Geek with a Chinese Girl
My sister would play this game, which became a habit.

When she was walking along with her partner, if they spotted a geek with a Chinese girl, they would subtly draw the other's attention to it. They would quietly mutter "geek with a Chinese girl"

It would work both ways - geek Chinese girl with a non-geek man for example. So its not racist so shut up.

Anyway their game came to an abrupt end on a train one time, when their little daughter accurately pointed to, and screamed at, a "GEEK WITH A CHINESE GIRL!!"
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 15:08, 2 replies)

Maximum Punnage
Me and my dad have this slightly odd ritual or maybe tradition where we cannot allow ourselves to be outpunned by the other.

It's never instigated by either, it just kind of happens and the other understands that battle has commenced; it's somewhat akin to the sequence in Spaced used to describe the unspoken bond between men.

Believe me, it becomes a challenge after a while, even the most dedicated Sun hack would struggle with some of our subject matter.

The current record pun war was fought after the pair of us drove past a poultry lorry that had tipped over, spilling chickens and eggs everywhere.

Length? About 30 minutes, with enough fowl jokes to fill a small book
(ShiftyBastard won the World Cup on World Soccer Champs 2010!, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 15:02, 5 replies)

Ever heard of the punch buggy game?
well it goes like
everytime you see a VW beetle you punch someone in their arm and shout the color followed by "PUNCHBUGGY! NO PUNCH BACK!"
well my father started this with my brother and I who are about a year apart in age. As we got older though, my brother and I got a little more vicious on road trips and it finally stopped after I thought it would be funny to hit my brother while he was asleep.

however, not long ago I was on the phone with my dad and heard him get my sister in the background.
(Argentum, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 15:01, 4 replies)

Fuckarma has just reminded me…

When my wife tucks my flake-lets into bed, she tells them it’s: ‘Time for beddy bye-byes’

…Well, that’s what she used to say anyway. Over time, and with an effort to speed up the phrase to make it more efficient, she now quickly says ‘Time for Bob-Eyes’

Which, when you think about it, is actually quite a sinister statement. I mean what does this imply?

‘Come along kiddies, it’s late…now remove your own eyes, (possibly without anesthetic), and have them replaced with the optical receptors from some total stranger called Bob?’

And what say does poor Bob have in this? Why would he sacrifice himself to donate his corneas etc just so my kids could temporarily swap them over…and not even for general usage, no…but for when they go to sleep…and therefore won’t even be using the eyes?

And what about tomorrow? Is there an endless supply of Bobs in the world prepared to give up their potential lifetime of healthy vision in a gruesome transformation operation every single night? And why has nobody considered the timescale and logistics!

No wonder the kids don’t want to go to bed.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:56, 3 replies)

Photos and doors
Now Stevie Wonder literally sings the praises of superstitions, my Grandma despite being sharp as a (knitting) needle, agnostic and generally fantastic has a few of her own we all must follow:

You must leave the house through whichever door you first entered. Not too much bother but a bit odd.

She refuses to have whole family photos taken - apparently they are bad luck and as soon as the image is developed we'll start dropping like flies. I have no idea where this came from, maybe from the John Goodman film 'King Ralph' when the entire British Royal family checks out during a photo shoot due to some dodgy wiring.

Three rings. When you've arrived home safely after visiting you've got to phone them and let it ring three times - GCHQ has nothing on this code system and there's the almost tangible pleasure of getting a free service from BT.

Still love her to bits.
( monkeybananaraffle, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:54, 4 replies)

Does
anyone else use the phrase going to bo-bo's for going to sleep?
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:35, 16 replies)

Dead Foxes
Ever since I met Mrs Scowners its become habit. Driving down the M4 one day there was a dead fox at the side of the road. One the way back there was another. "ive started a collection" said Mrs S. Its been going on for almost 20 years now. She now has amassed a collection of roadkill foxes totalling 25.. Left them there obviously. they looked comfy!
(scowners shagged his mum on, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:24, Reply)

Scouser's pet reminded me...
When I was about 17 and had just started 'going out' in town, the bus I used to catch would drive through the red light district of Bristol (before they clamped down and the ladies of the night moved on).

