Times your parents behaved egregiously out of or in character

[St_Eddie]

Least Dad: took a fortnight off to become a GOD on sega megadrive's Colums game

You're thinking of Populous, or as you'd say; Popalus.

[saltysnacks]

Most Dad: Changed from rage to flirtation mode when he realised that the person who crashed into the back of us was a very attractive woman.

Least Dad: He once went a day without drinking.

Most Mom: Stood by a freezer to dry off from the rain and nearly died (still don't know whether to laugh or cry at that one, I think she has some undiagnosed learning disability)

Least Mom: Once left-hooked a creep in a club.

[Beagle 2]

Most Dad thing: I once silently watched my father in a Chinese restaurant staring at - and weighing up - a hot plate which had been placed on the table, ready to rest the food on when it arrived. I could see the cogs groaning and clunking in his head, his brow furrowed in curiosity and befuddlement, and I thought: "that cunt is going to put his hand on that hot plate in a minute. He's going to put his hand on that hot plate and burn the fuck out of his hand, and I'm going to watch him do it".

Time seemed to freeze for father and son as the small talk bubbled around us. We were simply on a different frequency - he enchanted and hypnotised by this piece of alien technology, and I transfixed by the ghoulish horror of what was about to unfold. I was so tense that I couldn't have summoned the breath to warn him even if I wanted to. A hot plate on a table in a restaurant - mundane to most, but in the eyes of my dad it was as mesmerising as the Great Barrier Reef, as enticing as a drunken Sandra.

I started to narrate the scene in my head as if I was David Attenborough conveying the folly of the lemming. "This. Is. A. Dad. As a youngling he was vital and virile, but by middle age around 37% of his brain has trickled out of his nasal canal to lie in an encrusted puddle on the floor of the Red Lion. Disorientated by the absence of John Smiths on tap in this eatery, he feels isolated and vulnerable - prone to acts of unbelievable clod-headedness. Editorial integrity prevented us from intervening in this case, so save your fucking tweets, yeah?".

Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it firmly, determinedly, full palm down onto the scalding metal surface. You don't want to fuck about with these things by testing the water with a fingertip, better to go all in and expose the maximum possible skin surface area to the white hot fury. It wouldn't be much of a rite of passage if the fire walkers of Sri Lanka tentatively dipped a toe toward the embers before dancing about on one leg trying to blow their foot. They would, quite simply, look like a twat.

So forward to victory he went, and he did shriek out in agony at a shrill pitch that broke the small talk and snapped everybody's attention towards a squirming Allan. In the enquiry that followed he tried to cover his tracks with improvised excuses, but the blisters were already forming. And it was useless, because I saw the whole damn thing.

Least dad thing: WhatsApp

[itsfredtitmus]

Why would standing by a freezer kill you?

[saltysnacks]

Why would standing by a freezer kill you?

Soaking wet in the middle of a cold day before the heating was switched on (my mom isn't bright at all, I'm afraid).

[ASFTSN]

Most Dad thing: Tying himself in knots trying to lecture me on why Dave Lombardo from Slayer wasn't actually a great drummer, and the double-bass bit in Angel of Death was 'probably a machine or something'

After the hour was up and the tour had finished, I said "Dad, I took an Ecstasy tab", frantically licking my lips, gnashing my teeth and with sweat dripping from every pore of my body.  "I know", he stoically replied.  *shudders*

This thread is bringing the laffs.  Lovely stuff. 

[itsfredtitmus]

Soaking wet in the middle of a cold day before the heating was switched on (my mom isn't bright at all, I'm afraid).

OOO I thought you meant she was close to the plug or something

[ASFTSN]

Least Dad:  Staying up until 2 in the morning practising special moves on Tekken 2 so that he could win against me and my brother.  Think I was out drinking in the park.

[gilbertharding]

Aye.  To be fair, who hasn't got a cherished memory of their Nan getting buggered?

Gah!

To be absolutely clear - the memory I cherish is that my Nan had a cracking sense of humour, and had clearly enjoyed landing the joke, even if it was by accident.

[St_Eddie]

Least Dad:  Staying up until 2 in the morning practising special moves on Tekken 2 so that he could win against me and my brother.  Think I was out drinking in the park.

Nina Williams Dad Wins.

Gah!

To be absolutely clear - the memory I cherish is that my Nan had a cracking sense of humour, and had clearly enjoyed landing the joke, even if it was by accident.

