On a flight back from Glasgow
two wannabe teenage parents - you know the type, fake tans, dyed hair, camouflage clothing - sat with their child, who was equipped with a personal DVD player.

Their kid watches a film without headphones on. I.e. the sound is coming out of the speakers. I'm three rows back and in the aisle across, and I can hear it quite nicely, thank you.

I start to seethe.

Kid then gets bored with the film. But doesn't switch it off. This *really* narks me.

I get up, go over, ask father nicely if the child can either use his headphones or switch it off.

Father then threatens me with violence. EasyJet staff do fuck all.

I sit down. Film remains on.

Spoilt child thanks to spoilt parents. After all, why shouldn't half the plane hear his film ?

Twunts.
( I_Was_Mordred, Sat 11 Oct 2008, 2:01, 6 replies)

legends tell
of a white man who lives in the jungles of Africa, foiling poachers and other criminals by following them around whining until they give him what he wants. Some call him...the Tantrum.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 11 Oct 2008, 2:00, Reply)

greetings from the future!
I bring good news, and bad news.

The good news...McCain will not be President of the United States.

Not for very long anyway.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 11 Oct 2008, 1:24, 4 replies)

I can't even make ends meet.
Things are pretty tough at the moment...

They can afford their own sweets now. They ignore me as I beckon with promises of ice cream and lolipops, not like back in the good ol' days. They've made my field of work alot tougher.

I have to shop at Iceland now, Iceland!

Chris - Licenced Childcatcher Reg. No: 417683
(chrisdood Why yes, I am the shizzle, Sat 11 Oct 2008, 0:03, Reply)

Spleen venting
At work a while ago i was standing there,plodding away when this vile blonde child runs past me down the aisle,screaming bloody murder about how he wanted some enormous bag of sweets that i take it his cretinous mother had refused to buy for him.Cue mother coming around the corner and shouting(icing on the cake)"Maximus!Come back here at once!I told you no!".Maximus?What kind of a fucking idiot would call their child that?I can only hope that when the other kids at his school find out what max is short for they throw him in front of a train.And i hope his parents die of the syph,posh cunts.
(yob soddoth happiness is a Dane called Hamlet?, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 23:36, 5 replies)

Went out with a lass
The 'rentals had a lovely house in the sticks, with a wing for each child (x2) and an Aga in the kitchen.

The pool wasn't heated, but I think they've sold up now.

When she got a Rover for her 18th birthday she went ballistic because she wanted a Golf GTI.

It's all right 'cos I shagged her up her shit-hole.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 22:36, 2 replies)

this obnoxious posh kid at the zoo
insisted on petting the lions. He was Eton.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 21:37, 7 replies)

and he comes into work every day!
I work in a pub, not a family pub, not a pub that does meals, not a pub that does handy colouring in packs for the little folk, not a pub where the cherubim are welcome before 9pm.
It's a boozer. there is a lounge, it has carpet, there's a bar, it has lino, a pool table, a gambling machine, a jukebox full of obscurity, a manky yard, smoking for the use of, and thats it.
So why, when the lovely oldish bloke regular picks up where he left off with his ex wifey, does said wifey bring her obnoxious brat in with her?
She'll get herself 2 or 3 pints, get the child a lime and soda, go and smoke in the yard, and then ignore him. No matter what he does! We used to have a good early doors crowd loads of ordinary working people used to come and decompress with a pint and a game of pool, until the brat and it's parent started coming in.

She gets pissed and ignores him, whilst he runs amok in the pub, yells and shouts over people's conversations, orders me to turn up the jukebox loud enough to drown out peoples conversations (I turned it back down again and he whined and whined at his Mum until she told him to "Fuckin well shuddup". I actually had to shout at him when he tried to pull someone's chair out from under them because they didn't want to play pool with him. He also comes into the pub complaining that 18 year olds have beaten him up... There's not a mark on him, and all of the 18 year olds round here are either in the nearest big town getting pissed or in this pub, ditto.. It's the yelling and constant attention seeking that really wind me up. It's not that I haven't got children (single parent, 2 kids, 1 at Uni, one at FE college, Ithankyew)or that I don't like them. I just cannot be having with this one and his attitude, although two things have stopped me just slinging him and his drunken slattern of a parent out.

