Not technically strictly speaking...
My mother-in-law lives in our toilet, even our scary neighbours refuse to visit since she injured my sibling with some bad teenage poetry.

I gave her a crappy prize in an attempt to stop this wired tradition, that’s when I knew it was over as she demanded I attend her wedding to this stupid tourist she met. I don’t blame her though as he turned out to be a hidden treasure expert, but there was no need for the time he got drunk and bought her that psychotic puppy.

The best bit was being forced to meet his parents who turned out to be a pair of jobsworth parking inspectors who sabotage meters and skive of work to have great holidays that always seem to end with someone crying! I must admit my guilty pleasure out of shouting “I just don’t get it” numerous times during the best man speech whilst listening to my walkman and telling anyone who would listen about the beautiful moment when I lost my anal virginity to Richard O’Brian. “That’s my claim to fame” I would tell them, whilst explaining that it was the little things like his harmonica playing that turned me on.

Quite rightly people were also shocked when I showed them the newspaper cuttings of the 9” scare across Mr. O’Brian’s head from the time when I attempted to remove his brain with a ladle whilst singing the wrong words to that song from “Interview with a Blacksheep”. I was being ignorant and it was actually a song from Interview with a Vampire, a film I really wanted for Christmas but everyone in the office laughed and said it was just childhood bad taste. That’s when I lost it and gave my boss a near death experience when I told him about my premonition a movie star dragon fiercely hording a pile of obscure memorabilia.

The fact I am telling these stories must be evidence I am getting old. This one time when on the worst date ever I pretended I was an ex-gigolo just to get laid. I was out of my depth but I had no money to take her out for an expensive meal.

She was so impressed she paid me to buy her a present. I managed to get some shoddy crack from a local nuttier who told me a joke about babies being nailed to trees. He also told me he had only one bollock. I asked him why and he explained that the embarrassing injury was caused by Mr. Joe McCrapalot who projectile vomited a stream of his most hated food so powerful that it actually tore it off.

I found this all very arousing but unfortunately I was overheard by my date. She then proceeded to dump me by throwing a brick at my head just because she saw me wanking over the nearest mini cab. My real dilemma was an inability to decide between seeking revenge by taking a shit in her purse or just shouting a witty comeback at her about her foot shaped mouth.

Unfortunately, I later found out she was acutely a well known celebrity and I had been very rude not to tell her about my invention of “The Game”. It was all a booze related disaster caused when this old guy who introduced us by talking bollocks about this fire he started, he named it “his little bunny wabbit”. I called him a cockbadger (local slang) and then explained my irrational fear of my parents lying to me about laws broken by their clients, my dad jokes about this then plays that Barbie Girl song on the stereo on repeat for 4 hours. I then chased the music playing ice cream truck.

*cough* coat *cough*
(Minty Hit, Fri 9 Sep 2005, 13:59, Reply)