Spoilt kids, nature or nurture?
Blah, blah it really is the fault of the parents, or in my neice's case, the gran, (my mum); turned her into a female version of "Spoilt Bastard" from Viz.
Was bought make up and leather jeans when about 7 years old.
Demanded, and got, her Xmas pressies in about November. When it got to Crimbo, she got another lot.
Got taxis to school.
Got a bike every year, even though she never rode it.
I could go on, but I'm starting to sound a grumpy sod...
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 21:26, 2 replies)

A friend of mine
at Uni, who was also my housemate for 2 years was what you would call an awkward bitch. She had been brought up given everything she wanted, and her dad payed for her University and gave her money each week to spend (guilt money). Granted her parents were divorced but it was no excuse for her behaviour. I blame her mum for letting her get away with it.

She was mean to her sister, and to us, and we walked on eggshells for a while not wanting to deal with the fallout if we upset her. Her morals were skewed and hypocritical, claiming she didnt like people who cheated, while sleeping with someone elses boyfriend. (I found out after Uni that she also slept with someone I was seeing). We always went where she wanted and when she wanted on a night out. Once she was so pathetic, when my other housemate wouldn't make a cup of tea for her when she demanded, she went into her room and messed it up and put a load of her clothes on (not unlike Joey in Friends). In our third year she had a boob job which was encougaed by her mother. She was "depressed" and seemed to think this would make her better.

Getting to my point...

Our other housemate who was the cows best friend was such a lovely person and on coming to University tried to see the best in people and hardly ever bitched or argued. However, the cow encouraged her to be more bitchy. After 3 years of the ratty faced bitch being horrible to her on a daily basis to make herself feel better and because she was jealous she started on the nice friend in a club for no reason. And which point my nice friend just launched a tirade in response to 3 years of shit, and we and our other housemate promptly left the club and left her on her own. She's tried to apologise since but I no longer talk to her, while nice friend is civil.

Her encouragement to be a bitch backfired!

Spolied people sometimes get their comeuppance!

Length? No apologies, im a noob.
(Shapethrower It's what you want, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 21:17, 2 replies)

My cousin Kevin
He's sure to go to heaven apparently. You know the type, always spotless; clean and neat and all that jazz.

Apparently he's got a fur-lined sheepskin jacket as well. Fancy that. Fucking well fur lined. WoooOOOooooo! But me ma just doesn't get that I'm not like him, and never will be. We like different things. You know, he loves University Challenge 'cos he's a big girly swot and all that with degrees in useless stuff like bionics. And maths and physics and economics. OK, they might be useful. Hasn't done the banks any bloody good though has it? Eh? But still, he's always harping on about it. And the cheating cunt keeps winning at subbuteo.

Yeah, he's his mammy's golden boy alright. She even bought him a fucking synthesier and only hired the Human-fucking-League in to teach him how to play it! I mean; spoiled or what? The girls went mental, trying to get him to take them home with him and into bed. But he didn't notice; Kev's so wrapped up in himself that that's all he needs see? Himself. And his right hand. And his mammy, bless him. She probably does it for him, actually.


Aspects of this post may not be entirely true
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 21:10, 6 replies)

Do it yourself
I spent several years working for what I thought was a charity but turned out to be an exploitative personality cult (that's why I left) which, amongst other things, runs holidays for children. Oh god, the stories I could tell you about that lot. I don't think there has been a single QotW which couldn't have been answered with tales from that particular dark side. Bastards. Bastardsbastardsbastards. Bastardsbastardsbastardsbastardsbastards.

And ... breathe ....

But for now, I will just mention the volunteer (like a camp counsellor) who turned up for a training course and had to be shown how to fold her clothes and put them in drawers. Because the servants always did it for her at home. She was 18.
(ubergeekian, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 21:01, 1 reply)

Can't believe some parents let their kids become like this...
I was lucky enough a few years ago to go to one of the quite good drama schools in this country and be taught by some exceptional teachers. We were pushed hard and they gave their all to bring out the best in us.

