My dad will be a stickler for the rules, my sister Alison will question his interpretation of the rules, and my sister Sarah will inevitably storm off in a huff because she's losing, but blame it on the argument between my dad and Alison.
Here are ten bizarre vintage board games which you might like to track down, and use to cause arguments between your own parents are siblings.
"I made my own Ice Cube - I call him Meltin' Milton... I made his little hat from a block of old stilton-cheese."
It would be a bit like that, I imagine, albeit with more liberal use of the N-word and references to disrespectin' da police.
From what I can tell by looking at the box of this game - I could investigate elsewhere online, but really can't be bothered - the aim of Ice Cube (the game) is to subject a little ice cube man to various forms of torture, like a sort of modern Witch Trials... but for ice!
Notably, the boy torturer on the packaging is a smug white boy. I'm sure Ice Cube the rap singer would have something to say about that...
They don't, alas, go out of their way to specify what the funny feeling might be, but given that the upper age limit on Feely Meely is 14, and judging from the gender split between the players depicted on the box, the feeling might be the feeling of puberty (unwanted erections).
Lions shove people with hoes, leopards stab them with a kitchen knife, and hyenas scratch them to death with an abrasive paddle a bit like one of those things your wife uses for getting the dead skin off her feet, only MUCH bigger.
"Dis game is simple safe, my braaaaaaahvin."
Consequently, girls will be unable to repeat the events which led to me "pillowing" my friend Stuart's backside through the glass of my bedroom window, some 35 years ago. The parents got double glazing put in shortly after that, you'll be glad to hear.
There's an age-old debate, centring around the comic equation... tragedy x time = comedy. Still... when you consider it, however long ago it happened, is there really anything entertaining or funny about all those people losing their lives?
No, but the boat it happened on does have the word "tit" in its name. Has to be a joke in that.
Maybe something about it all going "tits up"...?
Turns out that no... there really was a game where players got to "become a JEWISH MOTHER!", and embark upon such traditional Jewish mother pursuits as getting their sons to become doctors, or getting their daughters to marry doctors... and offering visitors to their home a big bowl of... cuttlefish?
I suppose my issue with banning the word "fat" is that there's an inherent implication that being bigger than some other people - being "fat" - is somehow unattractive, and being "slim" is automatically desirable.
Newsflash, skinny: just because you spend eight hours a week in the gym, and you never eat hamburgers, doesn't automatically make you handsome or beautiful. It just means you've been brainwashed by society's unrealistic aesthetic programming.
I mean, I'm hardly a stick insect myself... and I'm The World's Handsomest Man, obviously. Although I would like to be significantly thinner, mainly because none of my t-shirts fit me comfortably anymore, and I don't want to get diabetes, and my knees and back hurt all the time.
Unfortunately, eating is life's greatest pleasure.
Secondly... it's a game which seems to be about drinking alcohol to excess, and it's shown being played by pre-teen boys. One of whom - the one on the left - seems to be in the throes of demonic possession.
Except... get this: I've looked it up, and Hawaiian Punch is a brand of soft drink. Which makes it all the more perplexing that the characters chosen to promote it both seem to be drunk. And one of them is wearing a bloody ribcage on his head.
They also banned me from being hypnotised by a boy I met at a party, and when he came over, my dad kept bursting into my room, and making excessive noise, to disrupt the hypnotic process.
Joke's on them, though: they still don't know that my friend Stuart and I dug up the bones of our dead cat, Bobby. Which, I admit, is rather profoundly disturbing, and precisely the sort of thing you read about serial killers doing when they were children. Even at the time it felt a bit wrong, but we were just curious, I suppose. That's peer pressure for you.
"Let him have it, Chris!"
Get this: the last few days, I've had rabbits in my back garden. I don't exactly live in a rural area, so I figured they'd escaped from somewhere, but after a few half-hearted attempts we gave up trying to catch them. I'd decided that having two bunnies living in my garden might be quite nice, and that they might eat the grass so that I don't have to mow the lawn.
Then yesterday the boy from next door knocked, and apparently they belong to his cousin. He was looking after them for him while the cousin was on holiday, but the cousin had brought the bunnies over in a bird cage, and the boy from next door thought this was mean, so he let them out to roam around in his garden. Then he managed to round them up, and I was a bit sad that they were gone.
Still, they were back last night! Gawd knows how he expected to keep them in his garden, given that there's a massive fence panel missing, which I've never bothered to fix.