A drop of incest
I discovered something rather startling the other day.
For a while now I have been delving into the old family trees on both my mother’s and my father’s side.
I have discovered I am related to myself.
What’s worse, I am either my own father or my own son.
You see, there was this chappie called Abraham John Le Mesurier who was born on Gurnsey back in 1748. He was the one who started it all. If he hadn’t existed, then nor would I, but twice over.
On my mother’s side, he was my Great Great Great Grandfather.
But on my father’s side, he was my Great Great Great Great Grandfather.
So because of a generation being skipped, I am one generation out of step with myself and therefore must be my own son, or father depending on which line I follow. Either that or I am one of those distant uncles that everyone talks about but never invites anywhere.
What makes all this inbreeding weirder is that my mother was English and my father was from Cork. They met by sheer chance and it was decades later that someone mentioned the Le Mesurier link. And incidentally, yes – it’s the same family as John Le Mesurier, the actor. He was my father’s cousin.
I was going to include Herself’s family tree, but I’m too scared now. I may discover that she is my brother or something.
By the way, they say that the children of cousins either have great intelligence or webbed feet.
My feet aren’t webbed.
so it’s all good then
Or you have a missing generation… missing marbles notwithstanding!
The problem is that I am Abraham’s Great [x4] Grandson, but I’m also his Great [x3] Grandson. It means I am related to myself, but how? This is doing my fucking head in.
for heavens sake stop thinking with that great big intelligence and be grateful you’re feet aren’t webbed matter of fact, go to the pub and have a drink on it
oh and the answer is, you are both
So one of me is both the same?
Soooo, that’s two household charges and two septic tank charges for you and yourself? On the other hand, how about claiming pension back money for you or yourself?
Fuck the household and septic tank charges. Neither of me intends paying them. The other is an excellent bit of thinking though. Two pensions!! Thanks. [from both of me]
Incest is best when kept within the family, you and yourself are a shining example of why.
John Le Mesurier. Dad’s Army. A candidate for the worst actor ever on British TV. Britain’s answer to Jack Lord.
Patrick – I thought the quote was “fun for all the family”?
tt – Ricky Gervais. Worse by a million miles.
You could sue yourself for child support.
I liked John Le Mesurier’s death notice in The Times. It was one of his last wishes that it read “John Le Mesurier wishes it to be known that he conked out on November 15th. ” 🙂
What if you discovered that you were yourself twice? Two of you could have a devastating effect upon the Gubmint
“Ancestry.com” has a lot to answer for!
Surely it should be that Jack Lord was Merka’s answer to John Le Mesurier.
A piss poor one to boot.
Grandad, you should go to the pub and buy yourselves a few pints, you’ve a lot if catching up to do.
Ah well who knows where we come from..
I just discovered on ”Dr Who’ that River Song is Amy Ponds’ daughter. Has this anything to do with your weird ancestry?
Thank you all for your various thoughts and suggestion, some of which I shall indeed pursue.
I had a chat with an expert in the subject today and have some further details.
Apparently, somewhere along one of the lines, a chap married his first cousin. As a result of this, I am a sixth cousin of myself. Leaving that aside, the diverging and converging means that I am a sixth cousin once removed from myself. So apparently I have an option of being removed. Or not. As the case may be. Fuck! I have a headache.
Ginger Mick – Who the fuck are River Song and Amy Pond? Two of Bob Geldoff’s sprogs?
I believe so.
You weren’t brought in by a monster flying stork. You weren’t found under a monster head of cabbage. You weren’t found down a deep mine shaft. So that means you’re not animal, vegetable or mineral. The origin of life is a big philosophical mystery, and so are you Grandad.
I never was. I never will be. I just am.
As one philosopher said: to be is to do. As another philosopher said: to do is to be. And as Frank Sinatra synthesized it melodiously: