Mongspazz!
I have two sisters. I am the eldest. They have both never read a book in their lives unless it was required to pass an exam. They both can’t turn on a computer unassisted. They both have failed their driving tests seven times between them.

The youngest one doesn’t know which political party are in power at the moment in the UK. The middle one watches ‘ITV’.

My middle sister is a solicitor in London. My youngest sister is in her third year of medical school.

What a world we live in.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 17:01, 4 replies)

My youngest brother
.xls at school. The oldest one's already a .doc. But the other one's a pdf file.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 16:54, 6 replies)

Pissing little brother
My younger brother used to be too scared to go down the dark corridor at night to use the toilet so used to piss in a variety of things in his room, rendering them unusable. His castle grayskull was the first receptacle of choice, then a giant bag of lego which made all the pieces stick together. Once when we were coming back from france on the hovercraft, on a particularly choppy crossing, he went off to the toilet only to return ten minutes later covered in bruises and piss and bawling his eyes out. Poor bastard had been thrown round the cubicle like a pea in a tin whilst trying to piss. He now works for Bloomberg.
(Twenty Camels, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 16:51, 2 replies)

Pearoast toast
I am more of the email generation and wasn’t really down with the Facebook and Bebo thing until my mates pestered me to join Bebo.

So I join, and I hunt for people that I know etc. A few days later surfing around I thought I would look for some cousins and my sister.

I find a cousin, and I find my sister.

Now my sister is called ‘Jo’, and my cousin is called ‘Joe’. Both are obviously shortened versions of their real names of Joanne and Joseph. They have the same surnames as my cousin was from the paternal side.

So I click on ‘Jo’ and it is someone else, not my sister. Fine.

Then I click on ‘Joe’ and find my sisters face on the page. My brain didn’t process it for a minute, until I looked at the picture again. It was my sister, but she was wearing a suit and tie and some sort of wig or had done her hair up with an uncharacteristic side parting.

How very odd I think, but I reasoned that it must be some sort of fancy dress thing. Student japery. I request that we be friends and leave it at that. I also send a text message to her jokingly referring to her as ‘Joe’.

Five minutes later I get a phone call from my hysterical weeping sister begging me not to tell our parents.

“Eh? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Please don’t tell them I want to be a man!”

“……”

Christmas 2007 was interesting.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 16:49, Reply)

Pearoast time!
Back in the days before my parents divorced, my dad considered a 'great holiday' to consist of loading up our Ford Sierra estate and matching trailer full to bursting point with camping gear, clothes, my long-suffering mother and my brother and I.

I was about to turn eight; my brother would have been five.

After what may well have been days of driving down French motorways, my mum was looking forward to some proper amenities- anyone who has ever visited an old-school French motorway service station will be familiar with 'squatting' toilets. Those who aren't can probably guess the arrangement.

We finally arrived at the campsite, rendezvoused with my grandparents and set about settling in. My dad struggled with our massive tent, my mum went to wash some clothes at the facilities block and my brother and I acted like young children.

Soon, my brother approached my mum saying he needed the toilet. She pointed him in the direction of the gents, next to where she was washing the clothes. He disappeared inside and came out just a few seconds later.

"Mum, there's just a hole in the ground!"

"Oh no," thought my mum "we're going to have to squat for the whole blooming holiday. Fan-bloody-tastic."

"Just use it anyway, dear. It's just like the ones on the autoroute."

A few minutes pass, and my brother emerges from the block in tears, soaking wet.

He'd been peeing into the showers.

And he'd tried to flush.
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 16:31, 1 reply)

Brains in his underpants...
My brother left his supposedly alcoholic wife about four years ago. My sister took him in and he courted our sympathy for a while. Then, surprise surprise, within a matter of months there was someone new in his life. What he’d failed to remember was that he’d actually let this little known fact slip, when as brothers, we were having a consolatory drink on the eve of him leaving his family behind. Both I and my sister knew about the “other woman” although her identity was a mystery for a while. Being part of a large family the whole charade was played out, much to our regret with hindsight, as our other siblings and indeed our own mother were to be fooled for an indefinite period. From my sister’s, he moved back in with his mother, which for an executive senior manager was very embarrassing, with the comings and goings of a grandmother’s house. He eventually admitted he was going out on “dates” with a certain female and my mother was relieved when he moved out into rented accommodation, despite still being hoodwinked about the affair.

