teenage years
I had a sister who was two years older than me; when she was about 16, she a) told me that I was a useless cunt who should kill himself, and b) got herself knocked up by a surfer dude, left school and ran away. I don't know which order that happened in, but she effectively gave up the right to call me her brother.

She has been in contact in the last few years and clearly has no recollection of (a) above, and probably thinks I'm weird for wanting nothing to do with her. I do not accept a biological relationship as implying that I have an obligation to deal with such a person. I would normally avoid.
( bnt what, me worry?, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 19:56, 6 replies)

My Sister is an angel
I love my sister so much and right now she is poorly. I am worried about her because she is poorly with complications following an operation recently. If anything ever happened to her, I would be devastated. We have stood by each other for all of our lives, surviving our Mothers bizarre mental health problems together.

Our brother disowned us last summer. Family means nothing when you have a new wife with a normal family it would seem. My brothers wife is not TS, does not suffer with depression, has never self harmed and has never raised her own siblings because her Mother has tried to kill herself.

My sister and I are strong, but slightly damaged, as my gorgeous lady wife can testify about me easily. Yet we will always have each other, she is more than my sister, she is my best friend. Who needs a dick head brother with a chip on his shoulder?
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 19:34, 1 reply)

Secret Boy
I have one younger brother. In many ways he is very similar to me and we get on extremely well- in fact we had given up on random fraternal violence by about the age of six and four respectively. We differ in one interesting respect though.

My brother is Secret Boy.

This manifests itself in a complete inability to divulge useful information about himself. It isn't malicious as such, just a combination of absent mindedness and a belief it isn't really important. As an example the nature of his job was a mystery until comparatively recently and even then it came as a surprise the last time I was up to see him to find that far from working for a particular group of a local legal services commission, he does in fact run it. Other highlights include, a fling with an ex girlfriend of mine mentioned here ( www.b3ta.com/questions/pleasereleaseme/post168557) and this Christmas arriving at my parents and only mentioning at that point that he was off to Spain shortly after Christmas with a girlfriend we had no inkling of until then. It could of course be front and he's Jason Bourne but I prefer to think of him as being a bit out of touch.

He's ace though and I wouldn't swap him.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 19:30, Reply)

My big sister
The things she's got involved in, you could write a book on her
(Lolitaslittlesister, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 19:18, 2 replies)

I am the eldest of three
I have a younger brother and sister. I could have had an elder sister, but she died aged 18 months following an accidental overdose, having managed to climb up to the medicine cupboard and help herself to what she thought were brightly coloured sweets. These were the days before childproof bottles :(

I differ from my siblings in that I don't have kids of my own, although I adore my nieces and nephew. However, my youngest niece (my brother's daughter) causes me concern and for that I could cheerfully clock my bro across the head with a blunt instrument at times.

My bro is an easygoing person and tends to not make a fuss of things in order to not upset the apple cart. He split up with his daughter's mother a few years ago after she became unable to keep her legs shut anytime she went out; however, she retained custody of their daughter. Which, for my niece, was probably the worst thing that could ever have happened. She is a beautiful little thing, but has seen things that a 6 year old really shouldn't, including her mother passed out on the stairs completely hammered. Her mother doesn't give a toss about her at all, rarely puts her in clean clothes, and recently ignored a letter about her precious daughter's rapidly deteriorating eyesight. There is more, but it would take ages to write. In short, her mother is a self absorbed fuckwit who only cares about where her next drink is coming from and how much money she can fleece from my brother on the pretext that their daughter needs money for school dinners, or new clothes, but in reality she needs it so she can go and sit in a local nightclub waiting for the next mug to come by.

What is happening to the poor kid is, quite frankly, serious neglect, and it worries me. On a recent visit to the family, my brother's very lovely girlfiend raised the issue. She, my sister, dad, and myself, were all agreed that my bro needs to do something before it's too late - he really should have custody; otherwise the kid is going to end up severely fucked up in a very short space of time. If he takes action now, it could save a lot of heartache in the future.