1) It really isn't his fault, it's down to parenting, so it's hers...

2) the poor sod's name. I won't give it here, I may get the sack, but it's the same name as one of King Lear's daughters, and a girl out of my mate's year... Yes this loathsome boy HAS A GIRL'S NAME!!!

I really should just get over it, I know...

Apologies for length, and for getting bent out of shape over it.. ooo err..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 21:28, 11 replies)

Kids these days...
A couple of years back I was working in Gamestation and some kid comes in with his dad looking for the new silver slimline PS2. Sony being their usual self decided not to produce enough for the demand, so naturally we where freshly sold out of them.
I let the dad know that the black slim line is in and exactly the same thing, but the kid was having none of it! The little fucker threw a right little tantrum over it! Calling his dad all sorts of things and refusing all of the games that he originally wanted because he couldn't play them on the silver PS2!
In the end his dad just bought him the slimline PS2 anyway and threw in a load of games to sway the kids decision, who grudgefully accepted his dad's cold hearted offer!
The lucky little bastard then got taken to McDonalds for lunch. PS2 and McDonalds! Although the dad may have actually been buying the console for himself and perhaps the McDonalds was just for the kid...
(drchino, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 21:22, Reply)

Spoilt brat
As some of you may be aware, I'm a geek.

In the interests of earning some extra shekels whilst a post-grad student, I did private tuition of kids doing GCSE and A-level maths and further maths, and a bit of physics alongside.

One little sh!t (hello, Hugo, if you're reading) decided that he couldn't be bothered with lessons and I later learned that he was taking the £25 an hour he was meant to be giving me and going out and buying weed with it. Good lad :).

Unfortunately, when he *spectacularly* failed his GCSE maths his parents were less than impressed; I could show them the evidence that he hadn't been coming to see me. Heheheheh.

Comeuppance, thy name is parental fury!
(Eds Meds Mathskillz=1,Socialskillz=0, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 20:53, 2 replies)

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Long train journeys are very enjoyable when it's quiet - by which I don't mean actually quiet, but calm - kids are occupied and playing happily, no-one is bellowing at their mate at the other end of the carriage etc. On one Sunday evening I was on a trip back from Edinburgh, so far all had gone well. Until a woman with the most revolting little girl-child got on and the girl proceeded to shout and scream her way down more than a hundred miles to Derby - ’I want to sit near the window! WAAAAAAAI wanna sit near the window!!!!!’ Etc. Every time, her mother allowed her to scream and shout for a good five minutes before allowing her to do just what she wanted. The little brat thought nothing of climbing over her mother, basically shoving her out of the way to get her own. She stood up, jumped up and down on the seat, and responded with the same ear-curdling WAAAAAAA I WANNA each time Mummy tried to impose some discipline. Frankly Mummy looked as though she just wanted a couple of big tranqs and a quiet night in.

The whole carriage heaved a sigh of relief when they eventually walked out to the doors - whilst the train was still moving at a considerable speed we could just hear a distant ’I want to open the door NOW’, and I must confess that both I and the elderly lady sharing my table agreed we fervently hoped she'd get her wish. Sadly it wasn't to be.
(cisco, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 20:10, 2 replies)

The Little Fuckheads who live next door.
I live next door to a family of what I can only describe as Pikeys with a house.

The eldest moron left school in 2007, and has since had no need of a permanent job as he can sponge off of his idiotic parents. He sleeps most of the day, occasionally going into London to spend Daddy's money on designer clothes and a gravity defying haircut, and in the evenings, goes out with his mates in their riced-up Clio (with lexarse rear-lights, and a fucking coal-skuttle for an exhaust), drinking and causing trouble in the area.