For me, things were just as awkward, as we both worked for the same company and the obvious topic of conversation always reverted to gossip about my brother’s domestic arrangements, despite all the efforts to conceal the truth. Due to the constant speculation he then revealed the identity of his new partner and it came as no surprise that she was also an employee of the firm, but rather ridiculously I was expected to say nothing about it? As a keeper of the world’s worst kept secret, I instantly found my everyday life totally compromised. At work it got a bit extreme, some colleagues became distrustful of me and I found myself having to deny obvious truths to my bosses. Family life was no better, as myself and my sister who had been confided in, were expected to toe-the-line as events unravelled.

His new partner was introduced at the next Christmas gathering, which again wasn’t pleasant because his two children were in attendance at the party. Apparently, although she later admitted to being buoyed-up on Dutch courage, someone made a disparaging remark within earshot of the debutant and things went rapidly downhill from there. At the time, I was already in the black books for eventually admitting the truth, which was also common knowledge at work. Bizarrely, my sister took the brunt of this uncollated episode, but only months later. An opportunity came up at work for an overseas posting and it appeared on the surface of things to be the answer to his prayers. From the company’s point of view, at least the subject of all the sniping would be out of sight and for the couple, it would excuse them from all the awkwardness of his impending divorce, or so they thought.

The following October I became aware that my sister was becoming very distressed and it soon became more than obvious where the trouble was coming from. One night whilst visiting her, she came off the phone in tears. My brother’s new partner was now accusing my sister’s husband of making the derogatory comments from the previous Christmas. Sadly this was not an isolated incident, it had been one of many malicious calls made on the same theme and at what appeared to be deliberately timed to cause the most upset. I was angered by this somewhat defenceless tirade of abuse, after all, why wait until you are in another country and then chose to attack the spouse of the alleged perpetrator (who still vehemently denies the charge to this day).

As you can imagine, it did nothing for cordial relations towards his new partner and it wasn’t long before we twigged her game in severing all previous ties with his immediate family. As for my brother, as the old saying goes “love is blind”.
(minky, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 12:17, 3 replies)

Pot Noodle, The Slag Of All Snacks
I have one sister. We get on like a house on fire, we have never argued, never fallen out and never been jealous of each other at any point during our lives. So first of all, I think I’m pretty lucky.

There is an eight year age gap, I’m 25 and she is 33, about three Christmases ago, she came to stay over at the Mom and Dads where I was still living at the time. Like most Christmases I get drunk ten days straight, fall back to the Mom and Dads and just eat all there food, use there electricity and generally have a free Christmas, not my idea, but, my adoring parents. Anyway, this particular year I went out on the 22nd I think, got major drunk, decided my salt, sugar and E number intake for the day had not been achieved so stopped off at the 24 hour garage to get me a Pot Noodle. Now, at this point in time, Pot Noodle were running the slogan, ‘Slag Of all snacks,’ Great slogan I hear you cry, except this night, it wasn’t a particular good one for me.

I stumble in drunk out my face, I mean, I’m making a late Oliver Reed look sober. I boil that bad bot kettle up and squeeze evry inch of that Woucester source goodness into my Pot Noodle. The next thing I can remember was waking up, in bed, naked, Pot Noodle juice all over my chest, bed and most embarrassingly genitalia, with the pot somewhere by my face and the fork somewhere in my hand. I look up, at to my eternal shame my sister is holding my shoulder, she just muttered the phrase, So Brother, is Pot Noodle really the ‘Slag of all snacks’

I was fucking mortified.

