My inlaws - great
Met my inlaws for 1st time 6 weeks after meeting Mrs N. It was 5 years ago & her dad's 50th birthday and we went to their house for the weekend. 1st thing dad-in-law does is hand me a beer and ask where I'm from. Glasgow is the answer and things (inevitably given the answer) move onto football. I bluntly answer that I think footy is shite and I'm a rugby player, releived sighs all round (most of family love rugby) and I'm accepted almost immediately. Basically fitted in brilliant. Her sister loves me, mer mum loves me, her dad thinks I'm a good laugh. But they all think I smell and the reason is this: I love most English beers, but it makes me do really smelly farts. And as I spend almost all my time at the inlaws drinking English beer with dad-in-law, I have therefore polluted their house irreperably. Anyway 1 evening about 3 years after, around when we announced our engagement, we are headng off to this pub, all 4 of us and an old family friend of theirs. We walk past a neighbours house and they come out to say hello. I meanwhile am busting for a shite and really need to finish the short walk to the pub. Conversation ensues and many questions are asked of me, which I reply. Only suddenly and without warning and mid-sentence, I float a rather fruty air-biscuit. Lady-neighbour yells "Who dropped their guts?" in a broad West-Country twang at the top of her lungs. The smell, and remember this was outside in the fresh air, was horrific, like a mix of tar, bovril and slurry, and it lingered. I actually thought I might have shat myself. In a blind panic and addled by the stench, I tried to blame the family friend, but by this time, everyone is pissing themselves, except me who is almost in tears of embarrassment. Now whenever a fart is done, I get the blame.

Also, during same 1st meeting, I had to go with her dad the following day to collect a motorbike. Mrs N made a big deal of saying that as I am from where I am and like to swear as rudely and flagrantly as often as poss, that i should refrain from swearing in front of the parents. So off we go to collect the bike and on the way I am treated to a tale about what a cunt the motorbike guys is. Big weight off my shoulders and on the way there and back again, every second word from is both os of either of the C or the F variety.

Luckily, I have never had to apologise to them for length or girth of the combination of both hurting Mrs N, so I won't do it now either.
( Normanator Bad case of trapped wind since, Fri 20 May 2005, 11:09, Reply)