Bad Grandad Declares A Holiday Nobody Asked For

Bad Grandad has never needed a sensible reason to cause trouble. Give him a calendar, a cupboard full of questionable decorations, and an audience of unsuspecting relatives, and he will find a way to turn an ordinary Tuesday into a national celebration.

His latest scheme begins with a complaint: there are too many dull days in the year. Christmas has presents, birthdays have cake, and even Pancake Day has a clear purpose. Bad Grandad decides that the family needs a holiday with fewer rules, louder celebrations, and absolutely no responsibility for him.

The result is Grandad Day, a homemade festival dedicated to naps, snacks, terrible advice, and blaming everyone else for the mess. It is exactly the kind of comic chaos that fits the mischievous spirit of Andy Fanton’s work, alongside characters such as George vs Dragon, Boo!, and Carrotty Kid.

The Calendar Gets A Dangerous Addition

Bad Grandad announces the new holiday over breakfast by circling a date in permanent marker. Nobody knows why he chooses a Wednesday, except that it is soon and he has already booked himself out of doing the gardening.

When the family objects, he produces a hand-drawn proclamation decorated with stars, gravy stains, and a badly spelled motto: “A Day For Grandads To Be Right.” He insists this is a long-overdue tradition, although the only historical evidence is a receipt for three meat pies.

Readers familiar with Andy Fanton’s work will recognise the appeal of a character who treats everyday life as an invitation to escalate. Bad Grandad does not simply invent a holiday; he creates an entire bureaucracy around it, complete with imaginary customs officers and a ceremonial slipper.

Grandad Day Comes With Rules

The first rule is that nobody may use an alarm clock. Bad Grandad claims alarms are “an insult to natural sleeping,” although he has arranged for a marching band to enter the house at seven o’clock. The second rule requires every family member to wear a paper crown, preferably one made from an unpaid bill.

There are also mandatory activities. Children must challenge Grandad to a board game he has secretly altered. Adults must listen to a ten-minute story that begins with “In my day” and ends with a completely unrelated complaint about supermarket trolleys. Anyone who leaves the room is declared the winner, because Grandad says victory should be awarded to the person with the best escape plan.

The holiday’s official meal is breakfast for dinner, followed by dessert before the main course. Bad Grandad calls this “culinary freedom.” His family calls it eating ice cream beside a cold baked potato.

A Holiday Compared With The Real Ones

Bad Grandad’s invention borrows familiar ingredients from established celebrations, then removes the parts that make them convenient or enjoyable for anyone else.

Celebration	Main Tradition	Bad Grandad’s Version
Birthday	Cake and presents	Cake, complaints, and presents he keeps
Christmas	Gifts and family gatherings	Gifts wrapped in old newspapers
Pancake Day	Pancakes and flipping contests	Pancakes thrown at relatives
Halloween	Costumes and sweets	One costume, no sweets, endless excuses
Grandad Day	Honouring grandfathers	Honouring Grandad’s opinions

The comparison reveals the central joke: every pleasant custom becomes a chance for Bad Grandad to improve his own comfort. Presents are welcome, but giving them away is an unnecessary burden. A family meal is excellent, provided he chooses the menu and nobody mentions the missing vegetables.

Even the holiday motto changes throughout the day. It begins as “Respect Your Elders,” becomes “Respect My Nap,” and ends as “Respect The Remote Control.” By sunset, the family has stopped arguing about the rules and started writing new ones designed specifically to prevent next year’s celebration.

The Parade Does Not Go To Plan

A proper holiday needs a parade, so Bad Grandad constructs a float from a garden chair, two laundry baskets, and the family’s least reliable shopping trolley. He crowns himself Grand Marshal and orders everyone to pull him around the block.

The parade lasts approximately ninety seconds. One wheel falls off, a dog steals the ceremonial sausage, and Grandad accidentally waves at a traffic warden instead of the cheering crowd. He later describes the event as “a triumph of community spirit,” leaving out the part where the neighbours hid behind their curtains.

A local child joins the procession after being promised free sweets. The sweets turn out to be sugar-free mints from 2014, but the child remains impressed by Grandad’s confidence. That becomes the holiday’s first genuine success: bad planning has accidentally created a memorable afternoon.

Everyone Gets A Job

By lunchtime, Bad Grandad has appointed himself Minister of Festivities, Chief Nap Inspector, and Keeper of the Sacred Biscuit Tin. The rest of the family receives less glamorous roles, including Decoration Monitor, Noise Complaints Officer, and Person Responsible For Finding The Missing Remote.

The younger relatives are put in charge of designing a flag. They create a bright banner featuring a crossed-out chore list. Grandad dislikes it at first, then declares it an ancient symbol that he invented himself. He also introduces a ceremonial speech, which is interrupted when the family cat walks across his notes and sits on the word “responsibility.”

For anyone interested in turning playful ideas into cartoons, creative workshops offer a useful connection to the kind of character-building and visual humour that makes a small joke grow into a complete comic scenario. Bad Grandad’s holiday works because every prop, rule, and interruption reveals something about him.

How To Survive The Next Celebration

The family eventually develops a practical survival guide. It does not stop Bad Grandad from inventing traditions, but it limits the damage.

• Hide the permanent markers before breakfast.
• Replace the ceremonial biscuits with something he dislikes.
• Never agree to a parade without checking the wheels.
• Write every holiday rule in pencil.
• Keep a spare remote control in a secure location.

The final precaution is the most important: never praise the event too enthusiastically. The moment Bad Grandad hears that Grandad Day was “surprisingly fun,” he announces plans for a whole Grandad Week, featuring competitive snoring, mandatory gravy tasting, and a closing ceremony at dawn.

By evening, the family is exhausted, the decorations are falling down, and the official flag has been used to cover a muddy footprint. Bad Grandad, however, is delighted. He has created a holiday, made himself indispensable, and avoided every ordinary chore on the calendar.

Read the comic with a fresh cup of tea, imagine the loudest possible ceremonial speech, and decide which rule you would break first when Grandad Day rolls around again.