Interesting
I don't really have any problems with any of the members of my family.

However, my grandparents on the Austrian side had a good one: both their dads had been in opposing sides before the second world war. One Communist (who went to jail for it for a while but escaped concentration camps), one Nazi. Both of them were extremely angry at their children (I think they were barely 18 when they got married)for marrying the child of an ennemy, and never ever spoke to each other until the day they died.

My family being the flexible sort of bunch, however, just let them sit at the two heads of the table so that they never had to speak to each other. Almost all the dinners and events etc passed without awkward silences, they just ignored each other. It was a sort of cold Feud.

My parents come from Austria and England, and yet there has never been any ill feeling between both sets of grandparents. Possibly because they didn't fight, I don't know exactly. There is just constant confusion between them.
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 11:37, Reply)

I am in a secret family feud
After my parents divorced, my paternal grandpa chopped down every tree my mum had planted and burnt them, along with all of the curtains my mum had handmade for our house in a big f*ck off bonfire. Very symbolic and was probably the most upsetting part of the split for me. The rest of dads family turned on mum and basically drove her out of somerset back to staffordshire where her parents were. Quite unecessary considering they divorced because my Dad was the one who had an affair with my best friends mum.

This was about ten years ago and I seemingly get on very well with all of my dads family but the truth is I don't trust them as far as I could throw them and I am waiting for my grandparents to die before I get married, not to finish my PhD as I have told them all.
sorry for lack of funnies, but i do feel better for getting it off my chest :-)
(bryo, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 11:03, Reply)

A punch is as good as a smack
My mother is a wonderful person. I love her very much, she supports me in everything I do and I respect her more than almost anyone alive.

However, when I was a kid, living at home, we didn't get on quite so well. I was hardly a model child, but she wasn't a totally perfect mother either. Having done something bad, I would be chased round the house with a flip-flop and given a smack, or two.

Sometimes, this was justified. But as I got older I had an increasing feeling that sometimes, it was not fair. She seemed to be overreacting to certain situations, not listening to me or my explanations and not trusting me when I was telling the truth, and I developed an increasing resentment of her.

One day, when I was about 11, this came to a head. I had done something - god knows what - but I was chased upstairs with the aforementioned flip-flop, crying and feeling like I couldn't explain myself to her. She shouted at me, I screamed tearfully back at her, she hit me, I didn't know what to do but I knew I was fed up with all this and it just wasn't fair...

So I punched her.

Right in the mouth. Her glasses flew off and after a few seconds of shock she started crying and ran away.

Every time I tell this story to someone they are shocked. I'm not surprised.

But that said, it's weird how much your smackings reduce once you've punched your own mother in the face.
(cypherspace is not a toaster, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 10:45, 8 replies)

Completely Hatstand
They hadn't spoken for decades; my great aunt H utterly refused to have anything to do with her sister, G.

The catalyst for the feud had been the division of property in their father's will. I can only assume that G had come off the better for it, because she would try to make contact with her sister from time to time. H, for her part, took pride in her impunity to these advances. "I saw that the letter had a Harwich postmark," I once heard her saying. "Now, there's only one person I know who lives in Harwich, so I tore it up immediately." She seemed to relish telling us that.

The attitude sat ill with the H that I knew: a conservative, slightly eccentric, slightly distant, but ultimately loving spinster aunt who kept jelly babies around her house in preparation for visits from her nephews and neices during the holidays.

Their father - my great-grandfather - had died in the early 1970s; this means that there had been about two decades of resentment and silence between them.

I once asked what, precisely, it had been that had divided the two. Was it something of great monetary value? (Unlikely, but you never know.) Was it something of great artistic or historical value? Nope.

Noone seemed to know, or care, what it was that had divided them. Noone else thought at the time that whatever it was had been in the slightest bit important. But from what members of my family could remember, and from what I could tell, these two sisters had not communicated for two decades, and remained in a state of sullen resentment, because of an argument over the inheritance of a hat-stand.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 10:23, Reply)

My father has been married three times.
His second wife, a lawyer from a very wealthy Chelsea family who claims to be a devout Christian, gained entrance to my father's house by deception whilst he was away and burgled him. And I don't mean ran off with the DVD player - a wholesale, removal van job, taking everything including his bed, all the furniture and bottles of fine wine given to him by my siblings and me - and she is a teetotaller.

So we're not overly enamoured of her, it has to be said.

Incredibly, she always sends me a card and a small gift at Christmas.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 10:20, 5 replies)

my cousin was in fact my aunt
but her mother thought she was too young to be burdened with a child so when she was born she was raised by her grandparents as if she was theirs . The whole family knew except for her . My sister and I were both adopted , which my cousin / aunt knew and she used take great delight in telling us we were not really part of the family , The pretence about her upbringing continued till she was thirty when she got an anonymous letter filling her in . She's forty two now and still raging about it all . They fuck you up , your primary care givers . . .
( fudboy high ideals and crazy dreams, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 9:52, Reply)

pissed off with pesky parents? sick of sullen siblings?

