Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

A feral break. May 13, 2010

The bell for break time is always a welcome sound.

Off you go kids, go fight and be delinquent out of my eye view.

A well needed coffee is calling.

So I’m catching up on some gossip with a friend.

When in walks Yoda, my ever-increasing purve of a boss.

Yoda: ” Jane, I think we need to give Sarah more support with Jack” (feral boy). By we, I assume you mean, me, as you choose never to leave your lair and actually interact with the kids.

Yoda: “Could you have him in with you for a few days a week”

Feral boy, err…no.

Thanks for the offer, but I think I’m going to have to turn you down on this one.

As tempting as spending hours shut in a room with him is, being barked at and stabbed with pencils.

The idea of having my face chewed on by a Rottweiler is more appealing.

This kid isn’t stupid, in fact his language skills never cease to amaze me.

Only today he flew around the dining hall calling random children ‘fucking dirty whores’.

With his speech impediment, that took some doing.

Mental note: Must mark of speech and language in his assessment file.

 

Bunny Bonking! April 3, 2010

Filed under: Psychotic Animals,The Daily Bitch. — ibitch @ 10:28 pm
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Serial Slipper Shagger...Beware No Foot is Safe!

It seems that we have adopted the randiest bunny on God’s green earth. He isn’t just hetro and homosexual…Oh No! It seems that he is also Shoesexual!

The fucking thing has just launched itself at my foot and is shagging the shit out of my slipper.

I’ve tried kicking the little fucker off, but it’s holding on for dear life! I’ve had to give in and relinquish my footwear to the perverted bugger!

How long do rabbits live again?

 

Bunny Fakes Heart Attack March 27, 2010

Filed under: Psychotic Animals,The Daily Bitch. — ibitch @ 5:36 pm
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“Mum something’s wrong with the rabbit. He’s not moving”

Anti Social Dick! What’s the point of having a pet when it won’t let you pet or play with it?

“He’s probably not feeling friendly today” I lie.

“No Mum, somethings wrong. Look at him he’s all limp”

My eye’s leave the newspaper and look up at Big Son with dead looking bunny in his hands.

“See he’s floppy” Big Son does the mexican wave with the bunny’s lifeless corpse.

Shit! Selfish little bastards gone and died on us. Oh that’s just fucking great! Now I’m gonna have to have the whole death talk.

Drama Queen Daughter starts screaming the house down and wailing like a bereaved widow: “Oh no…oh no…it’s dead!”

Alright girl…keep a lid on it…you were moaning about how un-cute and anti-social he was yesterday and now your distraught?

I take Bunny from Big Son and can feel that even with a fur coat on this rabbit’s cold.

“He’s wearing lipstick” Little Son announces.

Or eaten too many blueberries…Bunnies lips and nose are blue. What to do…what to do?

“On Casualty they would massage his heart and breath into his mouth” Big Son informs me. “Start compressions!”

I am struck by a moment of pride, Ah…he might grow up to be a doctor! Not the lay about surfer that he has expressed an interest in becoming.

“Do it then mum…start compressions!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, HE’S NOT HUMAN!” I shout.

Unexpectedly Bunny moves his leg…he’s responding to my voice. Probably thinking…Uh Oh! It’s that crazy bitch! Anyway, it’s a good sign.

“Everyone get in the car…he’s alive…we gotta get him to the vets”

We pile into the car, Big Son…crying, Little Son…crying, Drama Queen…crying and holding half dead bunny and me…furious that the little fur ball is fucking up my weekend. I’m driving like fucking Starsky and Hutch when Drama Queen Daughter screams:

“He’s stopped breathing again”

I honk the horn at the inconsiderate individual in front. Fuck the speed limit! Don’t you know that I’ve got an emergency situation going on…bunny is going into d-fib…or whatever the medical term is.

“Your going to have to do mouth to mouth” Big Son tells his sister.

“No, don’t do that” I warn…he could be contagious! Does Drama Queen Daughter listen to her mother? Does she fuck! I look in the rear view mirror and see her shooting big breaths down the bunnies nostrils and mouth.