Nope.  You now must replace your cherished and loving memory of your nan, with the mental image of your nan being buggered up the arse and bloody loving it.  Them's the rules.

[Sebastian Cobb]

Most Dad: Back when dvd players were new and the only one we had was in a computer me and a mate rented alien 3. So dad snuck in the darkened study and hid behind me for ages just so he could give the reclining office chair a violent shaking when the Alien jumped out. Shit me right up.

[Cuellar]

The ecstasy pellet story just gives me the fear.

Imagine if I was a dad (and that might be the case in the not very distant at all future), and my kid was cooler than I was at that age? Not saying doing drugs automatically makes you cool, but I've always been far too much of a cowardy custard to do ecstasy.

I haven't done anything (drugs or just generally). If I had a kid that went out going to parties and having a great time, would I get jealous? Am I an embittered shit?

Dads and mums of this forum, help me out.

[ASFTSN]

Nina Williams Dad Wins.

How did you know he played as Nina?

[spamwangler]

You're thinking of Populous, or as you'd say; Popalus.

am i tho?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFJvY1k-rpM
im thinking of that

[saltysnacks]

The ecstasy pellet story just gives me the fear.

Imagine if I was a dad (and that might be the case in the not very distant at all future), and my kid was cooler than I was at that age? Not saying doing drugs automatically makes you cool, but I've always been far too much of a cowardy custard to do ecstasy.

I haven't done anything (drugs or just generally). If I had a kid that went out going to parties and having a great time, would I get jealous? Am I an embittered shit?

Dads and mums of this forum, help me out.

Just ruin any confidence he or she may have. Constantly criticise them and ensure that nothing they can do is good enough for you.

[ASFTSN]

am i tho?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFJvY1k-rpM
im thinking of that

Populous is about Gods.  I think what you meant is that your Dad achieved God-like skill at Columns during his two-week sojourn.

Because my Dad was in his dressing gown during his Tekken 2 training I am assuming your Dad was in his dressing gown for those 2 weeks as well.

[Isnt Anything]

Most Dad thing: I once silently watched my father in a Chinese restaurant staring at - and weighing up - a hot plate which had been placed on the table, ready to rest the food on when it arrived.
....
I started to narrate the scene in my head as if I was David Attenborough conveying the folly of the lemming. "This. Is. A. Dad. As a youngling he was vital and virile, but by middle age around 37% of his brain has trickled out of his nasal canal to lie in an encrusted puddle on the floor of the Red Lion. Disorientated by the absence of John Smiths on tap in this eatery, he feels isolated and vulnerable - prone to acts of unbelievable clod-headedness.
....
And it was useless, because I saw the whole damn thing.

top post absolutely top post great piece of writing

[spamwangler]

Populous is about Gods.  I think what you meant is that your Dad achieved God-like skill at Columns during his two-week sojourn.

Because my Dad was in his dressing gown during his Tekken 2 training I am assuming your Dad was in his dressing gown for those 2 weeks as well.

oh i see! sorry st eddie, none to bright
no, a dressing gown would be Very un-dad, - wont be seen before  6am without his boots on

[shh]

Mother, in character: "I don't know if I even believe in atoms."

Out of character (sort of): She is probably on some MI5 list. Background, Derry-born catholic, moved to London in 70s/80s. Few weeks after moving, flat was raided in the aftermath of some bombing or other, with special branch having knowledge of improbably obscure aspects of her life (so she claims).

[The Boston Crab]

top post absolutely top post great piece of writing

Amen. Absolutely beautiful.

[Twit 2]

We lived in the country, I went to school, and—an important detail—I slept in my parents' room. At night it was my father's habit to read aloud to my mother. Though he was a Greek Orthodox priest, he would read anything, doubtless assuming that at my age I wouldn't understand. Usually I didn't even listen and fell asleep, unless the text was some gripping story. One night I pricked up my ears. He was reading the scene from a biography of Rasputin where the father, on his deathbed, calls his son to him and says: "Go to Saint Petersburg and make yourself master of the city, fear nothing and no one, for God is an old hog."
Such an enormity in my father's mouth, for whom the priesthood was not a joke, impressed me as much as a conflagration or an earthquake. But I also distinctly recall —this was over fifty years ago—that my emotion was followed by a strange, dare I say a perverse pleasure.

