Ditty already posted this in the any other topicy thread but it deserves a wider audience (she may beat me up for it as may her son, but I try to live dangerously). 
Ditty's daughter (Ickle) found this essay written by her little bro' when she was tidying his room. Please note. Whilst tidying his room! I think it is simply the best bit of teenage angst I've read since Adrian Mole! He was duly awarded an A* for it by his teacher I should add. 
"We were very proud a couple of weeks ago when our son (aged 14) told us he'd got an A* in his English Exam.
Today, my daughter thrust some papers at us and said "you have to read his English Exam essay.. the one he got an A* on"
Apparently they had to do some writing, starting with "Don't get me started on"
"Don't get me started on chores. Just don't. See, when I was younger, I was told that everything that happens to me has a reason and a purpose. It was my parents that told me such lies and if you believe these then I have one word that disproves them: chores. I've been forced to struggle through gruelling tasks day in, day out and I am sick of it.
I am talking about the uselessness of chores I don't mean in general, I mean specifically me doing them. I am the youngest of my family, I live with three of them. I fail to believe that every single day all of them are unable to do these things, yet somehow the job is still dumped onto me. I'm short, weaker and far less patient than the rest of my family - therefore, it's done to a lower quality and takes over twice the time to complete. Maybe I should talk about said chores in a little more detail:
We have a dishwasher, so I don't have to do the dishes (thank God). However, each evening, after dinner, I try and make a quick getaway to my room to hear my Stepdad's booming voice project the word "Dishwasher" as I'm halfway up the stairs. Unloading can be ok when the dishwashers half empty already and there are only plates, glasses & cutlery in there. But the case is often that its bottom shelf is filled with saucepans, pets bowls and random metal tools that do God knows what. So, I'd grab a saucepan from the dishwasher and open the saucepan cupboard to find lids, sieves and a collander on top of where I need to stack this heavy saucepan. So by five minutes, I have finally got the cupboard clear and an arm that hurts like hell.
Our family's' dog food bowl is meant to be put in a cupboard where it simply does not fit. So rather than do what my family do (stuff it in so that it falls out as soon as the cupboard door is opened) I always try to put it somewhere secure, and do you know what happens? The plastic bowls all fall out. Then the tupperware boxes. Then the lids to these boxes. And before you know it, the whole cupboard just empties itself all of the kitchen, making one hell of a noise. Then just when I think It couldn't get any worse, I hear jeering and laughter coming from the lounge. The whole kitchen is a train wreck, the dishwasher's still practically full and rather than helping me, they just laugh. It take an absolute age to return the cupboard to how it was, so I just shove the dogs bowl in there. Half of the things that get loaded I swear my parents have never used them. When I ask what these obscure objects are and where to put them, my sister gets up, pushes me and literally swears at me, telling me that I'm lying and I do know where its to be put. Then she just unloads the dishwasher and gets in a mood about it. This stuff doesn just happen once in a blue moon - the comical sketch occurs on a regular basis.
I know that tidying my room is kind of cleaning up after myself and that I should do it, but its like one of those chinese finger traps - the more you pull the tighter it gets. The more I tidy my room the messier it gets. I'm being serious, its honestly like that. I try, but then my Stepdad's eyes widen when he sees it. Then eventually, the job is designated to my sister, who just puts things in stupid places.
At about 8 on a Sunday morning, once every couple of months, my Stepdad drags me out of bed & demands me to give him a hand washing the cars. I can't even reach some parts of it and what I do wash my Stepdad points out that I've done it wrong and goes over it anyway! Then he just sends me to do another chore, as a punishment, which brings me onto my next topic:
My parents are less than reasonable. If I don't do one little job they strip me from my PS3, laptop, iPod, TV and everything else I own. Just to point out, these things that they confiscate are MINE. They steal from me because I don't clean up their mess. That makes no sense whatsoever! I try to reason with them, they get all angry at me!
Its just one of those things that I can'd do anything about, I have to just put up with it. Its hard, laborious and difficult, and things that fit such a description don't fit well to lazy people like myself. I just want to relax after a long day at school, but that's seemingly too much to ask for now.
I have a deep, strong hatred for the endless cycle that eats away at my life. I can't stand doing something again, and again, and again. I can't even explain the extent my hate goes towards chores, it boils my blood to even mention its name. Therfore I shall stop my ramblings now. Good day.
Teachers comments:
Detail & depth, impact upon the reader
Creative answer
Punctuation used to add impact
10/10 + 9/10 = 19/20 = A*
Obviously we are wicked wicked parents... don't you feel sorry for the poor little mite? "
Desperately Ditty. It's a terrible tragedy.
Absolutely shocking,poor poor child ,is Esther Ranzten's Childline still available to poor kids in this situation I wonder,I used to get threatened by that when I dared get my 
I was a classroom assistant at the time and oh so wished it had been recorded .... oh poor me and my dreadful Mum would have made any social worker cringe 
