If it's not one thing it's your mother
Shameless pearost coming up...

My mum has never been one for looking after cars. Combining her boot fair addiction and interest in plants the car normally looks like a rag and bone van. Think moss on the dashboard (I kid thee not).

As a driver myself (and not a particularly good passenger) its quite rare for me to ever travel with her. However one unforftunate day I was forced to accept a lift in the Red-Death-Mobile as my car had broken down. Thats when the fun started:

1.) Every time she braked the oil-light would come on.
2.) The steering wheel visibly shook side to side from a "coming-together" with a kurb.
3.) Speed bumps were taken at 40mph+ (think dukes of hazard stylee).
4.) She was not happy about going out of her way to collect me.

Being a male (read petrolhead) I decided it was only reasonable for me to let her know the dangerous faults with her car (and some of her creative driving habits). Oh boy... NOT a good idea.

Full-on hystrionics about how her driving was always good enough when I was a kid and wanted to go to a friends. The more irate she got the more faults I mentioned. After 2 minutes of throwing the car (even more) around she screeches to a halt in a side road screaming "GET OUT...IF ALL YOU ARE GOING TO DO IS INSULT MY CAR YOU CAN WALK!". We werent that far from home anyway so I decided it was probably safer.

The following memory will live with me forever:

I climb out and close the car door looking at a betroot-faced mum still fuming with rage. Tapping on the window she lowers it expecting an apology. With a smile on my face I then handed her back the door handle from the car.

Both of us cried with laughter and had to sit in the car for 10minutes to calm down before I drove the red-shed back home.
(skintagain, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 14:15, 4 replies)

Mum, shut up- NOW
Out for a rare pizza treat evening, one of the few occasions my mum had a couple to drink, we go to pay.
Now she's quite chatty and gets talking to the waitress.
Turns out the waitress is also a part time policewoman. (Don't know how that works what with the whole moonlighting thing nowadays)

Mum's reply?
"Yes, we can tell by the truncheon between your legs!"

Red faces and a swift exit. Waitress was not impressed, but looked far away in thought.
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 14:12, Reply)

Does anyone else's mum
check the coast is clear and lowers her voice before swearing??
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 14:01, 5 replies)

Finbarr Saunders strikes again
Back in the day, we used to go over to Norn Ireland a lot to visit the Granparents. This involved driving 400 miles up to Stranraer for the ferry to Larne.

Try this in a clapped-out Renault with your mum behind the wheel in the days before The Man was kind enough to build the M40. Eight hours in the back of the car with my brother and sister, bored stupid. Then, the rusty bag of bolts had the bad grace to die a death as we got to the ferry port.

At length, the man from the AA arrived, and cigarette hanging out the side of the mouth, listened to my mother's explanation.

"It's the alternator," she said, "My husband and I have had it off three times on the kitchen table."

AA Man looks up, raises an eyebrow as he sees three kids in the back of his car, crushes the cigarette butt under his heel, and dissolves into fits of laughter.

"Well... well... I never..."

Oh *mother*
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:58, 1 reply)

My mum is constantly changing her food habits due to alleged food intolerances.
She once asked me if eggs counted as dairy.

She also called my sister a twat. She was aiming for twit and it came out wrong.
( girlinthehole, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:57, 6 replies)

I was proper dinky as a child and was bullied relentlessly for it
Mum imparted these words to me after a horrible day of wedgies, wet willies and puddle splashes "they don't build diamonds as big as they do bricks" I'm now much bigger and twice tough as those bricks who barely made it out of school with an education.
(TwinkleFuckingToes Has a ingrown toe nail, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:53, 4 replies)

Do you want a drink? You're gonna need it!
Back in 2007, mum came out to visit me in March with a huge ass lump on her face. She went to the doctor the day she got back and was diagnosed with the cancer. More tests later over a couple months and the primary was actually in her lungs and had spread throughout her body. Much chemo followed and the cancer was diagnosed as terminal.
*wavy lines*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 2007. The husband had kicked me out for the first time, so was renting a room from my friend. Another friend wanted to take me out for dinner one night for a girls night out and my roommate offered to drive us so we could get drunk. So, off we toddle to the local bar for a quick beer, then we had to go to another bar to pick up my friends daughter.

We walk into the bar, and Shell was stood at the bar. Usual hugs all rounds and Shell asks if I want a drink. "Sure", says I. "Good", says she, "you're going to need it" and points at a table a few feet away.