On the journey, me and my brother would regularly play 'Spot the Hooker' - You shout when you see one, first one to shout gets that point, most points wins free pint etc.

However, having played this for several months we grew bored and had to introduce new ideas to keep the game fresh. We started to give the ladies 'Names'. These could then be used in conjunction with a shout to gain a bonus point.

Cue the hideously embarrassing experience of walking through town with my Mum on Saturday morning and loudly exclaiming "Look there's Debbie the Hooker!"

Mum was not pleased I knew a hooker's name and took a lot of persuading to believe in the game. She has since however, been known to play along on occasion!
(Colonel Santiago Introduced surprised kitty to the world., Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:18, Reply)

Light Ritual
I really have no idea why/when this began.

We have 3 light switches outside of our living room (living room, upstairs & passage), if anyone switches the wrong one whilst heading upstairs and knocks the living room light off it's a ritual to go "wooOOOOOoooo!" in a sort of ghostly way.

We've started doing this at other homes when the light goes off and on for any reason. It's now so natural I didn't think twice about doing it when at a clients and sitting still enough so the automatic lights knocked off.

I don't think I'm allowed out of the office anymore.
(Vikingheadache, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:17, Reply)

My Granddad
Scarpe's story reminded me of time I used to spend with my granddad hen I was very young.

I used to go around every Sunday and help out my Granddad in his garden and while we were there he'd let me help prune the trees. It was a great time, he'd put a quarter of orange in his mouth and chase me round the garden!

Great times were had, however, one day he let me have an even bigger responsibility, he let me kill the weeds too! It was ace! After killing the weeds I started chasing him around the garden like I was the monster!

it was Brill!

Till the old grampy Vito Corleone had a heart attack...

I wasn't allowed to chase him no more...
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:06, Reply)

Nightly ritual
Every night I give spikeypickle Jr his last bottle, have a snuggle, whisper nonsense in his sleepy little ears, hush him to bo, sing the ocassional rendition of 'silent night' and tuck him in his cot with peanut butter (my old teddy bear from when I was a little spikeypickle)

Every night for the past 15months (with a few exceptions).

I love my little man :0)
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 14:02, 6 replies)

Family sayings
We had one particular word in my family which is best described by way of examples. If somebody did something extremely heinous, or ever so slightly naughty, or even just beat his top score on a computer game, my mother or father would declare that she or he was going to "spiflicate" them, with a varying tone of voice and volume according to the severity of the crime.

Please please please tell me this was a Cockbrush familyism and wasn't shamelessly pilfered from 1970s pop culture...
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:56, 4 replies)

BINOCULARS BINOCULARS BINOCULARS
Ever since 1983 or 84, when we saw The Young Ones, no one in our family can say the word BINOCULARS properly. We simply HAVE to say "Binoc-a-lears" in a strange high pitched voice as Ade Edmondson did in one of the little side sketches in that show.

Now that's fair enough, "Mother, what is that bird in the garden? Hand me the binoc-a-lears" Ha ha.

What's NOT so fucking funny is when you are out at, say, a Game Fair, approaching a Field Sports Supplies stall, saying "BINOCULARS, BINOCULARS, BINOCULARS" in your head and under your breath, then striding up and asking how much their binoc-a-lears are. Complete with whiney voice. EVERY single fucking time.

At least the rest of my family do the same, they have 'fessed up.
(Rsoles, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:55, Reply)

applysome pressure reminded me...
years ago, someone bought us a big tin of quality street.

after chocs had gone, I crimped the top of the tin at strategic places to serve as a big-fook-off ashtray.

It became a ritual for my *family* of stoners and wild-eyed-chemical-induced brethren to not leave the house of a Sunday until said ashtray was full to the brim of cigarette ends.

