Kudos to you disasterprone
For getting us back on topic (more or less).
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:13, Reply)

I actually
died during a beating twice. It was justified, as I had given my dad a quarter of an inch too much coffee for his breakfast.

They resurrected me using advanced technology from the year 8765.

Oh yeah, then to really top things off he grounded me for time travelling back to the age of the dinosaurs.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:06, Reply)

k2k6
Well clever you! I had to look up hyperbole also.

I always have some sort of snack in my drawer but the Werthers was a nice suprise.
( girlinthehole, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:05, Reply)

I'm waiting for Frankspencer to retort
His diction is bigger than John Holmes, Ron Jeremy and Long Dong Silver all put together.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:03, Reply)

Big Girls Blouse.
That reminds me of a line from Mel Brooks' seminal classic "Blazing Saddles" (That fart scene round the campfire, comedy genius)

"Well you use your tongue prettier 'n' a $20 whore, Mr Richter"

Quality.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:01, Reply)

CH..
Ah, the world of dreams....

Population: Me, two (attractive) girls in hotpants and somebody who tells me wtf a caveat is!

(I know now btw so don't go there fellow B3tans!)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 15:00, Reply)

Big girl's blouse
You lucky git! I only seem to find misplaced Polo mints in my desk drawer.

I do know what caveat means though. And it's nothing to do with Polo mints, unless they're covered in drawer-fluff, then one might be required before munching.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:59, Reply)

Captain haddock
Caveat eh! There's a word not bandied about much. A word that only Rachelswipe would understand. I had to look it up - not done that for a while.

Also can I just share with the B3ta populace the warm fuzzy feeling I got when I opened my office desk drawer and found a Werthers Original I had forgotton about. Yum!
( girlinthehole, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:51, Reply)

Pooflake..
Back to the world of dreams with you, my boy.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:50, Reply)

Cap'n H
Oh ST NEOT's Station? - Silly me, I meant NEW ST Station! - What a co-incidence though eh? Two sets of ladies wearing such inappropriate attire on the same day. Good job I was on hand to warm at least a couple of them up. My heart goes out to you if yours were like bulldogs licking piss off a stinging nettle. Mine weren’t.

Not that I’ve anything against unattractive ladies you understand…It’s just that…well….I wouldn’t. Pooflake has standards. They’re low…very low…but they’re there.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:47, Reply)

oh yeah
over here in paris i recently saw a teenager (must've been no more than 12) riding a bike behind his parents wearing one of those *hilarious* "THE MAN/THE LEGEND" tshirts... i mean, if id've worn one of those, id've got a clip round the earhole.

(i did have a "cool as fuck" tshirt though, which my mum hated)
(Alaning, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:30, Reply)

This QOTW also strikes a little close to home.
Mainly because I'm dealing with the effects of a bitter ex-wife whose immediate response to anything I do or say is a knee-jerk reaction to do or say the exact opposite. When you have teenagers, especially ones who like to play one parent against the other, it makes for some Very Bad Things, as Pooh might say.

Anything I would say in here would be far too serious and angry to be good reading.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:28, Reply)

Pooflake
I never said they were attractive, only improperly dressed for the situation.

They had faces like a bag of smashed crabs and a slatelayer's nailbag respectively. If you engaged in carnal activities with them you will only have had yourself to blame.

Mind you they did have bodies that would've made a monk kick in a stained glass window, so I suppose there's a caveat there about not looking at the mantlepiece when one pokes the fire.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:27, Reply)

Because
Hoya!

Seriousness is NOT to be taken seriously... ;-)

Be funky

M A D
(MAD Life -The Best Antidote To Happiness, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:21, Reply)

Cap'n Haddock
Well...in this QOTW I take the serious ones seriously cos sometimes I'm a serious guy...and I don't take the non-serious ones seriously cos sometimes I'm not a serious guy.

Erm.....

Hope that clears it up.