There was one teacher / director who was loved by everybody. He was patient, gentle, intelligent and was as approachable and cuddly as your grandfather.

To earn a bit of cash on the side he'd teach at the local public school which was only 5 minutes away from the drama school. It was for them a bit of a coup - the teacher in question (let's call him Fred) had had 20 years teaching experience to some of the cream of English acting talent, and prior to becoming a teacher had been a respected and up-and-coming actor (before having to quit the profession for family reasons).

So, Fred had his drama class down at the local school, and sure, drama is a minor subject in any school, but he treated them like he treated us - as intelligent adults who he wanted to get the best from. Sadly, his pupils (or at least one of them) were incapable of reciprocating the favour.

One pupil, when asked why he didn't wish to do some exercise or other replied

"I don't have to."

"Why not?" asked Fred.

"Because my father pays your wages."

Fred didn't face another term after that - wouldn't teach the spoilt little shits any more. Still, their loss. I hope that kid has a bright career lined up washing dishes somewhere.
(sugar_tits, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 20:53, 3 replies)

Spoilt - moi?
According to my sister, Yes!

as the youngest of three - I apparently got everything, for example; "allowed" to go to the pub at 14 ( I was a regular at 11...)

The more serious allegation is that my parents helped substantially buy my first house (for me and my very pregnant girlfriend - now MrsRabbit) whilst she was earning 3,4 5,6 times what we were and her husband several times what she did...

Me and MrsRabbit got married, a 35 quid job at the registry office, between breast-feeds, with a party afterwards at our house. My parents paid for the booze - a baby bath full of ice with bottles of wine and Champers in it... and we did the buffet. Rabbit's sister's dress cost more than our *entire* wedding did.

However, the reason Rabbit's sister doesn't speak to Rabbit is because "Rabbit has it easy"........


Rabbit and Mrs Rabbit graft (like cunted fucks) to keep Rabbit minors fed and clothed - to the point that we have had to choose between paying food over gas over mortgage. whilst sister-of-rabbit twitters in Twickenham and we have it easy?

Length? Mrs Rabbit is spoilt!
(CheatingRabbit, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 20:37, 4 replies)

Finally, one I can answer!
The only story I can think of off the top of my head involves a guy at my college, well, more specifically two of them...

First, some background. My parents, while being what could be described as reasonably well-off, didn't especially spoil me and my siblings. We never wanted for anything and by and large we got what we wanted for birthdays and christmasses, within reason.

Besides which Dad's done a good job with the family firm (where I now work), steering it through the last few recessions and generally looking after things, you could say he's definitely earnt the right to live well.

My schooling (selective grammar, of the purple persuasion) has meant that inevitably I've come across some right Nathans, but this guy takes the biscuit.

For his 17th birthday, he got a brand new black New Mini Cooper (and they were brand new out at the time and pretty rare this being in the days before all the estate agents got them) completely loaded with every conceivable extra. Basically, it was the balls. Everyone (myself included, and rightly so) were incredibly jealous of it. However, his loaded Dad must have bribed the examiner, because there was no way the boy had passed his test judging by his driving.

Within days, he'd reversed it into a telegraph pole, when attempting to parallel park. While an awkward maneuver, somehow he managed to climb the kerb and hit the post with a sizable whack that almost knocked it down.

Out comes Daddy's cheque book and the car's repaired and immaculate. No need for dent repairs, just replace everything and away we go.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and he's bent it again, this time banging the nose on the car in front, again while parking. How he managed that I'll never know, yet off it goes to the bodyshop.

Then, the coup de grace. A few non-eventful weeks pass, and people come in to school to notice that Mini Driver and another person from our year were missing.

Apparently, over the weekend, Mini Driver no longer had a Mini, and the other classmate was lucky to be alive. They'd been tearing around backroads in the countryside when Mini Driver clipped a kerb just before a sharp bend.

