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… can dream can’t she?


Waiting room freaks. May 16, 2010

There I am sitting in the doctors , my appointment running late.

Some girl comes in demanding court order referrals.

Apparently, her solicitor wrote em a letter,  and she needs it, cause she’s in court  Thursday, and she wants her kids back.

It amazes me how fucking thick these people are.

Keep your parental failings to yourself, lets face it her kids would be safer being mothered by bulimic tiger.

And why do certain woman start wearing skimpy bikini tops as soon as the sun shines, it might be sunny, but it’s still  only 14 degrees you cretin- maybe the fire on the end of her spliff, keeps her warm.

Appointment now running 20 minutes late. Be cool, someone might be dying in there.

Suddenly in walks the local transsexual.

Hello….the give away is the massive square draw and the hairy ankles.

But I can’t help but admire her use of colour clashing, in her outfit.

Appointment now running 35 minutes late. Someone best be dying in there.

Starting to feel my lungs clogging with the air of  manky ill people breath.

I glance around the waiting room.

Without warning the bloke next to me starts wiping his nose on his hand and examining it. Yes dear- that there would be bogies.

Then the snotty hand starts having, a not so sly play with it’s owners ball sack.

Errr mate, judging by the look of you, we all had our suspicions, but the ball scratching is really just confirming it for us.

Men: Leave your balls alone in public.

” Mrs Smith, Doctor will see you now”

Well thats fucking good of him, only 48 minutes left.


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!


Get some self-pride girl. April 30, 2010

I have an unfortunate child in my class.

Its self inflicted unfortunate freakness.

We are talking, sloth like gross behaviour.

She comes into school covered in grime and sweat.

This child doesn’t speak, she groans.

She sits there her legs perminately akimbo, mouth dropped open with a gormless expression filling her face.

Shoulders hunched, to the point of curvature of the spine setting in.

She groans ” I can’t do it ” She can never fucking do anything.

She groans again ” I hurt me leg” Did I mention that she is perminately complaining of some sort of ailment, head, throat, eye or limb injury.

She perminately has an ice pack attached to some part of her body. I hate to indulge, but its the ‘nanny state’ that we live in. Heaven forbid we don’t follow procedure!

This child needs a proper slap.

Have a wash, get some self pride and stop being so fucking growtesk!


Plea to friend. April 10, 2010

Please, please, please when your friend turns up in restaurant, dressed  like senior manager( see previous blog by ibitch)  , do abuse said friend, and tell them never to leave the house again.

 Unless of course, she wants to go out looking like a Rottweiler in a tutu!


The school bitch. April 8, 2010

Every school year has one, that bitch who hangs about the toilet block, and permanently looks like she’s been tango’d. Normally being followed by a bunch of reject wannabes!

My year bitch was Kim, Kim- not nice and extremely dim!

I found her on facebook the other day, she wanted to be my friend- yer, whatever!

To be fair, she’s done really well for herself.

I could see this by the way she advertised herself on her facebook profile in her bra and pants!

Mental note: Even page 3 girls need to be able to string a string a simple sentence together. ‘ Hi, my names Kim, I am a bit thick and have the face and personality of a goat. But don’t my tits look nice!’

I rest my case!


Man Woman Man! April 7, 2010

Filed under: Out of the Mouth of Babes. — bitchpedia @ 10:07 am
Tags: , ,


So I’m in the supermarket, its Saturday afternoon and me and my son are queing at the checkout. When he grabs the arm of a complete stranger standing in the que next to us.

So I say “ Oscar, leave the nice lady alone”

 To which he replys , in a very big voice, “ mummy, thats not a lady”.

 To be fair, she had short crop man hair,was about 20 stone and wearing a leather jacket… An understandable mistake!