[QDRPHNC]

Most Dad Thing: Walking slower than everyone else on holiday.
Least Dad Thing: None.

[St_Eddie]

The ecstasy pellet story just gives me the fear.

Tell me about it!  *shudders*

How did you know he played as Nina?

'Cause I looked through your window, just like I'm doing now.

oh i see! sorry st eddie, none to bright

That's alright, you're in good company.

[fucking ponderous]

MOST DAD THING: Getting mistaken three times for Crocodile Dundee on holiday in Florida in the 90s and on the third occasion just going with it and saying "Have you taken the flamin' picture yet?" in an appalling Australian accent. I love my old man, he's fucking ace.

How many of these people thought Crocodile Dundee was a real person

[St_Eddie]

How many of these people thought Crocodile Dundee was a real person

You mean to say that he's not?!

[fucking ponderous]

In some religions, no.

[St_Eddie]

In some religions, no.

Fucking heretics.

[Ferris]

Most dad thing: collecting old lawn mowers and shotguns, restoring a 1974 MG-B roadster from scratch (including a complete engine rebuild).

Least dad thing: unsuccessfully using the windscreen washer squirt thing and car horn on his Citroen BX to stop the chimpanzees at West Midlands Safari Park from nicking the windscreen wipers and radio aerial. Also strongly disliking golf.

[St_Eddie]

...Also strongly disliking golf.

That's the least dad thing within this thread.

[Gregory Torso]

Most Dad thing: I once silently watched my father in a Chinese restaurant staring at - and weighing up - a hot plate which had been placed on the table, ready to rest the food on when it arrived. I could see the cogs groaning and clunking in his head, his brow furrowed in curiosity and befuddlement, and I thought: "that cunt is going to put his hand on that hot plate in a minute. He's going to put his hand on that hot plate and burn the fuck out of his hand, and I'm going to watch him do it".

Time seemed to freeze for father and son as the small talk bubbled around us. We were simply on a different frequency - he enchanted and hypnotised by this piece of alien technology, and I transfixed by the ghoulish horror of what was about to unfold. I was so tense that I couldn't have summoned the breath to warn him even if I wanted to. A hot plate on a table in a restaurant - mundane to most, but in the eyes of my dad it was as mesmerising as the Great Barrier Reef, as enticing as a drunken Sandra.

I started to narrate the scene in my head as if I was David Attenborough conveying the folly of the lemming. "This. Is. A. Dad. As a youngling he was vital and virile, but by middle age around 37% of his brain has trickled out of his nasal canal to lie in an encrusted puddle on the floor of the Red Lion. Disorientated by the absence of John Smiths on tap in this eatery, he feels isolated and vulnerable - prone to acts of unbelievable clod-headedness. Editorial integrity prevented us from intervening in this case, so save your fucking tweets, yeah?".

Slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it firmly, determinedly, full palm down onto the scalding metal surface. You don't want to fuck about with these things by testing the water with a fingertip, better to go all in and expose the maximum possible skin surface area to the white hot fury. It wouldn't be much of a rite of passage if the fire walkers of Sri Lanka tentatively dipped a toe toward the embers before dancing about on one leg trying to blow their foot. They would, quite simply, look like a twat.

So forward to victory he went, and he did shriek out in agony at a shrill pitch that broke the small talk and snapped everybody's attention towards a squirming Allan. In the enquiry that followed he tried to cover his tracks with improvised excuses, but the blisters were already forming. And it was useless, because I saw the whole damn thing.

Least dad thing: WhatsApp

We lived in the country, I went to school, and—an important detail—I slept in my parents' room. At night it was my father's habit to read aloud to my mother. Though he was a Greek Orthodox priest, he would read anything, doubtless assuming that at my age I wouldn't understand. Usually I didn't even listen and fell asleep, unless the text was some gripping story. One night I pricked up my ears. He was reading the scene from a biography of Rasputin where the father, on his deathbed, calls his son to him and says: "Go to Saint Petersburg and make yourself master of the city, fear nothing and no one, for God is an old hog."
Such an enormity in my father's mouth, for whom the priesthood was not a joke, impressed me as much as a conflagration or an earthquake. But I also distinctly recall —this was over fifty years ago—that my emotion was followed by a strange, dare I say a perverse pleasure.

Some absolutely fucking beautiful writing in this thread.