving Grandmother is a piece of work. She's 90 with the mind of a 20 year old. She called me last week and told me that she'd been in 'a fight' in the park. It turns out that she'd been out walking with a friend of hers when several 17 or 18 year old boys made fun of the 'old ladies'. Apparently (and knowing my grandmother this is entirely believable) she threatened to 'smack you all hard in the balls with my walking stick if you don't apologise'. They apologised, got talking, and then went to a local tea room where they had tea and cake.

Another time I went to visit her and she broke out the gin (there were 3 1-litre bottles of gin in her cupboard), and told me that she was envious of young people today as we had more freedom: "If I'd have had the opportunities that you have I'd have fucked around a lot more before I got married".

She's currently 'stepping out' (as she puts it) with a 70 year old Italian ex-ballet dancer, an 80 year old English guy, and a 73 year old British Pakistani guy. She also fell out with the 'old ladies' at a local church as they were 'too slow' - most of them are in their 70s... shes 90.

Honestly, she's a great laugh. Physically she's aged 90, but she acts like she's 20. Proof that age is, sometimes, a matter of mental state.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 17:39, Reply)

My Grandmother
Back in the 50's she was tested with LSD to see how mental she actually was. This had a bit of a nagative outcome, because from being only a little bit weird, she was now a full-on slant eyed mentalist.
She will often do erratic things such as pitch up on our doorstep at about 3am, having got a taxi from Nottingham, to where I lived (about 3.5 hrs) only then for her son, my dad, to send her packing back to her care home in Nottingham. She also like to talk alot about knowing every single politically influencial person in the UK, and writes to them on a daily baisis to put the wrath of God upon them. Quite funny really.
( Mr Jamie, Sat 7 Jul 2007, 17:32, Reply)