Sorry this wasn’t a brilliantly fitting story about a sibling but hope it made you smile, because it still makes me feel slightly sick.
(Sir_Digby_Chicken_Caeser [email protected], Sun 28 Dec 2008, 11:57, 4 replies)

Mine's not a funny story but...
Just a musing on the weird way my family turned out.

My father had two children from his previous marriage who live overseas (near most of you b3tans). They're roughly 15 years older than me, and my father moved to New Zealand after having them. Once I was old enough to realise the photo of the girl my age in the garage wasn't my Dad's "girlfriend" (? I was young and confused) but his other daughter, I realised that I had siblings...well, half siblings, but I'd wanted so badly to have siblings that I could never negate them as "halves".

My sister had only met me when I was a baby, but unfortunately, wanted nothing to do with me. Minus one much-treasured birthday card. She blames me for my father abandoning her in her youth, which...well, sucks. I'm not saying my life sucks, but I don't think my life involves quite the perfect family life she imagines, seeing my Dad moved a few hours away. My Dad arranged for us to webchat once, but she didn't show up. That was that. Moving on.

My brother is awesome. He's a bit of a "loveable rogue", as my Dad likes to describe him, but he came down to stay once for a couple of months, and was a perfect big brother. (Despite the fact that he stole thousands off his ex-girlfriends and my Dad's girlfriend, but that never affected me, so he's still perfect in my eyes. The fact that he actually GAVE me $20 once inspired my Dad to tell me that he must really have a soft spot for me. Nevermind that he probably nicked the $20 from Dad beforehand.) He hasn't been back since, and that was 13 years ago, despite promises every year that he will. But still, I'm proud to say I have a brother.

Then, when I was 16...my Dad was chatting to me on MSN Messenger. He launched into how I had another sister that I'd never been told about, this time on my Mum's side and around the same age as my other siblings. She had adopted her out, never told anyone in her family, but they had kept in touch. Supposedly I knew her. He gave me her name, but I had no idea who he meant.

I was called to dinner then, and returned afterward to finish the conversation. Dad had her name wrong. I figured out who she was - she was a family friend who I had played violin at the wedding of when I was a kid, as I had been demoted from position of flower girl. I, now more than ever, was shocked and horrified that I had been demoted from flower girl for more DIRECT FAMILY.

The conditions of my knowing this information was not to let my Mum knew that I knew. 2 years later she broke down in tears and confessed to me that she had something to tell me. Before she said a word, I was like "Um, I know." "No you don't!" "Yes, I do actually."

(I know written down that none of this sounds that shocking, but I guess it was a little more emotional while actually happening.)

I'm still not allowed to tell any other relatives that she's my sister...which is my Mum's issues, not mine, as she doesn't want to deal with her gossipy family...but now we can hang out and drink together, which is cool. And considering she's dark skinned like my Mum, and I'm pale and blonde, we like to try and convince people we're sisters (which never EVER works). (Possibly because when I'm drunk I fake an American accent and pretend to be a tourist for some reason.) (I have issues.)

My Mum said it was funny, because I'd always asked when I was a kid "Are you sure I don't have a sister I don't know about?" and she'd always wondered how I knew...

I'm sure quite a few of you have a few half sisters/brothers lying around but that's my story about them...

I don't really expect anyone to have read all that, but it's quite nice to get the story all straight on paper...umm...on line!
(heartbreaker, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 11:52, Reply)

I have no siblings
but I do have brother and sisters-in-law.

However I know that my Brother-In-Law reads QOTW *waves* and will have many stories he can share; including the one where Mr Bin punched his brother so hard that he broke his nose, just for the toy in the cornflakes!
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sun 28 Dec 2008, 11:11, Reply)

I'm an only child but....
My wife's siblings are great. Her brother is generous to a fault if not a little scatterbrained and her sister is so hot it's untrue. After each visit the missus gets a measurably more energetic scuttling from me but she's never made the connection.

