I have roses that are nuts - insane and evil. My rose bushes are some kind of wild roses that an uncle of mine found in a field in 1935 and took a sample home to his mom, my paternal grandmother. That original rose cutting spread, was transplanted in various states during my dad's Navy career, and lives again in various places around the yard.
These evil roses reach out and try to claw me off the riding lawnmower every time I get near them. I have shredded clothes and scars to prove it. I have counter attacked with pruning shears often, and the roses counter-counter attack even more viciously. They won't die. They can't be killed. I face yet another bloody, bloody summer trying to keep them from ripping the awnings and siding off the house.
Brambles!