Unfortunately he took this to mean we were having a pop at him, rather than trying to help. He dotes on his daughter, and she loves him to bits, but he can't seem to admit what is happening to her.

I'm going to go back up in the New Year and try to talk some sense into him. His girlfriend isn't working at the moment and would love to be able to care for her while he's at work. My sister would help with childcare; I would even chuck a few quid a month their way to help out financially (being a 100 mile round trip away means that helping out in other ways is a bit impractical).

I hope he listens to me. Because if he doesn't, I feel I may have to take drastic action and get the authorities involved. he's my brother, and love him dearly, but he's responsible for his daughter and she should be his number one priority. I'm prepared to put my relationship with my brother on the line for the sake of his daughter being where she should be.

I hope he listens.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Sat 27 Dec 2008, 18:43, 7 replies)

I am
The oldest child of three children, I have 2 younger sisters. We get along now ok but we do have confrontations now and then when I'm back at home (e.g at christmas time...)

When I was about 13, sister A comes to me telling me that the computer's broken. It had got a blue screen and wouldn't do anything.
I convinced her (who was 8 at the time) that getting the blue screen on a computer meant that she had broken the computer and caused the millenium bug that everyone had been taking about...Dad wasn't pleased.

I convinced the same sister about 4 years later that when she accidentally put the IE Icon in the recycle bin that she'd deleted the internet.

At age 15, I wrote DRINK with lipstick in big letters across sister B's pretend makeup doll(one of those big plastic heads which you put makeup on to practice.) I got a few smacks and was told to wash it off, which took a while even with soap...

However it's not all one sided, sister B took all my 'Where's Wally' books (which I used to love) when she was about 6 and practiced writing her name hundreds of times in them.

Sister A and B occasionally used to gang up on me and convince Mum that it was me who had hit them, broken one of their toys (so they could get a new one) etc

I'm sure there's loads more stories but they're the ones that stick out in my mind :-)

In any event, they want me to buy booze for them now so they've got to be nice to me.

I suppose all in all, we're normal siblings and have all turned out ok, can definitely say that being the eldest is by far the best- can arse around then run away to uni by the time they are old enough to have REAL revenge.

Unless they hold grudges for a loooong time...
(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 17:47, 3 replies)

Every family has one
My sisters and brother are all splendid people, but my husband's sister. . .well. . .to put it nicely, she's a chav. How she and my husband came from the same family boggles the mind.

Three kids supported with government money (intentionally, mind; she had 2 and 3 because 'the government will pay for them!'), a series of creepy and pathetic boyfriends, no ambition, no job skills, no personality at all. Fortunately, she lives very far away and it's easy to forget entirely that she even exists. One the rare occasion that we are forced to put up with her, she inevitably does something for which her brother will feel obligated to apologise to everyone, usually repeatedly. I feel sorry for her kids, but not for her -- for the mess she's made of her kids' lives, she deserves every hardship that comes her way and then some.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 16:28, Reply)

My sister and the Roses
My sister and I both love Cadbury's Roses. We both have the same favourite: the strawberry cream; and the same least favourite: the coffee cream.

They've changed the shapes now, but in years gone by, you will remember that both of these chocolates were exactly the same shape: a dome. The only way to tell them apart was by their wrappers. The strawberries were pink, and the coffees were brown.

You can probably guess what's coming - but the thing I'm most proud of is that I managed to pull off the same trick, year in, year out, for about 6 years in a row. I would take a strawberry cream and unwrap it very carefully, so the foil wrapper did not tear. I would eat the chocolate, and then unwrap a coffee cream. Then I would proceed to very carefully wrap the coffee cream in the strawberry cream's wrapper, so that it would be indistinguishable from the real thing.

Getting my sister to eat the first one, the first year, was easy: I just offered it to her. The look on her face as the taste developed was priceless.

