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This is a question The passive-aggressive guilt trip

My mother is an expert in the guilt-trip. Last week she phoned to say "Happy Birthday" and, after a 10 minute conversation, finished with, "Well, I hope you have a nicer time than I did on the day you were born."

She also stated that she was going to kill herself when she reached 65. On Christmas Day morning. Having rung up to see if there was anything she could bring for lunch.

I think it's just a mother thing, but how good are your relatives and friends at the passive-aggessive?

(, Thu 13 Oct 2005, 9:52)
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When Sunday lunch is underway,
my nan has incredibly annoying passive-aggressive tencencies - serving herself scraps from the meat, deliberately sitting on the wobbly stool, setting her plate on the odd placemat etc... To sum up, she's the sort of person who says "It's only me" - as if by martyring herself and trying to be small she'll somehow become more likeable.

If I were in charge of Sunday lunches, I'd give her a taste of her own medicine and not serve her at all; maybe then she'd stop acting the gom. (Either that or she'd starve to death.) I just can't stand people like that.

Okay, that story was fecking boring, how about this one?

The other day I was riding on a bus with a bag, on the top deck. (It was an open-topped bus.) Seeing as it’s an open-topped bus and - well - open, I decide to have a quick and peaceful cigarette and not disturb anyone’s sensitive nostrils, taking advantage of the open top as a smoke-disperser. No such luck. Within a minute of lighting up, this big and porky man - he’s about 30, wearing spectacles with fashionably quadrilateral frames and has a face the colour of raw steak - comes up to me and burbles,
"Mate. Sorry, mate. There no smoking on the bus, mate. Look, mate. There’s a sign there, mate -" pointing to a sign which proved this was indeed the case. (I think he has variant Tourette’s or something.)
I say, "Oh. I see," and extinguish the cigarette. Tourette’s Guy then goes back to his seat at the other end of the bus.
With my plans for a quick smoke thoroughly foiled, I turn to plan B, which I’d prepared in case of this eventuality. I get out a big heatproof mat - the sort you put Bunsen burners on at school - rake some coal over it, and set up a spit. I put some firelighters (they’re wax-type jobbies used to light fires) on the coal and used one of my matches to ignite the lot. With much blowing and cursing, I eventually have a nice smoky fire going. I then take two prize herrings out of the bag (it’s a big bag) and hang them on the spit over the smoke. Sure enough, Tourette’s Guy comes over again.
"Mate. Didn’t you hear me, mate? No smoking on the bus, mate."
"That’s only for tobacco products - it doesn’t say anything about fish."
"No, mate - that is true."
"Well, then."
"Mate, just a question, mate. What are you smoking, mate?"
"Herring, mate?"
"Mate, why are you smoking herring on a bus, mate?"
"Because I haven’t got any pilchards."

Sod relevance, I just kept going for the length!
(, Sat 15 Oct 2005, 1:38, Reply)

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