Then Uncle Omni™ has the answer!

Forget family forums, eschew shouty emails - simply pop open a smoke detector - bust the ionization chamber apart (wear gloves and a mask kids!) chip off the photodiode (it's got the day-glo goodness of radioactive americium 241 in there) drop into a pestle and mortar, quick grind, then simply pop in their food...

Hey Presto! they'll be dead of cancer in a year or so!

No more moaning mum or flatulent father. Simples!

helpful pics

oh and bin the pestle and mortar
(omnishambles ™ has been fucking things up big style since, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 2:07, 12 replies)

not exactly happy families
my mother has 7 sisters and 4 brothers. they're loud, opinionated, funny and usually great to be with.
my dad has 4 brothers(one of whom is his twin) and 3 sisters.
or so he thought.
for years, my dad and his twin were treated like dirt by their brothers and sisters. despite living less than a mile from at least 2 aunts, i wouldn't recognise them if i fell over them. none of my dad's side of the family ever bothered with us. this got to my dad's twin so much that he emigrated to new zealand as soon as he hit 18.
for 60 years, my dad didn't know what he had done to deserve this treatment. he had no idea why his siblings seemed to hate him.
then, 3 years ago, he found out.
his mother wasn't his mother. she was his grandmother.
the woman he had believed was his sister was actually his mother. for all those years, she'd kept silent. i can understand not saying anything back in the '40's, being an unmarried teenage mother of twins back then is not exactly something you'd want people to know about. what i don't understand is why she never told them when they were older. single parents are the norm nowadays, there was nothing for her to be ashamed of any more, but she may have been able to spend her last years being a mother to her sons. instead, she refused to see or speak to either of them, finally taking the full truth of their birth to the grave with her last year.
my dad can be a complete and utter prick when he wants to be, my own childhood was often less than rosy, but at least i now understand a little more about what turned him into the man he is and just what he's had to deal with in his own life.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 1:51, Reply)

i have terrible aichmophobia
which is fear of pointy things like knives. someone just has to get too close and i freeze up or freak out. its disgusting and i cant explain what it is. obviously my nearest and dearest arent about to run me through with a dagger but as soon as im near someone else holding a knife, i inexplicably think somehow something will happen and i will get cut.

my dear old dad thought this was hilarious. until he took it too far.

i went for a glass of water in the kitchen when he was cooking. i turned around and he was waving the bread knife in my face. i immediately brought my hands up ... and he accidentally sliced my hand open.

he swore me to secrecy (which lasted 5 minutes) and i dont think it did my fears any good. HOWEVER i can now say that a family member has actually gone this far... even accidentally.
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 1:40, 4 replies)

My Brother the Cunt
This one is long, but the feeling of personal satisfaction was immense!
I was always "The nice child". The quiet, friendly, well mannered one. My Older brother was always "The little shit". However, to me, he was a malicious, spiteful, coniving, horrible, nasty little cunt. A bully & a shit-house who never looked out for me (one time, aged about 8, I got into a fight with a lad from down our street & my brother cheered for him!)

Anyway, years went by & he carried on being a shite. He took pleasure in embarrasing & upsetting me, esp' infront of friends & family & they never realised how much it hurt me (there a slow bunch) Looking back, I realise how jealousy made him do these things, as I was more popular, funny, intelligent & loved than he would ever be. When I was about 18-19, a wonderful thing happened though, he moved out! Soon after, he met a girl, a skinny, rat faced little slapper with a kid from fuck knows who & he fell in love & moved in with her. They where together for years, & in her defence, helped him grow up a bit, however, they split after she had a hysterectomy & he couldn't handle never having a kid of his own (That, & she was well fucking half the lads in her work!).

I'd just quickly like to say, that despite all of what he did, I was never nasty or wicked to him in return. I was always nice, & when he stopped growing at 15 & stayed at 5ft 7 & 9 1/2 stone & I carried on going to 6ft 1 & 20 stone, I always made sure he was safe, got him out of kickings he thoroughly deserved & introduced him to some of the lads I worked on the doors with, so he'd be safe if I wasn't around. Fastforward to my holiday in Malia a few years back, I'd not long split with my girlfriend Hayley & was out there with my mates getting over her, some good nights were had, & the last night was set to be a blinder, a fact made more apparent by the way, at 10 o'clock, me & my mate had gone back to our hotel room to get more money (lots more money!) I just happened to check my phone, & I saw I had a text from him. I opened it up & read this "Iya mate, hows your holiday? Just to let you know, I got off with your ex hayley the other night, but I was wrecked! See you when you get back" I fucking flipped. Years of his shit just built up inside me, I was seething & my last night spectacular was in tatters.

