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)