Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

Car jump! May 17, 2010

My hubby leaves for work at 3 am

Being the dutiful wife that I am, I always wave off my husband.

Bollocks, my car is in the way of his.

So off I trundle, in my dodgy stripey pj’s- man, I am looking mighty fine this morning.

I start the car, and………………….nothing. Just clicking.

Come on you bastard, please stART……………….

3 more attempts, and nothing.

Bloody bitch car, If you were a person, I’d bitch slap you with a giant foam hand.

You just don’t need this shit a 3 am in the morning, for fuck sake I wanted to go back to sleep, I’m tired! Oh yer, and the hubby needs to get to work.

Mr Smith jumps out of his car. I brace myself- clearly this is going to be my fault.

Hubby: “So what did you leave on?”

Oh so tired wife: “Nothing”, and I wasn’t even lying, there was nothing on in the car. Even I can’t lie that quickly at 3 am.

Hubby: “Must just have been having the doors open when you cleaned it yesterday”.

Ungrateful, slut of a car. I finely clean out the sess pool, which is your insides, and that’s how you repay me!

Fuck it.

Mental note: Keep the fucking car dirty, at least it might actually fucking work. Allowing me to get some fucking sleep.

Hubby: ” I’ll push, you steer”

Wife: ” Ok” I decide to do as I’m told, so far he has controlled himself, but one wrong move, or a slip of the tongue, might just push him over the edge.

I must be tired, normally pushing him over the edge, would be some kinda sport for me.

Anyway, he jumps starts the car.

It works -Hurrah!

Shit, no petrol to leave it running.

Will this be the moment that finely does him in.

Hubby: ” Right I’ll go ”

Woohoo! No petrol stop in the morning.

I really am a first class bitch.

Hubby returns. ” leave it running for 20 minutes, if it won’t start after that, the batteries fucked” Normally at this point, I would say something along the lines of No shit Sherlock or Do ya think???

I decide to keep it to a simple ‘ok, thank you’

Hubby drives off into the sunset, having dealt with the car situation in a reasonable manner!

My car is sick and obviously needs medical attention is this a good enough reason to chuck a sicky?

 

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.

 

Court madness. March 24, 2010

It was time for my husband to up grade his car. So we did the normal thing, bought the new one and then advertised the old one in the local paper.

The car needed a couple of bits doing to it, so we had up for sale dead cheap, and noted in the advert any ailments the car had.

Along came a potential buyer( wearing a rather scary grey track suit, including food stains, which didn’t cover his gigantic belly), he spent a while looking over it, we went over what was wrong with it, he took it out for a test drive.

The very same buyer( still in the aforementioned track suit) came back for a second look.

Third time lucky(still in the same track suit, with 3 days worth of food stainage), he returned and decided he wanted the car. He paid the money, did the paperwork and off he went with his new car.

Anyway 4 months passed.

I got home from work and there was a letter from the local law courts, instructing us that he was taking us to court, because the car had failed its mot(4 months after we sold it).

So, loads of paperwork later. My husband took the day off work ( they didn’t need to do that, as neither of them work), and trundled off

 to court in his freshly dry cleaned suit.

There the handsome couple(!) were, and yes you got it in there very best grey tracksuits.

The case was called into court, in everyone went.

I believe the Judge took one look at the tracksuited pair and their inability to control their dimwitted gobs.

Needless to say, we won that one!