I didn't reply straight away because I literally didn't have enough money to say all the things I wanted to in a phonecall or text from abroad! So, I waited till I got home, & I text him then. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, why the fuck did you feel the need to tell me that on the last night of my holiday & ruin it for me? You are a vile, horrible, little shit-house cunt & I want fuck all to do with you. Don't speak to me or contact me again". Then I waited, 1 minute later, my phone rang, ignored. Rang again, ignored, 20 times, all ignored. Texts, deleted without reading. Then... I told my mum! I sat down & she told me that Karl was upset because I wouldn't speak to him & what had happened between us? So I told her, I then explained that had I of done it to him, I would of been the biggest social pariah in our family & he'd have lorded it over me for life. She agreed. She didn't like him much either, he'd ruined it between him & my mum with his 3pint limit always consisting of 10, thus, acting like an obnoxious, boring cunt infront of friends & family, & she started to hate being round him & better still, seeing him for who he really was. She also told my Nan, who by now he was living with, & she tore strips off him (She thought he was a cunt when he was pissed too!) His entire world fell apart in a matter of weeks, our family were seething with him, there were all manner of stories popping up of things he'd done to piss them off & how they'd ignored it as a one off & now saw him for who he really was. When he went out, my friends ignored him, apart from those who threatened him, some with acts of violence from me, having seen my state of mind on holiday & explaining what I should do to him, he was shitting himself!!!

I didn't see or hear from him for months, my Mum was at no point upset at her 2 boys predicament, because she saw how happy I was, & how utterly miserable he was! One night, whilst waiting for an Indian meal in the restaraunt, 2 girls I knew came in "Oh guess what, your brothers with us, he's just outside". "I'm not speaking to him" I replied. "Oh..." They said. He walked in & saw me & started grovelling at lightning speed. "Fuck off away from me" I said. More grovelling "Just fuck off & leave me alone, I told you, don't speak to me. Ever again". He tried to "Man-up" a bit, & attempt a bit of an angry tone. "Well I didn't know you still fancied her" was his attempt at an argument in his defence. "You spent the whole night trying to get off with her, knowing full well who she was, you followed her home for 20 minutes, until she kissed you to make you go away. If I'd have even contemplated doing something like this with your cock eyed slut of an ex, you'd have spent the rest of your days trying to turn our entire family against me". "No I wouldn't" was his attempt at a comeback. "Just do me a favour, I've asked you nicely, now go away & leave me alone before I smash your fucking face in" He left. Whenever I went to my nans, he'd attempt to speak to me & I'd ignore him, my Nan didn't try & defend him. He was in bits.

A few years passed, & I met a different girl, & we fell in love quickly. My entire family adored her, & she eventually persuaded me to at least be amicable. He'd lost the respect of our whole family, his friends were scared to go out with him incase my mates kicked shit outta them & the only person who could save him, despised him. I caved in & agreed. We spoke, never conversations or friendly, just hello's, goodbye's etc. I told my friends to leave him alone & do as I did, just say hello, that's it. He went from being a horrible little cunt, to being a grovelling, pathetic, whiny little shit-house, always talking me up & saying how great I was to everyone.

A year or so later, our nan passed away suddenly, & after the funeral was over & done with, me, him & my uncle stayed out. He was a joke, he sat there calling himself every shite under the sun, & saying how great I was. My uncle shut him up with a few sentences. "You always have been, & always will be, a horrible little shit. The sole reason your still alive today is because of your younger brother. You litterally owe everything you have to him being on your side. If you's two ever fell out, your world would fall apart in a matter of weeks, you'd have nothing & no-one." We hadn't seen our uncle in 10 years, & he knew nothing of our falling out.

Fuck me, I'm so sorry about the length, but once I started, I couldn't stop
(Dr Fishfinger Want's to see a fat man give a tit wank, Mon 16 Nov 2009, 1:10, 17 replies)

my brother's wedding
has the potential to end up like an episode of 'eastenders' or worse.

firstly, the best man and the maid of honour, who had been together for about 5 years, split up very acrimoniously about 2 weeks ago. secondly, one of the ushers has not spoken to another of the ushers since the latter stole his girlfriend a couple of years ago. they may not have spoken, but they have exchanged many glowering looks, swear words and threatening gestures in the interim.

then the bride's mother and her sister haven't spoken for about 10 years following a fall-out over a lottery ticket (that didn't even win. how much arguing can there be? oh look, neither of us won anything). but the bride is very close to her aunt, so is insisting on inviting her. meanwhile, none of the bride's family know her brother is gay, despite the fact it is screamingly obvious, so he is terrified that someone will get drunk and let it slip.