I had a terrible habit of chain smoking when under the influence of certain powders - but I was very good at it! And smokes were cheaper under the tories and drugs were better!
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:52, Reply)

My family enigma code…

I suppose my family had about the same amount of ‘oddishness’ as your regular family in 80s rural England. To help us cope my brother, sister & I developed a straightforward system of communication, to silently alert each other of goings on and wotnot in our home unit.

‘Thumbs up’ meant that Dad was well on the way to indulging in his ‘Saturday snooze-on-the-sofa’, and we would soon be able to sneakily turn off the Grand Prix qualifying and watch Knight Rider.

‘Wobbling the hand from side-to-side’ communicated the fact that Mum would soon be blubbing whilst watching ‘Surprise Surprise’ and we had to sound enthusiastic whilst slowly reversing out of the room when she began to speak of reuniting us all with ‘long lost Auntie Hilda’.

‘A light pat on the head’ indicated that Dad had hit the Drambuie with Tequila chasers pretty hard, that we were to not mention the Arab-Isreali conflict under any circumstances, and take our impending severe beatings with good cheer.

‘Tapping the wrist with two fingers’ meant that mother had mistakenly used fish tank gravel instead of roast potatoes again and we were to all discreetly dispose of the Sunday lunch whilst still complimenting her on her cooking skills.

‘3 full blinks and a touch of the chin’ signified that Granny was once again locked in her paranoid delusion that she was head of the CIA; and that we were to smile and nod when she despatched us on a mission to assassinate Fidel Castro using only our cunning and a bowl of finely chopped celery.

Using this simple code, my childhood passed with barely an unusual moment…
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:51, 2 replies)

Tabs
Me and my brother, every time you fart you have to say tabs. If you don't say it fast enough and the other person manages to say sixers they are allowed to punch you in the arm constantly. The only way to stop this onslaught is to name three pubs and then whistle. Best game ever.

Then there is the secret drink. If we are eating a meal and someone finishes they take their plate out. The trick is to have a drink while in the kitchen without anyone else hearing. Why? Because if they hear they ask for one and the rule is to make them one. This leads me to the greatest secret drink ever had.

One night while eating and watching a DVD I get up to make myself a drink, I ask if anyone else wants one and everyone says no. My brother wants a drink, but he doesn't say this. For he has a plan!

I walk in and put my drink down at my feet and continue eating and watching. As this is happening my brother picks up my litre glass and drinks the whole thing. Without anyone seeing. I didn't know until I went to have a drink myself. Everyone laughed at my lack of drink and even I had a begrudging respect for his ninja skills.

Oh and before my Dad left he would always have cream on every type of cake he had. Which always lead to me and my brother chastising him for it.

"You don't have cream on Christmas cake, what is wrong with you?"

Every Christmas we have a "party" at my Nan's, and this is always me being the only one there drinking and getting into a stupor just to escape the boredom. Family tradition!
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:44, 1 reply)

I had a really witty answer for last weeks QOTW
but didn't get round to posting it...
(the_spoon I am Jack's lack of talent, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:39, 5 replies)

Christmas Sweets
Every year my family buys a big tin of Roses chocolates, but the ritual is that we can only open them once the last person has finished work for Christmas. One year my dad brought them to my work as i had a christmas eve shift, and we sat in the car once id finished and opened them up. Another time, me, my dad and my brother went to pick my mum up, with Roses tin in tow!
(applysomepressure, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:24, 1 reply)

Bathtime, with Laboratoire Garnier
When we were little and had the pleasure of bathtime whilst our Gran was babysitting, if you wanted to get out to have a piss, she would always reply, just do it in the water, it's good for your complexion !!
I'm sure there's a name for it thesedays somewhere on t'internet.
(Betty Boothroyd's Love custard Tourettes at the KOB, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:24, 2 replies)

my family has heaps of rituals.
They're ever so much fun. Won't you join us?

Signed,
Charles Manson.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:21, Reply)

The Whistle
My Father, the legend that he is, trained myself and sibling into responding to a whistle (him whistling not an actual whistle).

When he whistled in a particular manner we'd stop what we were doing to locate parents. This could be in a shop/park/theme park/leisure centre etc. We didn't really think this was strange for the majority of our childhood.