My mind starts working......'oooh, that looks like Gwen and Brian..and Ray' and WHAT THE FUCK???????????

Mum, her boyfriend and their two friends had flown out from the UK to suprise me. Surprised??? Many hugs and tears later, we had a great two weeks.

Everyone except me knew about it, god only knows how they managed to keep it so secret!

And that was the last time I ever saw my mum. She died Feb 21/22 2008 (21st US time, but 22nd UK time). I miss you, mum xx.
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:53, 8 replies)

Custard creams
My mum once refered to these as the albino cousin of the Bourbon biscuit. I love her for that
(Dwarfsmuggler Has hogtied Snow White, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:50, 1 reply)

Not sure I should share this as you might get killed
My mum was 'encouraged' to leave a country (arson attacks and general skullduggery) because the government thought she was a spy when she was trying to run a charity. Took years to get her stuff back, some of it she had to lose, MI5 had to step in. I'm not sure if that means she was a spy or not, but I doubt it.

If she was and you were not supposed to know that, and reading this has placed you in peril, I apologise for your death in advance.
:)
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:50, Reply)

My Mum + The Interwebs
The phone transcript..
MUM: I think my PC has a virus.
ME: Oookay, what is it doing?
MUM: I keep getting.... erm... rude... erm pictures coming up when I err.. read my email.
ME: OK, can you open it up again and tell me what is on the screen.
MUM: OOOHH! Its doing it again, turn it off! turn it off!
ME: Can you read the address at the top of the screen.
MUM: Yes, it's w, w, w, dot, hot, male, dot, com
(skintagain, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:45, 1 reply)

i'm in my mum's house right now
i have nothing bad to say about her.

*looks over shoulder*

NOTHING BAD TO SAY.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:43, 1 reply)

My mum sleepwalks...
...not just walking, but talking and acting quite rationally. It's often quite difficult to tell whether she's awake or not- you can hold a conversation with her, and the next day she'll remember nothing of it. A few of the things she's done this year:

-Christmas eve, knowing we're going to grandma's the next day and taking the dog, she comes downstairs with the task of "sorting out the dog" ready to go. This involved over an hour sitting at the kitchen table, counting ever dog-poop bag she could find and sorting them by colour.

-Coming downstairs and watching whatever my brother and I have on TV, completely blank, and then going back to bed.

-Getting up, making (and drinking) a cup of tea, eating any biscuits in sight, and then going back to bed. (Think the Vicar of Dibley for this one, she's always waking up in the morning surrounded by biscuit wrappers and not knowing that she'd eaten them. This annoys her as she's on a diet.)

-(When I'm at university) Phoning me up, talking for over an hour about anything and everything, and then hanging up, forgetting the conversation, and calling me again the next night to tell me the same things again.

-I had to share a room with her this Christmas, and although she was asleep she managed to talk incessantly about Scrabble all night. My aunt said she could hear her through the door.

Mum reckons it's due to the medication she's on, so she's been going to the doctor to change it. Shame really, I'll miss it.
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:43, Reply)

My Mum is a palindrome
True story
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:40, 16 replies)

My Mum is a deeply religious lady (but open-minded with it - to a certain degree)
When I was a little lad, my mum always responded to my endless curiosity about the world by providing me with facts and science and evidence and all the rest.

"My ghost-trap has triggered! I found a ghost!"
"Maybe, or did the wind just make it go off? Which is more likely?"
"I suppose it was probably the wind."

Strangely, as a result of this, she seemed surprised to have ended up with a son who at the age of about six said "I don't believe in god because he doesn't agree with evolution", and has been resolutely atheist ever since...
(theremin put the lotion in the basket on, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:39, Reply)

Guilt trip
My mums just like most mums except she has a degree in psychology and is now a barrister type law person or suchlike. She stands up in court and yells at naughty people.

This means she uses her mental trickery, like derren brown, to make me feel guilty for someone trivial thing I've done then mind fucks me into doing housework and over bullshit.

And worse than all of that she hasn't once stood up in court and said " You want the truth. YOU can't handle the truth."

Utter bitch

edit: I love you really. Don't put me in prison
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:38, Reply)

I have to support my mother financially.
But I can't tell any of my family.
I'm keeping mum.
( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:37, Reply)

1st!!!!!
My Mum said I was first with the "My mum said I was first" joke. So fuck you. Fuck you all. It's my internet and I'm going home and mummy will kiss it all b3ta.

