FIRST!!!1!1
whoops, too early...sorry
(augsav forgot about B3ta, Thu 4 Nov 2010, 12:42, Reply)

Once....
This complete bitch of a babysitter kept pawing at me and telling me how cute I was. It was sickening. She'd stroke my hair, wiggle my toes and fingers, make stupid noises - it was just creepy. So while all this was going on I thought i'd get the ultimate revenge. So I puked in her face and then shat in my nappy. Oh, to be young, carefree and single again....
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 4 Nov 2010, 11:58, Reply)

I still have a babysitter.
I'm quite a slow typer, which isn't great for me, as my babysitter only lets me on the computer for two minu
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Thu 4 Nov 2010, 11:02, 17 replies)

This one time my girlfriend was babysitting her parent's friends' kid
And she invited me 'round once the kid had gone to bed, and she and I shagged.

TRUE.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 4 Nov 2010, 10:32, 14 replies)

Help yourself
When I was younger my dad was a single parent so when he needed to go out a babysitter was the only option. One evening a young girl came to babysit while my dad went out for a work function. He did the usual for a new babysitter, explained where everything was etc, and of course tolde her she could help herself to any food or drink in the house.

Fast forward a few hours, dad out babysitter downstairs I start hearing the dreadful sound of someone being sick, not only that but missing the toilet, i could tell due to the pitter patter of sick clumps hitting the floor.

By the time dad arrived home, the place was a mess, most of it covered in puke.

The babysitter claimed she had some kind of bug and made a quick exit, leaving the mess behind for my dad to clear up.

After the cleanup operation my dad noticed the drinks cabinet a'jar. I think when my dad said help yourself to a drink he didnt mean a bottle of Vodka.

So not only had the Babysitter effectively got herself a fee bottle of Vodka, only to spew it all over the house but shoe also go paid for the pleasure as well.
( retrofly How about a link to a picture of something funny.., Thu 4 Nov 2010, 10:28, 3 replies)

Hey, I can make this qualify.
So, we were looking after our wee cousin yesterday. I say wee; he's 16 and taller than me, but I remember when he was an ankle biter so it counts.

Anyway, he'd come to Edinburgh (where we live) from Maldon, Essex (where he lives, and where more importantly my mum was born before she moved up here and had three boys. Also my dad's from London. This is important). Cousin's from arable farming background and was looking to go into stock farming, so his aunt (mum) agreed to take him to the farming museum in East Kilbride to have a look-see. I don't know why, maybe they don't have chickens where he lives.
Me and Middle Brother agreed to go with them. Or at least were too half-asleep to disagree.
So off we trot, drivey drive to airport where his uncle hands him over, drivey drive to Glasgow, get lost, find place, have coffee (much needed) and then set off around the farm.

This place is run by both the National Trust and National Museums, and as such it's pretty interesting for a building full of tractors and three square miles of mud and cows. We wandered around, chatting with Cousin and each other and generally having a good time.
Especially when Mum was petting a cow and it coughed about three litres of phlegm up her sleeve.

Then we had an excellent lunch in the associated cafe, then we went home and dropped Cousin off. Nothing out of the ordinary you might think.

At tea later that night, we noticed, however, that Middle Brother was seething.
Now, let me clarify again. Mum from Essex, dad from London. We're English, let's face it, born in Embra or no (I've tried persuading my Scots friends otherwise, and given up). And we sure as hell don't sound Scottish. Him even less so than me, since he...I don't want to use the 'A' word on this board, so let's just say he doesn't get out much.
MB has occasionally expressed some strange views on nationality. Often starting with "The problem with the English/Americans is...", they tend to provoke the reaction "Er, have you thought this all the way through?".* He graduated spectacularly from 'half-arsed and under-informed' to 'openly retarded' that dinner however, when he came out with the immortal line:

"I just hate it when the English come up here, disrespecting other cultures and being so terribly...well, English!"

Spoken in cut-glass RP, of course. Jesus sodomising Christ. I'm still baffled. I'm all for idiot bigotry, but against your own genetic and cultural background? And based on a single day visit by a perfectly affable cousin?
In a hilarious display of his grasp of irony, he's so enraged by my failure to understand his attitude on this that he's leaving the house for a couple of days to cool down. Who's he off to stay with? Well, our mum has two siblings. Cousin's father, and a sister...





