My Family, my glorious Hell.

Friends, I think the My Family stickers on car rear windscreens are great.  Unless if you are like me and consider the world your family, then those stickers become a driving hazard.

There are over six billion people and I drive an Astra. Who do I leave off my rear windscreen? Childless couples raising Labradoodles, people assaulted by Naomi Campbell, Scientologists! How fine do I slice the genome of rear windscreen discrimination?

At least Whitney Houston has my back. The one thing I can rely on is the selflessness of pop icons who die in pursuit of Celebrity's Holy Grail, that is, the ability to continue breathing while unconscious & filling their lungs with liquid and or vomit.

But while Heaven's nightclub is busily rearranging the weekend line up, let us ponder the eagerness in which we are willing to smooth over the reality of our family life with the thin veneer of transparently backed My Family stickers.

In as much as I love to see Norman Price chained to Jupiter and forced to run a mile for all the minutes of mischief he has created for the residents of Pontypandy, I cannot help but think that the My Family sticker phenomenon betrays the glorious hell that is time spent driving with your family.

Everybody depicted on the My Family stickers are smiling. Mum, Dad, daughters, sons, dogs, cats & the occasional carpet python complete with bulging middle after swallowing a possum (the possum is smiling as well).  This sort of a characterisation is a lie.

Unless I am mistaken, technology has not advanced to the point that a vehicle interior environmental controls include third world qualified anesthetists buried under the transmission, delicately mixing laughing gas into the air conditioning to ensure a pleasant trip. In fact, if I were to be stuck inside of car with a sibling who smiled as cheerfully and continuously as their stick figured character depicted on the rear windscreen, I would be looking to test out the warning that accompanies rear passage side airbags are capable of taking a child's head off.

I would hope that somewhere out there my rage is also felt by those who wish to see the truth prevail in all and any situation. Let us see a My Family sticker with a dad fuming while children scream at him to turn off the cricket. Let us see a My Family sticker of a mum holding a UBD upside down frustrated with her husband's inability to stop and ask directions.  Let us see a My Family sticker depict a pet with flatulence problem. Let us see a My Family sticker depicting children sobbing because Dad would not stop at McDonalds.  These are the truths I share with my family that I would not ever seek rendered down like horses hooves to make chicken nuggets (horses hooves may or may not be used to make chicken nuggets). This is My family, this is my glorious hell.