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This is a question Siblings

Brothers and sisters - can't live with 'em, can't stove 'em to death with the coal scuttle and bury 'em behind the local industrial estate. Tell us about yours.

Thanks to suboftheday for the suggestion -we're keeping the question open for another week for the New Year

(, Thu 25 Dec 2008, 17:20)
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This question is now closed.

One understands, the other doesn't
I've never gotten on with one of my sisters. She's a couple of years younger than me, but treats me (as somone earlier in the QOTW put it) in a very maternal way - very condescending towards me, snapping at me, I can never do anything right when she's about. This increased when I dropped out of university and enrolled for a one day a week engineering course at my local college while working part time at a local printing company and living at home. As she has now gone on to University she feels she has even more right to be high and mighty to the little dropout and on her return home has been even more unpleasant towards me. Exactly what use her degree in photography is going to be, I'm not sure.... but her course is nowhere near as hard as she makes out (I have more teaching time in one day than she does in a week!).

My other sister, who is 5 years younger than me is someone I get along with extremly well, more-so since I came home and my other sister went away. I've taught her to drive, helped her with some more advanced computer tricks that make life easier for her as she can sort out a lot of simple common problems herself, and in return she's helped me by giving me lots of hugs and sorting out my money.

It's this last part that really marks the difference between the two, as the older one will take anything she thinks she can get and is entitled to, but ask her to lend you £10 to go in to town and go tot he cash machine it's "No, I'm a student and haven't got any", whereas the younger is always willing to help - particularly as she always knows she'll have an equivelent amount back in her hand at within six hours, and probably something to say thankyou like a bar of chocolate.

The differences in attitudes became very apparant this christmas. Everything I've been told is second hand as I wasn't around at all (for reasons explained n a second), but told to me through my grandmother.

My partner is Swedish, and I decided to spend this christmas with her. Flights at this time of year are bloody expensive, and they're not exactly cheap at the best of times - I think I probably spend around £3000 a year on flights to and from Sweden. Working only four days a week most weeks in a low paid job, this amounts to around 35% of my income. My family all help out with this - my birthday present this year was a set of flights - but it's still a significant amount of my income that goes in to EasyJet's pockets. Because of this, plus my phone bills, rent, travel costs and all those other little things, I have very, very little disposable income to spend out on christmas presents. All my family understand this and accept that I can't spend a lot on presents. Except the older of my sisters.

Apparantly my presents wern't good enough (Leatherman, neckalce (M&S, not cheap crap!) and box of chcolates), so she stood up in front of the family and denounced me as a stupid, lazy leacher who'd still be living with my parents in my 30's. And then got the shock of her life the younger of the two very carefully and slowly explained my financial situation, backed up by my parents in the tone of voice we normally reserve for the terminally stupid, or foreginers, and that she should eitehr sit down and shut up or consider leaving the house for a while.

My nan related all this to me when she picked me up from the airport yesterday. Never have I felt so proud of my little sister for standing up for me while I wasn't there, nor have I ever felt more like disowning my older-younger sister. And right now, I think I could do that with the blessings of my family. Something to ponder on....

Apologies for the severely dry, stale length. I return you now to your scheduled QOTW answers.
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 15:45, 6 replies)
Not me....
But my ex's little brother, in an attempt to impress me on the boyfriends 18th decided to spray a Z onto his naked chest with lynx and set fire to it.

I believe he still has the scar....
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 15:18, 12 replies)
Me ma
likes to take us boys to old churches and stuff especially when some of the cadavers in the graveyard are related to us.

Sometimes it's castles.

(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 14:33, 1 reply)
My older brother's a cunt
My two little brothers are cunts.
My three long-lost half sisters are cunts.
My little sister's got a cunt, and she's also a cunt.

My family are pure win.
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 14:15, 2 replies)
My Luverly luverly brother (s)
If I sneak this one in quickly I can get the free therapy, and no one'll notice it..may contain lack of funny..

