Heaven Can Wait.
St Peter was on holiday so I was on duty at the Pearly Gates.

Down below, on Earth, a young Pakistani guy was tragically killed in a car crash and, a few minutes later, I heard a knock on the Pearly Gates. So I opened the door and the young Pakistani guy was standing there. So I popped my head inside and shouted:

"Dad! Your taxi's here!"

Jesus
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:57, Reply)

Exam results matter..
My mother didn't pay my school fees for about a year, so on the day when I went to collect my A Level results my headmistress wouldn't give them to me. I called my mum in floods of tears and she said, 'right - thing is, I owe the school about £12k. I can pay it if you want and you can have your results, or you can have £1000 today from me and we'll work out a way of getting your results some other time'. I finished school two years early, so was deferring university anyway and exam results were..unnecessary. Plus this was 14 years ago and to a 16 year old girl, £1000 was a fuck of a lot of money.

Guess which option I took?

Best summer EVER. I love my mum.
(mookroolz, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:52, Reply)

My mum...
She once told me how when her dad first found out she smoked, he told her to smoke a whole pack of 20 fags in front of him... one after the other. This was obviously in an attempt to sicken her out of smoking.

It didn't work, she smokes like a chimney.

Anyway, fast forward about 30 years and to when my mum found out that my little sister had been smoking (she was about 14 at the time). My mum decided to use the same technique that had put her off smoking, pffft, but with a minor adjustment (mainly because she's always skint, and too lazy to go up the shops).

She made my sister smoke, *GASP*, 2 whole cigarettes in front of her, one after the other!

Yea, great one mum.
(A Hospital Carpark, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:42, Reply)

In answer to your question..
I should be fired from my job because i'm often late, sadly, this practice has affected other aspects of my life.
(River of Squid has a variety of lemons in his pocket, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:41, Reply)

it's the little things
For thier own sanity my parents did a number of little things to contol our lives.
1. Even though they could not stand the Archers it was turned up rather loud every day to block out the sound of the ice cream van.
When I eventually heard it I was told "the nice man who owns the van likes to play music for everyone"
2. even after continuous requests I was not taught ot tell the time until I was 7 or 8 so that my parents could start pretending to be tired at around 5.30pm and cart me off to bed for the night.
This may be more to do with my stupidity.
(Darkbex I have nothing to declare... not even my genius, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:41, Reply)

I asked my dad
about the Second Coming, and whether he planned to visit Earth soon, as I wanted to go back there.

He said that he knocked up some bird and had me illegitimately and that the Earthlings were still talking about it.

He hates being gossiped about, my old man.

Jesus
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:32, Reply)

Whilst on holiday abroad
my parents left me & my 2 sisters in the bedroom.
I woke up later to find my youngest sister had disappeared & for the last few months, Mum & Dad have been on an all expenses paid holiday to look for her leaving Amelie & I behind!
Bastards.


I'm off to Hull for my lunch now
( ERG1008 is climbing in yo windows & snatchin yo people up, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:29, Reply)

It has to be said
The first year of marriage, I took the (then) missus to my parents for Christmas Morning.

We woke up and opened the bedroom door to find my mother had graced us with that tradition of a stocking filled with goodies.

After the usual chocolate and coinage and before she got to the obligatory satsuma the wife discovered ... a packet of condoms.

Thanks Mum (!)
(Dionysian Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:24, Reply)

Yea, let the pub be your playground



A few years back and my brother and I were down his local for a few drinks.

It was about 8 pm and still rather quiet. Quiet that is apart from two kids, a boy and a girl who were hopped up on too much sugar.

They were chasing one another around the pub, climbing on the sofa benches and knocking against tables.

We gave them a few dirty looks so they shied away from us and over towards this man and a woman at the other side. The couple gave no indication that they knew the kids or had anything at all to do with them. So, the kids continued screeching their lungs out and running riot. Eventually, the woman couldn't take it anymore.


Her: I told you to go away and not bother us!

Them: But mum...

Her: You're too bloody noisy! That's why we told you to play over there (Points to our end of the pub)

Them: Grumble, grumble

Her: (Irate now) Look! Your father and I have to fucking well leave the pub in an hour because of you two*. You've already ruined our night out so fucking well shut up and go and play over there! (Points once more towards our end)


* 9 pm is the legal limit on children under 16 being in a pub.


