ELBOWS.
Every Christmas Dinner, my father would shout "Elbows". Usually because my Sister and Myself were eating with our elbows on the table. However not only does he get me and my Sisters elbows in the air, but the rest of the family follows suit too.

After 22 odd years, my Father still randomly shouts "Elbows" at Christmas Dinner. And everyone still follows.
(Dante licked your nipple on, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 18:47, 1 reply)

Food
Dad and I used to argue over who had the crust from the end of the loaf with dinner, and it ended up with us hiding it. One day I took both crusts out of a new loaf and hid them in a cupboard, other times Mum put them on the table, and I either took a bite out of it or licked it, whilst Dad was watching.

We also used to fight over the blue wrapped penguin biscuits for lunchtime. Never any other colour, just blue.

So when I had sandwiches made from 2 crusts, and 2 blue penguins, he went into a full on sulk.

Sad but true....
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 17:59, 1 reply)

Our grace at dinner is usually...
'There's no salt in any of this.' This is because my mother in law says it every time we have dinner there, even though we have watched her prepare it and quite blatantly chuck salt in and over virtually everything that gets put near the oven.
( randomwomanwholikespink, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 17:25, Reply)

When we used to go on holiday....
Usually to Devon, we used to play 'first one to see the sea'. Bet you cant guess what the aim of the game was! The winner didnt have to do the washing up that night like we all had to at home, but wait, we were on holiday, no one had to do the washing up any way because we ate out!
Also, Sunday dinners we had the ritual 'swap what you dont like' game. I love parsnip, no one else does,my sis loves sprouts but no one else does,my bro likes stuffing but no one else does, so we all used to swap, why my Mom didnt just put what we liked on our plates I dont know!
( randomwomanwholikespink, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 17:21, Reply)

Advent hoppists
I never agreed with my parent's religion, but I wouldn't dream of knocking it.
They were Seventh day advent hoppists. They believed that every Sunday should be spent hopping. They would hop to church, hop through the service, then hop back home again.
Well you see, they took the Bible literally. Adam and Eve; the snake and the apple... Took it word for word. Unfortunately, their version had a misprint. It was all based on 1 Corinthians 13, where it says "Faith, hop and charity, and the greatest of these is hop." So that's what they did. Every seventh day. I tell you, Sunday lunchtimes were a nightmare. Hopping round the table, serving soup, we all had to wear sou'esters and asbestos underpants.
(Miggyman, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 16:49, 6 replies)

My dad had a death wish.
My father had a "wonderful" way of waking us children up to ensure we were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (as he put it). He was only home in the mornings on weekends as he worked from 4:30am, but each weekend we were guaranteed to hear his clarion call some time before 9 o'clock.

My room was in the attic. He was too lazy to climb the stairs, so he would stand at the bottom and holler, in a cheerful, slow, sing-song voice, "Rise and shine, Nuclear! If you can't rise, at least shine! If you can't shine, at least rise! It's time to get up!"

Of course you were awake from the first four words, and would begin shouting, "OK, dad, I'm up! Dad, I'm...DAD! I'M AWAKE! DAD! OK!" but it would never stop him. He had to go through the whole thing. I'd come downstairs looking none too happy, where he'd greet me with a "Good afternoon. I see you've decided to join the rest of us." Even if it were only 7 in the morning. The murderous thoughts continued at least until the first pancake or slice of French toast.
(NuclearMosquito, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 16:37, Reply)

How to drive Parisans mad......
On a trip to Paris in 1995, I teamed up with a couple of Canadians and an American that I met on the hovercraft (and if they are here, hello to the Salt Lake City Utah Kansas Mormons!) and we had four days of crazy adventures.

A few rituals we developed:
1/ We saw that the cross/don't cross characters on the streetlights looked like Gumby and Pokey. So, every time we tried to cross we would shout 'Pokey!' or 'Gumby!' before crossing.
2/ Every time we saw one of the Paris street cleaners in their funky green overalls we'd yell out "Happy St Patrick's Day!!" to them.
3/ After observing a drunk female dero at a Metro station, we'd always bend down to check the seats for puddles of piss before sitting.

Ah! Good times....
(Sebulba continues to fight evil with evil....., Sun 23 Nov 2008, 16:23, Reply)

My dad.
Forever in the morning sings this little ditty:-

"GOOD MORNING! GOOD MORNING! I WISH YOU ALL GOOD MORNING! OH IT'S NICE TO BE UP AND ABOUT, COME ON, COME ON, GET UP AND SHOUT!"*

Every day. 20 years.

