My dad has just had an operation
on his prostate.

he also had an operation on his piles a year ago.

When he was 25 he had a collapsed lung...

Last year I had a collapsed lung...

Groans... :(
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Thu 7 May 2009, 12:41, Reply)

It’s just a bloody noise…!

I have developed a healthy aptitude at growing old and grisled…and have long since had my hopes and spirit broken by the weight of the world.

So as you can imagine, I was not best bastard pleased when a new couple moved in next door with their ‘modern ways’…

On the very day they moved in, from my vantage point (peering creepily through the curtains) I spotted them dragging their ‘oh-so-fucking-trendy’ furniture in, one bit at a time. This was bad enough to set me to engage ‘Meldrew Mode’, but within about half a shagging hour of them putting a few items of furniture in the house…

The fucking music started.

That’s if you can call it ‘music’. ‘Bump, bump, bloody bump’ was more like what I heard. Bouncing off my bloody eardrums, each note was like being hoofed in the head by a horse with steel toecaps. It was such a din, such a racket that I could barely hear myself complain.

I went round to introduce myself to the couple and have a ‘quiet word’…

“Oi, you fucking pair of cunt biscuits!” I yelled, waving my fist and trying my best to make my eyes bulge menacingly out of their sockets. “Turn that fucking gobshite down or I’ll get medieval on your boney asses!”

“Oh, we’re dreadfully sorry” they simpered; “But we’re both hard of hearing”.

“I don’t give a fuck if you lost your ears in a bizarre kitten felching ritual, turn the bollocks down!” I roared.

They tried to explain: “The thing is, sir, we’ve both got brain tumours, and don’t have very long to live…our music is our one thing we can both enjoy”

“Oh, for fucks sake” I said.”…Just don’t have it too cunting LOUD!” I bellowed before walking home.

I had not even got through the door when it started again. Oh dear

This meant fucking WAR!

Now, a trait I have genetically inherited from my dad is a gift for invention. You can shove your ‘hadron colliders’ up your brown tea-towel holder, I had long been dabbling with a machine that can rip through the very fabric of time, space, light and sound…not very successfully so far I grant you, but I was certain that I was near achieving one of my goals…

conquering sound.

So, in controlled lab conditions I put on some music and some safety goggles, then after a few minor adjustments, I set the machine into motion.

With trepidation, I pressed the button…

*boom*

*silence*

I had done it! – I had successfully managed to tear the fabric of sound! The bubble of pures noiselessness rippling through the lab was a joy to behold!

However, before I had a chance to consider the practical applications and future good that this invention could provide to the world, I was distracted by the wankers next door putting their godawful music on full blast.

Enraged, I cranked the machine up to 11, turned it towards next door, and hit the button…

*boom*

*silence*

Ha! That’ll teach the noise-polluting motherfuckers!

Within a minute of blissful quiet being restored, they were straight round, banging on my door, screaming like banshees and insisting I restore the ‘gift of sound’ to their home.

Because I’m such a nice guy, I relented the first time, but with a stern warning that I would not hesitate to use the machine again if they took the piss.

Unfortunately, they did take the piss. Regularly.

What followed was a tempestuous relationship. Every time the shitehawk neighbours put their music on, I would activate the sound-tearing device, then they would come round and whinge like bitches.

In fact, every time I used the machine it was a case of ‘I’ve torn din, tumour pair rants’.

But I’m pleased to say there was a happy ending to this story.

Yes, they’re both dead now.


Disclaimer: Obviously this works better if you say ‘tumour’ like Arnie in Kindergarten cop i.e ‘Too-ma’, and not ‘Chew-mer’…oh, and usual rules apply…I’m very, tragicially sorry…
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 7 May 2009, 10:30, 9 replies)

If we ever find out what happened to my sister
we'll be turning in our parents

Sean & Amelie McCann

Ah well, I'm already in Hull..
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 7 May 2009, 9:56, Reply)

There's not much chance
of me turning into my parents. I'm buried behind a Portuguese barn.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 7 May 2009, 9:30, Reply)

I've got a nice black leather wallet
...just for holding coins.
( chart cat has an itch, Thu 7 May 2009, 9:29, 4 replies)