Throughout this, the father spent his time with his head buried in a Sunday tabloid and sipping his pint as if the whole thing wasn't happening at all.


The pub had been serving food until just before we arrived and the parent's table was covered with empty plates and glasses - they must have been in the pub all day long. Hence her giving out to the kids as they prevented the parents from stopping there until closing time.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:23, Reply)

My Dad
Apparently my dad's mum agreed to marry my granddad only if he promised not to get her pregnant as she hated kids. He was a Catholic however and she ended up having 5.

Her sister couldn't have kids so my nan gave her my dad when he was a toddler. After a few weeks the aunt decided that she really wanted a daughter so she took my dad back and asked for his sister instead. My nan didn't want to give up her daughter. Evil cow.

I didn't meet my nan until I was about 5 when after a big row my mum and dad threw me in the car and I was driven to meet this smelly old woman. The first thing I apparently said to her was "my dad told me you were dead"
(bald old git was bemused and befuddled on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:16, Reply)

My Dad
Sent me down to Earth again for the Second Comming after the bastards killed me the first time round.

So I went to the Jobcenter to sign on. And the harpy there took my details and said:

"Oh - a carpenter? We've a job for a carpenter in Jerusalem. Are you interested?"

Me: "No chance. I've worked there before and got hammered with tax."

Ba-bum-tish

"Thank you very much. I'll be under the pier all week"

Jesus
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:16, Reply)

Strange Punishment
When my mate Joe and his sister were being naughty.
His punishment would be to kneel on a metal strip which held down the lino, whilst pulling his earlobes.

For hours on end. Bloody awesome.
(Slatts If you cant remember it didnt happen, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:14, Reply)

B&Q Fun
Writing all these things makes me realise what a legend my dad is and if you read any of my previous posts you will by now realise that my dad is a DIY man and an honoury cunt.

Shopping for paint is boring and shit (as i have found out in my later years) but my dad made it all the more funnier when we were queing up in B&Q to pay. Suddenly he fucks off and proclaims that he is bringing the car round the front. 2 seconds later the smell of the most disgusting guiness and egg sandwich ridden fart hits all and sundry in the que. My poor mother took the unsaid blame from the fellow shoppers eyes while my dad was outside pissing himself with laughter and grinning like a rapist in a nunnery.

He has taught me so many good lessons.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:13, Reply)

My dad
sent me down to Earth for a lifetime of ridicule and for an incredibly painful death.

The bastard.

Yours sincerely,

Jesus Christ
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:11, Reply)

Father Again.....
Being forced to make to tea for my dad from a young age has turned me into an expert on the age old question:

What is the perfect cup of tea?

I know but i'll be fucked and dead before i tell anyone

muhahahahahaha
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:06, Reply)

Showdown in Aisle seven




About ten years ago now.

Whilst rooting about in the frozen veg section of the local Tesco.

I got a sudden sharp pain in my right shin. I looked down and there was a young boy, aged 5-6 who was leering up at me. I was in a state of shock and watched as he trotted over to this bottle-blonde, trophy-wife, type pushing a laden trolley.

Him: Mummy, see that stupid man over there? Well, I just kicked him (laughs)

Her: (In a disinterested tone) Oh? Well, he probably deserved it. (Looks over at me with a dead-eyed look) Come along then.

Despite the pain in my leg (and the resulting large bruise) I actually felt sorry for her. I got the impression she was terrified of the little Damien-alike. I reckon, in ten years, he'll be up in court for murdering several people giving a "Because I felt like it" style defense.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:04, Reply)

My parents decided I was left handed
I have came to the conclusion that I am not.

I write/mouse with my left hand.. that is it.

I am right footed
I fight right handed
I play pool/golf/anything involving the use of your hands, with my right hand
I use scissors right handed

the list goes on..

I think they got a little over excited one day when I must have grabbed a spoon with my left hand and decided that by that 1 action I was left handed.

As a result of this, I write terribly...and for all you people out there thinking/saying "yeah.. mine is terrible", i've had that plenty of times.. then I SHOW them my writing and they conceed (with comments of "are you physically retarded???" to being top trumped with a "100" in bad writing.


Fucking idiots, although now I'm a parent, I am trying to think of a way to mildly screw up my kids... I decided to teach my son that his hands are called feet and vice versa... that should be fun when he starts school.


