It would take a lot of time
but I'd have to try and wheel out the grandfather clock that's been in my family for four generations now. It was first purchased by my great-grandfather, before he went off to fight in the Great War. He wasn't a particularly bright man, and he decided to bring it with him. He smuggled it past the officers by disguising it as a mess tin. Once he was set up in the trenches, he installed it as a permanent fixture of his mud-hole. When he went over the top, he carried it with him. That clock saved my great-grandad's life several times, and that's why there are several hundred bullet holes in it to this day.

When my great-grandad returned from the war, with severe back problems, he put the clock in our hallway, where it remained until my grandfather was called up to fight in WW2. He was stationed in the Eastern theatre, and found the clock a tad useless, as they used a 20 hour clock over there. Nonetheless, he kept it with him, despite numerous beach landings in which he, instead of swimming to shore, would sink to the bottom and then walk. Finally, surrounded on an island being attacked by the Japanese, he gave the clock to an Air Force gunner by the name of Winnocki, asking him to return it to my grandmother in return for the promise of her giving him oral sex. Well Winnocki kept his promise, and my grandma kept hers. Three days later, my grandad died, safe in the knowledge that Winnocki would get herpes.

Then, when my father, an eccentric fellow, went to fight in Vietnam, he too took the clock. He strapped it to the side of his plane, despite the huge balance problems this caused. It was this that probably contributed to him being shot down over Hanoi. Now my father was in a bit of a pickle. He knew that the Vietnamese, having adopted a 24 hour clock in 1949, would be eager to get their hands on such a fine grandfather clock, so he decided to hide it, the only place he knew. His ass. That explains the rather worn down edges by the way. Five years he wore that six foot tall wooden clock up his ass, he walked like John Wayne, and couldn't sit down, winding it was a bugger as well. When he eventually died, of dysentery, his friend, always having envied my father's rigid posture, hid the clock up his ass for two years. When he was returned home, having kept the clock up his ass for the several flights it took him to reach me, apparently to save on luggage space, he reluctantly gave me the clock. After extensive cleaning, it's occupied a space in my hallway ever since, apart from the occasional exploratory journey up my colon.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Thu 15 May 2008, 3:27, 2 replies)

nicely done
If a little derivative.
(frankspencer, Thu 15 May 2008, 9:25, closed)

Nice,
though I'm puzzled why 'clock' has an 'l' in it.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 15 May 2008, 10:32, closed)