YOU can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family, and in particular you definitely wouldn’t choose these bellends:
Prominent because of recent events, Dave is an old-school racist who makes even UKIP voters uncomfortable with his lack of sophistication. There’s a reason his family work in shifts to ensure he never crosses the threshold of a Chinese or Indian restaurant.
Pleasant enough company until you sit down with her and discover she’s actually mental. Believes her cat is your great-grandmother reincarnated and her four-bed new-build semi is haunted. Don’t try to unpick this rubbish, just smile and back away.
Acknowledged even by his own parents as a wanker. He works for an estate agency and has two buy-to-let properties which he changed to AirBNBs ‘because you’d be an idiot not to’ then lost £30k in the last year. Empathise briefly, then head to the bar to avoid the tedium of his self-created problems.
Not a bad person per se, but when you see him there all old and alone in a corner and approach for a sympathetic chat you’ll be reminded why, and will soon be fully up to date on the 1964 closure of the Crieff and Comrie Railway and where each engine went.
It doesn’t matter if you married their sister or if they married yours, they’re still the worst prick at any family gathering. Every time they boast about their new BMW, light a stinking cigar or join in the kids’ games seemingly intent on making them cry you’re relieved not to share DNA.
Great-Auntie Janet and her family tree
She means no harm. But after an afternoon with all the above twats, you’re convinced the only reason to research your bloodline is so it can be extinguished. Instead you learn that you may be related to Anglo-Saxons.