Also, my sister can't fart in front of anybody, apart from me. I'm certain she saves them up especially.

(First time post, long time lurker!)




*repeat ad nauseum.
(DeactivateThisDisaster No., Sun 23 Nov 2008, 16:12, 2 replies)

Not really funny but i'll share it anyway.....
I only really see my sister every other week so we try and hang out as much as possible, be it watch a gig, a comedian or a play. We are both opinionated twats when it comes to all things musical so we had to agree on a mixtape for the car.

We complied it together based on songs were both agreed were worthy enough to make the tape. We stick to listening to this tape (cd) everywhere we go

1. The Smiths - The Queen Is Dead
2. The Fall - How I Wrote Elastic Man
3. Guided By Voices - Game Of Pricks
4. Gang Of Four - Ether
5. Soft Cell - Memorabillia
6. Ghostface Killer - Datona 500
7. Roxy Music - Mother Of Pearl
8. Kate Bush - Rockets Tail
9. ESG - Tiny Sticks
10. Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra - Some Velvet Morning
11. Bjork - Declare Independence
12. The Cure - The Walk
13. Lloyd Cole & The Commotions - Perfect Skin


Looking at this mix tape I still agree that it's pretty cool, but I still don't know how I managed to squeeze the Ghostface Killer in.
(Sir_Digby_Chicken_Caeser [email protected], Sun 23 Nov 2008, 15:52, 2 replies)

The pudding race
Our family like to talk. And because we are fairly numerous, this could make dinner time a long drawn-out affair, which was enjoyed by everyone except my dear old Ma.
The ingenious woman that she is, she cooked up a scheme to make everyone (Pa included) eat faster. On the rare times we had a pudding*, she would bring it to the dinner table when approximately half of us had finished our mains.
This marked the beginning of the pudding race.
The rules were simple:
1) You could only start pudding when you'd finished your dinner. (No hiding peas under your knife and fork!)
2) If you finished your pudding and there was still some left unclaimed in the middle of the table, you were permitted to help yourself to seconds. Seconds were supposed to be half the size of firsts, but this was rarely enforced.)
3) If you finished your dinner and there was no pudding left - tough. You lose. Eat faster next time.
Funnily enough, I'm not much of a pudding person any more...

Length? Got shorter each time.

*Usually Angel Delight.
( Whippersnapper, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 15:34, Reply)

My mum sends text to her friends and family every Sunday.
They vary slightly, generally with a little bit of info about what she's up to or how the weather is or something, but the general gist of them is "Happy Sunday, hope you have a lovely lovely day today".

Sadly, most of the people she sends them to also have a ritual of not replying to her...
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 15:07, 2 replies)

My sister and I
have text battles where we send each rude predictive texts "dual off you ducking aunt" etc.
When we were younger we would elbow each other in the car to the tune of Camping Next to Water by Badly Drawn Boy.
(GrimbleGromble, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 14:54, 1 reply)

Mogus Time
At around 11pm each night, it is Mogus Time.

Our cat, Tessa, aka 'The Mogus' is ceremonially removed from her basket/cupboard/one of the bins that she thinks is cosy, and put outside for the night.

The high priest of this ritual is my Dad, who says somthing like "Up and down the country, Mummies and Daddies are saying to their Moguses: It's Mogus time". Sometimes he will also do the voice of Tessa, saying things like "Oh, can't I stay inside?" or "But Daddy, it's cold and wet!" and if I'm in the room, he'll bring her over to me and say, in Tessa's voice, "Night, you Peep!"

The Mogus is then put outside, and the door is locked. We have no cat-flap, so if she wants to come in, she has to scrabble on the window until someone notices and lets her inside.

One night, she managed to evade Mogus Time entirely by hiding under the sofa (I say 'sofa', it was more like a park bench with some cushions on it). When Dad was relating this anecdote, he said "And then Tessa gave me a look as if to say: "Look Daddy! I stayed in all night!""
This was swiftly followed by an a.m. Mogus Time.
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 14:52, 7 replies)

Simple games
my wife tells me of a game she and her siblings used to play whilst being driven across france regulaly during the 70s.

Simple stuff, you scored one point for spotting a frenchman having a piss at the side of the road.

Apparently this amused the three of them for most of a decade until my wifes younger sister won the game outright.

For spotting a frenchwoman having a shit.

On a round-about.
( edz314 smelled the glove on, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 13:32, 3 replies)

Ah dear old Mum
Was always so kind as to leave me a cup of tea at the side of my bed in the mornings...
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sun 23 Nov 2008, 12:54, 1 reply)

Points
My father will always ask questions and reward points for the correct answers. Unfortunately the questions are never that simple.