I never wanted siblings anyhow. Being an only child had it's plusses and minuses but on the whole, not sharing an inheritance is the kicker, right?
(Rhye, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 10:48, 2 replies)

I've already posted...
...quite a bit on my big brothers here, especially in the past few weeks. I became the last of three brothers a little over six weeks ago, y'see. If your hunger for sibling stories is still strong and you're okay with them not all being funny then check my previous posts.

If not, well, that's okay too. All the best B3TAns - here's to 2009.
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 9:53, Reply)

my brother has a few problems.
He's dyslexic, and he also has severe burns. Not only that, he's a paedophile.

He tried to have sex with an underage grill.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 8:31, 1 reply)

Is it weird
that i consider my dog Gus as a sibling? My ginger haired, knock kneed, big eared, bushy tailed brother from another mother. He was the weirdest, funniest, friendliest dog ever, I loved the way he used to randomly run round the house going mental and sliding about on the wood, the way he used to want to put on clothes (he was very gay), the way he he used to jump in the hot washing out of the drier, if we said 'tradition' he used to jump on the bed to be hugged, his paws smelt of popcorn, he used to whine and run into the front door whenever we said car ride or walkies, he was better at playing soccer the me and Shea my sis, he loved digging in sand til he got to the cool damp part and the he layed down in it, the way he would run from cats but would take on any dog, his arch enemy was the Liam the postman, he used to sit on the back of the couch like a cat, he would run away and come back very smelly and guilty, he was terrified of fireworks and used to hide in my wardrobe, he would howl if you started sing, he loved baths, he used to love sitting at the table, he would always steal the warm seat, he used to chase torch light, he would pee on anything in the backyard including stuff in the garage, if we told him he 'had to stay home' he would stand at the end of the hallway looking sad (we called it the RSPCA face), he knew what later meant, noone was allowed to touch his black nails and they used to drive everyone crazy tapping on the wood, he would always bark at the doorbell even if he saw you pushing it, he hated being tickled, loved playfighting, loved icecream and milk.......and knew if i had a glass it would end up being for him, he used to eat grass, chased flies but never caught them, he could get anything off mum...including fillet steak, he was scared of a piece of loose skirting near the oven, he never got angry and put up with so much from me and shea.He was the perfect little brother. He died last year from a bone disease and yes i mourned him more than i have for any other relative.
(gempeow, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 7:58, 2 replies)

Servitude
During a trip to the store I found a small bunch of silk violets on the floor. Being 4 I figured finders keepers despite the fact that I had found them in the aisle where the silk flowers and dried grasses and craft crap was kept. Upon returning home I showed them to my sister who immediately informed me that I was a thief and would be thrown in jail if anyone ever found out. Whenever she wanted something from me she would start in with this chant 'She stole the flowers, she stole the flowers' in ever increasing volume until I gave in and did whatever she asked before our mom heard. I was pretty much her slave until about the age of 10.
( Furrymeatloaf 's name is a killing word, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 5:26, Reply)

My sister
Isn't normally too bad, but she has one habit that drives me absolutely batshit insane. She has an utter inability when it comes to describing things. A typical conversation with her might run thus:


"Where's dad?"

"He's gone out"

"Where?"

"Out"

"Yes, but where?"

"Town"

"Which town?"

"Haverhill"

"To do what?"

"Stuff"

"What?"

"Stuff"

"What stuff?

"To see the people"

"What people?"

"The arts centre people"

"What about?"

"Stuff"

"WHAT STUFF?"

"When the magazines are going to be delivered"

"Thank you"



All she has to do is say "He's gone to Haverhill to talk to the arts centre about the magazines being delivered". But no. She forces you to wring every last tortured scrap of information from her, in a manner much reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition. It's even the same when it comes to eating, and has been for as long as I can remember:

"What do you want to eat?"

"Food"

"What sort of food?"

"Good food"

"What sort of food?"

"Something cooked"

"Like... a jacket potato?"