I'm the eldest, I am also the only girl and I've never been that interested in sports that you take part in, only watching. My middle brother has always been the golden child. Totally spoilt by my Mum, possibly because he reminds her of her family (all tall,blond, sporty, high achieving) as opposed to my Dad's lot (short,sporty,swarthy and fertile!) We all three have the same parents though, we just don't look like it..

Now that all three of us are in our early forties, it finally comes out that the middle bro made the little one's life a misery. Really? I just don't get where my Mum has been for the last forty years? He made mine one as well.. He used to hit, kick, slap, insult and punch my little brother on an hourly basis. He used to do the same to me, until I absented myself from the whole situation at 13, when I hormonally lost the place with him, and chased him with a kitchen knife.

What got me then, and still does is that they both side against me, not physically any longer, but at family parties, even now, they just generally insult, belittle and pick on me verbally. I don't pay much attention any more, I even get the odd hit in myself, usually along the "you're not still bothered about that?" line..This slows him down a bit, at least for a year or so. I don't mind the stuff from my middle brother, I just don't get why my little brother sides with him. Even now, and they both refuse to speak to my Dad after he left my Mum 14 years ago. Middle one just tells little one to jump, and he asks "How High?"

Mind you, he still doesn't know that my Dad met his daughter last year, and that my Mum took her to meet him!

Happy New year, and thanks for reading...
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 14:11, Reply)
How Gianni Versace taught Ali G to speak Italian.
Gianni Versace was a huge Ali G fan before he passed on and was reputed to have designed many of Ali’s more ostentatious tracksuits.

As Gianni hadn’t more than a half dozen words of English, let alone any slang, and Ali, barely even able to form a sentence in English certainly didn’t have any Italian, they spent many hours gesticulating wildly and shouting at each other in their respective languages in order that they might be understood.

Now, do not make the mistake of thinking, “How could Gianni Versace be an Ali G fan if he didn’t speak English?” This would be foolish.

In the French release videos, Ali G was eagerly and elegantly voiced by the legendary French actor, Gerard Depardieu, star of ‘Cyrano De Bergerac’, a tale of a man with a nose so big, Steve Martin simply had to steal his story and the wonderful romantic comedy ‘Green Card’ with highly-rated Hollywood screen actress and star of popular Brit-flick, “Four Weddings And A Funeral” , Andy Mac Dowell, now sadly reduced to the role of hair product pimp to balding harpies who are most certainly not worth it.

Gianni Versace, doyen of European fashion and frequent visitor to the capital of fashion, Paris, naturally spoke French like a native – with plenty of spit and an attitude to foreigners to rival a crocodile. Thus had he seen and enjoyed the entire Ali G collection as it stood and thus had he offered the Stainesian one this rare opportunity to be dressed by the one, the only, the true, the original, Versace! (Donnatella sucks!).

During a particularly heated session, the two greats were right at one another’s throats – neither sibilant volume nor windmill-like gesticulation was getting through to or from either man.

“Questa il parola?”, roared Gianni.

“What do him not understand?”, bellowed Ali. “Is only one word!”

“Non capire!”, retorted Gianni, eye to eye with the much taller Ali G, both men’s hands clenched at their chests beseechingly.

“Bling?” inquired Gianni

“Bling!” affirmed Ali, “Yes! Bling!”

“Si? Bling?”, added Gianni, scratching his head.

“Si. Bling” affirmed Ali once again.

As I said, it’s only a rumour.

