Me and my brother
There are two of us. Me, and my brother. Oddly, we share a last name. Otherwise, we don't look that alike. Let's just say that one of us is suave, well-dressed, and good looking, and the other one is me.

But our PE teacher at school couldn't get his head around that one. According to him, there was one of us. So he'd give me the old nudge-nudge-wink-wink about exactly who'd he'd spotted walking out of a shop holding a suspicious brown paper bag at the weekend. I wasn't around that weekend. Still, at least I found out what my brother was up to.

Then, one term, disaster struck. As I've said before, I'm horribly piss-poor at sports, but I was vaguely less crap at basketball. And so both of us signed up for the basketball option. And so up we strolled. You could see his poor little brain struggle with the concept, as it rolled around lost on the vast playground of his pituitary. Bless. What fun we had.

The next term was worse, as another person with our surname showed up. How we smirked as he painfully counted: *one*, *two... *many*...
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sat 21 Nov 2009, 21:24, Reply)