This shouldn't really be a comedy open mic post because I am going to be going on about a dead uncle but I was in the pub the other day and some old lad was telling me that my Uncle Tommy was a bit of a mad bastard. "Not really a bit of a one" said another guy. He was one. I always knew Tommy was the black sheep of the family ever since my visit to the seaside when I was 7 when my family ran into a drunk Tommy and the father did everything in his power to herd us away from him but I always liked him because he was a great laugh and a fun bobby. I learned later in life that he was fun because he was always off his trolley on the old booze.
Tommy was a character who never left the home house. He was one step off being a homeless but miraculously he held down a job and a house.
At one stage he was such an alcoholic that when he got his wages he would put £20 in an envelope and post it to himself every Friday, He would then go to town and drink the bars dry until Sunday, He would wake up on Monday for work without a penny to rub together until the postman came with his envelope that had his £20 in it. This would feed him until Thursday. And then he would do the same again the following week until the great postal strike of 1979.
He would meet his nephews outside the bar and ask them for the entrance fee to the pub and they would always give him a few pound even though the pub was free and there was no such entrance fee.
He even got married once but the wife left him a week after so after this he lived alone until he died in his 70's.
Before he died he had an operation in hospital. He was well loved by all his nieces and nephews that they all gathered to see him during visiting times post op. For some reason the nieces all went in first including my mother who was his sister in law obviously. The nephews and the father was chatting in the corridor when all of a sudden they heard a scream from the ladies.
The men rushed in and Tommy was laying in the bed. Tommy decided to show all the girls his black and blue penis and testicles. The men all got an eye full as well.
"Tommy nobody wants to see your fucking black and blue Mickey." shouted one nephew,
Tommy and the father had a weird relationship. My dad was the youngest of 8 but he was the one who looked after the brothers most of which were alcohol dependent. He was more into sport so only drank at the weekends. He was the peace maker if there was ever a row between the siblings and there always was. The father was always wary around Tommy. He lived in a flat in London in the 70's and one night Tommy turned up at his doorstep telling the father that his girlfriend had left him and stole all his money. The father gave him a few pound for the train to stay with the oldest brother who lived in Mansfield just to get rid of him. So off he went. A letter came a day later from my dad's mother which was short and sweet
"If Thomas shows up at your door don't give him any money, him and his lackie stole all mine."
"Too late mother." my father wrote back.
Tommy is dead now a good 15 years and whenever I go out there is people coming up to me telling me stories about him.
The more and more I hear about the funny Uncle Tommy has me thinking he was a complete and utter degenerate but the stories of him live on unlike the uncle on the other side that was a boring aul sod. So that messes with my head a little bit.
That night at the beach when the family got the last bus back. I was 8 and I was worried about how Uncle Tommy was going to get home and the father said he will get home somehow. After we got off the bus we were walking home and a fella with a trailer load of black bags stopped just up the road and Tommy got out from amongst all the bags. The father looked in disgust and just said "That's how he got home."
In my 20's I started to realise how much of a disaster Tommy was when our cousin was getting married. It was the family wedding of the year. They gave me a job. Bring Tommy for a haircut but don't go down town because he knows everyone and they will give him drink. Bring him to Waterford which was 30 miles away. Waste time. He's like a gremlin. Don't let him touch the sauce.
"He can't be that bad dad"
"He fucking can and he fucking is" said my father.
I didn't mind anyway so I collected Tommy at 10am in the morning and the first thing he asked me if we could stop at a pub.
"None of the pubs are open Tommy, it's 10 in the morning."
"I know a place if you knock on the window"
"I have strict instructions from the father."
There was a mumble of disgust and a stink eye.
So off we go to Waterford and I stop by at the closest looking barber.
I go in and tell him that Tommy needed a trim for the wedding.
I left Tommy to go down to get him a paper for the way back.
I come back and there was no sign of Tommy and the bloody barber.
I searched around until I opened a back door and there is Tommy and the barber necking whiskey out the back.
My father is going to bloody kill me.
I pulled him out of the barbers and into the car and drove him to my cousins house who was in charge of him over the next couple of hours. The race to get Tommy to the church sober was a losing battle and he missed the whole wedding. I didn't get in trouble as the Uncles all knew it was a suicide mission and nobody had passed the test to keep Tommy away from drink for any longer than 2 hours. Later that night Tommy turned up at around 11pm after a good sleep and danced the night away. He looked like a million dollars and that's why everyone quite liked him.
Anyone else have a degenerate Uncle or is it only me? I think every family has one!
If you don't maybe it is you!