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This is a question Family Feuds

Pooster tells us that a relative was once sent to the shops to buy an onion, while the rest of the family went on a daytrip while he was gone. Meanwhile, whole sections of our extended kin still haven't got over a wedding brawl fifteen years ago – tell us about families at war.

(, Thu 12 Nov 2009, 12:24)
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This question is now closed.

I got my Mum, my Dad, Brother, Sister, Uncles and Aunties together...

I told them that the QotW should be ending soon...

And the whole family 'phew'ed.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 15:43, 13 replies)
We all do martial arts together.
That's family-fu.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 15:39, Reply)
An old Uncle of mine always knew where his towel was.
He was the family frood.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 15:38, 1 reply)
We do lots of group singing.
It's a family fugue.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 15:36, Reply)
A decent Sunday Roast.
Now that's a Family Food!
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 15:23, Reply)
Teenage Crush?
Emma from the family Freud ...
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 14:46, Reply)
I keep forgetting to give my folks a bell.
Might just leave it another five years.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 14:18, 9 replies)
Just had a barny with my brother in law
Because he reckons it well past due for a new fucking QoTW, so I killed him and raped his wife. Who is also my sister. The family Christmas get together round theirs will be awkward this year!
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 13:37, 5 replies)
When I was at university my brother and I both picked up a summer job at a food processing plant - we'd sit facing each other on either side of a conveyor belt as black puddings went past, and had to pick out all the ones that weren't up to spec.

Now you'd think I'd manage to get on OK with my own kin, but to be honest he's an annoying little bastard and expert at getting under my skin, and after lasting a week I asked to be moved somewhere else. There was just too much bad blood between us.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 13:14, 1 reply)
Once my father and I
Were on a trek, searching for an old wheelhouse that was frequented by bakers.

We'd been walking for several hours, and had started to think we'd got lost.

Finally, we went round a bend and could see the wheelhouse in the distance, to his great relief.

"Ah - look at the far mill" he phewed.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 13:11, 1 reply)
Not a feud per se...
...but a story that I tend to wheel out every time the subject of family is raised.

My girlfriend is a very competitive woman. Hates to lose, and being a Southerner is not fond of admitting she's wrong. I'm a stubborn, competitive Northerner, so it's just as well we don't argue much. We're not allowed to play Monopoly together any more after I discovered that she conducts herself like a genocidal maniac with an interest in buying streets and putting hotels on them (I think that once you've mortgaged ALL your properties to pay her Mayfair bill and are proper brassic, you should be allowed to concede. She disagrees). However, this is nothing compared to her sister.

Once upon a time I was trapped in a car with my better half and both of her blood siblings, hurtling along the B-roads of Norfolk (the A-roads are nothing to write home about, assuming you can fashion writing materials out of some bark and a bit of cow) at 60mph whilst shoes, boys and other stereotypical female pursuits were discussed. Competitively. Then L, the youngest, suggested a game of pub cricket.

As far as I can tell, the rules involve something to do with the number of legs in the name of a pub representing runs (so if you go past a pub called the Thousand Millipedes - unlikely - then you're Brian fucking Lara). I quickly excused myself as I know what happens when these three play games. SJ, the driver and aforementioned psycho-woman, was up for it, predictably. The game progressed until L, who knew the route and the pubs along it, thought ahead and worked out she was going to win. At which point SJ changed direction and WENT LOOKING FOR PUBS WHICH WOULD ALLOW HER TO WIN A COMPLETELY MEANINGLESS GAME

(deep breath)

did I mention we were on our way to see their Mum... on her 50TH BIRTHDAY... and we were already half an hour late?

We got there, apologised for our tardiness, and explained. Such is the family's competitive nature, our excuse was not only believed but anticipated.

I dare not upset my girlfriend. For fear that they begin the "who can maim him bestest" competition
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 13:08, Reply)
I never knew my mum,
I was brought up by my aunt and uncle in southern Italy, (my fathers cousins actually so distant aunt and uncle or whatever it may be, but I called them aunt and uncle anyway.) My parents were both English and it is one of the warmer places I've had the pleasure of living in, we got on alright. My uncle had a farm which between the three of us and some seasonal workers we managed quite well.

