Ex father-in-law.
On the day my former mother-in-law died, her hubby decided that he would demonstrate his grief by driving to the pub to get poleaxed, leaving me and my by then estranged missus to sort out the minor details, like arranging the funeral and putting her finances in order. You know, that tedious shite that always gets in the way when a loved one decides they quite fancy the idea of being placed in a wooden box rather than have to endure yet another family gathering with Aunty Jean, who talks in some strange and indecipherable language and looks like she's put her make up on with a rusty trowel. Blindfolded.

And so it was that we spent the best part of the day sorting things out, getting a bit emotional, arguing with some jobsworth bank cashier about how we were quite happy to sort out her finances at the counter rather than make an appointment to come back and be seen in a private room, speaking to the undertaker. The boring stuff.

If buggering off and leaving your distraught daughter to deal with the aftermath isn't twattish enough, what happened next topped it off like a glittery dogshit. The ex's mobile rang. It was the Police. Can she confirm that Alan Bell is her father? Yes? OK, they're holding him at Bedlington Police Station... turns out that he had decided, on returning from the pub, to park up outside (and illegally) the fishmongers to buy himself a crab for dinner. This had caught the attention of a passing plod, who duly began noting down the number, at which point my father-in-law emerged from the shop, saw what the copper was doing and began to give him a mouthful of abuse.

This is not a good idea at the best of times, but to do it when you've had a skinful AND are very obviously about to try and get back in a car is an even less than bright move. Naturally, on receiving a load of verbal accompanied by a backdraft of purest 40% abv, PC Sensible made to remove the keys from his grasp. So my father-in-law punched him and, for his troubles, found his face becoming intimately acquainted with the roof of his car.

My ex was less than chuffed to be on the receiving end of this call, and, on being asked to drive over to the station to collect him informed them, in no uncertain terms, that the very last thing she was inclined to do was to go and bail out her father after spending the day sorting out her just-that-day deceased mum's affairs whilst he galivanted around Northumberland getting pissed and looking for crabs. "As far as I'm concerned", she said, "you can bloody well keep him there". So they did, for about another three hours before another family member eventually gave in and went to collect him, whilst I went to retrieve his car.

What an absolute fuck knuckle.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 12 Apr 2012, 18:10, 9 replies)

Yeah, what a dick.
His whole world just fell apart so he did the only thing he could face doing and drowned his sorrows. Being drunk and emotional, he happened to behave irrationally and recklessly. Yeah, nothing perfectly understandable about that reaction to grief.
Of course, everbody also lnows that when somebody dies you must, immediately and that very day, put all their affairs in order, or else! It's not smething which can be delayed for a few hours whilst people cry and, you know, come to terms with the death or anything.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 19:22, closed)

I clicked the wrong one.
But DG is right- you do have to get all stuff under way ASAP, and going out and getting pissed is absolutely ridiculous. And then smashing a plod about is also fucknuggetry of the highest order.
So- unless you've been dealing with a death ever, STFU.
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 20:37, closed)

The man was an arse.
Him and his wife were separated for years due to his constant twattish behaviour, although they still shared a home for some inexplicable reason. His 'world' consisted of whisky, pubs and bookies, he was a selfish, misanthropic tosser who never did anything for anyone else; he went out and did what he did out of self pity rather than any genuine sorrow, because, basically, he knew she would no longer be there to wipe his arse for him.

Practically the first thing he did after the funeral was to shack up with the bint he left his wife for a good twenty years earlier. So yeah, what a dick.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 12 Apr 2012, 20:49, closed)

If you had said they were seperated and he was a twat to her, I'd have understood.
I'm certainly not condoning his behaviour but had he been grieving I wouldn't have called him a twat for falling apart.
Now you've pointed that out I agree he was a twat.
No, luckily, I havn't dealt with a death but the law gives you five days to register it and the bank doesn't say "the very day of death we must be informed".
Seems when it comes to my turn to deal with a death I will be sent to prison for being grief striken as I don't know that I'd do a good job of sorting anything out the day a loved one died.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:09, closed)

My ex liked to get things done and out of the way.
Including me, it would seem. Badum-tish.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:15, closed)

Hardy- har.
Yeah, nothing wrong with that at all. Admirable, in fact.
I just thought it a bit off you were calling a poor, old, grief-striken man a twat for delaying the process for a few hours to deal with his grief.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:34, closed)

I probably should have given a bit more back-story.
But it would have gone on forever.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 12 Apr 2012, 21:50, closed)

Deal with his grief
grief thirst
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Thu 12 Apr 2012, 22:26, closed)

Well. yeah, that too.
Thirst mist be quenched...
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 12 Apr 2012, 22:38, closed)