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.
( thealternativefact, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 10:53, 2 replies)

He's lucky it was just a pair of knickers,
that's all I'm saying.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 1 Jan 2009, 13:55, closed)