My brother and I enjoy a fairly amiable relationship
So I don't actually have a story I would consider even faintly amusing regarding us putting each other in A and E. So, like I'm fairly sure quite a lot of people on this board do, I'm going to make one up.

Well, at least I'm being honest about it.

One day, whilst partaking of afternoon tea at our ex-pat uncle's mansion in Kuala Lumpur, my brother and I decided that upon returning to England, we would attempt to gather the necessary funds to mount an expedition to Enceladus, one of Saturn's many moons. We would use our top level contacts at NASA to secure the use of a rocket to get us there, but we would still need provisions, and they cost money. So, when we returned from our asian excursion, and set foot once again on the shores of good old blighty, we wrote a letter to the government detailing the plans of our mission and asking for funding. We pointed out that the purpose of the trip - to see if the prettiness of Saturn's rings has any affect upon the mating rituals of the great apes - could quite clearly be of benefit to all mankind, and awaited a respose, quietly confident of a response in the positive and Tony Blair's personal blessing of this vitally important escapade.

Imagine, then, our surprise when we received a letter politely but firmly refusing our request because 'sufficient capital was not available', although they did, at least, acknowledge that it was something that would need doing sooner or later.

This was something my brother and I could not stand for. For the sake of apes and humans everywhere, the truth needed to be discovered now. So, we hatched a plan. A plan whose cunningness was matched only by its bald-faced daringness. We would do no less than steal the crown jewels in broad daylight (for that's when they would least expect it) and then sell them at exorbitant prices to meglomaniacal South American drug lords.

But such a plan could not be carried off without help, and my brother and I knew it. We therefore enlisted the aid of an army of Killer Mooses that I had befriended during my travels through Siberia by performing a small service for their Archduke. We then went on a full frontal assualt against the Tower of London, where the jewels are kept, on a busy saturday afternoon.

The jewels were eventually taken and our party fled to the wilds of Norfolk. Many brave mooses died in the attempt, but were proud to have given their lives for such a noble venture, and we parted company on good terms as the mooses returned to the frozen wastes of northern Russia while my brother and I took our secret submarine to the NASA launch site at Cape Canavral via various drug cartels in Panama and Columbia.

Fuel and supplies bought, we boarded one of the new range of Saturn VI rockets and began our long journey to Enceladus. With great foresight, I had used some of the leftover money from the crown jewels to buy a veritable library of books to fend of the ennui our long voyage in space would surely bring, but my brother unfortunately can't read and had to occupy himslef by repeatedly humming through the entire works of J. S. Bach.

After mant tiresome years of space travel only occasionally brightened by the orbiting whelks that were sometimes visible from our capsule. We arrived at our goal, Enceladus, with one of the best views of Saturn's rings available in the entire solar system.
"Brilliant," I said, "now we can start the great experiment that has been our sole purpose for this soul-destroyingly dull adventure. Bring forth the great apes!"
"Oh shit!" replied my brother, sounding alarmed, "I forgot them!"

I was so ticked off I hit him repeatedly over the head with a convenient iron bar till he apologised in writing. It left him with a very nasty bruise.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Fri 19 Aug 2005, 18:45, Reply)