The youngest moron is, in his parents eyes, going to be a professional footballer. He plays for a youth team in the midlands, and because of this, his parents refuse to do anything that might jeopardise his potential career in football, such as punishing him for kicking his fucking footballs into my garden narrowly missing my kids and smashing my garden ornaments. In fact the last time I challenged his grey haired twat of a father he threatened me with physical violence.

This pair of spoilt little turds will live their lives under the protection of their fathers money, never actually having to take responsibility for their own actions because Daddy will always cough up to bail them out or blindly defend their appalling actions when others complain.
(Vic Flange, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 20:10, 1 reply)

This guy I once knew...
had to be the most spoilt little fucktard in the entire universe. We used to hang around with him when we were about 9 or 10, mainly because his single mum (anyone else spotted a pattern forming ?) had bought him this enormous go-kart thing that she used to let him hare around in at breakneck speeds without any concern for anyone else, god forbid if anyone complained, her "special one" could do no wrong.
He eventually pissed off to quite an exclusive boarding school at about 11, and by all accounts despite the fact that this school took him on some of the most fantastic field trips imaginable, and they even let him sit in on governors meetings (btw he was indignant when they wouldn't let him have a vote ! ) he still threw regular strops about how they didn't recognise his potential !
He also managed to knock-up one of the local girls, and even though all the teachers knew it was all brushed under the carpet.Even the local mayor had taken a shine to him. Then one day, completely out of the blue, he flipped and went on a rampage with a sword and killed most of the kids and teachers.

God that kid was a tit.
(sheps, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 19:41, 23 replies)

Spoilt little brats.
They ask for food, they get it.
They want to go out and play, they get to do that, even when it's dark.
The don't clean the bathroom.
Never done a days work in their lives, and just spend most of the day in bed or on the couch sleeping or watching TV.

They decided they wanted to go away for a while, and didn't even tell their mom, who's worried sick about them!


Come back soon, Stealth and Ninja

Woo Edit: Stealth is home!

Hurry back, too, Ninja
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 19:19, 2 replies)

On the train
Conductor: Tickets please!
Rah girl: A ticket!? Why do I need a ticket?
Conductor: Everyone needs a ticket. If you don't have one, you have to buy one.
Rah girl: I don't! It's okay, my Mummy will be on the platform when we get there!
Conductor: I don't care: you need to buy a ticket.
Rah girl: No! Mummy will be there! Speak to her on the phone!
Conductor: No. You need to buy a ticket.
Rah girl: *dials mum*: Here! Speak to her! She'll tell you!
Conductor: I'm not talking to your mum. Buy a ticket.
Girl: Oh FINE. FINE. I'll buy a ticket then. But I don't understand why I need one.

What a cow.
(Merrep, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 19:03, Reply)

Fake Spoilt Brat - go figure
OK its a work one and thank god she is no longer infesting my environment.
I have little or no interest in anyone's background or social 'status' and presume no one has any in mine. However some people appear to base their entire existance around being perceived in a particular 'class.' Anyway, for what its worth my background is working class. .. as was the background of the funt in question.
She spent months shouting loudly about 'o blardy farking things darling' wombling on about living in an apartment overlooking the canal (nice view of the rats then?) etc and generally being stroppy arsey and demanding. I realised that she preferred to be viewed as a spoilt cow than, heaven forbid, a working class girl who came from Fish Ponds in Bristol.
Funt.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 19:01, 3 replies)

