My cousin
is our family's spoiled brat.

He's not an only child either, he's the youngest of three. On a good day, he could whinge for Scotland.

He's only two years older than me, and I lost count of the times I smacked him in the face as a child after he'd pushed me a bit too far. His speciality was breaking new toys. We didn't get new toys other than birthdays and Christmas, so it was a mighty big deal when those joyous occasions rolled around. We weren't deprived by any means, we did well enough, but not all-year-round. One Christmas, I got a toy phone. I think I was about 4, and this was my favouritest toy along with my Tiny Tears doll. The fecker broke my new phone. Christmas Day, and he broke it. I smacked him over the head with the remains and cosmic balance was restored .... not really, I got the riot act read to me by his dad and he got a big hug from his mummy! My parents scooped us up and took us home, pronto.

As we got older, I liked him less and less until it got to the point where I had to be bribed, threatened and cajoled into inviting him to my 18th. My mum was so good at guilt-tripping that she wormed that invitation out of me, and I didn't even write it in blood!

He turned up, wearing the most awful example of an 80s Pringle sweater I've ever seen. I mean, they were all pretty naff, but this was the naffest by a very long way. He was telling everyone, and I mean everyone, how much it had cost his mum. He was 20 for god's sake, and working, but his mum still bought him clothes so he could 'keep up with fashion'. I'd like to say that what happened was a carefully plotted and choreographed revenge for many broken toys, but it just happened all on its own.

One of my friends, pissed as a fart, managed to spill a whole tray of drinks over his new sweater. One of the drinks was a Blue Bols (remember them, and all the corny jokes?) and he was livid. My mum took the sweater behind the bar to rinse it out, and the bar manageress offered to do it for her. Well, that helpful lady didn't just rinse the thing. She bunged it in the club's washing machine along with a load of glass cloths. On a very hot wash. Oopsy.

About an hour later, my cousin went looking for his sweater, and it was removed from the washing machine. The hot water had certainly got the drink stains out. It had also shrunk the thing quite considerably. I think he would have thrown a full blown tantrum had he not realised that the party was ending and about 40-50 people were all standing laughing at him. Including, of course, me.

The last time I saw him was at his wedding, which I only went to because I knew his wife at school, and liked her. She got fed up with him after a couple of years, and kicked him back to mummy. He's still there, many years later, and his own brothers only visit when they know he's at work.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:07, 4 replies)

Hehehe
From one longtime spoilt cousin sufferer to another *Click!*
(Oil Slick, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:15, closed)

Heh
Serves him right. I mean, Pringle's sweaters ffs.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 20:49, closed)

Blue Bols!
My word that takes me back, do you still get it?
(muzzvsworld, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 1:48, closed)

yes
i bloody love it
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 1:52, closed)