“Stop that right now. He licks his own bum!”

Mouth to Mouth stops instantly and Drama Queen Daughter begins to rub her lips and tongue frantically, as well as crying with greater vigor.

We get to the vets and he tells us he will have to run some tests. It’s a Sunday…emergency service so it’s gonna cost.

“Oh really! How much?” I ask. What? I don’t want to spend much if he’s gonna die anyway.

“MUM!” My three offspring chime, shaming me into producing my credit card and telling the vet to do what is necessary to save him.

The next day the vet phones to say that Bunny has made a full recovery, but that he thinks a heart attack was the cause. Oh and the bill is £125 in total!

WTF! It doesn’t cost that much when I bring my dog in and this thing is a 100th of the size! I could have a weekend in a spa for £125.

Anyway we get bunny home and he seems right as rain. It’s pissing on the floor, jumping up and biting and eating any wire in sight.

The furry fucker was obviously faking it! Sneaky bastard! It was all some weird twisted plot to cost me money! Fucking thing!

How long do rabbits live again?

Bunny Good Deed

 

Bunny Good Deed March 26, 2010

Filed under: Psychotic Animals,Random Crap — ibitch @ 3:26 pm
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Don't be fooled by the furry exterior, this Bunny is ASBO!This week I have been touched by the plight of a soon to be homeless bunny. And out of the goodness of my overflowing heart (Yes I do have one!) I have decided to take in the waif. Yes, it was an impetuous decision, but it seemed like the good and caring thing to do. Good and caring obviously encapsulating every living breathing element of my multi-faceted personality. What? We can all change…I am making an effort…a new me!

On reflection perhaps I should have asked to view the thing…meet him before I took him on. But hey I am attempting to ditch my vacuous and shallow former self. Who cares about superficial crap like: is it a good looking bunny? Well, now I’ve seen IT… I care!

…this is one ugly little fur ball. It’s got a really long body and short coarse grey and white hair. And his feet! WTF are up with them? They’re filthy and big…very, very big. The fucker needs to set about washing them, or I’m going to have to buy him some mini Nikes. There is absolutely nothing cute about this thing whatsoever. I am hugely disappointed and feel guilty about not finding him attractive. God! I haven’t felt this way since my other half got his ear pierced, which detracted from his attractiveness and left him with the appearance of a gay pirate! (Earring is now gone and he is back to full desirability).

Anyway enough digressing, back to the matter at hand.

Setting the undesirable unfortunate visage aside, there is something seriously wrong with this beast. It may be small, but this bunny is fucking ASBO. I’m sure he’s got a knife concealed within his fur coat! I’d check but the shite keeps on biting me…the kids…friends…neighbours and the fucking dog…and she’s a staffie / bull mastif cross.

This Bad Boy is gangster! I think I just saw him eye balling my blingy watch. I’m currently praying that he doesn’t like the look of my dinner, because seriously if he makes a move on it, I might give it to him! He obviously originates from Streatham or Peckham.

No wonder my fucking so called friends were desperate to get rid of him. That’s them off my hastily diminishing christmas card list. It is quickly occurring to me that I have been hustled…with a capital fucking H.

Little Son: “Mummy I thought rabbits were friendly”
Not this buck tooth son of a bitch I silently think.
Me lying: “I think he’s just getting used to us”

Reality thinking: (This fucking thing is insane! WTF have I done? How long do rabbits live?).

Little son makes one last attempt to pick up Bad Boy Bunny, but it’s not having any of it. The furry fuck starts bucking around like a rodeo pony.

Little Son sounding enlightened: “Ah Mum that explains it”

Explains what? That Bad Boy’s a fucking Psycho?

Little Son: “He thinks he’s a horse!”

I stare at the crazed critters bucking and realise that my son might be on to something. Only I could inherit a bunny that needs counselling! Is that even possible? And why the fuck do all these needy individuals (human and other species) gravitate towards me?