But I wanted to join the RAF and become a pilot, I was told by the local "weirdo" Ben that my father was an excellent pilot (he knew him before he died) and had fought in the First World War where he was awarded the DFC, but Ben never spoke about it. This was my main motive for wanting to join up, that and the fact that the area we lived in was absolutely lifeless, I mean it was desolate, the farm was so big we had to drive for ages if we wanted to go anywhere.

Now obviously, being in Spain and wanting to join an air force 1000 miles away isn't going to go down well at home, and it didn't. My uncle said after I turned 18 that i could go next year, he needed me too much for the harvest. But that was bull as when I turned 19 it was the same story. So i stayed, trapped on this farm that I was growing restless in.

When World War 2 started about 7 months after my 19th birthday we stayed out of trouble, or tried to until in 1941 a couple of local resistance fighters took refuge near our farm. We sympathised with them, or at least I did and I found out they were looking for Ben to give him a message, turns out he was a resistence member as well. I was curious to find out about it as I knew joining the resistance was one of the few ways I could feasibly get to England and when they asked me if I knew where he lived and could I take them to him, which I did. Ben was all about getting me to come with them straight away, he even gave me my fathers old service revolver which i knew he treasured, but I told him I couldn't, now the Germans were here I was needed more than ever at the farm.

But this was my mistake for the Germans (the Gestapo specifically) eventually found out we were sheltering resistance members and executed my aunt and uncle, I was devastated. But my only choice was to go with Ben to Sicily and from there to England, where i joined the resistance there.

Basically to cut a long story short, we had various scrapes with the Germans in the years to come after being sent to various places, (we had to stay in Norway for a few weeks, being brought up on a farm in Italy wasn't good there) but the Germans ousted us from Norway and from there we left and went to Paris, but this was a mistake, for one of the heads of the Gestapo knew I was coming and cut me off while I tried to help some fellow resistence members out of a nasty scrape (which the Gestapo had also orchestrated). It ended with me and him having a swordfight atop an unfinished viaduct, but when he revealed to me he was my FATHER i thought "fuck off mate you're a bloody Nazi" but I somehow knew it was true, even though he never took off his gas-mask i knew. I jumped into the canal and was later rescued but this event shook me for years to come.

Anyhooo, when the allies finally entered Europe I was assigned to go into Germany itself and try to destroy the Gestapo headquarters, I was captured by my father who took me to Hitler, he wound me up so much that I lost it and attacked my father, eventually even cutting off his hand, while the Fuhrer just watched on. He went on to give me the beating of my live but my now one-handed father intervened and threw him off the top of the Reichstag where he exploded in a massive cloud of blue energy*.

I took my father to a nearby Messerschmit, and with our own forces closing in, we took off and headed back to France, but sadly not before he died. I had held this grudge against him becoming a Nazi for so long that when he finally died, i was overwhelmed with sadness. I gave him a proper sending off, real spiritual stuff, massive pyre, flames nearly as tall as the trees and finally forgave the old man and put him at peace.

You know the rest, the Allies finally win, bringing peace to the Galaxy and everyone got on like a house on fire after all.

* Note: this is how Hitler actually died
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 13:07, 4 replies)
My wife doesn't like my mother, has banned her from the house and will not speak to her.
This is because one day she came home and found it slightly harder than usual to park in our 6 car driveway because my mum was picking up my brother to take him to the hospital as he had just come round on the kitchen floor after having an epileptic fit to find half his tongue missing.

She was parked for less than 2 minutes whilst she bundled him in to the car and only made it slightly harder than normal to park. Of course when my wife complained my mum got cross because she was picking up her son who was bleeding everywhere. My wife felt he was too old at 21 to have his mum running around after him. They called each other lots of names and haven't spoken since. Neither will apologise to the other.