The impact threw the Mini violently into the air, and as we all know, brakes no longer work when no wheels are in contact with the ground. Consequently the Mini didn't slow down. It went straight on at the bend, and then stopped.

Suddenly.

By hitting a house.

It was written off, and both were hospitalised. Mini Driver suffered cuts and bruises at the most. The other guy wasn't so lucky. His internal organs were battered to hell (ruptured this, strained that etc), and he spent a long time in hospital. He was never the same after that.

It served to prove to me that some people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.
( mr_wicksy is.... old., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 20:26, 2 replies)

Oh God, how did I forget
About two years ago, I was on a bus heading home from town. Sitting in front of me were a pair of women in their 20's. They were discussing the fact that they didn't like buying from Somerfield because they didn't want to be seen carrying the bags about.

They were discussing this on a BUS ffs.

It's not as though this was London or something either. The town we were in was Gainsborough's hometown. It has about 20,000 inhabitants. They didn't even live there. Turns out they lived in the village that's known for 20 miles around as a shithole.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:51, 1 reply)

Please bear with me here, the back-story is quite long.
I left home nearly 10 years ago, and have been back maybe twice since then - this is because my family are frankly intolerable. When I was born, my mother was married to a mechanic (my father) - when I was about 6, a fat greasy twat of a merchant banker waltzed into our lives and split them up, subsequently marrying my mum. Now while my early childhood was not quite dirt-poor, it became positively luxurious, due to his wealth. To cement their relationship, they tried for another child, and got twins - my half-brother and sister.

Given how much adulation and fawning they received, you'd think they were royalty. "Ooh look, little Dominic's drawn a cat, and he's only two months old!" "Ooh look, Stacey's correctly wired a plug, and she's only six weeks old!" "Ooh look, Dominic devised a grand unifying theory of quantum mechanics and relativity while he was still in the fucking womb!" I'm far from stupid, but I had no chance of recognition when I was up against these little cherubs, especially as I was a relic of my mother's previous marriage to a pleb. In this newly-altered family dynamic, I became the black sheep by default - the restless delinquent, the no-hoper - and started to live up to my new role, getting into scrapes at school and with the police. Meanwhile, they both excelled and were revered as saints in human form by teachers. These little shits had not just been fed by the silver spoon, they'd had nearly the whole damn cutlery set practically from birth, and they never quite appreciated how lucky they were. Not only were they were appalling little whinge-bags, they were greedy, opportunistic and highly malicious whenever they thought they could get away with it. Any retaliation on my part was futile, as I was much bigger and older than both of them (I'm very tall and wiry, like my father; like their father, they were podgy, piggy-eyed and myopic, and probably still are.) So they'd often run off crying to my mother and I'd get a prize bollocking. I'd become an outcast in my own family.

(You may wonder where my father was during all this - he'd been ordered not to have any contact with us on pain of prosecution, as the grease-ball had alleged he was a violent drunkard, and the social services had unquestioningly taken his word for it!)

At 16, I got a full-time job and moved out the moment I'd done my GCSEs. A few years later, I'd mentally wandered the desert in self-imposed exile and saved up enough to do catering at Doncaster College, then pursued the quietly successful career I've had to date. True, I'm still an outsider in most social situations and I daren't get too close to people (physically or mentally), but that's a small price to pay for leaving behind a life that would likely have driven me insane.

And with a bit of luck, I may never see any of them again.

[Edit] Fucking hell, this post should be re-categorised as an essay!
(WANKERTRON you say "prick", I say "wanker", Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:51, 12 replies)

Not me...
But my friend Alex goes to a grammar school. He's pretty down to Earth, but there are some kids there with money coming out of their ears. One story that sticks in my mind concerns a guy called Greg, who had just passed his driving test. What had his parents bought him as a first car? That's right.

