Poor, dead Great Aunt Dorothy
Great Aunt Dorothy was brought up in the Indian Raj and never did a stroke of work in her life.

Already somewhere to the right of Margaret Thatcher, she became even more extreme as she got older to the point that she would remark that it "was a shame that nice Herr Hitler died. He would have sorted out the immigration."

We foolishly had her round to stay for two weeks, during which time we were not allowed to watch ITV ("Full of bearded common people and communists") and BBC1 was barely tolerated ("Full of bearded communists").

One Sunday, forced against our will to watch Songs of Praise ("Good, sturdy, BRITISH television") the camera scanned across the congregation and settled squarely on a not unattractive black lady singing along to All Things Bright and Beautiful.

This was not Great Aunt Dorothy's idea of Bright and Beautiful in the slightest. In fact, she was going bright red and fit to explode. And she did, in classic Alf Garnett language, spittle flying from her inexpertly rouged lips:

"Good Lord! It's a bloody coon! On Songs of Praise! Have the BB-bloody-C gone stark raving mad? It's a bloody coon!"

She was asked to leave, and told in no uncertain terms never to darken our door again. Then she died.

Hooray for non-racist parents!
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 6 Jul 2007, 8:20, Reply)