For example

Father F: "What is the name of the pub in that village near where Andy & Polly live?"

Mister.F: "Erm, the Redhouse?"

Father.F: "Correct, but I'm only going to give you 5 points because of the Erm"

Twenty two years of this, and I've never been able to exchange the points of a prize
( mister.f is now married, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 12:23, 1 reply)

FINGERS!
As children every one of myself and my brothers would at some point get the car door slammed on our hands and/or fingers . It got to the point that my father would yell 'FINGERS!' before closing the car doors to ensure we had pulled them in to our waists.
( teknikl, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 12:08, Reply)

Bloody Dad
Whenever we were driving and the milometer almost got to a large and particuarly 'important' number, for example 50,000, my father would whip us all up into a frenzy of excitement.

Dad: Hey kids! We are at 19990 miles, only 10 miles before 20,000 miles! Something Amazing Is Going To Happen!

Us(me and 2 sisters): Aaaaagh! what's that number! Is it like a million or something? Arrrghg! What's going to happen!?!

Dad: Hey Kids! Get ready! one mile to go!

Us: Aaaaagh! Aaaaargh! Whats going to happen? Aaaaargh!

Dad: Ok, we are at B&Q now, lets park.

Us: What about 20 thousandy miles? Arrrgh!

Dad: Oh that was ages ago.

Us: Aaaaargh!

On other occasions he would make us watch the numbers turning over and over in silence especially when we were on holiday. When we got to the 'milestone', he would shrug and turn on Dire Straits.

The scary thing now is that I was driving the other day and the milometer was almost at 15,000 and I started to get excited and showed my girlfriend in the passenger seat. She was like, WTF?

I know I will be forced by genetic imperative to do the same to my kids when I spawn 'em.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 11:42, 4 replies)

Probably already on here, but...
... whenever the ice cream man came round our way, my parents would tell me that if the music was playing it meant he had run out.

Bastards.
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 11:05, 6 replies)

whose parents
have pulled this stunt before...

When you were kids and you were going on a holiday, and if you were badly behaved your parents who threaten to turn the car/train/boat/plane/rocketship round and go home...

yea ok, so your going to go into the cockpit of a transatlantic flight and ask the pilot nicely to turn round...
(Lord Chode, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 10:36, 3 replies)

Streetlights
When my siblings and I were travelling in the dark in our parents' trusty 2CV as young children (usually on our way home from piano lessons), we would crouch on the backseat, peering out the rear window and spying at the streetlights...

Orange streetlights were benign, white car headlights were "goodies" and red rear lights (or worse, brake lights!) were "baddies". As we were facing backwards (no seatbelts in them days!), we saw more red lights than white lights, hence the need to crouch behind the backseats just peeping over the top, so the red lights couldn't get us. A purple streetlight (y'know the ones with a violet glow?) was a super-goodie, and cancelled out all the red lights we could see. I think there was a super-baddie too, but I can't remember what that was.

I'm not sure what we were afraid of, but if we were in heavy traffic, surrounded by cars braking, we would cower in the footwells fearing for our lives! What a relief it was when we escaped to the relative safety of the country lanes! (Tho no orange streetlights out in the sticks to watch over us, so it was potentially more dangerous territory...)
(SnowmanSnails, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 10:22, 2 replies)

Oh the shame...
My place of birth was sunny hatfield up in Hertfordshire. My grandmother used to live in Rickmansworth. On the drive back heading down the A414 the bloody huge fuck-off tesco spire (Yes, tescos has a spire in hatfield) would come into view.

Now, this spire was especially important as it meant we were no more than ten minutes away from our home.

So usually when driving back from my nan's me, my sister, my mother and my father would always look out for the tesco's spire. As soon as it came into view there was a resounding

"I CAN SEE TESCO's FIRST!- NO YOU DIDN'T I DID" etc...

That would be repeated until we arrived home and got told off for being so damned noisy. This happened every.single.time
( Axai is in Montréal, Canada O.o, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 5:34, Reply)

Sauce
In my family, we'd always have fish & chips on a Friday. My dad, to this day, fills his plate up, and then says 'oh no, I've got no room for my sauce? What shall I do? OH I KNOW, I'll use a SAUCER!' and cracks up.

Every time.

