Is £400 million enough for you to pretend your brother’s not a dick?

COULD you, for no more than £400 million pounds, pretend your brother is not a total arsehole for six weeks? Find out: 

Has your brother repeatedly said what an utter twat you are to everyone? 

A) Yes, especially when he gets a few in him at Christmas. It’s why we tend to leave early these days.
B) Yes, whenever interviewed by the media he’ll dedicate a few juicy soundbites to what an absolute f**king bellend I am in the hope it might boost sales of his albums.

Has your brother developed his social media brand by slating you? 

A) We’re not friends on Facebook any more, and yes I believe he goes on the occasional late-night rant about my scratching his U2 records, but ‘brand’? No.
B) Yes, he’s spent several years referring to me by the potato emoji, humiliating me whenever possible and calling my wife ‘Yoko’. Also he calls everyone ‘rastas’.

Have you ever humiliated your brother professionally? 

A) Certainly not. Well, there was the occasion I reported him for driving without insurance so he’d lose his licence, but that was a public safety issue.
B) I admit I have refused to let him use my songs in film of his concerts, which coincidentally are much larger than mine, but that was a rights issue.

Have you publicly vowed never to have anything to do with him ever again? 

A) Not in public because few would care, but I’ve definitely said it to my wife, our children, our parents, any mutual friends and the lads at work.
B) Yes, whenever asked. I’ve belittled him, mocked him, goaded him and done everything within my power to piss on his chips.

Have you recently got divorced and it’s cost you a fair bit? 

A) No, my marriage remains strong.
B) As a matter of fact yes, but that’s nothing to do with anything.

Will you agree to pretend he is not the world’s greatest knobhead for a short period of time in return for a half-share of £400 million? 

A) Four hundred quid? I’m there. Wait, did you say ‘million’?
B) Reluctantly, yes. But I’m looking forward to slagging the chimp-walking prick off again afterwards more than I am the concerts.

ANSWERS: 

Mostly As: You will accept money to feign fondness for your brother, despite the incident with the hamster when you were eight, but nobody’s offering it. Carry on calling him a wanker.

Mostly Bs: In return for the largest payday of your well-monied life, you will pretend your brother is not a total dick you despise from the very pit of your being. Temporarily. The truce may collapse on stage.

Eight iconic films your kids will be bored of within minutes

PARENTS love to curate their children’s viewing, perhaps in recognition they have little else to offer. Within 20 minutes of each of these beginning, the kids will be done: 

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

A thrilling tale of courage, heart and brains which you forgot starts out in black and white. The moaning from the sofa begins instantly and builds to a crescendo. The arrival of the Munchkins sees mass desertions. Though they will allow you to pay £40 to take them to Wicked. 

Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

A pivotal movie in your own upbringing because the rest of the 70s were grey and dull. ‘Is this a film about two misters who farm sand?’ your six-year-old innocently asks. Their fight for the remote is as dramatic as any lightsaber battle. The models of spaceships look small and stupid.

The Goonies (1987)

A rip-roaring tale of kids going in search of One-Eyed Willy’s treasure. From the first minute your kids are rapt. They love it right until Sloth arrives, or ‘Daddy, what’s that? I don’t like it Daddy. Make it go away,’ as they call him, during subsequent nightmares. Too high a price to pay for Chunk’s Truffle Shuffle.

Up (2009)

They like Monsters Inc, which they’ve watched upward of 80 times, so you push it with a bank holiday screening of this classic. The opening montage always brings tears to your eyes. That scares your children and they cease watching immediately. No balloons for anyone.

Home Alone (1990)

Every Christmas now comes with a new tradition: the failed attempt to sit and watch Home Alone together. Last year you got all the way to Kevin actually being left home alone before they sloped off. ‘Honestly you’ll love it, it’s really violent,’ you say fruitlessly.

Jurassic Park (1993)

Kids love two things: chasing pigeons and dinosaurs. Every child knows the difference between a brachiosaurus and an apatosaurus, so they’ll love this. Except you forgot how expensive CGI was then and therefore how long you wait for a dinosaur, how few there are in it and that a man is bitten in two while on the shitter.

Dirty Dancing (1987)

They’re teenagers now, so a family screening of this classic is overdue. Great soundtrack, incredible dancing, carrying watermelons, a major plotline about backstreet abortions you’d forgotten, conversations about abortion you don’t want to have, evasive answers, you know what let’s just turn it off.

Goodfellas (1990)

A man is stabbed to death in a car boot within the first five minutes. What were you thinking? Your kid may be almost 15, but he was in no way ready. This one is on you.