A BMW M3.

He didn't like it. So what did they get him next?

A Mercedes Kompressor. Seriously.

It wouldn't be so bad if his dad wasn't someone who really should know better. He's a driving instructor.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:46, 1 reply)

As I have probably mentioned before, I work in a the catering/retail department of a tourist attraction
Many bratty kids, but this one stood out.
The mother was American; they were on holiday visiting the grandparents on the English side of the family. The son started demanding burger and "fries," and when the grandfather (a lovely, patient, white-haired old man) told him that they weren't on the menu and he couldn't have them (a fact that I backed up) he received a kick on the leg - pretty hard, as well. When the grandfather told him off for this, the mother started defending him, while the father just stood meekly by.
They ordered (after persuading the boy to accept fish fingers as a substitute) and sat down to wait for their meal; fairly close to the counter, so I could still hear what was going on. All I could hear throughout the meal was, "Stop that!" "Don't do that!" "Give that to me!" "Why won't you do as I tell you?"
This was the brat talking to his grandparents.
(Pretty strangers and promises, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:42, 1 reply)

Friend of mine
Begins almost every sentence with a high pitched "uuhhhhh"*

Complains constantly that her teachers will kill her as she never does the work, despite having weeks to do it. This is most likely because she spends all her time either shagging her boyfriend, or playing World of Warcraft or both.

Treats her best friend (who is lovely and would do anything for Whiner) like a personal slave.

Expects everything to be done for her. For example, she expects without question a place at her choice of university, despite not having visited any, and having hardly anything to show by means of achievements and/or experience.

She puts me down all the time, Yesterday, she saw a dance I am working on in my file and told me that I was sad and pathetic for choreographing a dance for the next local hafla (belly dancing party/show) and that my dance was probably shit anyway. She usually follows all these put downs, especially the ones in which she accuses me of being ridiculously whiny, with an immediate "uuhhhhhh"* and a whinge about something or other.

To cap it all off, she lives in a two bedroom house (like me) and has a younger sister (like me), meaning she had to share a room. Not any more. Her parents voluntarily moved into the living room last year and now sleep on the sofa purely so she could have her own bedroom in which to shag boyfriend/play WoW. Both of which she is addicted to. We barely make it to lunchtime before we hear: "Uuhhhh! I haven't played WoW/had sex in like, five hours!!!11!!!11!!"





*Whiny noises are hard to translate to text.
(Applebite Uh! A cow!, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:41, 9 replies)

My Super-Sweet Sixteen
Has nobody seen it? Seriously?

It basically nullifies this whole QoTW. I tried to post a youtube link but they're all parodies.

This one lass got bought a convertible for her sixteenth, then proceeded to piss herself - as it was driven up in front of her gasping friends, tied up in a gigantic comedy-style bow - because it was the wrong colour.

ARGH. JUST THINKING ABOUT IT MAKES ME WANT TO SHOE FACES.
(MNNNNGGH, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:30, 13 replies)

My cousin
is our family's spoiled brat.

He's not an only child either, he's the youngest of three. On a good day, he could whinge for Scotland.

He's only two years older than me, and I lost count of the times I smacked him in the face as a child after he'd pushed me a bit too far. His speciality was breaking new toys. We didn't get new toys other than birthdays and Christmas, so it was a mighty big deal when those joyous occasions rolled around. We weren't deprived by any means, we did well enough, but not all-year-round. One Christmas, I got a toy phone. I think I was about 4, and this was my favouritest toy along with my Tiny Tears doll. The fecker broke my new phone. Christmas Day, and he broke it. I smacked him over the head with the remains and cosmic balance was restored .... not really, I got the riot act read to me by his dad and he got a big hug from his mummy! My parents scooped us up and took us home, pronto.

As we got older, I liked him less and less until it got to the point where I had to be bribed, threatened and cajoled into inviting him to my 18th. My mum was so good at guilt-tripping that she wormed that invitation out of me, and I didn't even write it in blood!

