Prince of Wails

My cousin Gethin, from Pontypridd, is staying with us at the moment, for reasons I am not clear on.
I don’t like Gethin.
He visits conspiracy theory websites and wears a Star Trek badge on his blazer. Not that those factors themselves are enough to fill me with hatred for a person, but every hour I spend in his presence brings forth a new and even more loathsome aspect to his personality.
This morning he spent 20 minutes in the toilet while his bowels moved, and then came out saying “that was like half-melted caramel ice cream being pushed through a pensioners eye”
Cretin.
He says he ‘has me sussed’ and thinks I’m an intellectual snob who hides behind a wall of indifference rather than face the world I’m scared of head-on. That’s at good moments. Other times he calls me a tubby bitch and grabs my nipples firmly through my shirt and twists them.
For my part, I think he’s a f**kwit with a brain the size of a sesame seed, but that’s family I suppose.
We spent the day in Cromer today (again – for reasoning which seems to have escaped me) Mum didn’t want to drive so we had to spend an hour in the company of a Norfolk Green bus driver. Ralph Fiennes’ character in ‘Schindler’s List’ springs to mind.
Gethin said ‘Cromer is a bit like Pontypridd, but with Sanatogen instead of heroin’
Even the driest of intellectual deserts can sometimes spring a cactus of wisdom…

RC 21-4-08
2300 GMT