Length? Its hard to measure as I don't know which fuckign hand to hold it with!
(ShavenLunatic says touch your nose!, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:02, Reply)

Restaurant Fury...
I went for a meal with my missus. It was only Pizza Express, but we wanted to enjoy it. There was a family with a 4 or 5 year old child on an adjacent table. This child was a monster.

He was incable of sitting still, and ran about the restaurant, making a racket. Being English, rather than complain, I simply raised my voice in conversation to my missus and described how ill-mannered and unruly kids could be if parents weren't up to the job.

The little shit knocked into my wife, and I said something. The parents gave us a look saying "Kids, eh? Aren't they cute!"

It happened again and I lost control of my temper (this is rare). I raised my voice to the parents and believe I mentioned that if children weren't taught to behave properly and with consideration for others in restaurants and similar places then it was down to incompetent parenting. I may have suggested that it is no surprise that teenagers are so unruly these days, as they have no notion of how to behave.

The father had a dig at me and with great dignity I poured my red wine over him, stuck my nose in the air and walked haughtily out of the restaurant, informing the waitress that he would be settling my bill.

I felt great. And determined to be a better parent than them!
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 12:00, Reply)

Not really a parent...
But Great grandad in hastings was a bit of a git...Not only did he bring the garage door down on my head, but he also cheated at chess when I started beating him ( I was only 5)...my father on discovering this went mad and told him off.....
(archstanton The gold is next to me....leave me be, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:58, Reply)

Fathers Revenge
First let me explain that my father and his brothers are petty vengeful cunts of the highest order. When I was 16 my mother made me work my dad and my uncles on the building sites. I was basically the tea boy and sweeper, much to the hilarity of my dad and his brothers. But just above me in the building site pecking order was this guy called 'shit mouth Dave'. Now Dave was none too bright and looked a bit like chunk from the Goonies. It was obvious Dave been the butt of many a joke and prank from the brothers but he had decided to get revenge. This was his first mistake!

We were building an extension on a sandwich shop one week and we were all constantly bombarded with free sandwiches all the time, bonza i hear you cry, not exactly!

Dave had terrible teeth and breathe, it looked and smelt like he was eating turds for breakfast. Hence the nickname 'shit mouth dave'. It turns out he had some very odd mouth disorder that he caught in Thailand!!!!!

Well anyway, unknown to all of us while dave was being very helpful and picking up the sandwiches for all of us everyday he was also licking and spitting in them. A few days roll on and my uncle jim starts getting these fucked up ulcers in his mouth and a few days later were all fucked in the mouth apart from Dave. After some careful detective work and the doctor asking us had we recently been to a foreign land licking out the bum holes of ladyboys (we assumed that’s what he meant) we sussed dave was fucking with us. Revenge was afoot.

Dave loved his shitty and loud Nova SRi (yes he was a chav too) and my dad knew this was his Achilles heel. One afternoon the brothers sent dave off across town in the work van to pick some shit from the hardware store that they didn't need. knowing he'd be gone for hours cause he was a lazy slackin cunt they set about revenge.

One by one my dad and his brothers took steaming huge dumps in a plastic bag. Jesus i felt sick. Then they opened up the radiator on daves car and threw it in there.

Remember this was the summer 98 and it was really fucking hot. Dave would drive to work every day and ask people if they could smell something weird in his car, we all replied 'no' of course. The smell was really fucking bad and i still retch now thinking about it. For three weeks he drove round with shit in his car but dave had to have his car stripped down in the end, which cost a fortune.

I love my Father

Cherry popped-first post

Length- I have to take a run up lubed with Castrol GTX to get it in.
(CaptainCuntyBollocks the man who can with a frying pan full of lamb, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:55, Reply)

All this talk of smoking...
...reminds me of the reason my parents gave up: one day when I was about three my mum came into the lounge to find me with a mouthful of cigarette butts that I'd grabbed out of an ashtray.

Incidentally, I've never smoked.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:52, Reply)

Legless....(Your 'Parents giving kids stupid names' post reminded me of this)
My brother went to Thailand recently on a shagging prossies holiday. On the plane were a couple of happy cockneys and their son.

