Don't mention the war!
My uncle John was stationed in Singapore in 1941, just as it was overrun by the Imperial Japanese Army. He was captured and spent the next four years as a prisoner of war being treated as inhumanely as possible by the Japanese and stubbornly refusing to die like pretty much everyone else, despite being shipped off to Burma to assist (under considerable duress) with the construction of a railway line.

He was liberated in late 1945, scarcely able to walk because of severe malnourishment and neglect, before being shipped off home and spending several months recovering.

Now uncle John understandably harboured a certain resentment towards the far-eastern folk responsible for his incarceration. Forty years after his liberation I was given a very stern lecture by my father.

"PJM, when your uncle comes to visit us I want you to remember something. Do not, under any circumstances mention the war, or anything at all to do with Japan".

The morning of my uncle's arrival had both my parents making sure that not only was the house presentable, but every single Japanese manufactured item being carefully hidden from view. The video recorder was covered over (thank fuck our television was a 'Ferguson') and anything looking remotely like a ghetto blaster or walkman was hidden out of sight.

As I stood on the doorstep, waiting for my uncle to arrive, my dad jabbed me in the ribs and hissed in a somewhat threatening tone "now remember PJM, don't mention anything whatsoever to do with the Japanese".

Sure enough, uncle John arrives two minutes later waving at us out of his car window...

Which just happened to be a Mazda 323.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 20 Jun 2008, 0:21, Reply)