There came from without the hoof-beats of a galloping relative and Aunt Dahlia whizzed in. — P.G. Wodehouse

...his head emerged cautiously, like that of a snail taking a look around after a thunderstorm.

Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin.

It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.