Not my Dad.
Not even my stepdad, but as the bloke my Mum was shacked up with until she died more or less was a constant presence throughout mine and my siblings childhood, I suppose he qualifies in some respect.

He and I always got on well, same with my brother, but my sister... well, they used to fight like cat and dog at times. This could make the house a somewhat frayed residence at times; however, we managed to get along most of the time.

When my Mum died, he appeared devastated but promised to look after my brother and sister. Well, my brother really as he was only 13 and my sister was 16 and therefore didn't need so much guidance. But anyway, he promised, and I believed him; no reason not to. I'd moved out by then and was firmly set up in a job and a house some 50 miles away, but would still return back 'home' at weekends regularly. About two months after the funeral I got a 'phone call from my sister. John (for 'twas his name) had been taken into hospital on account of him being found in his car down on the Dock Road, with a hosepipe running from the exhaust and into the car.

Nice one.

Very quickly after he was discharged, he moved out and was shacked up with a woman who, on reflection, he'd been seeing to since before our Mum died. I wanted nothing more to do with him, but as the years wore on my attitude mellowed a bit, and he was still in regular contact with my siblings; the relationship with my sister seemed to have progressed and they now appeared to get on. The ice breaker was an invitation to his 60th birthday, at which his real life long abandoned kids would be making a surprise appearance. A good night was had, and my previous feelings of antipathy towards him faded completely.

Fast forward to this year, and his long term partner (the one he shacked up with after my Mum died), died of emphysema. Which was quite sad as she was really a nice person, although I'd only met her on a handful of occasions. I debated on whether I should go to the funeral, but in the end decided I didn't know her well enough to justify taking a day off work, and decided to ring him, offer my condolences and apologise that I couldn't be there.

He was utterly pissed and rambling, so anything I said probably didn't go in, and everything he said was about him. So after I had spoken to him, I called my sister to say I wouldn't be at the funeral, said I'd just spoken to John and couldn't get much sense out of him.

Turned out that barely 48 hours after she had died he had:
- Gone on a massive bender.
- Tried to sell all of her jewellery and furniture (the fact that she had children of her own that might actually like some of this stuff never seemed to occur to him)
- Emptied her bank account (note: hers, not a joint account) to the tune of around two grand.
- Wailed to anyone who would listen about how unfair life was and how could this happen to him twice. And so on.

What I also discovered, though, was that after my Mum had died he tried to do the same thing with her stuff; sell jewellery, try to get his name on the deeds of the house so he could sell it (not a fucking chance). Had I known this at the time I'd have been livid, but hearing it just a few months ago, well... My initial reaction after Mum had died would have probably stayed with me.

I also found out that he'd been shagging the wife of his long lost son (who is a decent chap) at any opportunity he could (which was basically anytime they visited from Reading). Oh, and he left his partner's wake within about half an hour in order to go into town and get utterly ratarsed. A few days later, he was shopped by someone for drink driving and has now lost his licence, thankfully. My brother and sister now want nothing more to do with him; he rang my sis a while back and left a message on her answer 'phone, gasping and wheezing and struggling to get his breath and basically sounding like he was having a heart attack. Which he patently wasn't; he was just angling for sympathy and besides, if you were having a heart attack you'd call 999 and not the home of someone you knew would be out at the time of your call.

John Chandler, you're a grade A, self absorbed, needy cunt. I hope that you do take up your son and daughter in law's offer to go and live with them in Reading so that your kids can maybe see that growing up without you all those years was actually no bad thing. God knows it took me long enough to see you for what you are.

My real Dad is, in turn, a lovely bloke who's been shat on by his current (estranged wife) and I can't wait for him to come to ours for Christmas as it will be the first one I've properly spent him him for years.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 25 Nov 2010, 19:14, 2 replies)

roll the barrel out for your real dad this christmas

Also tell him how much he means to you and how much better than the other imposters you have had in your life he is.
Hearing that off your child is the single best thing that can happen to you as a dad.
(Cov Boy, Fri 26 Nov 2010, 0:59, closed)

I intend to.
I wanted to have him down last Christmas, but the stubborn old goat wanted to prove he could do Christmas on his own, so he went to his local for Christmas dinner instead.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 27 Nov 2010, 1:08, closed)