self-pitying whinging response to QOTW
I am,myself,something of a spoilt brat,or rather a 'lapsed aristocrat' as Tony Benn or whoever it was calls them (my family can be traced back 12 centuries
and i have four quarters to my chevron,lucky lucky me),but fortunately i grew up at a time when my family had no money,so i've never wanted for anything i really
wanted,and my parents worked extremely hard all through my childhood.I avoided some of the spoiling that i should have suffered.
What bugs me is my friend,who's new money (envy much?),and was bought a 1963 Mustang Firebird for his twelfth birthday (yes,like the
one in American Beauty),will be given 120k in legacies when he leaves university,will immediately get a job in his father's upscale architectural
company (despite doing a degree completely unrelated to that),and will live a long,healthy life filled with trips to exotic places.He whinges that his life is falling apart because he
has to fill a shift in a bar every other week.
i'm supposed to be a taoist but sometimes i'm just sick with envy.sick.sick.
I live in university accomodation with a laptop and some books.his father has just bought him a lovely four-bedroomed house in the upscale part of town.
-weeps-
if you want to give me money so i can fund my bohemian/shit life...fuck it.ill get another job.
apologies for lack of funny.

EDIT : It's a 1963 Ford Mustang Coupe in bright red.Cunt.
(Fuckpig "That's not even a pound a midget.", Fri 10 Oct 2008, 19:00, 6 replies)

Brat on the bus
A girl in her late teens got onto the bus with a 4 or 5 year old girl. As they walk past I was confused, it looked like a teenage mum, but the girl was very well dressed. When they spoke it was clear this was East European aupair looking after an upper middle class English brat.

The brat spent five minutes trying to annoy the young aupair before demanding that she recall a dream she had mentioned. So the aupair, sounding quite happy, began to recall the previous nights dream in a sweet slavic accent;

"In my dream I am travelling back to my country to see all of my family. I am very happy because I've not seen them for so long. Our village looks beautiful and I can see my parents house. My brother is there and my mother, and..."

"NO!" the brat screams, "not that one. Tell the dream where _I'm_ a princess and I live in a castle"

The poor aupair, sounding slightly choked, then begins the Princess story, probably for the fourth time that day.
(mrdirtylegs, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 18:54, 5 replies)

school trip
when i was 14 i went on a school trip to stratford. about 15 of us were put into a group and were told to walk to this park and meet our teacher. on the way there we passed two boys the same age as us, sat on a wall. as we walked passed one of the boys said, in a rather posh accent "i hate public school children, they're just so horrible"

you can imagine how much his view of children from public school changed when soon after he found he'd been pushed off the wall.

.
(i eat crayons, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 17:56, 3 replies)

bake a cake
We were baking cakes in a home economics class, and everyone was to bring decorations from home. Most people brought candles or icing sugar or whipped cream or some varieties of fruit, but it was the posh kid in the class who kicked it up a notch. By the time she'd finished decorating, her cake had on it: jelly beans, sequins, tassles, sparklers, elegant figurines, an ipod shuffle, a flamethrower, antique furniture, a hovercraft, hitler, a jetpack, a cure for AIDS, a proof of the Riemann hypothesis, and the chinese national army.
(mmmkay, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 17:34, 4 replies)

My Nephew
For a few years now I've been looking after my nephew.

He's a good kid but he's such a brat. Due to the fact that I have a large farm I sometimes need help, and with the credit crunch and the bigger suppliers undercutting me I can't always afford the help so have asked him to help out, and every time we asked he's always whined and moaned. I'm not overly impressed as I've raised the little shit for 16 years!

Anyways, the other day I'd managed to hire a couple of foreigners to help out around the farm with this and that but over the course of the night one of them had gone out for a few beers, I asked my nephew to look for him and take his mate along so he could recognise him, at this my nephew was surprisingly helpful, I reckon he'd had a hand in letting the guy out but I can't be sure...

Next thing I know the local fuzz turn up and start shooting up my farm!

Bastards!

And the little turd wasnt; even my real nephew!

Yrs,

Owen Lars
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 16:50, Reply)

An old friends sister with hair like Crystal Tips.
Now before I start this message, I would like to say that its the fucking soft touch parents that are to blame..wrap em in cotton wool all their lives..doing more harm than good. imo.

