My maternal Grandmother...
A five foot nothing seething ball of barely repressed rage* was ancient enough to not only remember the days of the Raj, but mourn their passing on an almost daily basis.

Continually fuming that since her return to this Sceptered Isle she had no servants and thus had to make her own tea.

In 1976 she wrote asking her husband's old regiment to provide her with a house boy and was near terminally furious that they had, with some perplexity, utterly refused.
Especially since her letter specified that she wanted a decent well bred young indian boy, and would not settle for simply being assigned an english servant girl from the regiment staff as the girls today were disrespectful and lazy.


*I may have also described my mother similarly, quelle surprise
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 16:54, 10 replies)

I bet it's fun
At Jim Davidson's house around the dinner table on Christmas Day
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 16:39, 8 replies)

My mother-in-law*
Caused coffee to come out of my nose last time we visited. It turns out that in Brazil, the term "negro" is a common and entirely acceptable term for a person with darker skin. Unfortunately, in fast coloquial speech, this comes out sounding rather like it rhymes with "bigger"...

* who is a grandmother
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 16:26, Reply)

My grandfather loved ants.
He had accumulated a vast collection of ant farms. Every day he would go out looking for new species for his collection.
On one day he might find a red ant queen to start a new colony with, on another he would collect a smaller black wood ant queen. He would feed them with dead insects that he found around the house - woodlice, moths and such.
One day the red ants escaped from their farm and managed to get into the black ants farm. They took an immediate dislike to the black ants and killed them all.
My grandfather was so upset by this that he poured boiling water over the whole nest, in an effort to demonstrate to them that racist ants is futile.
(PR1CKBOT IS ONLINE, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 15:16, 4 replies)

This is not far from where I live....
www.theage.com.au/articles/2002/11/29/1038386312380.html
(M61A1 CUPID- STUNTS, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 14:56, 4 replies)

Amazing how racism is frowned upon...
Yet worldwide immigration policies, are very their very nature.. Racist.

If I owned a cafe, and noted a difference between the habits between Spanish People and English people who come in there. Spanish people will sit and only order 1 cup of coffee and spend hours there. Using table space, using resource. The British will sit and order 3 or 4 coffee and leave again pretty quickly. They are very good for business. Whereas the Spanish drag behind.
So if I decided to ban Spanish people from entering my cafe, in order to allow more British people in there who will spend more money. I would be deemed a racist. Probably get shut down by the authorities. Get my place burned down.

But this is the basic principle worldwide immigration policies are built upon. Generalisation based on where people are born. It does not matter that a British person might come in and not spend any money and use the resource. No no no that’s fine. But a Spanish person who wants to come in and spend lots of money and help the establishment would get turned away.

Call me ignorant, naive, if you like. But from what I see under all the legal bullcrap This is the basic principle.

World - You’re doing it wrong!
(Boom- Clicks on NSFW links at work., Wed 2 Nov 2011, 14:26, 45 replies)

My girlfriend's* Irish nan
I have an obviously islamic name (I rejected all that religion bollocks a long time ago) and I also happen to have more than a hint of the old mediterranean swarthiness about me. Beige skin, black hair, a bit beardy.

Upon being introduced to me, she enquired, "So are you a Protestant or a Catholic?".

Being in the house of an Irish grandmother, I merely diverted the conversation towards the subject of a lovely cup of tea, and all was swiftly forgotten.



*I was going through a straight phase, alright?
( admiral crunch holds the newsreader's nose squarely, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 14:23, 8 replies)

One time, my great grandad and some of his friends pulled a black man out of his car and beat him senseless.
This was sometime between the world wars.
The police did nothing about it. Apparently, in their view, it was the black man's fault for marrying a white woman.
Hope this helps.
(PERSONALITY HORSE Graham Tapes - free download album - coming soon, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 14:03, 5 replies)

My grandmother only ever buys white sugar.

(PR1CKBOT IS ONLINE, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 14:03, 1 reply)

Granddad's always banging on about the Germans & Japanese.
He needs to let it go. I try telling him but he just won't listen. I say granddad it's coming on for 25 years now and anyway, the Japanese had nothing to do with it, they just owned the tower and weren't involved with those terrorists.

On the other hand, he won't hear a bad word against Afro-Americans. He just smiles and tells us about how Argyle & Powell had always got his back.
( Pig Bodine., Wed 2 Nov 2011, 13:47, 1 reply)

Racist Mad Mary
I live in lovely Bath. Its lovely. I sometimes get the bus.

A regular passenger on Bath's no.7 bus is Racist Mad Mary. She resembles a bag lady who has let herself go a bit.