He turned up, wearing the most awful example of an 80s Pringle sweater I've ever seen. I mean, they were all pretty naff, but this was the naffest by a very long way. He was telling everyone, and I mean everyone, how much it had cost his mum. He was 20 for god's sake, and working, but his mum still bought him clothes so he could 'keep up with fashion'. I'd like to say that what happened was a carefully plotted and choreographed revenge for many broken toys, but it just happened all on its own.

One of my friends, pissed as a fart, managed to spill a whole tray of drinks over his new sweater. One of the drinks was a Blue Bols (remember them, and all the corny jokes?) and he was livid. My mum took the sweater behind the bar to rinse it out, and the bar manageress offered to do it for her. Well, that helpful lady didn't just rinse the thing. She bunged it in the club's washing machine along with a load of glass cloths. On a very hot wash. Oopsy.

About an hour later, my cousin went looking for his sweater, and it was removed from the washing machine. The hot water had certainly got the drink stains out. It had also shrunk the thing quite considerably. I think he would have thrown a full blown tantrum had he not realised that the party was ending and about 40-50 people were all standing laughing at him. Including, of course, me.

The last time I saw him was at his wedding, which I only went to because I knew his wife at school, and liked her. She got fed up with him after a couple of years, and kicked him back to mummy. He's still there, many years later, and his own brothers only visit when they know he's at work.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:07, 4 replies)

Tantrum Trauma
I was at a bus stop, and this small child started throwing a tantrum in my ear.
He was holding a small toy remote-controlled helicopter that came from Argos. He kept shouting "This is a rubbish toy! This is a rubbish toy!". As the tantrum went on, it turned out he wanted a bigger one.

I had quite a headache, as I've been having reasonably busy days recently. On the eighty-fifth "This is a rubbish toy", and after he paused for breath, I quickly but sternly said "You be grateful for that rubbish toy. Santa doesn't exist, so he won't get you a better one".

The kid stopped crying. He stared at me with glazed eyes. He looked pretty traumatised. His top lip started to quiver. It was then I realised what his father looked like. Big guy, shaved head, scar on the face, about seven foot tall. Pretty agressive. He had quite a stern face on himself. Realising that I was probably going to get hit around the face for ruining this child's dream, the father suddenly broke into a smile, shrugged, and said "Meh. He's old enough to know."
(__, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:07, 9 replies)

in Vietnam
it seems like every second kid is terribly spoilt.

Bloody Agent Orange.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 19:04, 2 replies)

not really spoilt at all - anti spoilt in fact
When i were a nipper, my rents didnt have a great deal of money and in order to fund a house that could accomodate the family, my gran came in with some dosh so they could afford a home of sufficient size.

i dont have any brothers or sisters so it was good having my rents rents there to bring me up - something i think has been lost in current society.

eventually, due to the market turmoil in the early mid eighties, my other grandparents moved in and all was cosy in our little gaff. i didnt have much, but it really made me appreciate my family and the little we could afford. we always assumed things would get better and despite the scrimping, i was pretty happy without the latest transformers and rubix magic.

i really didnt expect much on my birthdays as a result - christmas and birthday gifts usually resulted in choc or fruit. not being sullied by the rash hand of consumerism, this didnt bother me in the slightest.

all this changed when i saw the hint of gold underneath that candy wrapper. i now weight 20 stone and despite willie's elaborate test, im just as fucked as the rest of you.

sir C bucket, wonka group industries, a subsidury of qinetic
(magictorch, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:55, 1 reply)

I will end up strangling her.
I am the eldest of 3 girls. I'm currently working in the USA after finishing my PhD, middle sister lives at home whilst working as a nurse, and youngest sister is at art school.