And twas the case with the Grants and their offspring. Mr.Grant was a spineless poorest excuse of a man I have ever met in my life..and Mrs.Grant definitely wore the trousers, for she was bielzibub incarnate..an overprotective, overpowering horror of a parent, that would'nt let her children go to school if they so much as caught a cold !

And as one of her sons school friends, I wasn't even allowed around to the house if I so much as coughed or sneezed. (I was even turfed out in the pouring rain to face a very wet 10 minute walk home just because I coughed whilst playing on the computer - the she-devil bitch).

Anyway, I digress. This story is not about their son, but their daughter Trudy. Bless her, she had a face like a bag of spanners (took after her mother) and hair that would give Steel Wool a run for its money. Big, Frizzy, and with a forehead the size of a dinner plate, she was a real looker.

Anything she wanted, she got. If she didn't get it immediately she would scream like a Banshee.....and scream.....and scream. The kind of scream that rips through your ears, and scratches its nails down your brain as if it were a chalkboard. Pleasant child.

Mr and Mrs Grant would often enter competitions on the local radio station, and amazingly one day their efforts paid off with a call from the radio station. Live.

Cue Mrs. Grant rushing to put in a tape to record themselves on the radio, and so there they sat, Mrs Grant, their son and daughter, in one room listening..whilst Mr. Grant answered a difficult question like "Who came second place in World War 2" or something to that affect.

Upon hearing the correct answer, the DJ gave a list of prizes:

A Hostess Trolley
A Ghetto Blaster
A weekend Break for 2 at a Spa
or a Teddy.

Upon hearing this option, Trudy bursts into a Banshee fit repeating over and over again

"I WANT THE TEDDY"

The DJ asked what Mr.Grant wanted, and obviously couldn't call him a spineless twat live on Radio.."ooh I'd better have the Teddy" Mr.Grant replied.

Laugh..I nearly shit myself. That just summed it up really, walked all over by his wife, and the daughter is learning the same tricks too.
They got what they deserved. Humiliated live on Radio.
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Fri 10 Oct 2008, 16:35, 1 reply)

Children in Need
Now, I'm not having a go at the charity per se. Honestly. But it's about this time of year that I get really hacked off with the whole thing.

You see, I listen to Radio 2 (yes, I know, I should be listening to Radio 4 with the rest of the QOTWers). Mr Wogan keeps me amused in the mornings, I'll admit. But every fucking November he insists on doing that bastard auction for 'things that money can't buy'. For two bloody weeks.

And every year they raise even more money by offering some 'once in a lifetime opportunities', because a lunatic proportion of the great British public have got the ways and means to part with literally thousands (sometimes hundreds of thousands) of pounds in order to have tea with Sarah Kennedy, go back stage with the Spice Girls or take a friend to a health spa and have a champagne enema.

Please, we know some people are obscenely wealthy. I would love to have a day on the Doctor Who set with the family, however I don't have a spare £50k going begging to pay for the privilege. So I don't want to listen to people rubbing my face in the fact, OK? And Terry, you can shut up about it as well. Do us a favour, and do it on line will you? Then you can carry on with the Irish whimsy and listeners poems and stories with thinly veiled innuendos. It's what we pay you for. Not to hear you spout off about how wonderful Henry in Redbridge is because he's just bid £80,000 to shag Angelina Jolie up the arse, but can anyone do better 'cos £80k's a bit on the cheap side?

Although if one of the opportunities was to be able to bury Sarah Kennedy head first in the sand and then kick her repeatedly in the cunt, then I'm afraid that the house would be on the market and the family sold into slavery for the privilege. God, she bloody annoys me with her 'jolly hockey sticks' demeanour, complete lack of any knowledge about any of the tracks she plays and total inability to read out letters from her dawn patrollers without stumbling over every other fucking word.

God she's annoying.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 10 Oct 2008, 16:05, 33 replies)

My girlfriend likes to act all spoilt & throw tantrums
Then I have to punish her.

