I used to have an uncle; nothing unusual about that - lots
of folk have uncles. I had more than one uncle of course, but it's
of historical accuracy, it behooves me to admit that I'm unsure whether
he was an 'actual' uncle or merely an 'honorary' one, in that convenient
bracket that older male relatives are placed when it's not known exact-
ly what their title should be. He never struck me as a very nice man to
be frank, and he was eventually sectioned under the mental health
act for beating up his wife - who, unsurprisingly, happened to be
my aunt. They were both quite elderly when all this was
going on, which is all rather tragic I suppose.
convinced (nor were we much interested, truth be told) so he in-
sisted on demonstrating his 'amazing ability'. At first he stood in a
sible, then slowly stood up, thrusting his chest out as far as he could
impression that he'd achieved his stated goal. When he was finished,
he proudly announced: "Mabel, I've just expanded my chest by 11
and a half inches!" He hadn't of course, all he'd done is made a
tit of himself. We were too polite to say so, but we had a
good laugh at him after he'd left.
I can never be regarded with derision or disdain in the way that
me and my brother discreetly regarded Uncle Willie. So I suppose
the moral of this story is that if you want your young relatives to be
left with a good impression of you when you're gone, then you
should avoid trying to impress them while you're here.