Subsequently, I have taken to leaving the fake chocolate in the tin - sitting at the top, in the middle. Since it's her favourite chocolate, there's a good chance that she will reach for it next.

Every year she falls for it :)
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 16:28, 3 replies)

yay my question!
actually my original question was about conning siblings.
i used to buy pound coins off my brother for any assortment of coins with a lesser value, him thinking that because he had more coins he had more money. dont worry i'll pay him back before i go to hell.

i was the middle of 3, and got picked on by both of them it was horrible. and my parents never stuck up for me. :(


i actually get on quite well with my brothers now, its quite pleasant
(suboftheday, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 13:09, Reply)

My Half-Brother
My half-brother was the nicest kid in the world. I was three years older than he was, and he was everything I wasn’t. I was loud, obnoxious, rambunctious, fighty, prone to flinging rocks and bullying the crap out of people. A series of events in my early childhood had forced me to grow up real fast, so I took no crap.
It broke my heart to see him or my later sister cry, so I would hunt down and kick the crap out of the kids who had hurt him. Word gets around, but my parents moved around a bit, so about once every two years or so I’d have to hoist some arrogant little fucker in the air by his collarbones and slam the back of his head into a wall, because he had punched my brother or something similar.
My sister could handle herself, for she was usually smart enough to recognize and avoid bad situations. My brother assumed everyone was a wonderful person, and I assumed every situation was bad. I still watched over them both, though, and helped them with homework and answered their questions about life in general.
I had no idea that roughly half the beatings I received from my parents were because he had done something and blamed it on me. I just assumed they were hateful and malicious and crazed and thoroughly stressed out. I would tell them I didn’t know who had broken/damaged/stolen x, and they would beat the y out of me. Anyway, I had no idea.
I even involved my bro in my musical pursuits, and he studied with such diligence that he soon became one of the best drummers I had ever heard. He could reproduce, note for note, the extended version of “Moby Dick” from Led Zeppelin’s “The Song Remains the Same.”, and just about anything from just about any professional drummer. As a guitarist, I turned out to be a pretty good bassist, guitar necks being too narrow for my fingers to pick the strings out properly – so we just rocked, for years.
Both he and my sister seemed totally in control of their lives, which was all I could have hoped for. Due to my own ignorance, college was not an option at the time. Instead of living another year with my crazed family, I told my brother and sister to watch out for each other, as I was going to join the military. They swore they would, and I left them in each other’s capable hands, so I thought…
Except my brother, in my absence, had become even more brutal and violent than I had ever thought myself capable of. He was kicked out of the martial arts school our family attended for violence, had assaulted his girlfriend with sticks and threatened to stab her on more than one occasion, stopped drumming and took up alcohol. He managed to keep his grades good enough to win a scholarship to an arts college, and failed out his first semester because he didn’t “feel that the non-musical classes were necessary”.
The college administration finally contacted my parents, and told them that he could start again the next year with a new scholarship, as they still felt that he was brilliant. My parents found that he had knocked up some fat nasty skank, had gotten married, and was living under a van in front of his new wife’s parents’ house. Tears and tribulations ensue, and cut scene.
My father felt at the time that I was responsible somehow for this mess, and tried on a few occasions to hit me up for money to support my waste of genetic material brother and his chavvy slapper of a wife. I laughed at him many times for that – I was stationed 3000 miles from them and in no mood to be charitable to a fuckwit that had thrown his future away, and told him so. My mom told me that my brother used to call me “the bourgeois fascist” during this time, so I had no inclination to give a shit, especially as I had letters from my sister, herself now in college, which delineated the crazy shit that he had perpetrated – the violence, the sabotage, the theft and appropriation of items, and how my father was about to give my brother his prized vehicle - a mint 79 Ford LTD– “cause my new grandkids need a safe ride.”
My sister strongly protested this, and after a long phone call, in which my sister and I sat down and put all the pieces of the story together, both her and I laid out all the stuff we knew and had heard, and sent it to my Mom, who immediately freaked and threw my brother and his bitch wife out on the street. It seemed that my brother had been getting very friendly with my mother’s ex-husband; a person that my brother mistakenly thought was his real father. He had been feeding him information for a little while – including my whereabouts.