then you've got the fact that my dad is insisting on bringing a vile gold digging tangerine tinted bleached braindead blonde, who insults the memory of my lovely mother with every breath that she takes, and the fact that i am quite likely to launch myself over the wedding cake to get at her eyes after a couple of vodkas. if i can find them under the weight of mascara and eyeliner and the flashing £££poundsigns£££ that is. and if i do that, my father will then quite literally kill me.

finally, we had the engagement party this weekend, and one of the other usher-type things was so unbelievably - yet totally characteristically - drunk that he stumbled over, put his hand out to save himself... and in classic comedy timing, splatted his outstretched palm right into the middle of the "congratulations X and Y" cake on the sideboard. i thought the bride's mother, who had made it, was going to sob and beat him to death with the flattened icing.

this wedding could go so so horribly wrong. but it could also be very entertaining. anyone want to be my plus one, it's june 2010...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 23:16, 13 replies)

My lot
are stranger than strange and possibly certifiable.

If you wish to scroll down to a smaller and less rambling post, now is the time.

If you're still here, thanks for reading. My brother, who I've mentioned before, is a bona fide headjob. He's currently on DLA because he's managed to convince the docs that he has severe autism. He doesn't, he's just a social leper and has a raging compulsive obsessive disorder of some kind. He decided that my girlfriend was trying to be a mother to my daughter (my daughter, not hers) which is totally untrue, they're more like bestest buddies than stepmother-stepdaughter. Even if the mother bit were true it would not have been a problem, but it was the lies that she was deciding mine and my daughter's life and I was allowing an outsider to decide my daughter's future that set me off. He caused such trouble within the family saying that I was being manipulated by her about my daughter that a rift as wide as the Atlantic grew almost overnight between me and my previously close father. One that has lived for almost 2 1/2 years and shows little sign of getting better. He said and emailed some things that I won't bore you with but were so venomous and threatening that my girlfriend actually reported him to the Police. She was scared to be alone in the house in case he came round.

He has done similar to others- he came out as gay when my parents split up, no big issue for me, but he went on to become totally obsessive over every man who spoke to him, to such an extent that one ex boyfriend's employers took Police and legal action against him to stop him from contacting this guy at work. He has a record of this kind of behaviour and when he started on my girlfriend the officer looking into it told her, off the record, that they knew of him, that various forces around the UK had complaints about him (mostly involving messageboards, emails, SMS) and they were just waiting for him to cross that line when they could nick him. This happened recently and he's in a lot of trouble. Sadly I can't get involved as I think he deserves everything he's got coming. Part of me hopes he gets charged and goes down for a while, as he might then get the help he needs. Most of me reckons he'll play the disability card and get off with a slapped wrist. He'll then carry on doing the same until he causes lasting mental and/or physical damage to someone.

Anyway, my dad listened to my side of the above story (AKA the truth) a couple of months after it all kicked off- it took that long to get us together- but by this time Brother Poison had managed to convince him, probably with compulsive repetition- that she was bad for my daughter and I was Satan for living with her. He said he understood my side but I don't think he believed anything. This was 2 years ago and we still hardly talk or see each other- birthdays, Christmas, etc and even then it's really out of obligation than wanting to. He's far more interested in his new partner and her family than his own and only granddaughter; when I told him this he didn't like it and said I was wrong, out of order, etc- when I asked him why he never spent time with my daughter apart from tea one night a week yet his partner's grandchildren stayed over at weekends, went on holidays, etc, he had no real answer for me. When I suggested that perhaps it wasn't me being manipulated by my partner but him by his, he didn't like it one bit, got a bit huffy and started back on me and my girlfriend.

My mother, who I've also posted about before, left my father about 9 years ago and ran off with the neighbour. He's about 6 years older than me and looks like a fat Harry Potter with some crap teenage facial hair. She lied about seeing him for many years before and still refuses to admit she lied, even though it would probably make things easier. I know she was seeing him because someone I know told me he had called in sick because of 'an incident involving his long term partner's estranged husband', ie when my old man twatted him. I can't tell her this as the person who told me would be in trouble for leaking company info. She lied about her reasons for leaving, and when my father threatened to name fat Harry as an adulterer on the divorce papers she offered a compromise, removed her lies and they agreed on mutual breakdown reasons. I can't forgive her for her lies, I was always brought up not to lie, or if it was necessary white lies to have a damn good reason, and to confess when it was appropriate. She refuses to accept that I am now fast approaching 40 and still expects me to do her bidding. I ignore her calls and texts, and again only see her on the usual occasions- I have managed to avoid her on quite a number of my birthdays :-)

Her sister is a nasty gossip and so evil that she caused a mini rift between my best pal and I, as she decided that I had done something when I wasn't even in the town and my pal had said this. Questions were asked and fingers were pointed, I had to make the most awful call to him and ask if he had said this; when he said no I explained what had happened and who had said. We both realised she was up to no good but it put a strain on the 20-year friendship for a few weeks. All back to normal soon enough but what a bitch she is. I cross the road to avoid her now. I won't mention her bigoted drunken husband who once told a cousin's wife's family (SE Asian) they should all feck off back home and weren't welcome in his country. At their wedding. He then had full on fisticuffs with my other cousin, his stepson, to such an extent that the law were called.