Anyway, those two birds you saw in hotpants by the station...I shagged 'em.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:19, Reply)

Nothing to do with the subject...
.. but I saw 2 girls in the waiting room at St Neots station yesterday in bra tops, and hotpants.
Bearing in mind the inclement weather (as the announcement at Kings Cross had repeatedly alerted me)they were dressed completely inappropriately for the conditions.

Mind you they did both have nipples like chapel hat pegs poking out from their tops so some good came of it..

.. now back to the Terrible Parenting.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 14:02, Reply)

Pooflake
You take QOTW Seriously?
Why?
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 13:54, Reply)

My Dad...
Once found a grammatical error in one of my homework essays.

He said 'no more sweets' and confiscated my game boy.

He then pinned me down using an articulated lorry (carrying JCB diggers), poured liquid nitrogen over my genitals, slowly amputated all of my limbs using a blunt lavatory seat, then skewered a fluorescent tube up my clay-hole before removing my swede using a small grey and white gerbil.

He then created a rift in the space-time continuum so he could go back in time and repeat the performance over and over again.

It’s the only language I understand apparently.

(Sorry for joining in with the previous piss-taking posts. I do take this QOTW seriously…I’m just bored, that’s all)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 13:41, Reply)

I have really umm-ed and arr-ed over this.
You see my childhood was ok-ish, nowhere near as bad as some of the stories I have read.

My mum and dad split when I was a sprog, Im to young to remember them ever being together. For 9 years or so, my dad was a typical weekend dad. Doing all the fun things part-time dads do. This lasted until he re-married and then basically due to being a pussy decided not to fight my step-mums decision that we shouldnt see each other. between the ages of about 12 to now I have seen him less than 10 times and have about 3-4 xmas and birthday cards. My mother re-married (step dad 1 was ok to me) when I was about 8 had a child (more of him later) then divorced again and remarried for a third time and had two more kids. She is now happily living in New Zealand having left me with my grandmother aged about 19. I like to think this has made me the fiercely independent, self sufficient person. So I am not bitter I just dont like any of my parents that much, there are too many issues.


My mum however, had a truly terrible childhood. Her father sexually abused her and my aunt from puberty till he left. Despite having a well paying job he gave them fuck all and pissed all his money up the wall on private jets and fuck knows what else.
She has really tried to be a good mother to me and by and large was ok. She has serious issues and depression which she has had millions of pounds worth of counseling for but I think there are just too many scars. My eldest brother however really had it tough. Due to her hate for step dad 1. She just couldnt do or say anything positive for my bro. Her thinly veiled disdain for him have really had an affect. He is basically autistic but not in the medical sense just because during his most formative early years he had nobody saying anything nice to him. I am ashamed to say I didnt do more and probably in the end made it worse by following and step dad 2 using him as the family whipping boy, not in a physical sense. I dont know if it was just me being a git of a big brother but I still feel ashamed for not intervening.

He now lives with step dad 1 and he is verging on being a normal child, my mother says she misses him.

Well that was fun to put in words.
(Gimli son of Gloin., Wed 22 Aug 2007, 13:36, Reply)

Is it just me
or is there a little bit of hyperbole creeping into some of the recent posts?

:-)
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:58, Reply)

Luxury
You people don't know you're born. My father actually hated me so much that he didn't even conceive me. He said he wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever before he'd even slept with my mother, and fucked off to Greece with some bird from the chippie, leaving my Mum to drive around the neighbourhood asking men to fertilise her, until some complete stranger agreed. Thanks a lot Dad.
(Just recline and let me service you, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:52, Reply)

My Dad exploded once, too.
But he pieced himself back together using osmosis and redoubled his efforts on us kids.

He once killed me in cold blood with a 16 inch machete blade ripping me from stomach to throat and spilling my intestines all over the floor in a hideous show of glistening giblets.