It was at this point that I made it very clear to my brother that I would in fact kill him and his so-called father if I ever heard from either of them.

That was eight years ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. My sister moves out to join me and my friends and family out in the Wild West in a few months. She turned out just fine, and I survived, but as far as either of us is concerned, we each only have one sibling. Once she is out here, I am perfectly fine with watching the hurricanes line up to have a go at a long-neglected section of the Eastern Seaboard. Some simultaneous earthquakes wouldn’t be unwelcome there, either – just sayin’.

Family is who you make it – and I hope you spent Christmas like I did; in the company of people that are actually worth a damn. If not, why not? Trust me, it’s a lot more pleasant.


Apologies for length, girth, smell, etc.
(aeon chicken Like the Millenium Falcon, only slower and noisier, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 10:51, 3 replies)

my older brother
ate his twin during the pregnancy. we're all waiting for a tumour to appear on hisperson, with teeth and hair in it.
i am sure, however, that it wasn't a deliberate act.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 10:04, 2 replies)

my brother Xeno
was supposedly coming over for Christmas. I rang him up:

"Where are you man?"

"I'm halfway there."

"You said that last time."
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 5:32, 5 replies)

My brother and me
had a terrible argument over the merits of Guns 'n' Roses' song 'Civil War'.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 5:28, 1 reply)

two generations of sibling misunderstandings
My mum hit her brother over the head with a brown paper bag full of tiles during a heated debate, and split his head open. She didn't know they were tiles.

He got her back later that year when she sat on an ant-hill and was covered in the irritating little bastards. Then her little brother ran to the rescue, hitting her with sticks to remove the ants, as she ran screaming all the way home.

Together the two of them pulled the feathers off the bottom of my grandmother's ballroom dancing frock. Once they drank a bottle of advocat that was in the bottom of the same wardrobe as the dress. My mum opened the bottle, my uncle finished it off and left it empty on its side. When it was discovered they both blamed eachother, my grandmother to this day does not know who drank it, despite the fact that my uncle bought her a bottle of advocat for Christmas. The theft took place about forty years ago now, and my old, blind grandmother asked me if I had had the drink last year, believing me to be my mother.

I blew out the candle on my brother's first birthday cake. He still doesn't believe that I was trying to help. I was two.

I told John (kid brother) there was no such thing as Santa when he was three and a half. I was a rather matter-of-fact five-year-old and didn't think he should be lied to on such an important matter.

He still tells people I am a horrible person. I was really trying to help :(

When he was four John suffered injury at the hands of our friend, the girl next door. She was about eight at the time. We had been playing and Rachael had picked my brother up by the ankles and spun him around, before falling over and smacking him face-first into a wall.

I was very small for my age (I had been very ill, but recovered after three years of not being able to process food - won't go into detail unless a QOTW about poo comes up.) When Mum took the wee fella to the A&E we were nearly taken into care. The doctors and nurses and social workers asked us questions about our daddy and our mummy and if they ever got cross, and what we had had for dinner that day, completely ignoring our horrified mother.

She explained that we had been playing with the little girl next door, but they didn't believe her.

Until John interjected with some feeling,
"She (TGND) is not a little girl, she is a big, clumsy, silly girl and she smells! My face hurts, can I have an ice lolly now please?"

I won't forget his little face, surrounded by slightly muddy blond bowl-cut hair, covered in grass stains and heavilly bruised, frowning because they hadn't given him the ice lolly they had promised to ease the swelling. He had no idea.
(herefromthere, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 4:47, Reply)

My little sister
is the town bike. Every worthless chav in town has fucked her. She's got two kids by different dads, both of them dismissed virtually straight after the first scan, and I'm embarrassed every time I visit the one-horse shithole where I used to live. She bums off my parents and is currently on bail on an assault charge, for the third time. My brother killed himself when he was 23. Thanks for asking and....Merry Christmas!
( routine has perfected burgers, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 1:30, 1 reply)

My sister...
... is very special.

