Brit Bitches

practising the art of bitchary Brit style

A mothers time is most certainly not her own. October 31, 2011

Any of you mums out there will know that, when you pop out a baby, from that second onwards your time is no longer your own.

Never will you have a wee in the peace and tranquility your urine deserves, because the minute you release those pelvic muscles (well those muscles that weren’t destroyed by the trauma that is childbirth) and the wee starts to flow , you will suddenly hear the pitter patter of tiny feet, in my case the not so tiny patter of 8 and 5 year old feet.

So it begins ” Mum, you said we could have something out the sweetie jar, Mum you said I could go on the laptop!!

Its funny I don’t remember making any of these promises.

For some reason I always start to enter into dialogue with them, then suddenly, it strikes me, why am I sitting on the loo arguing about sweets surely the sweets can wait the 5 minutes that I have oh so selfishly alacated to myself!

The bathroom for us Mums is clearly know longer a relaxing tranquil environment in which to relax and have ME time, no, it is now a place to perform every day necessary functions such as going to the toilet and washing.

Speed is of the essence, as no member of your family ( I include the fully grown adult who shares the house with you, commonly known as The Husband, in that comment) can possibly do without your presence ( the real reason 2 in 1 shampoo was invented) for more than 5 minutes.

This weekend I was having one of those relaxing 5 minute shower breaks when in bursts Youngest son. He informs me he has something really important to tell me, so I listen incase someone has drowned in their frosties. Turns out its not that important, Daddy can’t find the controls!

I look at my darling boy, but he is all of a sudden distracted…….” Mummy why is your willy furry?”.

Ok, two things, must spend time explaining to youngest son that boys have willys and girls have bitbits ( at 5 vagina seems a little harsh!), and I really must book that waxing appointment!

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Just say NO! May 18, 2010

Maybe I’m just a little to protective.

But I have just watched a woman give her two-year old chewing gum.

Now, I don’t mean to be judge mental ( even thought , I am bloody good at it), but that’s fucking stupid.

Errrr, love. Have you ever heard of choking??

Or did you miss that parenting class.

Along with the one about telling your fucking kid, NO now and again.

Maybe just maybe, that’s why the world is full of obnoxious childish twats.

Because, Mummy never said NO.

Get the tit out of your mouth, he’s a big boy now and tell him fucking NO!

Deal with it now.

Or this dickhead ain’t ever gonna get a girlfriend.

 No self respecting girl is gonna want  a bloke who spits the dummy everytime she says NO!

 

Snotty Pikey kids. May 10, 2010

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!

 

SILENCE! May 6, 2010

Today I have observed the teacher from hell A.K.A Little Miss Petty Bitch.

A child coughs she starts screaming at them to ‘respect her’.

What, like your husband does?

God help the child that doesn’t put their hand up. That recieves the “You are making me ill with all your rudeness” treatment, complete with witchy finger poked in their face.

Personally I think she should be focussing on her own identity crisis, rather than those of the children that are not even hers! But who am I?

Like the repressed nun that she is, silence is golden in her world. In fact it is the only thing she expects of the poor little bastards in her class. Can they read? Some of them. Can they add up and take-away? Fuck it who cares! Can they be quiet? She makes sure of it.

Today two boys had a ‘silent’ fight at their desks and that was fine.

A table of girls have become accomplished lip readers and had a full on ‘silent’ conversation throughout Miss Petty Bitches lesson input. But it was OK, they didn’t make any noise.

But I especially liked it when she praised a boy who had dozed off to the land of nod, for ‘doing good listening’.

No…no…HE WAS ASLEEP!

The whole class protested.

“He was sleeping”

“Miss his eyes were closed…”

“…yeah and his head fell back”

“SILENCE! All of you have lost your playtime”

Oh, apart from sleeping boy, he can have a sticker!

 

Junior CSI

Filed under: Kids! Who'd have em?,The Daily Bitch. — ibitch @ 8:01 pm
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Big Son has cordoned off Little Sons bedroom with yellow CSI tape!

I knew that sodding kit, with it’s shitty bits of plastic in a shiny briefcase was a mistake when I brought it.

“What ya doing?” I try to get in.

“DON’T TOUCH! This is a crime scene”

“O-K…”

“He’s eaten my last easter egg” He points the finger of blame at his brother.

“No I haven’t”

Big Son throws open the kit and retrieves a test tube and a pair of tweezers.

Now WTF is the weird little science freak doing?

“I’m taking crumb samples from his bed. Bet I find chocolate”

Suddenly Little Son screams out: “Course you will. I’M AN ADDICT!”

WTH! I’ve spawned a chocolate junkie. How long has this been going on? Oh God, tell me he doesn’t need rehab!”

 

A lesson in drugs. May 5, 2010

Its time for that old favourite… Its PHSE!

Todays specialist subject. ‘ Drugs and Alcohol ‘ . I can almost hear the kids giving me a whoop, whoop!

Of I go.

Teacher: “Today guys, we are going to talk about ‘Drugs and Alcohol’, lets see what we already know”

There little eyes are bright with excitement. If ‘ Masterminds’ specialist subject was addictions, these kids would be champions!

The air is once again a sea of hands.

Even the normal, mute retards are on fire.

There spitting at the mouth in desperation to speak. ( and thats not got anything to do with there need for speech therapy).

Pupils: ” Beer, wine, Vodka, splif, speed, rock, acid, Jack Daniels”

               ” My dad likes weed”

Crap, this is no longer a lesson, this is fucking boasting.

‘My Dads more addicted than your Dad’

‘My Mums more fucked up than your Mum’

Maybe there is an advantage to having drug addled, moron parents.