The son wore combat trousers and no shirt, He was also blinged up-to-the-max with chains about 4 inches thick. He sprinted and jumped from seat to seat punching people and screeching. His parents obviously did not have a gnat's knackerworth of control over him.

All they could do was shout...wait for it....

RAMBO! Oi RAAAMMMBO! - Don't do that RAMMMBOOOW
Don't hit that 'cant' RAMBO. For facks sake RAMMMBOOO...NAAAHH

I weep for the future...
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:49, Reply)

Brothers! Furniture! Doom!
I have a younger brother. We get on very well now but did not as children. One day we had been fighting, a lot, and my parents shut us in a room together with a video and told us not to come out until we were friends.

The video they gave us was Wrestlemania. As kids imitate this sort of thing (we had a wrestling club at school) this strikes me as stunningly naive.

As you would expect, a rumpus ensued and when my folks came to checkon us they found two battered, bruised and bleeding small boys, a number of broken chairs, a damaged table and smashed lamps.

We got no pocket money for some time after.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:46, Reply)

My dad likes to try an embarrass me
My parents came up to Newcastle to visit my at university. We had dinner, and chatted about how things were at home. Near the end of the dinner, he started a lovely faux-serious speech.

"Friz.. we found something in one of your drawers back home..."

I was wondering what the fuck it could be. Drugs? Cash? Dead baby?

"Yes we found... a condom"

Nonchalent as anything, I replied "isn't that better than not finding a condom."

He paused. "Yes, I guess it is"

"Good. I thought for a second you found my STD Clinic Appointment card".

I'm glad after 20 years of trying to embarrass me with the littlest things, I managed to get my own back.
(__, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:40, Reply)

Pramtastic



My mother has never liked Jenny, the girl from nextdoor.

We always put it down to just one of her many, many irrational grudges.

A few years ago and the topic cropped up in conversation.

Me: What *do* you have against her then?

Mum: Well, when you were a baby, you'd cry and cry all day long so I used to put you in your pram and dump you at the bottom of the garden so I wouldn't have to listen to you.

Me: That explains a lot, what about Jenny?

Mum: well, the little bitch would climb over the fence, bring the pram up to the house and then knock on the backdoor to tell me that you were crying.

A 42 years and counting grudge, well done mum.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:40, Reply)

Samantha Morton off of Minority Report
I was having a pint outside a pub on Primrose Hill and she was waiting for a cab with some mates and their kids.
As the cab pulled up she, still chatting away, pushed her kid in its pushchair smack into the side of the taxi. After checking the kid was ok she looked around to check for paparazzi to see me laughing like a fool and threatening to call The Sun. I liked her - she was drunk.
( Geoff the Clownfish You know Myra, some people might think you're cute, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:33, Reply)

Illness, Vomiting, Hospital
Once, when my Mum was very young and had both me (a boisterous, adventurous and perpetually destructive two year old) and my baby brother to deal with, she made the mistake of putting cleaning tablets, unwrapped, in a low cupboard.

I found them and ate them.

Having children myself now, I can only imagine my mother's panic-stricken reaction when her eldest son toddled into the living room foaming at the mouth.

This was my first, but by no means last, visit to hospital.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:32, Reply)

My dad again
Back in the late 90s my mum got a new job which meant she worked late. Me and my brothers would go to respective mates' houses after school for tea and then get dropped home. Dad would stop off at the local pub on the way home for dinner and a few stiff ones.

On occasion he would realise he was a bit too squiffy to drive and would call home. Since our local was only about half a mile away I would then get on my bike, cycle down, stick my bike in the boot and drive us home.

This happened a coupla times a month from when i was 13 to 16.

Passed my driving test with flying colours though.
(Milo Minderbinder, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:31, Reply)

Boat
My Dad wistfully told me about how when he was a kid in a hard, grim northern town, he got bought a toy sailing boat. Oh how excited he was as my Grandad took him to the park to play with it!

They raced down to the pond, my Grandad put the boat on the water and pushed it off into the middle of the pool, where it stayed.

My Grandad was not prepared to get wet rescuing it so he shrugged his shoulders, said, "Tough" to my Dad (who was understandably upset) and off home they went, boatless.

Ah my poor Dad.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:27, Reply)

Dudes
For all funny name stories please see this link...

www.b3ta.com/questions/stupidnames/
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 11:26, Reply)