(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 14:05, 2 replies)
My brother..
had the person from the estate agents round to my parents home (where I was living having given up my job and home to look after our father when our mother died six weeks previously) the day after my dads funeral.
He wanted me out of there ASAP so it could be a quick sale, but when I asked him for the loan of £1000 to rent a place until it was sold, he said no.
So I carried on living there until it sold six months later, when I moved to be with the woman who's now my wife.
You can choose friends, but you can't choose family.
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 14:00, Reply)
My younger brother
Was an ugly child, looked a bit like a hairy Winston Churchill and as a result was mocked by me at every turn. I on the other hand was blond and blue eyed and was very smug about it.
Sadly as we grew up i stayed short, got fat and lossed hair while mt brother got tall and slim and now has women falling over them selfs to get to him i just do a lot of wanking. Happy new year folks
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 12:37, Reply)
My brother
He's annoyingly rich due to having a Saturday job and not having discovered alcohol yet. He has a 100-inch projector screen in his room, along with many other things.

I can't afford food...
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 10:56, 6 replies)
Lisa and Dottie
I’ve got a sister. She’s remarkable in the number of surgeries she’s had, organs she’s missing and various diseases she’s suffered. Only now, she’s your normal 32 year old mum. No fun there.

The tale I wish to tell is about my friend Lisa.

I set the scene: we’re 10 year olds in my backwards cowfucking hometown. We were the social misfits – I was a geek because my dad was my English teacher, Lisa wet the bed on a school camping trip. Our lunch hours were spent hanging out on the monkey bars, repelling all other students with our sheer hideousness.

Then one day a new girl started at the school. Lisa and I traversed the playground to take up residence on our monkey bars, only to find the new girl – Dottie – had beaten us to it. As beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers, we became firm and fast friends with Dottie. Our ‘gang’ expanded to three, and we spent most all of our spare time together. They were my very best friends.

Time came for a familial introduction, and Lisa invited our families to her house. The room went quiet, the tension was palpable. I assumed they all hated one another.

Weeks passed, then Lisa’s family sat her down for a talk. Lisa, they said, you’re adopted. When we lived in Florida, we found a teenage mother – your mother – and adopted you from her. Dottie’s mom is your mom. Dottie is your sister.

Dottie’s parents had, by extraordinary chance, moved thousands of miles to a no-mark town in the middle of the Michigan woods. Lisa and I had, by chance, become great friends with Dottie. Lisa had, by chance, invited Dottie’s parents to meet hers. Lisa and Dottie were sisters.

What a way to find out you’re adopted, by befriending your biological sister.

Lisa, sadly, died last year from cervical cancer. This is for you, Lis…
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 10:16, 6 replies)
On the brothers with jobs they like tip
My brother has his ideal job.
He has only ever had one interest in life (shagging, booze and drugs aside) - fighting.

He is editor-in-chief of a mixed martial arts magazine and spends his entire (working) life immersed in fighting, interviewing, editing his magazine and attending fights.

I am jealous of that aspect of his life.


Ninja1 - he also manages fighters, some of whom have appeared in the UFC!
Ninja2 - www.uk.ufc.com/
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 10:11, Reply)
Going downhill
As some of you know, my brother's in the RAF. Later this month, he's going to San Moritz to do the Cresta Run... on work time. He's getting paid for it.

Apparently, the RAF puts in a team every year, and counts it as "adventure training". In San Moritz.

Did I mention that it's technically part of his job?

San Mor-bloody-itz.
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 9:57, 4 replies)
my sister
My sister laurasuper is a great sister and I would like to wish her a Happy New Year, and say thank you for not posting any of the million and one dumb things I've done in the past on this board...
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 7:15, 3 replies)
...But my sister is now unfortunately deceased.
My baby sister (so-called because I can no longer get away with calling her my little sister, being as she is four inches taller than me) is a couple of years younger than me. A few years ago, she was brainwashed converted to Christianity, despite many reservations on the part of my family, who are really quite atheist. I think when she got confirmed it was the first time my parents had been inside a church that wasn't Notre Dame since they were about twelve.

I'm not a Christian. I'm a militantly atheist scruffy student, studying Journalism at a second-rate (sorry, Chester, but it's true) uni by replacing 'lectures' with 'weed and South Park'. I'm a grumpy, lazy, abrasive book geek with dress sense that makes my mother sigh heavily and a taste in men best described as questionable.