I'm one of that strange breed of men who prefers the company of the opposite sex. I'm certainly not one of those "Hugh Hefner" types, I just seem to get on socially with women much more easily than I do with men.

All through my years of growing up I did have my younger brother, who is fantastic in (almost) every way. He's everything I'm not (artistic, good at sport, mentally stable (why is it it's always the younger sibling who manages all this?)) but I always felt I was missing out on something. Many of my friends had a sister, but I didn't.

It wasn't really a psychological or Freudian thing, more (as is often the way with kids) a "He's got a sister. How come he's got a sister and I haven't? I want one now!" kind of thing.

The answer came years later with Cathy. Cathy and I were pen-pals (she lives in Ireland most of the time) for years and years. We've been conversing for so long that neither of us can remember how we first started writing in the first place. I decided, one day, that I was going to "appoint" Cathy as my sister. And so I did.

We always refer to each other as brother and sister (sometimes, accidentally, in front of *real* family, which raises eyebrows!) and we do all the good things that siblings should, with none of the fighting and arguments (well.. most of the time!)

It's even got to the stage where I'm so sick of explaining the whole situation to people ("Well, she's my sister, but she isn't. You see, it's like this....") that I don't bother any more. Anyone who's met me in the last couple of years thinks she really is related (some have even commented on a family likeness).

So, if you're one of those only-children sitting in front of the keyboard, unable to contribute this week, here's your answer...
(mellotron never could get the hang of Thursdays, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 1:08, 2 replies)

once upon a time..
I have a sister 6 years my elder. As of now we get on rather wonderfully but back in the bleak past it wasn't such a wonderful time.

My sisters always proclaims I had a massive bar of chocolate and being the young spoilt little shit rag that I was (am) and despite the fact she always shared stuff with me.. I was refusing to give her any of the chocolate. My mother at this point called me inside from the garden and off I trotted leaving my chocolate outside. Hannah, my sister, took this opportunity to scoff the lot of it. Now at this time Copper, our dog, had a stomach virus. A virus that made his anus release brown liquids rather than solids. Hannah scraped up his liquidy shit on to the wrapper and placed it back where I had left it. Happy go lucky 4 year old me comes trotting back out into the garden to discover a brown puddle where his chocolate once was.
Dearest Hannah explains to me that my chocolate has melted in the sun and I believe her. I proceed to eat it. All of it. The bit my sister tells with relish is that once I'd finished it I came over to her and said,

"Hannah, melted chocolate doesn't taste as nice does it."

Fortunately the only thing I really remember about this incident was the aftermath. My faeces afterwards.. I produced a white and an orange shit. they're the sorts of memories you can cherish for ever.
( arrangedletters, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 23:48, 8 replies)

The mother of all wedgies
As a rather younger howling_mad (can't remember what age, memory loss is a bitch) and my younger brother being about 7 years younger than me. He had just found out what a wedgie was, I decided to show him what a real wedgie was, and did so but I didn't stop at just your standard fare one, I decided to go the whole hog and continued until I lifted him several feet off the ground entirely by his pants, I put him down after a few seconds, and he, being a fairly young younger brother at the time did what most young kids would've done in that situation, started crying, so did I (as far as I can remember) but for the completely opposite reason :)

Evil little bugger wasn't I?

