Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

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.

 

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.

 

A bum lesson. May 4, 2010

There are some classes you just don’t look forward to being part of.

This is most certainly one of them.

Its time for PHSE.

Topic: Parts of the body. ( what could possibly go wrong!!)

So, off we go.

I start off with the usual speal.

As soon as I mention body parts, laughter trickles around the circle.

Ok, this can only end one way- disastrously!

Teacher: ” Right today we are learning about the correct names of parts of the body”.

                   ” Who can start me off”.

I realise this is asking for trouble, let’s be honest what these ‘asbo’ kids don’t know about body parts, is not worth knowing.

It’s all good learning, after all, these kids are going to need to know the difference between their anus and there urethra, otherwise, how else are the going to hide their drugs.

A sea of hands rise into the air, it just goes to prove, if you teach a subject that’s familiar to them, there’s no end to there talents.

I choose the children wisely, ” Bum, willy, fairy(WTF!), leg, bum cheeks etc, etc”  They continue without falter.

Teacher: ” Well done, now, these are all words that we choose to call our body parts, however they also have technical  names that your doctor might use”.” Lets see if we can label this diagram with the correct names”

Off they go again ” bottom, penis, breast, thigh, fairy(?)”

Seriously no… please don’t tell me at 9 years old, this freak thinks her fanny is called a fairy.

Ok, I see they are going to need some help with this.

Teacher: ” Right lets start with bottom, our bottom is made up of lots of different parts, the cheeks that we sit on, and the part that we poo out of. Who can tell me what that is called, it begins with ‘a’ ?

They sit there, red-faced and shocked that they can legitimately say penis and vagina, and not get told off. The hands begin to rise.

There’s one hand higher than the others, the owner about to explode with excitement, finally a subject they understand.

I bravely go with it.

Teacher: ” Yes, jazz, ‘a’ is for…..”

Pupil: ” Arse” A beaming smile on face, there is no way that answer could be wrong, her Dad uses it all the time.

Teacher: ” No, not quite. ‘A’ is for anus”

What the fuck am I doing, Its ok kids, stick with what you know.

Does it really matter if a fanny is a fairy, and a bum is an arse.

Lets face it, these kids have more to think about.

I abandon the lesson.

Anyone want to take their ‘trouser snake’ for a piddle?

 

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!

 

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.

 

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!

 

Dumb Arse Bitch Spectacles March 27, 2010

Dumb Arse Bitch is wearing spectacles. Which seem to have come with a free personality transplant as well.

Instead of being slobbed out on the seat with her legs splayed , she is now sitting upright, legs crossed, elbow resting on her knee and hand propped underneath her chin. She bears a slight resemblance to a playwright deep in contemplation.

I said slight…

“I like your glasses” I compliment her, remembering how hard it was for my son to start wearing his specs.

“Oh don’t, I’m so embarrssed” She blushes a little.

Ah…there is a sweet, modest vulnerable woman in there, you just have to dig deep to find her.

“Don’t be, they suit you. Are you long or short sighted?”

“Oh neiver. I just think they make me look more intelligent”

Why did you have to go and say something stupid? If you don’t like wearing the fucking things and don’t need to for medical reasons then…TAKE THEM OFF!

And as for intelligence, well, intelligence is as intelligence does…and you baby DO NOT DO! If you want people to think that you actually have a brain, you need to STOP TALKING! The minute you open that cake hole it’s game over…give it up.

If your going to wear the glasses and talk people are just going to think that you are Yentls inbred retard lovechild! Is that what you want? What do you mean yes?……