My sister, conversely, is predicted straight As in her A-levels, takes no drugs, has long-term relationships with boys her own age, is polite, cheerful and probably kind to small animals. And she's tall and willowy and has huge cans. And the aforementioned God-bothering makes my granny happy at least, so.

A few months ago my dad and I somehow got onto the topic of good sister/bad sister-type dynamics. My sibling was at Greenbelt, a Christian festival, for the weekend.
"Well, it's pretty easy to tell which is which out of you two." said the aged r. "One's a pink-haired reprobate who sleeps till three and might think about possibly getting a job one day if she runs out of baked beans, the other's a good choir-singing type who goes to church and hangs out with the vicar..."

He paused and sighed.

"But the bad sister will be back tomorrow."
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 2:39, 2 replies)
I have a brother.
He's 31, works as a builder.
(, Fri 2 Jan 2009, 1:00, 7 replies)
My brother lit himself on fire. Twice.
my brother Alex is a smart kid... he just has some logic issues.

for instance: before my dad moved out, he used to pour gasoline into the wasp nests in our yard to suffocate the wasps. when he did move out Alex took it upon himself to do this job. what Alex didn't realize was that my dad didn't light the wasps nest.

he walks into the front yard, pours gasoline into the wasp's nest, lights it, and freaks out. he realizes that the huge fire coming out of the middle of our front yard in not a good thing and tries to stomp it out. as he stomps, more gasoline comes up and the fire gets even bigger. he keeps trying to stomp it out, which catches his pants on fire. then he starts running around in circles like a maniac. about five cars stop in the road just to watch his maniac-running, and our neighbor finally comes over to extinguish him.

2nd example: Alex lit his hand on fire because my other brother said it wouldn't hurt.

after school one day my brother showed Alex this trick where you put a small amount of lighter fluid in your hand and light it (it burns off quickly). Alex tries it, but instead covers his hand in lighter fluid and waits for a second. it doesn't light. he repeats, and it again doesn't light. the third time, he covers his hand and lights it as quickly as possible. it bursts into flame, since the first two coats soaked in, and once again, Alex freaks out. he begins to beat his hand against everything in the room and ends up throwing himself on top of his hand.

he got 2nd degree burns and spent the next month wearing a glove on one hand (michael jackson?).

he is smart, i promise.
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 21:55, 1 reply)
When I Was Very Small
my brothers are troublemakers. always have been.

one day my name appeared on the wall. my brothers claimed that it was my fault. the issue? i wasn't old enough to know how to write.

it's all downhill from there.
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 21:17, 2 replies)
Bad Sex
In our small terraced house in the mid eighties, me and my brother were often subjected to the sounds of our randy step-dad defiling my mum at ridiculous volumes and at all times of day or night (jesus fucking christ this still makes me shudder when I remember bringing friends home to watch a video and my mum was at it so loudly with the step dad that we had to leave and go sit outside).

Anyway, on one such occasion it was early morning one saturday and the strange sounds had started in the adjacent bedroom and we were woken up again to the sound of my mother being tortured in such a horrid way... So my older brother Shaun tells me to go in to the next room "and tell mum and Tom to stop shagging". So obviously at 4 years old there was only one thing I could do which was to walk in to the next room and say"

"Muuuuuum..... Shaun says you should stop shagging"...

Fair to say that they did stop shagging and my brother got a bollocking for teaching his younger brother rude words For interrupting their sexy time...
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 17:42, 2 replies)
My parents lived in Scotland for a few years where my younger brother endured being the only English boy at the local junior school.

One day, he asked his English (subject) teacher how to spell "bought". "B O A T" she told him.

We still wonder to this day how the Scots pronounce "bought". Perhaps they have no need for such a word?
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 17:19, 4 replies)
I am an only child
which makes me posting on here seem a little pointless. However I have discovered that this means I get to choose my own siblings from all of the friends I've had over the years, and this is one of the best things in the world. I have 3 - 2 little sisters and a big brother.