"No"

"...I give up"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


*10 minutes later*


"I'm hungry"

"What do you want to eat?"

"Food"



She's 17. I'm only glad I'm at uni now and don't have to put up with it in person.
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 2:44, 6 replies)

I have a brother
My mum and dad like him more than me.

I dont blame them
(i should have joined myspace, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 2:18, 1 reply)

surprised no one else has mentioned this
i can put up with one of sibling sisters sitting on my stomach and hitting me around the head. thats ok.

i cant be doing with some sweaty teenage boy coming up to me on a night out and telling me how great my siblings sisters' boobs are. im hardly going to slap them on the back, am i? uuuuuurgh.
(ladyintheradiator, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 1:04, 4 replies)

Oh I feel all left out now!!!
I'm an only child so siblings were always something I longed for :-(
(StormChicken damned if i do and damned if i don't, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 0:55, 2 replies)

used to badly bully my siblings
they outgrew me... buggerations
(ladyintheradiator, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 0:53, Reply)

I'm the youngest of four.... by far!
My 3 olders siblings are my godparents. This effectively means I have 5 parents.

Sib 1)
brother, 16 years older.

I visited him at uni when I was 2. I was going through a stage of calling every male, Daddy.
For the next three years girls kept coming up to him and asking about his son.
He thanked me as he said he got more action by meeting girls this way than any other at uni.

Used to start 'playfights' with me all the time. Until a couple of years ago, I grew bigger than him. I pinned him against the wall and started playfully slapping him round the face.
Never having experience in this he panicked and full on punched me.
OW!

He visited me at uni recently. After he'd left one of the girls asked; "Was that really your brother?"
"Yes"
Huge look of confusion arrives on her face. "But he's not ginger?!" (lol!)


Sib 2)
brother, 14 years older.

Came up with the my nickname of the Ginger-Whinger because I wouldn't stop crying when I was little.

Used to regularly put me in headlocks and then put his 'belly button fluff' down the back of my neck.

One christmas he dragged me by my legs across the room. I got carpet burns all up my back.

Both of my brothers have been trying to ply me with alcohol since the age of 10. I ask for a coke, I can immediately tell it has vodka in it.


Sib 3)
sister, 12 years older.

I came along just when she was getting to old for dolls.
She walked me to school most days and one day the lollipop lady asked my dad where my mother was. She thought he was my grandad.
My mum's also overheard other mothers dicussing upon seeing my sister with me, how; "These mothers are getting younger and younger."

She also turned me one day and told me the story of her first bong.
Cue me sat there mouthing. WTF!? WTF!? WTF!? over and over and over.

despite these and many more... I LOVE MY SIBLINGS!!! :-D


length? Just say when.

On a side note:
Does anyone with older sibs find it weird when they begin to swear in front of you?
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Sun 28 Dec 2008, 0:29, 6 replies)

I'm one of 9.
We were all born at the same time. Food was a bit short so I ate them.

Twit Twoo!
(Ginger_Whinger got in the newsletter!! =D, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 23:46, Reply)

My family nickname
My family calls me "Jackson" because I'm so habitually late and tardy I usually call an hour after the party's started to tell them I'm on my way. (I'm one of only two kids of 10 that live out of town)

I call them from the halfway point so they only have an hour to wait before we show up. Guess where it is?

"Hello, Mom? Hey, we're in Jackson!"

Proving the point is the fact we were supposed to leave an hour ago and I'm still in my bathrobe and haven't started even packing yet.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 22:58, 3 replies)

Electrocution
I used to charge up capacitors to 400V and then lob them towards my sister. Reflexes being what they are, most of the time she would catch them.

Miraculously, she still talks to me.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 21:55, 2 replies)

Not funny, but relevant
Went to see a production of the Neil LaBute play In a Dark Dark House at the Almeida today. Really bloody good.

www.almeida.co.uk/production_details/production_details.aspx?code=73
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 21:33, Reply)

A nice yummy pearoast!
A few years ago when my family was still council estate scum, my brother was lucky enough to be bought a brand new racing bike for his birthday.