'Yes, master...I will do whatever you want'.

Although she should issue a disclaimer with that because I've never managed convinced her to do any cleaning while she's going through the 'do whatever you want' phase. If anyone has any discipline tips I'm all ears.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:57, 6 replies)

this is arguably an act of utter hypocrisy on my part
but I'm going to do it anyway.

A lot of people have posted on here about 'spoilt' workmates - maybe they're related to the boss, or the useless scion of an important client, or the boss is having an affair with them, or isn't but would like to...

anyway, people who make work miserable for everyone else and aren't held accountable for it because they have some kind of special status.

There's a reasonably easy way to protect yourself from this. Just saying.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:47, 27 replies)

Several QOTWs in one easy post
The nicest thing anyone did for me was daddy giving me a job in his restaurant. Could I cook? Could I buggery. Any of the other chefs complained, and I made sure they got the sack.

Anyway, getting bored late one evening, I decided to have a laugh. I got one of those piping bag things that they use to put icing on cakes and thought it would be a scream to use it as a wanking aid. Fuck it, the customers won't notice.
Stupidly, I posted about it on Facebook. The head chef saw it and told me the next day that if any women have eaten cakes with that icing, there's a high probability that they might be pregnant. (Yes, I know now that's utter bollocks, but at the time...).

Little did I know, that one of the customers had also seen the Facebook post and came in to speak to my dad and demanded I be sacked. I told my dad that I'd throw a tantrum like he'd never seen.

Actually, I was just faking it.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:33, 3 replies)

Condemning me!
I've known many spoilt little shits throughout my life so far but what gets me the most is that I was indeed a spoilt brat when I was younger, not by choice of course but that still doesn't stop me from looking back in disgust at the annoying little shit I was. If I could build a time machine I would go back to the age of 8 or so and strangle that little prick, sure it might cause a rift in the Space Time Continuum and all would be undone, but shit would I give 'past me' a strangle and a half! A few hits with a tire iron across the face might go down nicely also....

The point being that some reform before it's too late like myself, although as far as life skills go I'm a bit screwed...well..there's your karma!
(TioShard, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:30, Reply)

Bitch-cow from Hell
[unlurks]
I went to a fee-paying school. I was on an assisted place, but many of the kids there were the sorts who'd employ others to be poor for them.

One girl in my year was given a new BMW. I can't remember whether it was for her 17^th or 18^th birthday. It makes no difference either way.

And what really annoys me is that, though we weren't friends particularly, she was still one of the most down-to-earth, genuinely lovely people I've ever met.

The bitch. What's the point of people like that if you can't resent every single breath they take?


[/unlurks] How do you do chevrons without them disappearing?
(Gravity's Raincoat, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:30, 7 replies)

The Girlfriends Family.......
First Post! (takes bow)
My girlfriends Brother and Sisters are right up there in the scale of being spoilt bastards...........

Her brother denies all responsibility for the mistakes he's made in his life. For example, it wasn't his fault that he crashed his car while he was pissed (The Breathalyser hadn't been calibrated correctly so he got away with that), never mind the fact that he was on his way to buy drugs... So the day before his court case while he's in the pub (having just resigned for no apparent reason) his mother was at home filling in his court forms because it was beneath him. Mummy paid his fines while he was out of work (through choice) and he repaid her by stealing her credit card and spending 3 grand in a week with his mates. It was mummy's fault though for stressing him out about getting a job.

Her sister isn't much better, while Mummy was flapping about after the brother. She was helping herself to £200 every week from her mothers business account to feed her gambling habit.........

Meanwhile back in the real world, none of them talk to me, Especially her mother as I was overheard saying that they'd never learn to be responsible with money so long as she wiped their arses for them.

Apparently I have a problem with the "upper class". Upper class = more consolidated debt than most small African countries...

Tossers.....
(Mr_Smig, Fri 10 Oct 2008, 15:28, 3 replies)