She regularly shouts abuse as foreign tourists from the bus as it crawls past. You know the kind of thing "feck off home you dirty [insert race] bastards" etc

This would not normally be amusing but Racist Mad Mary has the strongest Irish accent I have ever heard.
(sarcasminasuit, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 13:21, Reply)

My grandfather was a huge boil on a light beam.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 13:19, 2 replies)

My Grandfather
had an unbridled hatred of Formula 1...
(SonoraAeroClub "OH SWEET HELEN OF BALLS!", Wed 2 Nov 2011, 12:30, 2 replies)

The first time my brother saw a black man he rubbed him to see if it came off.
Not his penis. He rubbed his hand to see if the colour came off.
One day my brother may be a grandfather. So it counts.
(PERSONALITY HORSE Graham Tapes - free download album - coming soon, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 11:22, 1 reply)

My grandad said he loved black people
He said everyone should have one.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 11:01, Reply)

American dream in the Netherlands
My granddad wanted everything, but had nothing. So in order to get his American dream started in the Netherlands he had to find people he could use in order to get a real good life.
So he started to report jews to the nazi's.
What a bastard..but he sure was living his American dream during the war.
But Im very grateful that he was sexually active, so that I could play Nintendo in the future. It's like he knew what I wanted before I was even in the making.
(xtrasmal, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 9:37, 9 replies)

In Reverse

My father (along with several other people from Finland) moved to Sweden in the beginning of the 70's. Jobs in Finland were scarce, and many Swedish industrial plants were hiring like mad.

Well, after living in Sweden for maybe ten years, somebody asked him what he thought of Sweden.

"It's marvellous. A really beautiful and prosperous country. I've never used it, but I hear the social security system is great, and there's free health care for everyone. All in all, a great country... if it wasn't for all the Swedes."
(janik, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 8:15, Reply)

Is it racist to get fucking annoyed by white kids acting like 'stereotypical' black kids?
Or is that double-racism, or does it cancel itself out?
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 2:49, 17 replies)

All this /talk vs. QOTW is kind of racist.
People talking about segregating the boards, hating people because they post on one board more than another, calling /talk a bunch of cunts and calling qotw a bunch of lying cunts. It really does make one think.




That you all are a bunch of cunts and should get along peacefully.

Cunts.
(HirsuteGorilla, Wed 2 Nov 2011, 1:03, 17 replies)

And now for something completely different.
My mum killed a young black girl.
We were driving down a dirt road in Africa, not particularly fast on a clear, sunny day in the late 70's. My mum was straight, sane & sober. I was in the car, mum driving but I was a wee sprog and can't really remember much else. A young girl - probably about my age (7-8 from memory) stepped out from the overgrown bushes on the side of the road. My mum had no time, she put on the skids but it was no good. After a sickening thud we had slid to a halt.
Mum flew out of the car, the girl was on her own lying on the road - I remember her head was bleeding. Mum got her in the back of the car. We had shouted help as loud as we could, mum beeped the horn & I went into the bush to see if anyone else was about. She had been alone.
Mum fucking hammered it to get to a hospital - she got pulled over once we got to a main road & then we had a police escort. At the hospital they worked on her, but she had died either on the way or after arriving. The cops eventually found out who her family was - mum insisted on being there when they were told. The little girls name was Margaret, she was a year older than me at the time.
My mum was eventually charged with what I guess was the equivalent of accidental vehicular manslaughter. AFIK she didn't lose her licence, she didn't do time or anything. I think the court took into account her clean record, the fact that she had done all she could to save the little girls life & her clear sorrow, remorse and regret. Bear in mind this was a pretty much a completely 'black" judicial system, she was a white lady who had accidentally killed a young black girl. There was no need for them to be lenient if they had chosen not to be. I don't know exactly what punishment my mum received but I'm pretty sure it paled in comparison to the feeling of having taken a young child's life.
My mum got to know Margaret's family. They probably hated her but as her only way of appeasement she clothed and put thru school all 3 of Margaret's sisters. Even up to her death about 5 years ago when Margaret's youngest sister had finished uni in South Africa.
My daughter was about 2 when her grandmother died - so at least there is a grandparent in this tale. That and the fact that there is nothing casual about racism.
And no apologies for believing that. Ever.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Tue 1 Nov 2011, 23:10, 26 replies)

My Grandad
Was a lovely old bloke. No worse than many of his generation and probably better than most.
But, he did admit to not liking the Japanese. He didn't start foaming at the mouth, didn't refuse to buy Japanese goods, didn't expect me to feel the same way, he...just wasn't too keen on them.
Given that he'd been at Kohima I can't really blame him.
(Big D, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 22:55, 1 reply)

Interesting sheet music.
There are a few stories about my Grandmother and minor racist moments, for starters her and my Grandfather moved to South Africa for a while in the late fifties where they had a House boy and a Garden boy - pretty common place back then but I found it hard to get my young liberal mind around.