*Properly, "Er, have you thought this all the way through, or are you taking one personality trait you heard about one time in a single person, probably in a book, and deciding it represents an entire culture because you know fuck all about people individually let alone as a group?"
(Falstaff's Spiritual Successor, Thu 4 Nov 2010, 9:27, 6 replies)

sorted

( enoughblueskyforsailorstrousers, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 20:45, 8 replies)

Crap crap babysitter / childminder
I can tell you of a lass who looked after me when I was young who was terrible, so bad I think I could have actually been better off being left alone to do my own thing. This is the tale of N.

When I was about 10 (Maybe younger come to think of it my memory is pretty hazy) this bitch woke me up to tell me she was looking after me. Why the hell she did that I have no idea but anyone with a shred of knowledge would think that the best thing to do would be to let a kid stop in bed and not come into the room and bounce all over the bed yelling who you are.

Anywhoo after the initial pleasantries I got to know her a little better and also came to realise that she wasn’t really that good at being a babysitter due to a number of reasons, I won’t go into a comprehensive list as this is starting to drag already so I will just stick with the main annoyances:

She was easily excitable and would spaz out in a manner more akin to a toddler or first year drama students high on E numbers when anything good happened to me while she was there. Really really not my type of thing as I am a pretty grounded (some say miserable looking) bloke.

She would also stop me from doing something just to ask me something pretty stupid and let me get back to whatever I was doing originally. Maybe it was one of those distraction techniques kid psychologists use these days to stop brats smashing things up but I do know that at the time I was pretty pissed at N for interrupting me.

Her voice was really annoying, every time she tried to catch my attention or tell me something I was spending more times controlling my own feeling of rage (and the urge to ram a sword through her head) so I would forget what she had just said. Even now, years later I am just writing about it and I have realised that I am hitting the letters on the keyboard really hard in anger.

Then there was also the fact that she was leading me down the wrong path sometimes. Before she came into my life I will admit that I could be a little sod at times but she encouraged me to do things that were a little more risky like stealing things from our own village (She said it was for the greater good but I ended up taking a bollocking from the mayor when he found out what I did).

Despite these complaints I was stuck with her until my late teens, this all came to a head when I was trying to chat up a frankly hot piece of ass I was trying to get it on with and before I could ask her to give me some space N seemed to realise that she was no longer needed and left.

God knows why I then went off looking for her in the next game, she did bugger all in the final boss fights. Navi you still are a pain in the ass and the worst babysitter/childminder I can think of.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 16:57, 18 replies)

The Anti-Christ
My cousins lived in the same town as us and were 7 and 9 years older than me (and therefore even older in relation to my younger sister). I effing loved my cousins, I mean, they gave me their Kylie tapes when she was no longer cool enough for them and even a punched through straw hat so I could be a miniature slightly-behind-the-times version of Kylie myself. They were awesome. They loved me too because although I was a precocious knob, I was always trying to be exceedingly grown-up and therefore always behaved impeccably when they baby-sat. My sister, however, had other ideas.

Nowadays, it would probably be diagnosed as ADHD, but back then, it was just being a little shit. She would famously get herself into all kinds of trouble and scrapes and would eat and chew anything, regardless of whether or not it was nailed down. Or even vaguely edible. I learnt the phrase ‘Anti-Christ’ as that was how they used to describe her. I think this one day in the summer holidays almost justifies that expression.

This was to be an all-day babysitting extravaganza. I was probably about 9, making my sister 7. Things started off smoothly enough, in fact I think we even got to lunchtime without too much palaver. There was a bit of fuss about what she would eat, but nothing too extraordinary. After lunch things get a bit more extreme. Firstly, something set her off laughing. This should be fine, what is more delightful than the laughter of children, right? WRONG. She had a terrible (yet retrospectively hilarious) habit of freezing up when hysterical and then wetting herself. This she proceeded to do – all over the leather settee. My cousins were pretty horrified, as 14 - 16 year old girls would be, at having to chase the rivers of wee all over it trying to mop them up.

I can’t remember what led up to the next episode, but it involved sis having a tantrum and locking herself in the upstairs bathroom – then she opened the window, shouting down at us on the patio. The next thing we know, she has flung the key far up the garden into the not-recently-mowed lawn. A frantic search finally located the key and she was duly released. Suitably mollified (or so we thought) she went to play down in the study at the front of the house (then the playroom) while I stayed with the cousins in the lounge talking about terribly grown up things (probably Kylie). Things had been suspiciously quiet for a while and one of us went to check on her – to be greeted by the sight of an open window and no rampaging brat to be seen. Panic ensued – how long had she been gone? Was she dead? Etc .