If I didn't have my daughter I'd have emigrated years ago. When she's older I think she'll come with us- not long to go till she's 18 and she'll be out of here with us and better off for it.

My one fear is that I have inherited their mutated DNA and I will end up like them in years to come. My girlfriend is under instruction to make it look like a DIY accident when she kills me.

Families. The cause of more strife, heartache, headaches, stress and fights than any religion or government.

Usual expression of regret for length and lack of chuckle
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 20:22, Reply)

Something happened between them, dunno what.
Apologies for the length. there is no funny side or tear jerking momet here. just a story about an unknown feud between my Mum and her Mum.

When i was about 13/14 my parents decided to split. it was more of my mums decision than my dads, however it was a relatively amicable divorce. let me give you a little background about each of my parents.

My Mum came from a very traditional family from the highlands. While i loved them, they were quite backwards in terms of family values. My mum was the middle child of the family and virtually ignored unless she did something wrong. My mum is also naturally smart, the kind of person who could skive off school most of the year, do no revision whatsoever yet still get A's in her exams. (and yes, this is exactly what she did). Her mother however could not see past the disobediance of rules and notice the obvious gift in her head. Her elder brother (apparently) was illegitimate and not my grandads son, therefore he was deemed as a lost cause and so naturally became one, disappearing in his early twenties. My mum met him a few years later and he was a junked up mess. she never heard from him after that. Her younger brother was the golden child, got away with anything he liked and was showered with praise for just about everything. In this environment, my mum learnt to provide for herself and look to her friends and their families for support (they were much more liberal). Obviously she moved away as soon as possible and began living independantly in edinburgh.

My Dad on the other hand, came from a widespread liberal family from around the country. My Gran and grandad have always been incredibly doting upon their grandchildren (me included) and i would bet money that it was similar for my dad and my aunt. This did mean though that my dad never left home and never really learnt how to fend for himself. even in his early twenties, he could come home to a nice meal cooked by his ma and have his clothes washed and ironed without having to lift a finger.

So needless to say, my Mum and Dad met, blah de blah de blah. cue 14 years later and my mums fed up of running the house, having a career and providing for a teenager with little help from my dad. they split up amicably. My mum, who had kept contact and visited regularly with her parents despite pretty much running away years ago, has to break the news to them. This does not sit well with my gran.(I should note that my grandad was a much more reasonable person but he was quiet and i believe just went with my grans decisions, wether he agreed or not) a divorce in their family, what would their neighbours and friends think? I still dont know what was said or happened between my mum and my grandparents but all that matters is they cut all contact with my mum after that. for some reason though, they increased contact with my dad, treated him almost like a third son, and through him, me. while I loved them, i couldnt get over the weirdness of the situation. my dad was pretty much everything they were against. What really took the biscuit though, was when my grandad took ill and died quite suddenly. Now, I would have thought that this event maybe would have forced my gran to speak to my mum.no. my gran called my dad and asked him to call my mum. How screwed up is finding out your dad is dead from your ex? so we went to the funeral, my mum and gran were in the same room but my gran didnt seem to want to speak to my mum. after that it went back to the same situation of no contact at all.

It has been like this ever since.

My Mums now living on her own, back on the dating scene, with mixed results. My dad found a new partner pretty quickly and they are now married. I get on really well with my stepmum and her family aswell.
I havent heard from my gran though since I moved to Uni. maybe shes doing the same thing to me...
(Shuzbee4life Wheres the Beef!?, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 20:18, 1 reply)

I am really close
To cutting all ties with my family. The assholes only wear bow-ties, they look ridiculous.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 20:07, Reply)

My uncle Nick
doesn't really get on with anyone else in the family.


(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 13:27, 6 replies)

A life of near domestic bliss
I am eternally grateful that I have a good relationship with my folks. They always been reasoned in their judgements, tolerant of my foibles and critical only of my most serious failings. In one regard however we are as bitterly divided as it is possible to be.

I don't drink tea.