I have kept well out of it. Mainly because I think my wife is being a cow about it but am scared of what she would do to me if I told her so.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 11:39, 12 replies)
I'm related to Scottish Football Sensation Ally McCoist...
However, what a lot of people don't know is that when his footy career went tits-up, he decided to set up a Norwegian livestock and agricultural concern – based in the valleys on the edge of one of the country’s famous watery inlets

Of course, he named it after himself – egotistical fuckspack that he is.

I was going to visit once, but my dad put me off, he said that I shouldn’t concern myself with Farm-Ally Fjords.

Besides, he soon gave it up and devoted his energies to that famous Scottish passtime of shoving splooge up Patsy Kensit.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 11:39, 1 reply)
I haven't spoken to my naan for years
Not surprising really, she's bread.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 10:15, 35 replies)
Big Mother
I don't live with my parents seeing as I'm not a child but I do still stay in contact and ask about the rest of the family on my mothers side as almost always she wiil be fighting with one of her sisters, be best of friends with another, and indifferent to the other.

The funny thing is that is switches all the time from one to another and when it does she, 'never liked them anyway', and it's always been like that.

It has always reminded me of 1984 when she says, "We have never liked Sharon! I always got to Julie when I need advice." despite the fact that I know you were round Sharons not 2 weeks ago bitching about Julie!
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 9:53, 1 reply)
I grew up living above a posh men's shoe shop that had been run by my family for three generations. When I say "above", my bedroom was practically a spare stock room, with boxes all over the place.

I moved out as soon as I could - I couldn't cope with all the spats.
(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 9:00, 7 replies)
won't go into too much detail
but was recently married to the wonderful mrs moustache, and the wedding managed to peacefully incorporate the final severance of any kind of a relationship with her father.
the prick's been an absentee her whole life (save the once-a-year christmas meal), and he and his wife were told to gtfo by my wonderful brother-in-law. seems they couldn't handle mrs moustache's stepfather walking her down the aisle, and all the speeches mentioning what a wonderful dad he's been since he came into the family, replacing runaway deadbeat dad. they got snarky, and that was the final straw for a few members of her mum's side of things.
all of this took place without me or the wife finding out until the next day, as no-one wanted to sour the evening for us. lovely.
the wife doesn't expect to ever hear from him again. which is just fine and dandy.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 21:21, Reply)
its good but its not right
The following line was said by my now ex mrs whilst walking down my mum and dads stairs

"I just saw what sperm look like swimming around on your tv. I'm not happy with what you've just put in my stomach."

i was stood in front of my mum who had returned back early from her weekly shop night.

Lets just say things were a little awkward for a while....
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 17:26, 5 replies)
My family used to live in Paris
My dad, the worst man in the world to ever sit behind the wheel of a car would often end up motoring right into the fucking river causing massive rows with the rest of us.

My mum would fume. My brother would simmer. My sister would cry.

I'd just sit there and wonder how much longer I could take being driven in Seine by my father.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 17:07, Reply)
My sister
once chased me around the house with a knife in a psychotic PMS rage. The end result was a few knife marks in the door.

Her knify attitude seems to put everyone on edge.*

*edit: Am I supposed to put a joke in there somewhere? After reading every other post it seems I'd better add one in.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 17:07, 2 replies)
My family used to live
in a treehouse.

We fell out.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 17:02, 1 reply)
I haven't spoken to my grandma in six years...
...not surprising really, she's dead.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 16:37, 3 replies)

I have only recently started talking to my family again. We had a huge fall out about 2 years ago when I left the army. I got kicked out after 2 weeks of being back and my step-dad nicked my PS3 which I'd just bought when I returned from Iraq.
The reason I started talking to them again is; as of today, I'm homeless again and have nowhere to go.
We've been talking a bit more over the past month but as soon as I told her what was going off, she stopped replying to emails even though I know she's sat in front of a computer all day. I even get the annoying, viral emails from her still.
I have 6 Aunts and Uncles who don't talk to each other.
So, as far as I'm concerned I have no family. They've been useless throughout my entire upbringing and continue to be to this day.
I'm not saying I had a hard time growing up. I was just very much on my own without guidance and I'm pretty suprised I ended up being a decent person.