It wasn't until we went on a family outing, sibling and I were in our 20's at the time, we'd strolled off to grab a beer/smoke a fag/look in the pond (delete as appropriate), father whistled and like a pair of dogs we stood up straight, ears pricked and set off in the direction of the whistle. A number of chavlike creatures were huddled together and made some "really witty" remarks as we passed. Glancing at each other we jointly realised, with some humiliation, that we had been trained like dogs! Poor father received a severe telling off and threat of no further grandchildren.

Length - still trying?
(GsterMum, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:21, 2 replies)

Did anyone else play the
punch buggy game where if you saw a Hitler mobile you have to shout Punch Buggy and then its colour. Dunno why.
( Peej, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:00, 3 replies)

Sundays
Jesus H Corbett, this question has opened up some dark corners of the mind.

The Sunday ritual.

Growing up in the 70s and 80s I would estimate that at least 90% of Sunday afternoons were spent at my Gran's (Mam's side). Mam was one of six, so all six siblings (plus spouses & offspring) would congregate every Sunday at Gran's.
Six married kids and 15 grandkids, plus Gran & Grandad in a 2 bedroomed bungalow. EVERY Sunday teatime.

Gran would perform the ritual of feeding the tribe (as North-Eastern women of a particular generation MUST do, you MUST ensure your family is fed, maybe it was a war/rationing thing. After I moved away from home every time I went to see Mam & Dad I had to eat something, Mam wouldn't settle until I had.)

A lifetime aversion to tinned salmon & battenburg ensued. The mere smell of tinned salmon makes me want to vomit quantities that would have shocked a teenage Linda Blair.

In addition I simply cannot imagine having to put up with me & 14 other snotty little gets running amok every week.

The adults sat round with endless cup of tea, the telly in the corner Royle-Family stylee and Gran & her daughters would have endless conversations, finishing each others' sentences all the while.

She was given respite 6 times a year as each sibling took their turn for an annual bash, but 46 out of every 52 was a tough shift in anyone's book.

Fond memories.

Makes me feel even more guilty about not going to see her after she went mental, but that's more to do with my social ineptitude & being an insensitive bastard.
(Worthless wishes he had the brains of a pigeon, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 13:00, Reply)

Christams trees
Every winter, when we were kids, the familly would play "the Christmas tree game" as we were driving anywhere. The rules were simple - everytime you spot a Christmas tree, you'd say "there's one!". Whoever had spotted the most by the time we got to our destination won. Simple as that, but caused us much joy as kids.

I still do it now, but the missus just doesn't seem into it, so I always win.
(ScousersPet, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 12:59, Reply)

When I was younger I shared a room (And a number of other things) with my brother.
My brother and I used to have a ritual of putting a bag over our heads if the other one had got lucky on a night out and brought someone back with them.

The reason for putting a bag over your head was down to the fact that my brother is gay and I’m not, we both shared a room and hated seeing each other doing the nasty, and as we were conjoined twins the one that wasn’t lucky enough to pull didn’t have the option of leaving the room.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 12:59, 1 reply)

My parents used to beat me every morning
because I was sure to do something during the day to deserve it.

You know what? They were right.

Good times.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 12:59, Reply)

Giving up sweets and chocolate for Lent
Although it took me years to realise that this was a family ritual, not something decreed by law...
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 21 Nov 2008, 12:54, Reply)

"You'd make a shit Haggis"
The accusation levelled at any family member/friend who needs a pee a multiple of times, or with alarming regularity.

The logic goes this-away...

Haggis - the yummy offal-stuffed meaty-treat - is often *said* to be stuffed in a bladder, and for our logic to work, we shall assume that this is so. (Pretend that you don't know it's a stomach)
Small bladder = Small Haggis = Shit Haggis.

So ... it often comes to pass that someone (our dad) goes for a pee again... and one of us will mutter "You'd make a shite haggis Da'"

See? good.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 21 Nov 2008, 12:54, 3 replies)