As the son of an army officer and a schoolteacher, I was raised by people who regard tea as a semi religious substance. Rare is a day where the kettle drops to a temperature low enough to touch it. My non consumption of tea initially went unremarked- I believe they thought I might grow into it but when I began to consume coffee, there came the realisation that I was not one of them. It would be wrong to say I have been ostracised for my preferences but there is still the tension there when we are all back with my folks;

Mrs Hatred snr "who wants tea?"
General chorus of approval from all parties including my own fiancé- the traitorous swine.
Mrs Hatred snr: "Leonard, I suppose you'll want a (agonised pause) coffee."
Me: "Thanks mum that'd be great"
Mrs Hatred snr "right, I'll have to find the cafitiere and work out where in the freezer the coffee is (makes a small pained sigh).
Me "Don't worry mum, I shall take care of my own drink, far be it for me to expose you to such dubiously European practices as the preparation of coffee."
Mrs Hatred snr; "If you wouldn't mind"

Let the record state, my mother would prepare any other drink, she'd probably make me a gin and tonic at eight in the morning. I have however rejected tea and will have to prepare the evil alternative myself for ever by way of recompence. Love her though.

Length? She won't let a cafitiere stand for five minutes either.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 10:38, 23 replies)

Civil war
An ex of mine is Basque and two of her uncles got caught up in the Spanish civil war. As happened frequently, one of the brothers was a communist and the other brother was one of Franco's men.
This started the feud of all feuds and they didn't speak for years and years. In fact, during the war they even fought against each other a couple of times. In the end Franco's men won and the communist brother was imprisoned and sentenced to death.
Come the day of the execution his brother risks his life to get him freed. He succeeds but when the grateful brother tried to thank him, he just ignored him and said "I don't talk to communists". They never spoke again.
(47_monkeys, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 9:29, 2 replies)

Helmut reminds me of a family I knew
with two boys who had a great longrunning legpull going.

They'd hide a hideous basketware owl, about the size of a small cat, in each other's luggage.

Each brother'd keep his suitcase or rucksack under constant sureveillance in the days leading up to the holiday or university term and repeatedly search it before setting off.

If he found it, he'd hide it in his brother's room or property and later send him a triumphant postcard. If not, and the owl went with him, he'd quietly seethe and plan his revenge.

Last I heard was when pagers were all rage. Brother 1 was on the train to wherever when his pager went off, with the message 'Too whit too woo!'

He dragged his rucksack down off the rack, tore it open, emptied it there and then and found the dratted owl. It had to go everywhere with him until he got back and could foist it onto Brother 2.


This went on for years, probably still does. Great fun.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 8:14, 3 replies)

Burying his head in the sand...
...I was watching some British TV quiz show around 1979 and the question asked was "What creature is reputed to bury its' head in the sand?"
I answered "Ostrich".
My dad answered "Emu".
The TV host stated the correct answer was "Ostrich".

My dad glared at me and threw a hot cup of tea in my direction, it missed and smashed against the wall.
He then didn't speak to me for four years. Not. A. Single. Word.

He never understood why he wasn't invited to my wedding, the thick git..
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 7:51, 1 reply)

I'm going to get all mushy
The only time before where I felt the cliché "You make me want to be a better man" moment, was when I met my wife, she is the best person to ever enter my life. Guys, if you feel this way, let them bloody know, I've never been a woman, but I reckon they need responsive males (or females for that matter).
Since my boy was born, my life has changed so much. From reading these stories. the majority of the assholes are men. As a man, I feel sorry, we collectively, could do a much better job. So, men of B3TA, man the fuck up!



Flame away!
(knackerz is skinning up, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 4:54, 6 replies)

I don't speak to my family
I'm mute
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 3:12, 3 replies)

Rambling ahoy
Fair warning: this post contains no funny to laugh at, no heartwarming to 'aww' at, no tear-jerking to make your eyes red and no tragedy or injustice to cause anger.

Right.

My dad's side of the family is plain weird. As far as I know, it's just my dad and his brother (uncle would be a bit of stretch, we're not close) since my nan and two great-uncles died a few years ago. There's others dotted around the country, including several in the town where I spent most of my life, but I don't know any of them. At all. The weird thing is that there's never been a feud of any kind, or any reason whatsoever for them not to speak, in fact they get on very well when they're forced to speak, they just don't keep in touch. Even if they bump into each other in town, which apparently they do quite regularly, they don't stop and chat. It's genuinely weird to know that there's a load of family living within a few minutes walk that only my dad has ever met, although it does go a long way to explaining why I'm so crap at keeping in touch with people. My mum met a few of the cousins at the funeral of one of the great-uncles and was jaw-dropped to find out that they lived in the same town and my dad had never mentioned it, so she now keeps in touch with them on his behalf. She's trying to research his family tree back as far as it'll go and get in contact with as many of the living relatives as possible. Dad still fails to show any interest. Proof, I guess, that the best way to avoid family feuding is to act like none of them exist, even if you get on perfectly well.