I don't think he actually remembers the incident today.
(Howling_Mad Gave God the finger on:, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 23:42, 1 reply)

Siblings..
i pushed all of mine out of the nest and kept mummie to myself...

cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo !
(artesia if a badger crawled out my arse, i'd call it jesus, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 23:24, 2 replies)

My stupid (step) brother
is in Afghanistan. He was working in some stupid shop, had some stupid relationship, the army promised lots of money.
It scares me to think that he is in charge of weapons, and encouraged to shoot.
More than the deaths, I worry about the people that will return.
(Popiella Jones, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 22:59, Reply)

I have a little brother
Who is rarely called for in his given name, but mainly in the nicknames I have bestowed upon him over the years. Nicknames such as Tinkerbell. I also introduce him to people as a 'practising homosexual', even though he is completely straight.

As a big sister, I see it as my duty to ensure he is generally teased at all opportunites, and I am still extremely proud of the wind up that happened a few years ago. Now when Little Brother was a tiny baby, he had a hernia removed leaving a small scar. As it happened when he was tiny, he doesn't remember anything about it, and one day he came to me and asked about the small scar, which is above his 'pubic area'. 'Ahhh', I replied, 'I don't think I should be the one to tell you. This is something you need to talk about with the Mother'. 'No, tell me' he asked. This went on for quite a while, until I finally 'gave in' and revealed the big truth. 'There were some, uh, abnormalities when you born', spoke I to the brother. 'Some parts that you were not meant to have. Ovaries in fact. Mum and Dad thought it was better you had them removed as a baby, then growing up that way.' His little face crumbled. 'What?!' he cried, before rushing off and hiding in his room for a while. When he reappeared, he was still quite upset so I ended up telling him the truth about his hernia scar. The look of relief on his face was beautiful.

Best wind-up ever.
(missc, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 22:13, 4 replies)

Once upon a time -
I was so young that my body was straight and skinny and flat like a young boy. But, I was always up for entertaining my brother and his friends. So, at the ripe age of 8, I stripped down to nothing and strutted down the stairs to a group of 13 year old boys and said, "What do you say to a naked Lady?". Needless to say I have never lived that one down. Not ever. Not in almost 40 years. Feck.
(The Lunatic Artist throws paint to the wind, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 21:43, 11 replies)

I am the youngest of five.
With that said, I got caught in the middle of a lot of battles. I have 2 brothers, 5 and 7 years old than me, and they would sometimes use me as a weapon. No, in the literal sense, really. They sometimes would use me like a sword, or as a human boulder, to throw back and forth at each other.

I also was used for various experiments. Like, "Hey get on my back while I do this flip off the diving board", or "get on his shoulders after he gets on my shoulders".

I sometimes wonder why I am a bit dense in the head, but then again, I have had it hit the floor more than once thanks to my older brothers.

But, I still love them (sort of).
(The Lunatic Artist throws paint to the wind, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 21:35, 1 reply)

My little bro.
We really didn't get on as teenagers. To the point where we didn't speak directly to each other unless we absolutely had to for a couple of years, even though we were both still living at my parents. One day he asked me about something (I can't remember what) and I said to him "What do you care? You don't even like me". His reply was "You're my sister and I love you, of course I care what happens to you". I was completely shocked and moved, and more than a little bit embarrassed that my younger brother was so much more mature than I was. It might not sound like much but considering how bad our relationship was at the time it was a pretty spectacular thing for him to say.

We get on brilliantly now and I'd always turn to him if I had any problems.
(Mary Mandolin still had it on, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 21:28, Reply)

Should my brother be sectioned?
This is long, probably unfunny and comes with an apology in advance for rambling on and on.

My brother is 31, I'm 36. He was an annoying little sod in the great tradition of younger siblings.

Some of the tricks he pulled included:

For years he would squeal (like a girl) and claim I was hitting him when I was across the room. He was finally caught aged about 11 and then it was realised he was a lying little toerag.

He wrote his own name on the wooden bannister and blamed me, when it was clearly his own scrawl.

He nicked stuff in the usual way, but went as far as to cut out labels from boxes of designer aftershave that were in my bin.

If ever I had a clear out, I'd put everything in a bag, tie it up and throw it away, but he'd retrieve the bag, have a good look through it, keep a few things and chuck the rest back in the bin- when I noticed he'd got my old crap I'd thrown out, he'd deny it and say I gave it to him.