My plan tonight is to dig out my old army kit and go and dig in, in some field somewhere.
Could sell my laptop and get a B&B but that's too much of a loss for such a short period and it's my main source of contact/jobs.
Could sell all my camera kit off, but at the moment that's my only source of income and I doubt 'Cash Coverters' have enough in the tills for what it's worth.

Combatcameraman A.K.A Tech_Hobo
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 13:51, 20 replies)
Fishy fishy!
There are probably loads of feuds in my extended family; I can't know for sure, as my aunt and I haven't been on speaking terms for 10 years...

Anyway, 27 years ago, when The Empress was a cute ickle babby (and didn't look at all like a pink Jabba the Hutt, whatever photo evidence from the time might suggest), her elder brother (let's call him Grumpy) doted on her, and she on him.

One day our parents took us to a lunch party at one of their friends houses; it had a massive back garden, with an ornamental pond for koi carp. The adults were sitting around in the sun quaffing their champagne, whilst Grumpy and I went around the pond poking at the fish.

Presumably bored of this, I wanted other entertainment. I took it upon myself to throw my stuffed koala bear into the middle of the pond, and then sat there crying. Grumpy, being a loving brother, kneeled at the edge of the pond and precariously leant over to fish koala out, whereupon I toddled up behind him, and with a hearty shove pitched him face-first into the water, then sat there screaming with laughter.

I have no recollection of this incident at all. My brother, on the other hand, still hasn't forgiven me.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 13:50, 4 replies)
The old queen
My dad's moniker for his late mother.
Firstly a little bit of back story. My Nan was an only child and spoilt rotten (something which really came through as the years went by). She wasn't the cleverest of clogs and was what I like to refer to as a 'lazy fuck'.
She married my granddad during WWII and they had one child, my old man. The three of them lived together in an emotional vacuum, preferring to ignore each other for days on end, rather than discussing their grievances.
Anyhoo, jumping forward to the early parts of my formative life. It's amazing how many things you don't pick up on as a child, but it was clear that my Nan was only in it for herself. Her favourite saying was, "You've got to be artful."
Things really came to my attention when my granddad was taken to hospital, where he later died. At one point while my granddad was clearly on his way out, he says to her that she'll have to help out with the cooking (he did it all), but the old queen says: "What are we going to eat then? Weetabix?"
It was after this point that my dad really distanced himself from her. The day after my granddad died, my nan shed a couple of tears, before ransacking his possessions (they slept in separate rooms), taking all of his savings. He'd set aside some money to pay for my driving lessons - I knew this as he died a few days before my 17th birthday and had promised to give it to me. The cash and other valuables 'disappeared'.
One of the most memorable and heartbreaking things, was told to me by their next door neighbour a few months after he died. She said that one day granddad had been outside in tears because the old queen wasn't letting up on anything, he said that "I can take it anymore, I don't know what to do." He struggled for breath most of the time and she was working him to the bone. He was a stubborn old chap, so would never say no and had a heart of gold. It makes me sick to think that a man who had survived Dunkirk and D-Day was reduced to tears by some miserly old witch.
I could go on, but will end the tale here. The old queen ended up in a home going cuckoo. I went to see her a few times, but she just blanked me. She had grand plans to move in with my parents, which were soon stopped and I think she held this against us.
It's pretty sad really. And I wished I could have done something, as my dad never really intervened.
I still miss my granddad, he was awesome.
Ending on a funny. One day my Nan was trying to waddle past granddad to get to her sofa (not chair). Anyway, she stumbled and fell on top of him. My granddad was infuriated and said... 
"Get off me you fucking, fat whale." 
It was and still is the funniest thing I have ever been witness to.  
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 11:58, Reply)
I have a cousin called Vincent, he's a lawyer and isn't to bad but his fiancé is a real loudmouth. She's Italian American and has that really whiny voice that just grates you, she knows a lot about cars though.

Anyway, me and my mate got falsely accused of murder and they got us off so I shouldn't complain too much.
(, Wed 18 Nov 2009, 11:45, 3 replies)

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