Now, my brother loved like that more than a human should love a method of transportation, and more often than not he'd be either riding, cleaning, or fixing his two-wheeled, pedal-driven wonder.

Anyway, one day, my bro is walking back from school (they didn't have bike sheds and he didn't want to risk a TWOC-ing) when what should he see but some kid riding HIS bike up the main road towards the shops our kid had just departed from.

Of course, my bro wasn't too pleased about that, and at once legged it towards the approaching youth and questioned why he was riding his pride and joy:

Youth: "I'm borrowing it to do my paper round"
Our Kid: "I don't think so, give it back"
Youth: "Piss off or I'll kick your head in"

It was at that point that my bro shouted for help, and luckily enough there was a bit of a bruiser walking past who came over to assist...

Bruiser: "Give him his bike back"
Youth: "It's OK, I'm his brother, I'm only borrowing it"
Our Kid: "No he isn't, he's nicked it"
Bruiser (seeing our kid starting to cry): "Give him his fucking bike back or I'll do something you'll regret"
Youth (laughing at the whole situation): "Honest mate, I'm his big bro" (turning to youth) "Aren't I?"
Our Kid (now in floods of tears): "No, you're not, I want my bike back"

At this point the youth is shoved off the bike by the bruiser, my tearful brother gets his little friend back and witnesses the bruiser giving the youth a bit of a slap as a form of vigilante action.

So, justice done, you might think.

Well, hang on.

Firstly, the bike 'theft' wasn't the crime.

Why?

Because it was me on the bike.

Yes, my brother pretended to some stranger that I nicked his bike (which I was genuinely borrowing to do my paper round on), and to top it off witnessed the bloke giving me what would warrant Actual Bodily Harm in a court of law.

The aftermath?

I kicked the shit out of my brother when I got back after my paper round. After I told my mum (yes, she of the wardrobe out of the window post), he got a bit of a hiding off her too.

Harsh, but fair, no?
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 21:24, 2 replies)

me and my brother get along famously now
but it wasn't always this way.
back in't day i became extremely familiar with every wrestling move in wwf, as they were all practised on me: perfect suplexes, figure four leglocks, camel clutches and rude awakenings were enacted with regularity. shame we were too young to know it was supposed to be fake.
he once tied me up in a sleeping bag and threw me down the stairs, and a regular prank of his was to tie me inside a tractor tire for him and his mates to roll me around.
he's strangled me until i've passed out, and regularly used to pick me up by the neck when i was a small monk.
i thought that by the time i was heading to university all this would be over with, but to no avail. we moved in together, and spent virtually every day in some sort of fist fight: throwing each other into walls, dead legging each other at every opportunity and generally anything short of hospitalising each other.
why do we do all this? god knows, but there's nothing like raising a glass with someone you've just twatted in the gob.
( the brass moustache putting the ass moust in brache since, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 21:00, Reply)

Horoscopes
On a holiday with some family friends, we all ended up talking about horoscopes. Going through which sign everyone is, my younger sister (must have been about 8 and a Pisces) hadn't quite got the grasp on the names and came out with her now trademark line:

"I'm a faeces!"

Bless...
(Henrat Be nice I'm new!, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 20:08, 1 reply)

between...
flights, kilt hire for me and the spimflet, outfit for the missus, hotels bills, wedding gifts and fuck knows what else it cost me over two grand to get to my sisters wedding in Nov.

i had to suffer the stress of her INSISTING i be 'reunited' with my 'father' *winces at the term* at a family lunch prior to the wedding, a person i have not clapped eyes on for 10 years what with him being a terrible cunt - he didn't turn up (pissed, naturally) but naturally i picked up the tab for the family lunch.

my sister announced her pregnancy to my mum and 'dad', her in laws and no doubt all her air-kissy mates on christmas day

shes still not phoned to tell me

*frowns*
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 27 Dec 2008, 20:00, 3 replies)