The one exception to the above is dad's cousin Mary who, for reasons best known only to herself, has always insisted on keeping in touch with us. For some reason that nobody's ever been aware of, she chose my mum as her eldest son's godmother, completely ignoring my dad. Oh yeah, and she's a massive cunt. An evil grasping old hag who bleeds everything she can out of her living relatives and steals whatever she can from the dead ones. Nobody can tolerate her for more than five minutes, yet still people feel the need to invite her to weddings and funerals, the only things that ever force my dad's family to gather in one room. She turned up to the funerals of both my grandmas - one was her aunt, so fair enough on that, although the way she blazed through the house after the funeral (I mean, right after the funeral, during the wake) systematically taking everything in sight was enough to piss most people off. Quite how or why she turned up to my other nan's funeral remains a mystery for the ages - presumably she was told about it by my dad or his brother and turned up to see what she could steal. Luckily, somebody predicted this and signs were put up around the house during the wake asking people not to take anything without clearing it with my mum first. This was helpfully enforced by two of my cousins - a police officer and a massive squaddie. Mary went away with just a picture frame and a disappointed look on her face. The worst thing is that people seem to tolerate her: my dad just thinks she's an idiot ("always thick as pigshit, she was" being his exact words), my mum doesn't seem bothered, the rest of the extended family positively love her. It's really just a select few that realise how much of a cunt she is. Actually it's mostly me, my brother and my aunt (my mum's sister, she can even see it from the other side of the family). I will certainly not be shedding a tear for old Mary when she passes on.

There was a bit of a feud, briefly, between my dad and his brother. Lots of stories from my nan about dad's brother and stuff he'd done, said, taken, etc. Lots of mutterings from my dad about sorting him out and disowning him as soon as nan wasn't around. Turned out, after she died, that all of the stories were a load of shite, and she'd said exactly the same to said brother about my dad. We can only assume that it was an attention thing on my nan's part. Of course, dad and his brother are now good friends again.

Should probably stop typing now.
( Dave McF wrote some words on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 2:59, 1 reply)

Dirty Laundry Basket Warfare
So there we were all those years ago, a family of four.

Mum, Dad, big sis and me. I loved being the youngest, centre of attention and spoiled fucking rotten. Not necessarily the fault of my parents just more down to the fact of me being a little cunt sometimes. Xmas's and birthdays were especially magic mainly because Mum worked in a local toy shop and liked to bring her work home with her, if you know what I mean. Then when I was 7 years old everything changed.

Mum fanny-farted out my little brother Fucket (not real name) in hospital and days later her and Dad brought him into the home to an excited sister and a largely unimpressed me. This was not good. Not good at all.

Suddenly all the attention switched from me to him and I was not best pleased. Over the years my pile of Xmas and birthday presents would rapidly decrease while my brother would be surrounded by illegaly procured A-Team and He-Man toys.

Years of torture towards my brother started, at first it was relatively tame for example like the time he was 3 and I was given the task of looking after him while Mum went shopping. She left me the front door key and me and my brother were out the back court playing football he suddenly exclaims 'I need a poo!'

After about 5 minutes of him pleading with me I eventually agreed to go let him in. We only lived one floor up but I took as long as I could taking the stairs very slowly making sure two feet were firmly on each step before commencing the next.

Another few minutes pass and we reach the front door and I pretend I can't get the key in the lock, comically missing the keyhole at the very last second every time. He's bawling his eyes out and holding his arse and I'm laughing like fuck. I eventually open the door and he makes a beeline for the toilet but he had already shat some in his pants.

As he got older he would retaliate a bit more and thats when the dirty laundry would start being used as weapons in our war. One day we were having a fight over him beating me at table football so I ran into Mums room and got a pair of my Dads work socks out the dirty washing basket, they were hard at the toes and smelled like sick. I pinned my bro down on the bed and rammed one of the socks into his mouth. It was fantastic and how I laughed as he boaked with tears streaming down his eyes.

Over time we would get more elaborate, such as one of us planting foul smelling socks in between the others pillow and pillow-case so that the aroma would be breathed in overnight. Then one day when we were playing computer games, the little fucker wins again so he gets a slap to the head. He says he's going to grass me to Mum so back to the washing basket I go and see a pair of my Mums dirty pants and it's evidently that time of month. Into the room I run and grab my brother, get him down and instead of the manky socks he was probably expecting he was treated to a mouthful of crusty gusset. The war was won.

Of course I feel guilty over the way I treated my brother all those years and told him so over beers and smoke years later, he said it toughened him up and that sometimes he deserved it cos he could be a pain in the arse. We have a good laugh over it now, we're great mates and we have not fought since the time he smacked me on the back of the head with a dog chain after I stabbed him in the leg with a fork.