Bloody hell I hope so...
My dad's brilliant!
He's played in bands his entire adult life so has almost no understanding of behaving responsibly, buggers off on holidays with mum as often as is humanly possible, has the inate ability to initiate fun and weirdness and makes friends with everyone from the mayor to the street sweeper wherever he goes.
As a kid he bought me an air rifle and mini-bike despite everyone else telling him they were the last things I needed.
As a teen he taught me that Excelpet flea care will get rid of crabs withoout having to visit the family doctor (who would have told mum) and that safe sex is using a false name.
When I first started work he'd meet me in the pub afterward for a pint and a game of pool (at which he would cheat constantly), he'd cover for me when I got into trouble, lie to the boss or police if needed and never flinched at any of the idiotic things I ever did or said.
He's moved into a retirement village now and has set up a beer-making enterprise with one of his new mates plus a cottage industry repairing cars for money under the table and last week when I was visiting and asked if I could borrow a pen, grabbed one with "Viagra" stamped down the side, a gift I can only assume, for being a frequent flyer.
Every time anyone who knows him rolls their eyes at something I've done and says "You're just like your father!" it makes me very happy indeed.
In fact might give him a call right now and tell him I love him.
So there.
( difficultchild, Thu 7 May 2009, 7:24, 2 replies)

Oh how apt ...
Wonderful timing for this QOTW.

A transcript below of a conversation with my 5 year old that took place this morning.

Her: Mum, can you please help me do up my bu''uns? (best approximation of that Godawful Essex Habit of failing to pronounce the letter T and, come to think of it, most of the other consonants)

Me: /fury. BUTTONS DARLING! Buttons! Pronounce your Ts! You mustn't drop your Ts!

Her: /bewilderment at her mother's sudden venom. Why not Mummy?

Me: Because it's COMMON darling.

Me: /to self. Bugger. I might as well buy a pearl twin set and change my name to Hyacinth.
(Que?, Thu 7 May 2009, 2:06, 3 replies)

Well
I really don't know if I'm turning into my parents but I certainly am hilariously droll.
(Snake (on a) Crane FKA thwack, Thu 7 May 2009, 1:14, Reply)

I think I'm turning into your Dad
I fucked your Mum, anyway.
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Wed 6 May 2009, 22:50, 1 reply)

Am I turning in to my Mother?
I've grown tits and am lactating. I'm a male.

*Oops, this was meant for FML.
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Wed 6 May 2009, 22:37, Reply)

changing sides
It is only now that I am starting to realise that maybe my father was right all these years. I rebelled aginst him and all that he stood for when I was younger. I wasn't alone either, my sister felt the same way.

We had many fights over the years and it really pissed him off when his oldest friend became like a second father to me, but what was I to do?!! He abandoned me when I was little and I was bought up by my Aunt & Uncle.

We were reunited when I was older under problematic circumstances and he tried to convince me that he was doing the right thing and had a pretty substantial legacy to pass on to me if I was interested, but I wasn't. I couldn't see the wood for the trees.

Anyway, lately I have taken to wearing a shiny black cape and helmet and have been toying with the idea of building a big fuck off moon which can destroy planets.

L Skywalker
(gentleman mongoose the Lion, the Witch & the Robot, Wed 6 May 2009, 22:12, Reply)

I'm turning into my father more
It all starts off when I was a small kid. I had inherited my fathers obsession for shiny relics, and whilst he was obsessed with a cup or somesuch nonsense, I was often out searching for rare artifacts. At one point, a few years back, I ended up going to India with this woman and kid I knew from a nightclub in Shanghai, and ended up saving a bunch of kids and some stones from some bloody nutters and returned all the kids to their village. And got very few thanks for it.

I buggered off back home and ended up teaching again for a bit, before ending up traveling to South America to find a shiny statue, only to be chased by a bloody big boulder whilst trying to leave with the golden statue. I bumped into an old acquaintance there too, and had to give up my newly acquired statue. I then decided to go back and cool down and continue teaching, before getting roped into finding an old treasure chest before these mental guys could find it and do some crazy stuff with it. I ended up going to Egypt, and had a run in with the mental guys, and again later when they nicked the treasure chest which I'd found. Luckily though, they all ended up going a bit insane and killing themselves. I can't really tell because I was tied to a pole and had my eyes closed.

After all that, I ended up going traveling a bit more, and found more relics and stuff, before learning that my old man had gone missing. Turns out the daft old coot was wanted by members of the same gang of mentalists I'd bumped into earlier, and had been kidnapped by them because he knew the location of his special cup. I later met the leader of this gang, and he signed my dad's diary for some reason. The silly sod later got himself shot, and I had to go and get his special cup to heal him. I also found out that he's afraid of rats, and I guess I'm turning into him because I'm afraid of snakes. I've also lately adopted his phrases, such as saying "This is intolerable!", and calling my son Junior, much like he called me Junior.

Ah well, he's dead now so he can't really bother me any more.

Dr H. "Indiana" Jones, Jr.

(Apologies if bindun)
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Wed 6 May 2009, 21:41, Reply)

Im definately not going to be as stupid as them
They've left me and my brother alone for a week and fucked off on holiday. We're still tidying the house from the 3 day party that took place at the weekend.

Ive actually had to clean/re-paint the walls.
(i should have joined myspace, Wed 6 May 2009, 21:00, 1 reply)