In the words of the great Ken Dodd - what a lovely day for the Bastard List.
And for the first time, the top two are big corporations - and i mean really big ones. The first is the Church. Yes, I know , i know. And the second is the RFU.
Go to a bloody meeting about the Church fete. Some dreadful woman says to me in front of everyone else that she is not helping me on the hoop-la stall because it was quiet and no good last year. Fracking bitch. And anyway all she ever did last year was to relieve me for half an hour, then I didn't see the cow for dust! She's one of those that seem ever so virtuous and willing to help but the truth is she does frack-all. So i've got to do hoop-la all by my bloody self! I mean, When - oh When - am i going to have a bloody fag that day! Didn't like to bring that point up at the meeting.
Sorry, dropped off there. That subject even bored myself. But its true you know. The nastiest and the most hurtful are the God botherers or people of God. I don't know which category i fall into. Probably the Smokers of God -- or something.
And as for that RFU! bloody manager on Saturday completely ignored me - the old whore - and said a bright hello to the bird behind me. I hate bastards who do that. Our old Vicar used to do that (oh bloody hell! i've got back on that again).
So screw them! And the third on my B list is this gereatric old cow who collects her grandaughter from school. Whenever i talk to a teacher or a mate, she always so rudely interupts. I got really pissed off with it today and queried to my mate whether that old bag should be out on her own and which Care Home does she belong to? Anyway I looked round and the bloody woman was behind me! And the look on her face!
I was so ashamed afterwards. She can't be much older than my Mum - and i shouldn't joke about Care Homes - especially as my Dad died in one 18 months ago. And she looked so old and vunerable there in the rain.
But people round here do do that sort of thing. They are so unbelievably rude and snotty. I mean you couldn't get rougher than my old school. You really couldn't. Tattoos, fights - the lot (yes, and that was just the teachers!) but none of them would have dreamt of behaving the way this woman and many others do.
So am torn. Silly old bag - or wronged older woman? Who bloody cares?
Miss Fatso. Going round there for some fags.
Showing posts with label bastard list. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bastard list. Show all posts
Monday, 23 March 2009
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Withdrawal Symptons
Bit of an unpleasantness yesterday. Schools closed again and son stalks about like a caged beast. He wanted his schoolmate over. The one who lives just up the road. I initially said No. We have had him here about 3 times, including a sleepover, and Son hasn't once been asked back.
But I wore down. And also he was the nearest pal to us and I was damned if i was driving in that icy snow to pick up someone else. I said you can call him, i'm not, so i dialled the number and passed it to son. The Boy obviously agreed to come and then Son passed phone back to me because the mother wanted a word.
I cannot believe what the cheeky cow said. She realised it was her turn to have Son, she said breezily, but HER son had chosen to come to our house instead. The crafty bitch! Of course a kids' gonna choose to come to someone else's house. It was on the tip of my tight lips to say it was for an adult to decide who comes over, not the bloody child! Was furious. Itched for the Bastard List which i was trying to give up.
But it was hard. The withdrawal symptons increased through the next 2 hours. I began to shake and have hallucinations. An inner voice tried to soothe me: Have a fag, it said, it will take your mind off your addiction. I puffed gratefully, trying not to think about the List. But I paced around the house, brittle to the touch. The inner voice tried again: Go for a walk like people trying to give up smoking do. (I've heard there are people who actually try this. What suckers!) . But its cold, I answered back.
Salvation came in the form of an Estate Agent. "Can we bring some viewers?", he asked brightly, desperately even. I told him he certainly could. And then I phoned the old whore back and told her I couldn't have her boy after all because of people looking at the house, and in fact, could she call for Son while they were walking their dog and have him instead?
Well, what could the cheeky cow say? She knew she'd "crossed the line" and could do nothing but wearily agree. So got my own back in the end. But next time, the Bastard List may not be so easy to suspend.
But I wore down. And also he was the nearest pal to us and I was damned if i was driving in that icy snow to pick up someone else. I said you can call him, i'm not, so i dialled the number and passed it to son. The Boy obviously agreed to come and then Son passed phone back to me because the mother wanted a word.
I cannot believe what the cheeky cow said. She realised it was her turn to have Son, she said breezily, but HER son had chosen to come to our house instead. The crafty bitch! Of course a kids' gonna choose to come to someone else's house. It was on the tip of my tight lips to say it was for an adult to decide who comes over, not the bloody child! Was furious. Itched for the Bastard List which i was trying to give up.
But it was hard. The withdrawal symptons increased through the next 2 hours. I began to shake and have hallucinations. An inner voice tried to soothe me: Have a fag, it said, it will take your mind off your addiction. I puffed gratefully, trying not to think about the List. But I paced around the house, brittle to the touch. The inner voice tried again: Go for a walk like people trying to give up smoking do. (I've heard there are people who actually try this. What suckers!) . But its cold, I answered back.
Salvation came in the form of an Estate Agent. "Can we bring some viewers?", he asked brightly, desperately even. I told him he certainly could. And then I phoned the old whore back and told her I couldn't have her boy after all because of people looking at the house, and in fact, could she call for Son while they were walking their dog and have him instead?
Well, what could the cheeky cow say? She knew she'd "crossed the line" and could do nothing but wearily agree. So got my own back in the end. But next time, the Bastard List may not be so easy to suspend.
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