The first case of her mild racist outbursts was shopping in a local department store for my first ever secondary school uniform. Whilst my underdeveloped body was put in and out of multiple ill fitting blazers (the final one we purchased I never did grow into) she felt the need to talk about her own school uniform quite loudly to the Saturday girl who was helping my frustrated mother try and find clothes to fit her undersized child.

"I remember purchasing my first uniform..." She reminisced, the shop assistant feigned interest in the best way she could not quite expecting my grandmother to continue on with "It was Nigger Brown" I well never forget the look on that poor girl's face as she tried to work out what to say. Turns out that the name of the uniform was actually 'Nigger Brown'

Along with this I remember her insisting we watch Songs of Praise every Sunday and tutting at any black singer in the choir. She also told my dad repeatedly that "The African is inherently lazy."

The best thing though was when we had to clear out her home after Alzheimer's took hold. My parents had blocked out an entire weekend to clear out her house and work out what was worth keeping and in my dad's opinion there was only two things that were truly worth keeping - whilst digging through a pile of old sheet music by the piano he found some rather dubious looking music titled Ten Little Nigger Tunes and hidden underneath was "Twelve More Little Nigger Tunes."

And Blazing Saddles was right, it has The Camptown Races in it.
(DaftScrawl That's no moon, that's my mother!, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 22:33, 4 replies)

my dad was a telegraph reader, was a local business owner....
and a conservative with a small c. He was lovely, caring man; when he died, he had a humanitarian funeral which was pretty progressive of him - and asked that we would play "all that meat and no potatoes" by Fats Waller as his funeral march. He always thought that he was a forward thinking chap. He once proudly told me that his golf club had recently let an 'asian chap' join.

And he wasn't classist either - once telling me that they'd also admitted a plumber too!

Bless, he was so lovely, he no idea.
( camp freddy well, would you look at that!, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 22:21, 2 replies)

My dad was a right imperalist
Seemed to think every other race should subjugated to the empire. But then, he was Darth Vadar.
(McChinaman banned, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 21:30, Reply)

The Opposite of Racist
This is a bit of an odd question for me because of my grandparents.

My granddad was a prisoner of the Nazi's during the war, brought from the former Yugoslavia as slave labour and held in a camp. He managed to escape, walked across Europe and, once in Britain, joined the RAF to fight back. A hero of a man I never actually met.

My grandma was a bright British girl, who met my granddad, fell in love and married. Her entire family disowned her for marrying a "foreigner".

After the war, my granddad worked in a tyre re-moulding factory to support his family, and having been repeatedly passed over for promotion due to his "foreign" sounding name and Mediterranean good looks, started his own factory. He designed a new way of re-moulding tyres, which were so efficient that he put the his former employer out of business.

I'm telling this story, not because I want to demonstrate that idle racism is bad or ignorant, you're a twat if you don't think that anyway, or because, "Oh woe is me - my family was the victim of racism" but because he died when my dad was 12, I never got to meet him, but he still inspires me everyday.

And there's racism in the story fitting QOTW neatly.
(Jugular, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 21:19, 13 replies)

Casual Octogenarian Racism
My Nana (and my Mum for that matter) still enjoy regailing the anecdote of when my Nana was at the shoe shop back in the days when Mind Your Language was still on the telly, trying on a pair of black shoes. She asked the assistant if they had any in 'n***er brown'. Only to find, on looking at the assistant, that she was 'as black as the ace of spades.' Oh how we laugh, and uncomfortably shuffle our feet....
(All Hell's Breaking Loose Down at Little Kathy Wilson's Place, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 21:05, 2 replies)

We want solutions!
My late grandfather was not too racist for someone his age, but his solutions to some of the racial and cultural divides in the world were quite original.

His solution to the problems in Ireland was to "undo it's moorings, float it out into the Atlantic and sink it"

He also didn't like the French, going to the extreme measure of getting the ferry to Belgium and driving through Germany, Austria and Switzerland just to get to Italy without passing through France. His preferred way of dealing with the French was to "turn the whole country over and start again on the other side"

He should have been an ambassador rather than a gas man.
(wodon, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 16:57, 1 reply)

Can anyone tell me....
My Grandmother became quite peturbed that I hadn't yet introduced her to my new boyfriend (mainly cos she's nuts and we'd only been courting a few weeks so didn't want to scare him off). She was convinced that the reason for this was because he was black. Cue many tearful calls to my Mum telling her to not let me go out with a black man as she didn't want any 'Pickaninny' babies in the family.

Please forgive my naivety but I thought a baby pickaninny sounded quite sweet and something to be found on a kids TV show...I think I do want one.
(CarryOnKay, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 15:06, 16 replies)

My nan asked for "nigger-brown" gloves once.
True story.
This post is not too shabby, eh?
(PERSONALITY HORSE Graham Tapes - free download album - coming soon, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 13:25, 6 replies)

my grandad used to go about "The fucking English"
He was Herman Goring though
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Tue 1 Nov 2011, 12:44, 1 reply)