I'm sure I wasn't perfect but he definitely got the better deal.

He's always been a bit of a loner; little confidence, no social skills and a real underachiever at school- opposite of me in most respects. My mother was the one who motivated him to get a job, go to college, even get his lazy arse out of bed in the morning.

A few years ago my parents split up and my mother did a disappearing act with a neighbour about 7 years older than me. My brother was lost without her. He had been saying for years that something was going on, but having been caught so many times telling porkies, neither my father or me took any notice.

Shortly after this he came out of the closet, and embarked on a campaign of meeting men via chatrooms, travelling far and wide on his dole money to meet them, get into a relationship then become all obsessive and get dumped.

He is, I think, both bi-polar and obsessive-compulsive. He can't let anything go, even the smallest thing must be done/seen/had/avenged. He has police records for sending emails, texts, making phone calls; he's been threatened with legal action by employers of one ex because he simply would not leave him alone. I'm pretty certain he's hacked email accounts or even PCs for information. When he was younger, perhaps 16 or so, he wrote to the local independent radio station and asked for some signed photos of the DJs- when he didn't receive a photo of every single one he wrote back to them, individually, and complained.

He hasn't worked for about 5 years- he was 'bullied' at work. At his last place a couple of gay blokes outed him and he never went back, he tried to sue them and ended up getting a few hundred quid and a watertight silencing agreement, which he took rather than fighting for justice- even though he had the backing of a union he joined. All he does now is roll up at the docs once every 6 months, say he's still depressed and all that, and gets another half a year worth of (my) tax free cash to top up his mobile. He could easily go to work but he chooses not to, sit at home all day texting and surfing, causing trouble for people online, and he gets away with it.

My girlfriend reported him to the police over some especially nasty things he sent her via text and email, and she was told, off the record, that several police forces around the country are just waiting for him to take it that little bit too far and he's in the nick. Seems that he knows just how far to take it to stay out of trouble.

He has cost me the trust of my father. He decided that my girlfriend was wrong about something minor- even though she wasn't. So he went on another email and text campaign against her, telling her she was bad for me, she didn't treat my daughter properly and that she would never be my daughter's mother. My girlfriend has no desire to be her mother, they're more than happy being "buddies" as they call it- and very very close ones at that.

This all happened last year, the evening before his 30th. We went to the pub, and I'd offered to take him for a few beers, in a brotherly kind of way. My father decided that he would take over and invite the family, friends, etc, which was a bit off as I'd already said we'd go for a few pints, but I let it go as his gesture was well meant. He asked if I was bringing my daughter and I said no, as it was a late night and there was a comedy act on- I knew it wouldn't be suitable for her.

He didn't say anything to me, as he can't ever say anything to anyone's face, but he sent my father a text. Father then text me to ask what I was playing at, and my brother had made it seem to my dad that my girlfriend had made me say no and it was all her idea, she was a bad person who didn't want my daughter around and so on, all untrue. I was simply being a responsible parent who didn't wish to subject his young daughter to a late evening probably of an adult nature.

We walked from the pub together, before I was aware of all this crap he'd told my father. As we went one way he went the other, and within about 30 seconds, I had a snotty text saying 'we need to talk', which is when all this became apparent.

Since then, I have had little to do with him. I went to the pub to see the family but had nothing to say to him or my father. My father used to come round for a cuppa a couple of times a week but since this, he's not set foot in my house. I've been to his 5 time- 3 birthdays and 2 Christmases.

My brother has been offered a place at a psychiatric assessment unit but refused because he would have been without his precious mobile and internet for a week. He clearly needs help to become a functional member of society and to get over his issues but he chooses to bury his head in the sand and live a life of denial.