So, which of us is the spoilt one? Which of us was told (by mum, in the presence of all three of us) that mum and dad will pay for their wedding only, as they can really only afford 1 wedding? Which of us has had 6 of the last 8 months off sick with one of the following medical complaints: a cold, a bad cold, oh it's the flu this time, a cold, a burn on her arm from the cooker, a broken back (unconfirmed by repeated x-rays), an ear infection, a sore foot, a blister, and (my favourite) galloping diahorrea caused by the fact that she hadn't realised that defrosting a chicken breast is not the same as cooking it? (She told me that she was being bullied at work - apparently they had asked her to work harder, and to only take 1 hour lunchbreaks, rather than the 2 hour ones she had been taking. Bullying?!) Which of us has been bailed out by the parents no less than 4 times because she lent money to friends and never got it back? (and then it turned out that she had actually spent it all in pizza hut and ann summers). which of us has repeatedly left my mother in tears by being so outrageously rude it would be a mercy to shoot her, but is then slipped a hundred quid to keep her happy when she's had a bad day? which of us gets a ride to work every day from my father, even though she starts work at 7 am, and he starts at 9, so he has to get up at 6, wake her up, get her breakfast (WTF?!), drive her the 40 minutes to work in silence whilst she sullenly listens to her ipod, then go home, pick mum up, and set off for their jobs?

And she then had the temerity to tell me that she thinks I'm spoilt because our parents plan to spend their money on flying to the USA to visit me next year, when they could be putting a deposit on a flat for her.

Ok, I've lost my temper writing this, I'd better go and calm down.
( ascorbate, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:54, 10 replies)

So what would you like to do when you're older....?
....was one of the questions we were asked in one of those god-awful PSE lessons.

One girl replied "I'm going to be a businesswoman."

Oh really? What kind of business?

"Whatever my daddy buys me."

What happens if it goes bankrupt because you have no experience?

"Daddy will buy me another one."


Shame daddy didn't buy her some contraceptives...I think she's on child number three by father number three. She works in Tesco as a shelf stacker. I don't think she owns the place.
(Bondvillain2k, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:49, Reply)

Exclusive Facilities...
Hullo. Long-time lurker. First post. etc.

When I was at Uni, the first-year accomodation I lived in was a converted row of houses, with shared showers and toilets in the basement of each. I lived in a small house (only 5 rooms), which shared 3 toilets and 3 showers with another small-ish house next door.

Half way through Freshers' Week, I'm taking a rather nasty hangover dump and suddenly I hear someone come into the loos, then squeal, turn around, and leave. Fair enough, I think, it was rather nasty in there.

A few minutes later, the door opens again and there's banging on the cubicle door. Luckily I'd finished, so I did up my trousers and opened the door to be confronted by a girl from the housenext door.

'What the FUCK do you think you're doing in my toilet?'

I apologised for the surprise (why? just being polite I suppose) and patiently explained to her that I lived in the house next door and we shared toilets. Problem solved, I thought. Simple misunderstanding on her part.

However, in the conversation that followed it became apparent it was a much bigger misunderstanding. Not only had she not realised that her house shared toilets with ours, she didn't realise they were shared with anyone else at all. In fact, she had assumed she was the only person who lived in her house, and had been sending emails to the accomodation manager for two days complaining that she couldn't open the 'lounge and studies' upstairs (i.e. the other bedrooms).

How spoiled do you have to be to think the Uni would give you three toilets and showers and a three storey house per person?

Perhaps unsurprisingly, she later got kicked out for, in the words of her tutor, 'being thick'.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:44, 4 replies)

Having children should require a fucking state licence.
You cant drive a car without one, you cant practice medicine without one, fuck me you cant even sell rat'n'pigeon kebabs to piss heads without one. But children, our future, the next generation of our society! Any fuck tard with working testicles or a hospitable womb can make one. That my friends is simply not right...

Anywho.

