Strict Parents
I always thought my parents were quite strict, but I can't think of anything they actually banned me from doing, whereas a good friend was under no circumstances allowed to watch ITV because of the adverts.
This week's Time Out mentions some poor sod who was banned from sitting in the aisle seats at cinemas because, according to their mother, "drug dealers patrol the aisles, injecting people in the arm."
What were you banned from doing as a kid by loopy parents?
( , Thu 8 Mar 2007, 12:37)
I always thought my parents were quite strict, but I can't think of anything they actually banned me from doing, whereas a good friend was under no circumstances allowed to watch ITV because of the adverts.
This week's Time Out mentions some poor sod who was banned from sitting in the aisle seats at cinemas because, according to their mother, "drug dealers patrol the aisles, injecting people in the arm."
What were you banned from doing as a kid by loopy parents?
( , Thu 8 Mar 2007, 12:37)
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History Homework
Not parents but my grandad.
He was an Italian fella who was usually quite meek and mild by nature. I used to have to go round to his place to do my homework as mum and dad worked late and somebody had to keep an eye on me or I'd be out playing football and trying to catch squirrels.
Spread my books out on the big dining room table and reluctantly made a start.
Grandad saunters over, sees what I'm working on and throws an absolute fit. "You are not going to write lies about the great man under my roof! Put those books away IMMEDIATELY!!!"
I had to go in to school the next day and explain I hadn't written my essay about the life and times of Benito Mussolini because my grandad wouldn't let me.
Fascist dictator, yes, but he replaced all the wooden manhole covers in my grandads village with metal ones.
Apparently this made up for all the bad stuff.
( , Fri 9 Mar 2007, 9:30, Reply)
Not parents but my grandad.
He was an Italian fella who was usually quite meek and mild by nature. I used to have to go round to his place to do my homework as mum and dad worked late and somebody had to keep an eye on me or I'd be out playing football and trying to catch squirrels.
Spread my books out on the big dining room table and reluctantly made a start.
Grandad saunters over, sees what I'm working on and throws an absolute fit. "You are not going to write lies about the great man under my roof! Put those books away IMMEDIATELY!!!"
I had to go in to school the next day and explain I hadn't written my essay about the life and times of Benito Mussolini because my grandad wouldn't let me.
Fascist dictator, yes, but he replaced all the wooden manhole covers in my grandads village with metal ones.
Apparently this made up for all the bad stuff.
( , Fri 9 Mar 2007, 9:30, Reply)
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