Little sister number 1 - Louise. My best friend from school, I have known her since we were 4 years old. We have been through everything together, starting periods, first boyfriend, first broken heart, that manic world called secondary school, starting uni, although she will probably never finish as she's just dropped out. She's completely insane and completely honest with me and I can't ever stay mad at her. She's also the most random person I know - "You have an attractive bum crack, I'd like to put cheese down it." She's amazing.

Little sister number 2 - Sophie. I met her when we started uni. She was the first person to say hello to me and we've been inseperable ever since. We've been living together for 2 and a half years and Im not looking forward to the summer when she's moving away to go to nursing school, as she's a medical school dropout. She taught me to cook and keeps both my feet firmly on the ground when I need it. She can be hard work at times cos she has severe depression and it breaks my heart when she's really ill, cos she's one of the nicest people on the planet and just doesn't deserve it. She held me when I cried after my boyfriend had had a bad car accident, but this was after she's only been discharged from the local psychiatric ward the day before, so it was a complete role reversal. She's had winter vomiting the past couple of days so we spent New Year's Eve on the sofa curled up with non-alcoholic mulled wine and High School Musical. I love her.

Big Brother - Chris. One of the first people I made friends with in my year at uni. He can read me better than anyone I know. He's had me crying down the phone at him more times than I can remember and yet always seems to put everything right with a curry, beer and some Eddie Izzard. He's also my brother cos we can bicker like it too - an hour ago I may have been crying on him cos my ex at the time had upset me and then in front of everyone at uni he'll poke me in the ribs and call me fatty and we'll start throwing things at each other. He's great.

So there we go, being an only child has its advantages :p
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 11:59, Reply)
My dear brother
lurketh on these pages, but I reckon I can slip this tale in undetected...

We grew up in Cornwall (no, this isn't going to be a story about that sort of brother-sister relationship) so every weekend, he would be over at Newquay, surfing by day and clubbing by night.

By unspoken agreement, Dad would provide both transport and accommodation in the form of his transit van. During the week, said van would be used for plumbing-related activities. But at the weekends, some of its contents would be removed, replaced with longboards and a mattress and quite different sorts of activites would take place.

One Sunday night, as was the usual routine, brother arrived back home and took his stuff out of the van and Dad put his back in.

Monday morning - brother is back at college and Dad's called in to a job on site. He pulled out a piece of copper pipe...and there on the end was a pair of knickers left by brother's most recent, er, visitor.
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 10:53, 2 replies)
Well, actually
No LOLs here, bu I just wan stan up fo erwhon who ackshli like ther famliz. I wudn chanj a day with my folx. Tha the best. Speshly my likl bro. We ha difnt dads - bu he my bro. K
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 6:53, 13 replies)
Younger brother
I have a younger sister and brother and there is a relatively small gap between us; two years between me and my sis and then 2 years between her and my brother. This meant that as kids we could all theoretically play with each other as we are of a similar age. In reality it meant that me and my sister ganged up against my brother a lot (I didn't really like her as a kid either but she was the lesser of two evils), who was the baby of the family, the only boy and spoilt.

We used to do all sorts to him-nothing really that bad but just little things like;
-tie him up and gag him with a sock he couldn't interfere with our games,
-tell him elaborate stories of mosters living in his wardrobe and under the bed, so that he had a contast fear of them and made my dad check EVERY NIGHT that they wern't there.
-dress him up in our clothes (He looked very much like my sister when he was younger, same face, so he didnt look that bad in a frilly dress)
- tell him that he could only WATCH us playing, because he would ruin the game otherwise

I also had an older brother who died when he was a baby (before i was born), but there are many photos of him around the house, and it is a common assumption amongst guests that the photos of the baby boy are of my younger brother.

My sister and I used this to our advantage a lot. I think the worst things we have ever said to him is "if (Nikkusama's older brother) was still alive, you would have never had been born!" and "you are just a replacement!"