My Aunt, lovely lady. My cousin, less so (partly because he is male and partly because he isn't so lovely). Now she is a single mother, has been since he was born pretty much and has fuck all money, yet she has given him everything. I don't argue with this as I was born into a similar situation and I never really wanted for anything. I understood from quite and early age that we were poor and adjusted my wants accordingly. Somehow this is lost on my cousin now mid-teens.

He was and still is very intelligent, accordingly my aunt wanted him to learn a musical instrument (My mother wanted this for me too but I fought against it, why didnt she force me!!!). After a few years farting around with various instruments he settled on guitars and is now a very fine guitarist with a bedroom that would make Metallica cream their collective pant. He has everything, a bunch of sweet guitars, a couple of flash basses, a drum kit, amps of all shapes and sizes. Yet he acts like his mother is Pol Pot and she bickers with him like they are siblings. When he cant get the latest musical implement or whatnot he goes off on one about how my aunt is a lazy cow without a good job. Hopefully karma will bit him on the arse when he becomes a poor crack addict musician.

It all stems from his mother treating him like an equal from a very young age. Consulting him with decisions etc. Children are not equals! That would be one of the first points on the parent tests.
(Bam Bam McPenis will change all this when he is fuhrer., Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:34, 3 replies)

Ooh, just thought
I am, as I think I'm coming down with man-flu, and need caring for. I think I'll go lay on the sofa with a blanket and my bottle of lucozade.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:23, 3 replies)

my little sister
is a spoilt bitch. my dad told me if my sister had been born first then they wouldn't have had another. he also says that the only time she smiles is when she's got wind.

she'll wake my mum up by shouting at her and asking for her breakfast... she can do all this herself.. but ask her to and she'll scream.if she's going out and she's left something in her bedroom she won't go upstairs to get it, she'll make my mum do it because "aww but i have to walk up all those stairs!"

she threw a loaf of bread at me because i told her she should get her own dinner. she locked me out of the house because it was raining and i asked her to hurry up and get her keys out. her reason for this?
"you shouldn't have rushed me"

she decided she hated my ex, because my parents liked him and he'd be at our house sometimes. she threw a bag at him once. and would come home and if he was there she'd go "mum whats HE doing here?"
she threw dvd cases at us both once. she'd come home and started being nasty to us so we told her we'd had sex in her bed.
funnily enough she only actually threw the cases at us when she found out that it was a joke.

ah well one more year and i'm hopefully moving out.
(i eat crayons, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:17, 6 replies)

useless bitch
she has been moved from more roles in the company than I care to mention purely on the grounds no one want’s to work with her

she has a phoney American accent (she is not from the states and has spent very little time there)

she has adopted some other charming American affectations –EVERYBODY has to listen to her voice, particularly her client calls (unless of course she has fucked up again, then it happens behind closed doors)

she thinks our office manager (a charming delightful girl) is in fact her PA/dogsbody/runner/waitress

if out of her depth (and shes sooo out of her depth she’s actually in someone elses depth) she rolls her eyes does this world weary routine like she’s seen it all before and spouts some very loud patronizing bullshit

we have a lot of non European staff – she speaks loudly and slowly to them like retarded children

she constantly moans about her workload yet is singled out by clients as having contributed very little

we have a long list of clients who refuse to work with her

we have a long list of staff who refuse to work with her

she need’s lots of time to be ‘centred’ and ‘balanced’ (bunking off basically)

she thinks she is funny, sophisticated and witty. She has a painful lack of humour in reality, is very uncultured and to be honest dull.

Funny thing is though the owner of the company thinks she’s fucking great.

Oddly they never sit together at functions, though and always leave half an hour apart.
(omnishambles ™ has been fucking things up big style since, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:07, 2 replies)

ladies and gentlemen


meet Tom Switzer.

Tom, who might as well have "braying upper-class arsehole" tattooed on his forehead, is an Old Boy of St. Aloysius' College, a private school located in Milson's Point on Sydney Harbour.