As it turns out, no. She had escaped and run up the road to a friend’s house. We found this out when the friend’s mother knocked on the door a few minutes later, to, of all things, investigate my sister’s claims of abuse! I think that was pretty much the last straw for them and I can’t recall them ever babysitting for us again, and to be honest I’m not surprised. What is surprising is that sister has grown up to be just about the coolest person ever with almost no trace of the demented demon-child she once was. Hurrah!
(Sinister Carp doesn't mind the gap, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 16:30, Reply)

My ex boyfriend was babysat by Stephen Lawrence
Apparently he stole his Mums CD player
(ignoramusaurus, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 14:50, 6 replies)

Babysitting the Mother
Seen this in the news today:

A 10-year -old Romanian girl has given birth to a healthy baby in a hospital in Jerez de La Frontera in southwestern Spain. Some might wonder what all the fuss is about. After all in Britain Tressa Middleton was just 12-years-old when she gave birth to a baby girl in 2004. Oh and how the media vilified her until it emerged this summer that she was the victim of habitual abuse and rape by her own brother, the father of her child.

my.telegraph.co.uk/expat/annanicholas/10140414/the-little-girl-left-holding-the-baby/


Not really lols. But OMG 10!!!!!! I didnt think theyd have the right.. erm... equipment at that age!!

But if she needs babysitting do you think the babysitter would get double money? For babysitting her and her child? :)
(Miggyman, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 14:04, 19 replies)

the werechild...
My partner's youngest brother, Sam, was only about 2 and a half at the time. His mother hated our binge drinking, especially when we were supposed to be babysitting for her. We woke up just before she left and as soon as her car was off the drive we went to the fridge to recover the cans of cider we hadn't drank the night before, whilst Sam toddled off. When we found they were gone we began madly counting the empty tins out of the recycling to see if we should have had any remaining from the crate. We desperately realised that there should have been about 8 cans left, but we couldn't find them anywhere. Then out of the blue Sam came to the rescue, he tottered back in wielding a can of cider in each hand. Then proceeded to dutifully deliver the rest. His mum had obviously hidden them in an effort to stop us getting drunk, but Sam had seen where she had put them, we still to this day don't have a clue where he found them. He's since saved us from many a dry night. Makes you wonder who is baby sitting who.

Cheers Sam :)

P.S We nicknamed him the werechild because he has an extremely hairy back. And he attacks the postman on a regular basis. He bit him once.
(samurai_beth, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 12:05, 4 replies)

All work
Ron is tall, lanky, athletic. He grew up in a small town in Australia and his uncle had a dairy farm not too far away. When he was about ten the uncle started telling him that when he got a bit older he'd be grown up enough to help with the milking. Ron thought that would be fun.

So a year later Ron was getting up at stupid o'clock, riding his bike for 15 minutes to his uncle's farm and encouraging cows to do what they do best. Then it was back on the bike and home for a shower, breakfast, then go to school. After school, back on the bike and out to the farm for the rest of the daylight. Sometimes he got to babysit the uncle's two little kids while the uncle and aunt went to the pictures or the pub. After the police chipped him for riding home in the dark, the uncle sprang for a bike light.

When he hit high school he was a head taller than the other boys. One of the teachers asked if he'd like to try out for the basketball team after school.

"I can't, I have to help with the milking at Uncle Frank's farm."

A year passed. then same teacher, same suggestion, same answer.

"How much is your uncle paying you?"

He said "The scales fell from my eyes."

Four years of milking, washing out dairies and babysitting kids and his entire payment had been a bike lighting set.

He spent the rest of his afternoons playing basketball.

CODA - When Ron's father died, Ron was named as executor. His Uncle Frank had owed his father $45,000 and never repaid a cent.
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 11:06, Reply)

Not my own story, but vaguely on-topic for this QOTW
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/8344596.stm
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 10:07, 15 replies)

ok so as i am stuck with a 7 mile walk to work with the world's worst hangover courtesy of bob cunting crow
I have just remembered edwin. poor poor edwin.

Edwin was my friend evie's postman when we were about 13. One night i was staying over and her mother announced edwin would be babysitting. we speculated wildly about how fit he might be. I was secretly reading jilly cooper and was picturing 6'2 of gloucestershire gentry. Evie was thinking of patrick swayze in dirty dancing (far as i know, she still does. Daily). The real edwin disappointed on every single scrawny spotty bespectacled level.

Still he agreed to play table tennis, so evie's brother and i faced him and evie across the table. Evie is super-athletic and twice as competitive. Determined to beat us, growing wild with rage as edwin fluffed shot after shot and marcus and i were cruising at 19-4, she tossed the ball in the air and called out, "watch THIS for a serve, edwin". And promptly, utterly unintentionally, spanked him right on the ass with the bat. His face was such a picture of pain and surprise that i think marcus and i ruptured something laughing. Anyway, after that his authority was zero.