Luckily we are all christians and with careful prayer, I was ressurrected and beaten for being so inconsiderate as to die.
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:44, Reply)

Terrible parenting turned good!
Ex-Mr-IckleMonkey is a fuckwit. Until recently that is. Won't go into it too much, god knows if I get started about what a fuckwit he was I would be here well into the next QOTW.

Any hoo, recently he has come to his senses, and his parental involvement is now limited to sending some money every month, woooo hooooo! It is the best thing that he could ever do for icklemonkey jr and icklemonkey jr#2.

*pop* my cherry is gone.

Icklemonkey Xxx

P.S on a recent shopping trip with my Dad I went off to buy a present for icklemonkey jr's upcoming birthday. Icklemonkey Jr and Icklemonkey jr #2 were playing happily, I thought that they were safe under the watchful eye of grandad monkey. I was gone less than 3 minutes, when I came back he had LOST icklemonkey jr #2. How I will never understand as she provides a constant and very loud commentary to the world around us. I found her 15 minutes later helping one of the ladies that worked in the shop re-fill the shelves.
(icklemonkey, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:43, Reply)

My mate's dad
Sounds like Cpt's dad, actually...

His dad would only let him travel in the car boot.

He murdered and then ate his mum.

Then he taught his son how to whine self indulgently.

Then smashed his teeth in with a hammer.

Eventually he got so angry with my mate he exploded.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:33, Reply)

My childhood was painfully strict
I once failed to get an A for an english essay. My father slammed my testicles in the door of our family Nissan Micra 100 times as punishment.

When I could stand again without whimpering or walking with a list, he noticed i had not finished reading my copy of Virgil (classical greek edition) and whipped me across the back with a 3 foot cutting from the bramble hedge at the front of our house.

Evidence of masturbation was dealt with very gravely.. He shot my brother in the chest at point blank range for bashing his bishop in bed. He now breathes with a ventilator and dreams of being able to pleasure himself manually.

I myself was treated to a night in the understairs cupboard with a king cobra for scratching my crotch in a mildly suggestive manner.

When I bought a girlfriend home to meet my parents he hit defcon one, ranted on about pre-marital sex and children, and then hit her around the head with an anvil before tying me up to the guttering with thorns and pelting me with rifle fire.

But I've done OK out of it. I am now a gimp in a danish S&M dungeon. I have not seen the outside world in 4 years and am seriously mentally disturbed, but my mistress "Queen Tania the Undefeatable" is nothing compared to my father.

(Back soon, she wants to stamp on my testicles and tie a cord round my neck until I stop breathing.).
(LunarJim, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:28, Reply)

Arm & Leg Soup
This is getting too morbid. Time to liven it up a bit with more tales of craziness.

When I was a nipper, my mum used to make "arm & leg soup". Basically, this was a stew made with the remains of the Sunday joint that was tossed into a huge pan along with water, various veggie shit and barley. This was then boiled to death and then left on simmer all week with water added to it whenever it got a bit too thick. Nobody *ever* ate this shit and it would be thrown out every Saturday night before the next batch was made on Sunday evening. One of the most enduring memories of my childhood is the smell of "arm & leg soup".

But one week my mum decided to get high-tech on us and cook the soup in a pressure cooker. Usual ritual was followed - fill pot three-quarters full with water, add remains of joint and other shit and then fit lid and screw down firmly before turning gas up to full.

You can see what's coming can't you?

Yup. Mum had put waaay too much stuff in the pressure cooker and the inevitable happened. The safety seal blew and this gunk fountained into the air and splattered off the ceiling before settling down to it's volcano impression that spewed molten lava out around the seal in a complete circle. This shit was spraying out at about 300 degrees and promised 1st degree burns to anyone who tried to get near it to turn it off.

I can still see this now in my minds eye. My mum covered in a load of coats and with gloves on to protect her hands crawling across the kitchen floor getting covered in this shit. She eventually made it and turned off the cooker and then laboriously made her way back to safety while we gave the volcano time to cool down.

