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.


Handy husbands. April 29, 2010

Filed under: Kids! Who'd have em?,Men Are Muppets,Mental Notes to Self — bitchpedia @ 6:13 am
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Give it a few years love , DIY will wipe off that smile!

My husband took a week off work.

Great, that’s my week fucked up!

So he decides to paint the outside of the house.

Ok, so your all thinking, don’t be an ungrateful cow.

Off we go for a family trip to B&Q .

I follow my husband dotingly down the aisles, and the kids trail after us, causing a wave of destruction as they go.

Browsing in the solvents aisle (It crosses my mind, a week at home with both husband and kids, I might need one of these to get me though).

I look down the aisle.

It was then that I spotted the old man with mouldy head.

Oh crap- I look back and, to late, observant eldest child is on the case.

Eldest child: ” Mummy what is wrong with that mans head “She announced in her loudest shouting voice.

Next time I’ll get her a fucking loud-speaker!

Mother: ” Shhhh, be quiet and stop being so rude ”

She’s got a point though, what the fuck is that?

She shuts up and decides to stare opened mouth, tainted with a slight look of disgust at the man.

Not sure that’s an improvement in the rudeness stakes.

We buy up the aisle and make a swift exit.

Down to the DIY.

Husbands starts cracking open paint pots and balancing ladders on dangerously high roof beams.

WTF man, you need your arms and legs to work! I’m sure you should have safety ropes or something.

Its best I don’t look.

So I go and make myself useful and do my’ womans work’ inside (I would bitch slap my husband if he called it that).

Head in washing machine, I hear the familiar mating call of my husband. ” Is it time for a coffee yet ”

I don’t no love, have you put the fucking kettle on?

Dotingly I make the drinks.

Back to the painting and I get my head back into the washing machine.

Then that familiar mating call clashes with my ear drums again ” Do you no where my phone is love ”

Why the fuck would I know, Its your phone.

I find it and I return it to my husbands person.

Back to the washing machine.

Then I hear ” Pass me the screw driver”

Is he taking the piss?

Why the fuck, when a man takes on a bit of DIY, does it instantly turn us women folk into their general personal assistant.

When I’m knee-deep in washing, ironing and household scum , and he’s chilling in front of the tv.

You don’t find me hollowing from beneath a pile of skiddy pants

 ” Can you get me a coffee love


 ” Could you just pass me that spatula darling”

No, I start a job by myself and I fucking finish it by myself!!!!

Thus prooving, men really do need a mummy, not a wife!


Man v Instruction manual. April 27, 2010

Craftsmen at work!

We brought a new barbecue at the weekend.

A simple construction, with equally simple instructions.

I open up the box and start reading the manual.

In walks ‘ the DIY king’  The husband.

Now, being a man, instructions, they laugh in the face of instructions!

” It alright love, it’s just a few nuts and bolts, I’m pretty sure we won’t be needing them” -Crap!

Yes dear, that will be why we live in a house of wobbly things!

He builds the barbecue, it doesn’t wobble and it does look like a barbecue.

By gosh, I think we will be able to cook on it.

Then I spy the left over nuts and bolts.

Wife: ” Don’t we need them”

Husband: ” They always put a few spares in”

What, a whole bag full!!!

Men: If the item your building contains instructions, then fucking use them.

Women: Hold your tongue, don’t suggest your man is doing it wrong, you might find a hammer imbedded in your head, simply suggest another way using your most non-threatning girly voice.