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.

 

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.

 

Post office madness! April 14, 2010

The reign of the old bitches!

I needed to post a parcel, so off I trundled down to my local Post Office.

Great, I managed to park right out front.

I walk up to the door, Shit there’s a massive que.

Double shit… the que is full of old people.

Anyway I’m here now. I join the que. This is when I realise that all old people are fucking mad.

So there I am waiting patiently, shame the same can’t be said for the raving looneys around me!

There was an old man at the front of the que, demanding his pension at the top of his lungs, unfortunately he had forgotten to bring along his pension book or any Id.

Therefore- No money for the old man.

This did not please him at all.

He was shouting and abusing the poor girl behind the counter, offering up all kinds of hilarious old person abuse.

By this time the que was out of the door.

The old girls in front of me had clearly had enough.

So they start lobbing insults back to him.WTF.

Seriously it was like ‘Abyss uncut’ ( An 80’s film about randy old people under the sea!).

The insults are really flying now. Secretly I’m really quite impressed with some of their abuse, and start making mental notes of good one liners to lob at my husband.

Anyway this goes on for about 10 minutes.

Finally the old ladies reign victorious, and the old man barges passed and leaves the post office.

The old ladies cheer, you’d have thought they had just over turned some nasty dictator.

Now they really, are fucking mental bitches! -you go girls!

So then I glance out of the window, and there is the old man from the post office.

He’s only ripping up his pension book and lobbing it into the road. Then he turns around and starts whacking the shit out of the post box.

Fuck me, this is some kind of crazy shit!

Remind me never to set foot in the Post Office before midday again!

Fucking old nutters!

 

Restaurant watch! April 10, 2010

The hubby and I decided it was time we went out for dinner.

So off the kids went to Nanny and Grandads.

Off down the High street we go.

I know I should have been staring into the Hubbys eyes, but what I was struck by was the freakish conversations going on around me.

There we are sitting in the restaurant enjoying a Peroni or two.

When on the next table, my eye is caught by a skeletal figure dresses in full on leopard print. She had a massive bowl of pasta in front of her, which she clearly isn’t going to eat. leaving the plate open to being attacked by the big fat fucker she’s brought along with her.

Anyway along comes the waiter, clears their plates, and asks them that magic question. “Would you like to see the pudding menu”.

Fuck me if ever you could on saved on some energy, that would have been the time, of course he wants pudding.

Pudding arrives, and anorexic leopard makes a swift exit for a fag.

I look over to the table and the big fat twat is actually licking the bowl, and has his big fat chubby sausage fingers in the bowl, like a pig in a trough.

Clearly the man is a fucking animal, maybe this is a situation of abuse , I start to wonder, maybe this poor girl has been forced into her frail skinny state. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him…. he clearly does eat all the pies and anything else the fat bastard can get his chubby mitts on!

They leave. I get back to my evening out.

But… hang on just one cotton picking second, whats that I spy….some sort of middle-aged 3 way going on. Well obviously I can’t ignore that.

So I start to watch.

Yes, I was right. Clearly all sorts of weird sexual fantasies are being played out, My suspicions are confirmed, when I go to the loo and who should pop out the cubicle next to me….Mr and Ms 3 way!!!!!!

At this point, I need to leave the restaurant and take refuge in the pub.

Hurrah! Normality, people drinking having normal conversations.

A few Vodka and cokes later, the taxi pulls up on the Green.

All in all, an entertaining and most pleasant evening.

To top it off, we had an entertaining taxi drive home, chauffeured by a high pitched, poker playing, ninja Chinese bloke. Who spent the entire time trying to encourage us to gamble our fare, double or nothing!!! WTF!

5HTJY5G3FMJF

 

Love.com April 9, 2010

Filed under: Men Are Muppets,Mental Notes to Self — bitchpedia @ 3:45 pm
Tags: , , ,

Find the love of your life @ match.com- and possibly get chopped up into very small pieces, and live in a rucksack for the forseeable future!

 

Sawing madness. April 8, 2010

WTF was I thinking!

    What the fuck was I thinking.

Its Sunday night, and as normal I’m busy getting everything ready for school and work.

I’m still not quite sure how I managed it, but I somehow  shut my own finger in the dish washer- plum alert!

My wedding finger started to swell.

My husband started to rant  “you better get those rings off”.

So I take his advise and start oiling up my finger. Off  came my engagement ring.

But my wedding ring was stuck fast.

At this point, the swelling is starting to hurt.

This is when his bright idea strikes him, he can save my finger from certain doom, by sawing, yes sawing the ring off.

Why the fuck at that point, I didn’t tell him to stick his saw up his rectum, I do not know.

I know he was just trying to save my finger!

So, there we are in the kitchen, husband looking through tool box.

The procedure begins.

He sticks a screwdriver under my ring to protect my hand. I’m laughing, why the fuck am I laughing!

He reaches into his toolbox, and pulls out this fuck off massive saw.

Errr…..if you think I’m going to let you near me with that, your having a fucking laugh!

“It’s fine, I know what I’m doing”- what you’ve had dealings with sawing limbs in the past, have you.

Mental note: look further into husbands past!

The sawing begins, and again, I’m fucking laughing, what the fuck is wrong with me!

Worryingly, he saws my hand with precise accuracy.

10 minutes later a little bruised and battered, the ring came off.

Husband: ” look, I think we got it off just in time”.

Yes, my husband the hero!!

Ordeal over, no harm done.

Please do not a temp this at home.

In normal circumstances if your husband suggests he tries his power tools out on you, run, run away fast. No good can come from this!

 Thanks for saving my finger love!