May I introduce you to some of my less illustrious ancestors.
Chuck Dickens-Smyth (1812-1870)
When Chuck failed to find a publisher for his missive, Tale of Two Toilets, he embarked on a nationwide tour of dancehalls researching ladies of the night. He died a happy man and it took three weeks to put the coffin lid on.
Ger Armstrong Custer. (1839-1876)
Great Great Great Uncle Ger established a reputation for out drinking all comers in every saloon in the West. He found himself under the command of Gen Philip Sheridan when he took a wrong turning out of Kelly's saloon and found himself at the Battle of Trevilian Station where he dodged certain death after a volley of shots directed at him missed, due to prompt evasion tactics on his part. He fell off his horse retrieving his dropped whiskey bottle..
Unfortunately his distinguished career was overshadowed by another wrong turning as he tried to take a shortcut through the valley of the little bighorn trying to make the bar before closing time. As the massed collection of Sioux, Cheyenne and Arapaho galloped towards him he uttered his final words.
"Feck it, I hope my underpants are clean"
More later.
