Every family has its black sheep, its skeleton in the closet, its dark, dark secret. Well, here's mine...
Yes... my brother's a SC*MMER!
If you click on his head, you can tell him what a Sc*mmer you think
he is!
Anyway, here we are, just a few days before his wedding, in fact just
a few hours before he drank his way, unconscious, into Dundee Infirmary
on his stag night (...see, Sc*mmers can't hold their drink), having a traditional,
beer-enhanced fight in his garden.
Just to prove how stupid Sc*mmers really are, he had his wedding on the
first day of the season when most sane people were watching Pompey draw 2-2 at Maine Rd. More
to the point, I'd flown halfway round the world for the wedding and I had
to miss a Pompey match! Still,
at least Sc*mmers lost...