Which is why when her parents asked him to housesit a couple of years later, evie immediately had the biggest party. So you're 20 years old and the beautiful victorian 6 bed detached full of antiques etc that you've been entrusted with is suddenly filled with hordes of shrieking teenagers vomiting and knocking back the wine cellar... No wonder he spent it cowering in the lounge in a foetal ball. I think we had something like 5 people vomming inside, 3.5 lost virginities (the 0.5 was a friend who said she had but as she was still wearing her tights i found it hard to believe), 2 people superglued inside the spare room so we had to break the door down, poisoned koi carp, fag burns... Edwin was not employed again.

Apologies for length, dullness and lack of teenage porn, but i still have about 6 miles left to walk, so.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 8:28, 15 replies)

Babysitting for a bloody cat
Now dont get me wrong, i love cats, would have one myself if circumstances allowed it.
But this one was pure evil and did my head in.
Neighbours were away for a week or so and I was on cat feeding duty.
They had been gone 6 days and I'd not seen a hide nor hair of the wee beastie.
I'd gone in and found an empty food bowl, removed the gory disembowelled remains of various mice and birds scattered round their kitchen and around the cat flap, yeah great, thanks for that, bloody cat
But apart from that its like it didnt exist.
I asked the other neighbours if they have seen it and no-one had.
For a couple of days before their return the food i put out then remained untouched.
In a panic I put some sachets of cat food in my bin in case they counted up what had been used.
And began to think about what words I could offer on their return to a now cat free house.
When they drove up I was in my garden and my stomach flipped.
Then this fecking moggy appeared out of nowhere, wound its way round my legs purring, and then sauntered up to their front door to sit there waiting like the Queen of Fecking Sheba and absorbed the fuss that followed.
Bloody cat!
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Wed 3 Nov 2010, 1:12, 13 replies)

Never let them know your weaknesses..
Mother had babysitting stitched up - send them all away to boarding school, problem solved! Screwed us all up but what the hey - we did it in turn!

The "care staff" consisted of one wizened old crone Called "Matron", who could just about tell the difference between a kid who would recover and one that would die, and occasionally called the Doctor for the latter. And a lovely young trainee who we will call Under Matron, 17+ and very pretty, her burgeoning womanly delights were lost on us prepubescent animals.

Under Matron let it be known she feared spiders..oops! Several weeks later Under Matron said it was her birthday.. oh dear.. poor girl..

A big old and cold victorian mansion housing 50+ boys under 13 (a delight to the queer old boy who ran it) had its share of large and juicy spiders, that we boys could ferret out to practice science and biology - pulling off legs and frying with glasses etc.

We made her a lovely card - A4 neatly folded, sweet picture on the front. The card was carefully folded around the largest spider we found, keeping it fully intact and fully alive, we inserted it into the envelope. Gentle sealing then took place.

At nine O'clock Under Matron came for the universal ritual of lights out. Twelve expectant faces peered at her from the dormitory beds as she was presented with her surprise birthday card. Much implored by us she relented and agreed to open her card right then.

Fortunately the hands which had bought us some small comfort with their delicate touch did not let us down, she opened the card chastely and gently. She was a lovely Under Matron really, kind to us all and occasionally affectionate, which was deeply re-assuring to kids in that kind of place..shame really!

My last memory of her is a blur of HUGE spider racing across an expanse of matronly starched white uniform, followed by a blur or starched white leaving the yr11 dormitory at a pace only matched by her screech! I'm certain that if the window had been closer than the door we would all have been done for manslaughter!

Under Matron did not return to work the next day.. or ever.

Occasionally i feel a bit guilty, cos it was my idea.

Result? lights stayed on for another 45 minutes till crone Matron came and switched them off, and the whole school laughed about it for weeks!

Length? We once added the whole school together and bent a bed!
(wazzzer, Tue 2 Nov 2010, 22:22, 1 reply)

Babysitters are expensive...
That's why my wife and myself never bothered paying for one.

And it saved us even more in the long run - clothing, food, toys, the lot. I mean, come on...we can only just afford to look
after our twins.

Well, I say 'look after'...
(Dr. G. P. McCann desperately needs a babysitter, Tue 2 Nov 2010, 19:32, 18 replies)

Babysitting with benefits
Best babysitting job was for my dealers. benefits in kind are the best.
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Tue 2 Nov 2010, 18:58, 4 replies)