Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

Cannonball demolition. May 13, 2010

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

 

Gay car. May 10, 2010

My boss thinks he’s a real ladies man.

He the head of a primary school.

He employs mainly thin blondes with pert boobs ( I must have slipped through the net ).

Well it gives him something to look at during meetings.

You think this is a joke, but trust me, throughout my whole interview, I don’t think he looked at my face once.

To be fair he might not be meaning to look at the breast department, but it must be hard to avoid that area when you’re a balding midget, as he is.

He seriously thinks himself a little bit of a ladies man, with his swarve (creepy), masterful (little man syndrome )presence.

Oh…how mistaken he is.

He is only one up, from a poison dwarf.

Everything about him oozes creepy perve.

You enter his lair (office ) at your own risk, a wondering hand could accidently grab a wedge of your arse at any moment.

There really is nothing about this man that would turn on a normal human being.

Unless of course you like purvey, midgets who drive  bright urine yellow Suzuki’s.

I mean, what the fuck was he thinking.

You might think you look like a hunk in tunks in you bright urine yellow 4×4, but everyone else thinks you look like a massive cock.

Mind you, it does kinda suit him. Cockhead man, cockhead car.

The gay car also suits some of his weirdo mannerisms, and it certainly complements some of his twatish sayings.

Which is mainly what comes out of his shit filled mouth.

 

Snotty Pikey kids.

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!

 

Behaviour Management? May 6, 2010

Today it was discovered that we had a gas leak on the premises.

Children and staff were briefly evacuated, before being instructed to return.

It had only been an hour and a couple of us voiced our concern over safety. Big Boss informed, as only he can, with vision:

“I’ve made the decision, it’s fine, so it is”

Well that’s OK then.

Obviously Big Boss is an expert on gas engineering, as well as education, politcs, psychology, sociology and wanking.

He sends us off with: “Enjoy the rest of your day”

Oh yes we’ll be sure to do that. Nothing like a brisk stroll through the gas poisoned corridors to clear your head and fill the lungs…with carbon monoxide!

WTH is Big Boss thinking?

Poisoning peoples children isn’t really on. Is he considering this to be a viable option for behaviour management? Crafty bugger, now that really would be visionary.

 

Little Miss Petty Bitch Secret Piercings

I am now convinced that Little Miss Petty Bitch is a closet Goth Dominatrix.

I am creating a plan to orchestrate a Janet Jackson super bowl moment. Someone (me) needs to rip open her top and expose her right breast, which is without a shadow of a doubt tattooed and pierced.

Finalising the details as I type. Will keep you posted.