I talk about my family a lot in this space, mostly because they're lovably fucking insane and give me lots of good material. But I never seem to talk about my little brother Colum (laugh all you want - it's a common name in many a bog in Ireland). I don't mention him much because probably because a) he is the only sane one in the family and b) because his humor is much more subtle than the rest of us.

The quintessential Colum joke: one time, I was standing at the sink, brushing my teeth. He walks in and says, "Hey, that's my toothbrush!"

I look at it. Clearly, my toothbrush. "No, it's not. It's mine."

Colum: "No, it's mine. I've been using it for months."

Grossed out, I spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out my mouth with Listerine, only to hear him chuckle, grab his real toothbrush and start brushing. That little bastard. The lesson: don't have brothers. They'll get you every damn time.