Mummy says I make the best puns.
( Sextant goes to him is emotionally erect, on this day, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:36, Reply)

My mum...
once went to McDonalds and asked for a chicken McFlurry. God love her.
(angussteaksahoy, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:33, 2 replies)

Mums.....
Well what can I say about my mum, other than the fact she was as mad as a box of frogs (no really)....

Spent most of my younger life in an out of foster care because she was normally in a lockup mental ward (no really)....

Apologies for lack of funnies so early on. (I'm guessing I'll sit the rest of this one out).
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:31, 1 reply)

My mum said I'm first
so ha!
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:30, Reply)

Your mum

(McChinaman banned, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:30, 2 replies)

Your mum.
Seriously - your mum, mate - your mum.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:29, 1 reply)

6th? 7th!
Yay for my mum.
(betty swollocks, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:28, Reply)

Spoilt Brat pearoast
My attempt to act spoilt:

"Mum, I want that." *points to some toy or other*

"That's how you ask for things now is it?"

"Ok, can I have that then?"

"I still didn't hear a please."

*tuts* "Please can I have that?"

"Yes, you can have it for your birthday."

"Buuuuut, that's not for aaaages, I want it now."

"Well, Christmas is before your birthday, you can wait till then."

"Only just. I don't want to wait."

"Then buy it yourself."

"Pffft, I can't afford it."

"Then you'll have to wait."

"I don't want to wait. Buy it for me. Now."

"Talk to me like that again and you'll get nothing but a slap."

*talks to her like that again*

*gets nothing but a slap*

*doesn't talk to her like that again*
( Moey, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:28, 2 replies)

My Mum's madder than your Mum....
My Mother had, alas, a mother of her own. One who had no truck with any of this new fangled science learning malarky and instructed her children and grandchildren very firmly in what was, and was not proper truth.

Delights such as:-
"drinking Coffee when you were pregnant, that's what's made your boy a redhead. I told you..."
"So long as you can see a green light it's safe to cross, any green light will do, you don't have to wait for the closest one"
"I won't be havin' with that electric in my house. What if it all leaks out in the night ?"
"There's no such thing as an accident, everything happens with a purpose"

and the one that affected our lives most of all..

"A mother always knows when her children are hurt. She just knows..."

So, with that in mind, wind your memories back to the mid 70's.
The young Duke is just starting his career in the cut and thrust business of climbing trees, running around like a nutter and hiding in bushes from whoever was playing "the baddies" that day.
The inevitable occurs, a trip, a fall, a tumble, and a knee full of grit, dirt and gravel.
But the young Duke is British, he keeps a stiff upper lip and limps home leaking gently. There to wash his sore knee under the garden tap with a view to carefully getting the grit out.

Enter Mother, five foot six of narrow eyed, dyed blonde, barely repressed furious anger* uttering screams of "What on earth posessed you to so something so STUPID! What kind of idiot are you!!!" and I'm left feeling, well, pretty shit to be honest, apparently falling over and hurting myself means I'm an idiot.
She storms off, and returns bearing a potato peeler. With which she proceeds to dig the gravel out of my flesh with no regard to my screams of agony and every evidence of satisfaction at a job being done properly.
By now I'm howling and crying like a frenchman and mother is looking at me with an expression of shock and disgust.
"What the bloody hell are you crying for ?" she asks, genuinely puzzled.
"It hurts!", I reply, genuinely in blood soaked agony.
"No it doesn't", she says dismissivly. "If it hurt, I'd know. Stop being such a baby." whereupon she continues to dig chunks out of my knee with a serene smile on her lightly blood spattered face...


*And that was on a good day, on a bad day she barely reached five foot and was incandescent with rage.
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:26, 1 reply)

5th?
Shameless pearoast from the stupid dares QOTW.

This story happened in the mid eighties when Blue was a lot littler than he is now. Littler and a lot more daring…

Little Blue was the proud owner of a Raleigh Boxer and regularly went on bike rides all around the housing estate he lived on at the time. Now during the period of this little escapade, a new phase of the estate was being built to cater to an ever increasing housing need. This meant lots of new play areas for a young adventurer to explore: lots of half built houses to hide in, building materials to play with and lots of beer bottles left by the builders to smash. What more could a young scamp ask for.