Me? I am now at the past caring stage. I think that my relationship with my father is shot for good; there will never be any trust or respect again, and for that I blame my brother 100%. 99% of me hopes he lives a sad lonely life as punishment for the misery he's brought to me and so many other people along the way. 1% of me hopes he gets locked up for a spell, gets the help he needs, but only so he doesn't affect anyone else's life. I looked into stuff about getting him taken in against his will but it seems that will only happen if he becomes a serious danger to himself or others, whereas now he classed as a nuisance rather that a threat.

Apologies for length, seriousness, yawn factor, rambling on, going round in circles and lack of humour, but if anyone can offer advice on what to do with him, apart from shooting him or punching his lights out, I'm listening.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 20:59, 8 replies)

I can't tell you about my younger sis....
...cos she reads B3ta regularly.

If I ever put anything slightly derogatory about her character or part of her history on here she would quite literally kill me.

So instead I'll just post something that will irritate her completely instead. Something which she seems to think is the worst thing I could possibly post about her (even though it's not), something which bizarrely is always told to people she knows (not deliberately, and not always by me either).

When she was 2 she used to wear a grape-bowl on her head and march about like a soldier.

Way to rock the boards there Jeccy, very cutting edge stuff. I'd love to be able to post better stuff about her, but to be honest she's too good to deserve any of that and I love her to bits. I must be starting to get soft in me old age, someone call her a cunt for fuck's sake.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 20:49, 6 replies)

I have two brothers, one older and one younger
Older one is by 3 years. We've always got on pretty well, I think, although I suspect he probably found me quite annoying. I would hang around with him and his friends and sleep on his bedroom floor from time to time, but he's always been very patient with me.

Apparently, when I was very small, I would sit in the middle of his Brio track (small basic wooden railway, for anyone who doesn't know) and disassemble it. I think I was trying to help him, but he complained vociferously to our mum. We don't see each other half as much as we should, ever since he went to university, even though he now lives not that far from me.

My younger brother is younger than me by 7 years. I did not like the idea of a younger sibling one bit, as I enjoyed the attention far too much, so I was pretty cruel to him - fortunately I'm far too meek a person generally to have done anything too bad. We fought a fair bit, but he packed a pretty good punch for a little 'un so I'd often come off worse.

I did read to him and play with him a lot, so I'd like to think my intentions have always been mostly good. We get on much better since I moved out last year (I'm now 21 and he's 14) - mostly, I think, as he's now the only one left with my parents and he misses a younger presence in the house. We do still see each other a lot as I stop in there after work a few times a week.

I do, however, feel incredibly guilty that when learning to speak, he referred to his penis as his "ow", on account of the amount I used to punch/kick him in that area. I think I must've just figured out that's the best way to really hurt a boy - I now think I understand much better just how much that hurts and I feel terrible thinking about it. If he turns out to be infertile I will blame myself to the grave.
( useful_idiot, Fri 26 Dec 2008, 20:45, Reply)

Ah, another!
Ok, this time my younger sister did actually exercise some peculiar branch of ignorance.

She wanted to make her own stress ball, using flour and a balloon. She reasoned that the best was to get the flour in, would be to blow up the balloon, so that there would be space for the flour...and then POUR THE FLOUR IN.

I'm so glad I was there when she did this...

So she pours flour + loosens balloon neck...and gets the whole lot of it fountaining back up in her face.

Still makes me smile thinking back to that :)
( Extinct Jesus Dossier "...I think it counteracts Hitler's magic...", Fri 26 Dec 2008, 20:06, 2 replies)

My younger sister
is not exactly stupid, but she sometimes doesn't think before doing certain things...such as:

Round at my aunts house (our family often congregates there) around christmas, and we started playing a game where someone would pick a word from some strange dictionary, read the description and we would have to guess the word (my family are really OLD).

So the description was "a word describing a spanish lady", and my little sister pipes up with:

"...tart?"

I don't know if that was an innocent guess or not!
( Extinct Jesus Dossier "...I think it counteracts Hitler's magic...", Fri 26 Dec 2008, 20:02, 1 reply)