Showing posts with label niece. Show all posts
Showing posts with label niece. Show all posts

1 January 2011

Mistaken identity

Over Xmas some fool bought Mrs Graph a game called 'Identity', a most brilliant idea for making sure you have completely absorbed the marketing shite slung at you by capitalism from the cradle to the grave.

It's a board game in which you throw dice and move from beginning to end, with movement prevented or encouraged at various points through the introduction of a task; that being to identify the logo of some 'brand' or other from the version presented on a card, which has either had the name removed from the graphic, or is merely a fragment of the actual, full thing.

Anyway, on Xmas evening we were playing in teams of three; young people (Steppy, Steppy II and niece), middle-aged people (Mrs Graph, Mrs Graph's sister and Mrs Graph's sister's husband) and very old people (Mrs Graph's mother and father and, erm... me).

The young people were guessing. Unusually - as they seem to have been most readily brainwashed by the marketing profession (and were accordingly winning by some way) - they were struggling. What they had to go at was an 'x' with a small pinkish paw print above it, to the upper left. A fragment of a larger logo.

It was the logo for the catfood, 'felix'.

But they did not know that. Although at this point only Steppy and niece were in the room guessing.

Steppy II had been to the toilet.

But he came back and with all the swagger that a 12 year-old boy can muster he looked at Steppy and niece as if they were completely empty-headed numpties and he bellowed,

"I know! I know!

"It's Petsex!! Petsex!!"




He may never be allowed to forget that.

Once we've stopped pissing ourselves laughing.

1 August 2009

... then just poo-poo the whole thing...

For some years I have had a game I play with the kids in our family. It started with Steppy II, moved to the niece and I'm now trying it on niece II. It involves me making up sentences in a false language which sounds vaguely Eastern European, and most importantly - in the middle of long, rambling outbursts - it always contains the words "poo-poo finger". To the extent that the language has become known as 'poo-poo finger'.

Because kids think that's hilarious. Poo-poo finger.

This afternoon, we went to a wedding reception, and plonked ourselves (in both the sense of 'sat down' and 'drank wine') outside in the gazebos whilst it rained and rained and rained...

Anyway; in the midst of the deluge I decided to try to entertain niece II with an burst of poo-poo finger. Actually, it was unsuccessful, as she is too young to 'get' it - having not yet developed any language of her own.

As I left, the Best Man stopped me. "Did I hear you speaking Polish?", he asked, threateningly ...