Well, on the day in question, Blue was riding his bike with a couple of “big boys” and they hatched a plan: they would borrow some bricks and a plank of wood and set up a ramp they could jump their bikes off. Now Blue wasn’t too sure about this, but the big boys said that it would be fun!!

Now little Blue enjoyed having fun, so he agreed… The three little rascals, using ninja skills, crept into the building site and set about assembling their daredevil stunt.
In a matter of minutes, the wood and bricks were found and the ramp was assembled. From Blues eyes the ramp looked 100 metres high and he was a little bit scared. The big boys just laughed and rode off to get their run up. The first big boy went and managed to land with a big grin on his face. The second big boy followed shortly after and did the same.
Little Blue was more than a little worried by this point. His shiny Raleigh Boxer and he had been through a lot and he didn’t want to damage it. He was all but ready to go home for some well earned lunch without jumping the ramp when the words that will forever ring in his mind were shouted: “I dare you!”

Now, never one to back down from a dare, Blue had to do it. He wheeled his bike to the end of the road to give him enough of a run up to clear the jump. Got on his trusty bike and got ready to be the daredevil everyone knew him to be. He pedalled faster and faster, with the wind rushing past his ears. As the ramp got closer and closer a little voice in the back of little Blue’s head started to be heard: “You’re not going to clear it. Stop before it’s too late!” Little Blue tried to ignore the voice and got closer and closer to the ramp. The voice got louder and louder.

The front wheel of the Boxer hit the front of the ramp. But by this time the voice became deafening.

Little Blue being slightly less aware of Newton’s Second Law of Motion and momentum applied his brakes slightly too late. So late in fact that the front wheel of the Boxer was already sitting in mid air. The rapid drop in speed, however, did mean that this wheel headed towards the earth rather more quickly than was intended. The front wheel hit the ground, eventually, causing Little Blue to momentarily become airborne sans bike.

Forever the optimist, Little Blue started praying for a soft landing. However this was not to be: the beer bottles the young rapscallion enjoyed breaking so much came back to haunt him…

A pile of broken glass that had been created on a previous occasion loomed large in Little Blue’s vision. It was getting much more than comfortably close: the word “faceplant” still haunts Blue’s dreams.

As he picked himself up, Little Blue noticed something was amiss: a warm red liquid was pouring out of most of the side of his face that had met the pavement and glass first. This wouldn’t do! Little Blue knew just what to do: howl like a baby and go home to mummy Blue, she’d be able to make it all better.

He picked up his trusty, no longer quite so shiny, bike and started limping towards home. While he was heading home, something missing became apparent: there seemed to be a bit more space in his mouth than barely 30 minutes earlier. This was the last straw; not only was blood pouring out of his head, but he was now missing a tooth that was worth money to a young chap like him. The going rate from the Tooth Fairy was enough to buy loads of goodies and sweeties.

Bawling his eyes out, Little Blue stumbled up to the front door of his house. Mummy Blue heard his cries and rapidly took things in hand. Plenty of warm water, soothing words and the removal of another, very wobbly tooth later, things started to be right with the world again.

The big boys turned up later on, after mummy Blue had cleaned up most of the battle wounds, missing tooth in hand. Hurrah, not a total loss after all: a little more money could be made from the Tooth Fairy thought Little Blue.
A great sense of timing had always been one of Little Blues gifts: the stunt just so happened to be the week before the dreaded class photo. Strangely enough Mummy Blue decided that she didn’t need a copy of that particular year’s classmates. It also happened to be the week before Blue’s first and as it turned out, last catalogue photo shoot for a local shopping chain. A modelling career finished before it ever began.

I have recently retold this story to my sister who remembered things a little bit differently towards the end, whereby the soothing words from mummy dearest weren't in fact soothing but were: "Don't you dare get blood on the new carpet and wallpaper."

I miss my mum.
(Blue_in_Exile, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:25, Reply)

4th?
never!
( mr horrible up yours, dickface, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:24, Reply)

third?
really?
( Alfred Pimble uninspired since, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:23, Reply)

Fucksocks!
Story to follow...
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:22, 1 reply)

Woo
My Mum is great and has overcome many many challenges that life has thrown at her.

I just wish I could "upgrade" to a version of Mum that doesn't repeat "becareful of..." all the time. Minor point really and probably a common Mum trait, doesn't exist in Dads I reckon.

Edit: - Woo, Yay, Houpla and maybe Panowie....
( b3tz, Thu 11 Feb 2010, 13:22, 1 reply)