Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

Sir Boss’a’cock meeting. June 9, 2010

My boss proved to me today what an absolute knob jockey he really is.

It’s inset day at my school, what it should actually be called is ‘Moan like a fucker’ day.

So there we all are, well those who were stupid enough not to feign illness, sitting in the conference room just waiting for him to start spouting.

He, my cock of a boss that is, stands in front of us, with his I am God, you will all respect me pose.

Errr… if God is a very small little man, wearing cords, a grey shirt and a very tight gay leather neck chain, then yes, you are he.

So he starts trying to make analogy’s about swans, and how if we don’t fly as one then we will  fail-dick.

We failed Sir boss’a’cock, when you took to the helm and made all those twatish decisions based on your ego.

I look around the room, yes, its official, this bloke is proficient in talking shit and is more effective at sending people to sleep than counting frigging sheep.

The whole room is bored as fuck with all eyes firmly glazed over, except of course Miss Petty Bitch, she’s sitting there in the front row-loser, smiling and nodding I’m left wondering, has she glazed into her robotic sex role. Just nod and smile it will be over very soon!

No, No I think she is actually falling for his bollocks. What a giant petty cock head.

Suddenly I am jolted back to reality.

The Knobhead boss is now standing in front of me swinging ropes and inviting people to join him, 6 people ( Who I have completely lost all respect for now) actually get up and start swinging, me thinks he has other swinging ideas in mind for these folks.

Then after a while, he starts.

The same old shit- no communication, at which point I have to stop myself from shouting out ” Communicate this you twat” (middle finger standing proud).

Seriously, I can’t take much more of this shit.

Everything he is standing up their whining about, originates from him and his cockhead management.

Err…Lead by example you tit.

If only these meetings were more like comedy shows, the more they take the piss the more I can heckle.

I can hear me now…..

” Get your cock out your own arse, cretin”

” Oi, little dick, those fucking heals you’re wearing, make you look like a midget Drag queen”

” That comb over your sporting- grow some balls and shave it off”

Ahhhhh…..one can dream can’t she?

Advertisements
 

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.

 

Cannonball demolition.

Filed under: Men Are Muppets,Random Crap — bitchpedia @ 7:46 pm
Tags: , , , ,

The sun is shining.

The temperature is hot.

Lets do some gardening. (I know, not quite as exciting as it first sounded)

The people who previously owned our house had a weird fetish for kerb stone bordering.

I know we all have fetishes, but, kerbstones-really???

I literally have pavement kerb stones borders all around my garden. I tell you, ‘The concrete jungle’ ain’t got nothing on this plot of ground.

We attack them at first light with all the power of a randy bison.

With spades in hand, I start hanging off my spade, lets face it if my vast bulk can’t shift them, they’re here for keeps.

My mother having already suggested we keep them as a feature.

If the look I was going for was ‘ring road city centre’, with that feature I’d be on to a winner.

It’s no good, they will not be moved.

I see my hubby looking around for some inspiration, these kerbstones are no match for ‘King Kong’ over there.

He stops, and I see his eyes light up at the sight of two cannonballs sitting in the garden.

He picks one up, and then without warning , starts lobbing it at the kerbstones, like Zola Bud on acid.

What the fuck is he doing, the neighbours are going to think he’s escaped for the local mental asylum.

I look at him, a grin on his face, clearly he’s enjoying himself, a little too much.

Hubby: ” Look its working, there be smashed up in no time ” What, before the men in white suits cart you away.

Wife: ” I’ll go in, as you seem to have it covered out here”

Hubby: ” Can you just stay out and help me pick the bits up” I don’t fucking think so matey, all the time your practising your prehistoric bowling, I’m keeping well out-of-the-way.

Mental note: If  husband declares his hammer isn’t big enough, he ain’t talking about his love hammer. Back away quick, and stay indoors.

 

Spray on hair. May 12, 2010

Have you ever got up at stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning.

Well thanks to my kids, I do every frigging week.

I was flicking through the channels for the cartoons.

When suddenly, there on the shopping channel was….Spray on hair!

We are talking hair in a can.

At this point, I blocked out the children’s cries of ” where’s Rory, can we watch our programmes”, and sat there stunned, sickened but strangely amazed.

This man was sitting on a chair, with his bald head reflecting all the studio lights.

That must be a technical nightmare.

The man is sitting there having a mass of thick black hair sprayed on his head.

He is brandishing a head full of pubes, and actually looks pleased with the results.

Are you fucking joking, someone has just painted your head with spray on pubic hair, and you are pleased about this??

What happens if you go out and it starts raining?

All of a sudden you will have giant pubic sideburns and eyebrows of the streaked variety.

If your bald, get over it and shave your head.

Spray on hair, what a crock of desperate crap.

 

Snotty Pikey kids. May 10, 2010

Why do pikey kids perminately have snot smeared across their faces.

They apply it like there mums do foundation, with a trowel and no mirror.

Does all that chip fat destroy the feelings in their dirty little faces.

So they can no longer feel the slime that engulfes their skin.

Mum’s, stop watching Jeremy Kyle, put down your fag and get a fucking tissue.

Your kid has more snot on him than last nights pie and chips.

 

Thong gone wrong! May 8, 2010

Theres’ nothing like lazing about on a sun-kissed beach.

Its 32 degrees.

The sea is lapping up the beach, each gentle wave engulfing the grains of sand that glisten beneath it.

The cool turquoise water teasing my toes as it serenades the edges of the shore.

This is heaven, this is bliss.

What more could a girl need.

The kids entertain the hyperactive husband, with sand sculpting and frisbee.

Leaving me free to read my novel and titanate my taste buds with a wet, cold fruity cocktail ( with a hint of vodka, of course ).

Ahhhhhhh I am relaxed, I am no longer the bitch on heat, I used to be.

WTF is that!!

Suddenly, I am struck with a vision which is set to disturb me for years to come.

I blink my eyes, surely this is a mirage of the disturbed kind.

For there, standing before me is a sight that could fry the hardest of retina.

A pensioner in a thong, complete with hairy arse crack and poking out toger.

Clear the fucking beach, women and children first.

There is nothing we can do for him now, he has clearly abandoned his dignity at Gatwick.

Avoid all eye contact, after all what could I possibly say to him.

“Err excuse me mate, have you got oil on that, only your toger is pinking up!”

I know the ‘show and tell’ story my kids are going to be taking home with them!

 

A sofa revelation. May 3, 2010

Filed under: Men Are Muppets,Random Crap,The Daily Bitch. — bitchpedia @ 9:45 pm
Tags: , ,

Warning: Genius present.

It would seem that my hubby is a genius.

You switch the television on, and all of a sudden he knows all there is to know about everything.

So, there we are sitting in the living room, gormless at the tv (as any self respecting person on a Sunday night should be).

The kids want to watch ‘Shark man’ , If it shuts them up, they can watch the whole bloody series on a loop.

Half way though the programme, it starts.

It seems, Shark man himself is sitting next to me on the sofa.

Shark man: “What are they doing, even I know you can’t lay a shark on its back”

Wife: “I’m sure they know what they are doing, and they just said they do it to stun them”

Maybe if he shut the hell up, he’d know that!

Shark man: “No, that’s rubbish, I’m not even a fisherman and I know that”

You just said it yourself- your not a fisherman, so shut the fuck up!

Yes, of course, these scientists who have made it there life’s work to study sharks, clearly know fuck all about fish.

Obviously dear husband, you are wasted building houses, get yourself a boat and hook yourself a live one!

It seems this is not the only arrow in his bow, you name it sport, SAS, random documentaries etc etc he knows it all.

My husband the genius!