And people wonder why I started cooking for myself at about 7 year old.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 12:03, Reply)

Catapolt + ballbearing + over enthusiastic father = disaster
Having read and posted a few on this question I am quite happy my childhood was pretty much stress free and I want to cheer you all up with another tale of fathers inability to act like a grown up father.

My father would always know how to spice things up in the long summer holidays. My father is a creative genius when it comes to DIY, you name it the fucker can make it. I told my mum I wanted a catapult for my 14th birthday. She told me to promptly "get stuffed", she knew me too well. I got a game boy game instead I think but later in the day my dad called into his shed for my present from him (insert peado joke here).

He had built me a catapult that would not be out of place in military use. It fucking enormous and was so powerful he built a strap that connected to my arm so it would fire further. Not only that, he gave 500 or so marble size ball bearings to shoot with. The summer starts here....... or so I thought!

We waited for my mum to go out cause she have would have gone mad at him for building me one, once she left we went in the garden for some fun. We set up loads of bottle on wall and proceeded to blow the shit out of them for hours... good times

When my dad took a turn he was interrupted mid shot by my outraged mother shouting "WTF do you think your doing", miscues his shot, pings off the mental pole that kept the washing line up and the ball bearing went straight through the newly double glazed patio door and thus causing a comedic smash that would not be out of place in a Tom and Jerry cartoon....Bad times

My mother lost her rag completely and screamed at my dad about setting and example to his son but god bless him this was his next line:

"I made it for me, the boys been watching me use it all afternoon. He wanted ago but I said it was to dangerous and I just proved I was right"

Got me out of the shit and landed him deeper init. Taught me how to lie convincingly to women (insert cock gag here) and never snitch on anyone, especially your mates.

Ladies, Gentleman and fellow B3tans I give you the legend, accident prone, comedic, cigar smoking, minor alcoholic, womanising, all round good egg of my father.

BTW* I dread how he might one day twist the brains of my unborn child.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:53, Reply)

Cars and Police
My folks are sensible people, well educated and were always concerned to do their best for their kids. Sadly, my father is a little less responsible when egged on by a car loving child.

This led to my first ever encounter with the police. We were on a lonely and deserted beach near Liverpool in his car and to amuse us (and himself) he was chucking it about in a variety of ever faster handbrake and J turns.

Then he thought he'd let me have a go. At the age of 11. I was having loads of fun sitting on his knee, changing gear and steering while he operated the pedals when blue flashing lights appeared in the rear view mirror.

A police car pulled up beside us and asked my Dad "Is he 17?". There was a pause, and my Dad suggested that if I was 17 I probably wouldn't be sitting on his knee.

We were escorted from the beach, to my Grandmother's bungalow 100 yards away, whereon arrival my mother became a little excited at the sight of a red faced father being ticked off by the filth.

Also he took us sledging and told us it would be great fun to sledge off the edge of a hill, with a 6 foot drop to the ground. It was, until my brother broke his arm.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:51, Reply)

Received wisdom
I'm of an age now that I'm beginning to understand the difference between wisdom and knowledge, but sometimes received wisdom from older family members can be somewhat dubious.

A good few years ago, I was driving somewhere one night and for some reason my auntie was in the car. There was a display of aurorae, quite common in these parts. My auntie said "Oh look, there's the northern lights. Do you know what causes them?"

"Yes", I replied. "It's charged particles from the solar wind interacting with oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen and other atoms in the outer atmosphere, causing radiative transitions as they relax to their ground states, and emitting the light we see as aurorae". (May not be a verbatim transcript)

"No", she replied, "It's light reflecting off the snow at the north pole. That's what your gran said".

"Aye, but gran didn't have a physics degree", I retorted.

I think we left it at that. I may have been an upstart but knowledge did win over dodgy wisdom that night.

OK, this isn't really on topic but it just came into my head. And it's not morbid like a lot of the others on here!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 22 Aug 2007, 11:43, Reply)