(Our teacher gives us twenty minutes at the end of a lesson on Friday to ask the most random questions and then debate one of them. We write them down and put them into a tombola for her to pick out of. The last few weeks every topic has been asking whether a prominent historical figure was gay, so this week she has pleading and praying that there isn’t another one.)

Teacher: *picking a topic* “Oh, for pity’s sake!”

(She turns around and writes the question on the whiteboard.)

Question: “Was Leonardo da Vinci gay?”

(She sat down and took some ibuprofen before letting us debate. Unbeknownst to her, we have all been putting those questions in the hat this month!)

(My sister has had a nasty break up with her boyfriend. She’s really upset, but doesn’t like a lot of sympathy. I am out shopping at the time, and decide to ask if she wants a treat.)

Me: “Do you want some ice cream? I can come by on the way home.”

Sister: “I swear to god, I will piss over and break your legs!”

Me: “Okay, I know you’re angry, but you don’t have to be so disgusting!”

Sister: “S***! I meant come over.”

(She did get over it pretty quickly, but I kept the ice cream.)

(Sometimes I wonder how my sister and I are related as she comes out with some really stupid one liners. Usually when we explain she’s wrong she shrugs and accepts it but this time is different. We’re listening to a radio station in our living room when she changes it to a Christmas station. Note: it’s March at the time.)

Sister: “Why are there Christmas stations this time of year? Christmas was three months ago.”

Me: “There are stations that play Christmas music all year round.”

Sister: “Well, I suppose it’s Christmas somewhere.”

(I glance over thinking she is joking, but nope, she looks totally serious.)

Me: “I’m sorry, did you just say it’s Christmas somewhere?”

Sister: “Yeah, like in Australia or South Africa.”

Me: “No, that’s not how it works. Australia is ahead of us so they get Christmas a day before us but that’s the biggest gap.”

Sister: “But they have summer in our winter.”

Me: “Yes, they do, but the date of Christmas never changes. It’s always the 25th of December so I can guarantee you that no-one is celebrating Christmas in March.”

(She seemed to accept this and move on. I have no idea if she understood what I was saying.)

(I’m going to university the next day and am finishing my packing up. My university is on the other side of the country. My mum isn’t taking my decision too well, and has been trying everything in her power to stop me.)

Mum: “Can’t you just stay here? I’m begging you, just stay!”

Me: “I’ve already told you. I really like the course, and this gives me more independence. You’ve spent the past three years saying you can’t wait to be rid of me. So here you go.”

Mum: “Yes, but I meant down the street, not on the other side of the world.”

Me: “Mum, calm down. It’s three hours away.”

Mum: “I just can’t understand why you want to leave us. We’ve never abused you or anything!”

(She continues like this all day, getting more and more desperate. Come early morning, and I hear a lot of noise coming from the garage. My dad is already walking down the stairs and we meet. He thinks it’s my mum so we check. We find her slashing my car tyres by torchlight. When my dad confronts her, all she can get out is “NOW HE CAN’T GO!”  My dad arranges for new tyres later in the morning, and my move is still set for after noon. I come down to say my goodbyes, and my parents are in the kitchen. My mum is still sobbing while my dad argues angrily.)

Dad: “You slashed his tyres, for Christ’s sake! I’m surprised he isn’t running for the hills!”

(When I finally said goodbye, she refused to leave the kitchen and I ended up saying goodbye to my brother, dad, and grandparents. My mum still refuses to speak to me, and during the times I have visited, she refuses to look me in the eye, and leaves the room altogether. I haven’t had an actual conversation with her in months.)

(I am a head cashier. I have been called to the checkouts to assist a young couple of Indian descent. After serving them:)

Manager: “It’s a good thing you could handle that. I couldn’t understand a word they were saying.”

Me: “They sounded Glaswegian to me.”

Manager: “How would you know? You’re from Sheffield.”

Me: “Why didn’t you? Haven’t you lived in Glasgow all your life?”

Manager: “True. I wonder why I couldn’t understand them.”

Me: “Racism?”

(She wasn’t best pleased with me.)