Also, for Christmas and birthdays, my nana would always include hankies & things from Avon (mail-order booklet that sells such treasures as hand cream and talcum powder) in whatever gifts she gave. After she passed away, my auntie found a stash of them in her belongings, and the next Christmas we all got a lucky dip of an Avon product, as well as a hanky embroidered with our initials. It was quite cute actually :)

We also always wear our stupid cracker hats until they fall off or tear on Christmas day, and my long-haired Jesus-resembling cousin has to cut the meat, just because it's funny :D
(kadee may or may not be a nymphomaniac, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 5:19, 3 replies)

graveyard fun?
While driving (or walking) past a graveyard, my sister and I would hold our breaths ``so the ghosts couldn't get in.'' Weird, but understandable when we were 3 and 5, respectively. I'm now 37 and still find myself doing it. First time it happened with my wife behind the wheel, she asked me why the hell i i was apparently trying to make myself pass out. then nearly drove the car into a ditch when i explained.
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 2:59, Reply)

JAFFA!!!
In the days of my childhood, we used to have 'family fun' (i use the term very loosely) playing such games as trivial persuit.

Said game is the most mind numbing experience a child could ever have inflicted upon oneself.

However, there was one occasion where my sister was asked the question
"What kind of orange has the same name as your belly button?"*

My sister in all her childish panicky knowledge immediately shouted JAFFA!!
And from that day on your belly button is known as your jaffa!

I have a wierd family.

(*for those of you who don't know, the answer is navel.)
(NoStrings Tastes like zombies!!, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 2:51, 2 replies)

Punnage
It's entirely my dad's fault that I grew up with an unerring instinct to indulge in puns, particularly the fishy kind (cod in the act, salmon chanted evening, if someone tickles you what you should do is stickleback, etc). Between us we can drag out conversations for hours filled with increasingly elaborate puns, driving my mother and sister slowly insane in the process; a practice which culminated in my arriving home from school a few years ago to a short story written over three pages about fish belonging to the BNP, who get facial tattoos to show their allegiance (the UK-lipped huss. We were doing trees the day before).

I am now a sort-of-grown-up, or at least I don't live at home, and a few months ago I had a nice civilised roast dinner with a few friends. Tragically, just after the meal my housemate mentioned 'soul food', and off I went.

After 'eel meet again', 'ray of light' and a few others I was threatened with violence, so I shut up for five minutes before blaming my condition on the foul influence of uni boys, their drugs, their booze and their prawnography. I was bodily flung out of my own house.

So, so worth it.
(Shinigami, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 2:38, 6 replies)

Christmas Eve, midnight (so approaching Christmas Day)
My brother and I were allowed to open each other's present.
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Sun 23 Nov 2008, 1:23, Reply)

The Farmer Game
When I was a little bulb, brothertulip and I would play the Farmer game on all long car journeys to pass the time. It became something of a ritual.

Basically it consisted of saying the word "Farmer" followed by another word, in an attempt to invent an amusingly named fictional agricultural labourer.

So we went through all the words we knew and, as you do when you are small, you think mildly rude words are very funny so Farmers Poo, Piddle, Plop, Bogey, Fart and Willy often made appearances in the back of my dad's Renault Five, resulting in much innocent giggling, and our long-suffering parents would concentrate on eating boiled sweets and arguing about maps.

Then last year, when I was merrily driving us to a family do, and the skies were blue and the birds were tweeting and we were enjoying some quality sibling time, my brother, who does not drive and therefore does not understand the need to be attentive and observant whilst doing so, chose to revive this long-forgotten game at the top of the motorway sliproad, and at the top of his voice.

For some reason, writing "I was momentarily distracted when my brother bellowed FARMER CUNTING FUCKSOCKS" is not acceptable on insurance claim forms.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Sat 22 Nov 2008, 23:39, 4 replies)

First and Last
I have three younger sisters. When growing up, having this number of children in the house meant that all snacks- crisps, biscuits, sweets, etc- came in multipacks.

A curious ritual grew up around these multipacks. They would sit, unopened, for quite a few days after purchase. This was because, no matter how many packets of crisps or whatever each person actually ate, when all the packets had been gobbled by the end of the day, it was always the "fault" of the person that had the first packet. Looking back, it seems as bizarre and senseless to me as it probably does to everybody else, but at the time, it made perfect sense.

Somehow, this practice later evolved. Being the first to open the multipack was still bad, but to take the last packet- that was much worse. Because now it really was your fault that all the crisps had gone.

This eventually became quite farcical, with a 24-pack remaining unopened for weeks, or a single custard cream left at the bottom of a packet, untouched, because nobody dared to eat the last one.

This ritual has now, of course, ended. Though I do still feel an acute guilt upon either opening a new multipack, or eating the last biscuit.
( Thinker, Sat 22 Nov 2008, 23:36, 1 reply)