I am thinking of resurrecting the laundry wars next time Mum invites the family round for dinner.
(Helmut McBucket invites you to pull his finger on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 2:24, 3 replies)

A guy
I met in Argentina told me about the story of his two uncles.

Uncle Fernando had a successful TV repair shop in Buenos Aires. Apparently a lovely man, if a bit fond of chasing women. Uncle Sebastian was not so lovely, being involved in rather right wing Argentine politics, and was also rather jealous of his brother's shop. He repeatedly tried to get in on the action, but Uncle Fernando wanted nothing to do with him.

All rumbling along at the level of minor family feud. Until March 26th 1976, when the military overthrew Isabellita Peron's government and started kidnapping, torturing and murdering anyone seen as leftwing or 'unargentine'.

Uncle Sebastian was involved with several extremist nationalist groups, he welcomed the coup wholeheartedly, with a passionate desire to destroy the Montonero and the Ejercito Revolutionario del Pueblo guerilla groups and their network of left-wing sympathisers. He's also strapped for cash and increasingly doesn't get on with Fernando.

So the fascist bastard denounces his brother as a Montonero sympathiser. Fernando disappeared into thin air. Over 30 years later they still have no idea what happened to him. No body, no admission of guilt. Nothing.

Sebastian took over his shop and dealt heavily with the military. He ran it all the way up to the economic crash of 2000/2001 in Argentina, when he lost his life savings and put a gun in his mouth. His family, who had totally disowned him since 1976, avoided the funeral.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 1:31, 1 reply)

We put the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
When I was younger my family used to go to abroad on holiday. My mum was always one to try a new place each year. We went to Crete, Portugal, Ibiza etc. but eventually started going to Turkey.

So it was a suprise when not only did we keep returning to the same resort each year but my parents decided to buy a holiday flat over there. My sister was, at the time going out with a Turkish waiter. We all got on with him and life seemed normal.

Then my sis didn't want to go out with him so my mum got on a plane with her so she could dump him face to face. My sis ended up severely ill whilst over there but my mum seemed to spend all her time with the waiter.

Flash forward a few years and it transpired....(you guessed it) my mum was banging said waiter.

Cut to present day. My parents are divorced and both re-married. And this summer it just got a whole lot wierder. Not only did my sis start speaking to my mum again, she went over there on holiday and stayed with my mum and the waiter. Then, as if the bizarre events weren't bizarre enough, my mum and waiter have come back to the UK to live over the winter and are staying with my sister.

I haven't got a problem with any of them except for usual family flaws. Those irritating things that only your family spot in you. And waiter guy is actually a top bloke. Apart from the fact he is to me a sister and motherfucker.

Gross.

Length - I'm neither proud or ashamed!
(Nilliay ate the last piece of cake on, Sun 15 Nov 2009, 1:14, 3 replies)

To inject
a tiny bit of humour into this, I thought of a family feud (which though real is not of the throwing out/ never speaking to again.)

Coming from a large family, there is always a lot of friction between people, there not always being an escape route. I was a complete bookworm and even the slightest interruption to my reading made me grumpier than a bear being taken roughly early in the morning. This was from the age of five or so, resulting in a long standing feud between me and the rest of the family.

It started at a low level. Dressing my brother forcibly in a blue velvet dress, smearing him with lipstick, and tying a lace scarf so tightly round his neck it almost suffocated him was just the start, and he got his revenge years later by growing taller than me.
Not content with this triumph, I turned wrathful eyes upon my next youngest sister. Since physical intervention in our family was so common it couldn't be called feud-like, fights were frequent and unresolved. Thus ire was taken out in unsubtle but not violent ways, like cutting her hair into zigzags (it took years for her to grow her fringe back) and sending her to welcome the guests.

This behaviour got me banished to the top floor of the house (which was a half floor- comprising three rooms and a loft.) Since no-one wanted to climb three stories to get there, it became my reign of terror- pyromanical urges could be indulged in perfect bliss- air freshener prevented discovery mostly.

Basically large families are boiling pots of intrigues and fights and feuds. The only way to get rid of them is to find an outside threat that forces you to unite. Despite the fact that my brother scrawled obscenities in my library books, and I forced him to climb a tree and then pushed him off it, all we needed was some local yokel who disliked our accent to unite, forget petty hatreds and find a common cause. I mean we still do stupid things- he hacked my facebook (lamely I might add) and sometimes hurtful things- reading my blog and telling my parents, and I've dropped him in the shit a couple of times. But we both grew up, and are genuinely there for each other now.

Well we have to be. Blackmail possibilities are terrifying!
( Amberl was stripey and dominated Europe, Sat 14 Nov 2009, 23:11, Reply)