Nowadays I get on with my siblings because I rarely see them. I wonder if he remembers any of this...

length etc.
(, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 3:41, Reply)
Karma Sutra
were an anarcho punk band from Luton. Their record "The daydreams of a production line worker" is rarer than cat gratitude, goes for about £40 on ebay.

One day, when I was at school, my little brother took my copy of it, put it on my record deck, picked up my drum sticks and played drums on the record. Split it in half.

I did manage to get hold of another copy fortunately, still got the broken one too.

So there you go, New Years Eve 15 minutes to midnight and I'm on an internet forum moaning about my brother breaking my record 20 years ago. Oh well, could be worse, could be trying to get served in a pub.

Happy New Year tossers!
(, Wed 31 Dec 2008, 23:47, Reply)
I have a fairly large family:
three brothers, two half brothers and a half sister. My half sister and half brothers, who were quite a few years older, usually used to visit us at least once a year, although my younger half brother didn't visit for a few years when I was younger, for reasons I am still unsure about. When I was about eight or nine, he started visiting more often, so I got to know him a bit more. He would listen to me playing my guitar, he taught me how to punch properly, and would dance with me at family parties. He was, in my eyes at least, the best big brother ever.
He died when I was 14.
In the weeks after his death, through helping sort through the stuff cleared out from his flat, I think I got to know him more than I ever did before. Through this pile of things that he had left, I found out his tastes in music (which, surprisingly, included Shakira) films (shedloads of animé) and books. It was over a month after he died before his funeral (hit and run, took a few days to identify him, then there had to be an autopsy, which took a while.) I spent the two days before trawling around with my dad, checking the arrangements of things like flowers, music and eulogies. My family asked if I would play during the funeral; I played this, as I was learning it the last time I saw him. I haven't been able to play it since.
Although the time since he died can now be counted in years, I still miss him almost every day. In a way, I have only just come to terms with the fact that he isn't coming back, and I will never see him again. The greatest regret that I have is that I didn't get to know him better.
(, Wed 31 Dec 2008, 23:03, Reply)
I may have siblings
that have no idea I exist, and vice versa.

In fact, my biological father doesn't know I exist.

Maybe somewhere out there, I've got a brother or sister, nephews or nieces I'm completely unaware of.

My mother came to me a few years ago, upon splitting-up with my 'dad', and broke the news that this guy I'd seen as my father, wasn't my father after all.

Have any other b3tans recieved essential genetic information after the age of 25? It can come as a bit of a shock, I can tell you.

Mum's been next to useless on the matter to be honest. All I have to go on are a pretty generic name - Martin Shaw - the town he hailed from in 1975 and the fact he had a thing for Jaguar cars.

I came to terms with the fact that my parents are fuckups a long time ago. But I've never managed to get past the idea that my real dad is out there, completely unaware of my existence, or that of his granddaughter.
(, Wed 31 Dec 2008, 22:24, 13 replies)
I am a twin
And when I divulge that I have a twin sister, the first question of my adoring audience is is "Are you identical?" to which I have taken to responding "Yes, we even have the same hair."
Only I'm a 6'2" guy and my sister clearly isn't.
But then the questions continue!
"Can you feel when she's hurt?"
To which the answer is unfortunately no, but I am yet to come up with a suitable response.
(I have encountered other non-identical twins, and it appears these questions are par for the course. So if you ever meet a twin, please don't ask them if they're identical, or possess any magical twinchronicity powers.)
But now the heart-warming anecdote!
I have always been the bigger of the two, ever since birth when I was lovely and large and she was dangerously small, and with bigger comes louder, etc. This, compounded by my sister's shyness meant that when we headed off to school we formed a bizarre double act. Class began with a register every morning, but my sister was terrified of this and would never answer her name, so every day for the first 3 years of school, I answered for both myself and herself.
(, Wed 31 Dec 2008, 22:18, 4 replies)

This question is now closed.

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