St Aloysius currently charges fees of $11,000 per year for years 7-12, plus a $110 application fee, a $1400 Administrative Acceptace Fee, extra fees for "interstate and overseas tours" and "private music and instrument lessons", and various voluntary contributions.

Uniforms are extra, and include a $210 blazer for Years 11-12.

Tom currently lives in northern Sydney. He is a columnist with the Australian newspaper, and proof that you can and should judge people on their appearance.

He's also an expert on political issues, if political expertise is measured in the ability to seem like the punchline to a joke written by Charlie Brooker and Spitting Image in consultation with Class War. Tom is known for his defence of the Australian government's 'tough' policy on refugees. He stated that it was supported by "the broad cross-section of the Australian people."

He also stated that it may have been opposed by "the metropolitan sophisticates who live in inner-Sydney city."

Tom Switzer, man of the people, I salute you.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 18:05, 7 replies)

My Uncle, Aunty & Cousins
It was my 21st birthday this September, I got a handful of birthday cards, and a couple of gifts off my family and close friends (gifts of close friends included many pints and shots in the bar ^_^ oh, and a can of Special Brew, aaah, that golden can of chaos)

I've never been spoilt really in my life, yeah sure, my Nanna and Grandad on my Dads side would spoil me rotten as a kid, but it was once a week when I would go to their bungalow and I would be sent off home with 50p pocket money when I was really young, a "goodie bag" containing a handful of miniature mars bars and such, and an Enid Blyton book (I was so chuffed to bits when I got The Faraway Tree trilogy!!) and when I got older, my pocket money would increase due to inflation (Hubble Bubble bubble gum, going up from 2p to 5p, the shopkeepers may as well have just worn a black and white stripy jumper and carry a swag bag) to about £10 when I was older, until I got myself a job at 16.

This is completely irrelevant, I'm just showing what a good upstanding citizen I am, and that I take nothing for granted in my life, I work hard, and I feel terrible if someone thinks I take something for granted, and try to remedy it asap!

So yes, back to the beginning of my, by now, tediously long and boring post...

I turned 21 on 3rd September, two cards I would have expected never arrived.

A card off my grandparents in Ireland, they sent it, but it got lost in the post, it's happened before, and it will happen again, but they phoned up on my birthday and apologised and had a good old chinwag with me.

The other card that I expected but never arrived was one off my Uncle and his revolting spoilt offspring. (Oh, except the eldest, I haven't spoken to him for ages, but last I knew he had worked hard to get where he was, and is a lovely guy!)

There was no phonecall apologising about forgetting, they only live in Bolton, and I'm in Blackpool, so the chances of it getting lost in the post are lessened. It took about two weeks later, in a phonecall with my Dad, when he asked them why I didn't get a card, and he just casually said "I forgot".

This wouldn't have been a problem, if it was not for his two horrid spoilt bitch of daughters, who whenever they have a birthday coming up, my uncle and aunty phone my dad up to remind him it's their birthday, and that he better not forget to get them a card.

And when my dad forgot one of my cousins 23rd birthday, anyone would have thought he'd jumped on the table at their house on Christmas day and performed a strip tease *EWWW DO NOT WANT... BAD IMAGES... MUST... THINK... OF... NICE... THINGS* and then proceeded to piss on their roast pheasant.

My aunty went fucking apeshit, absolute ballistic.

When my dad told them he wasn't too impressed about them forgetting an important birthday like my 21st, they just said "It's just a birthday, it's nowt important"

...cunts

Apologies for a tedious story, if I was part of the b3ta clique, I'd do one of those length jokes, but I wouldn't know where to start... I just wanted somewhere to vent
(Multi-Coloured Pop Shop "twat with a ukulele", Thu 9 Oct 2008, 17:52, 10 replies)

Anybody know any truly wealthy people?
Not just new money, flash jewellery look down their noses types. People that are 2nd or more generation wealthy. What are their kids like?

I remember seeing a thing on telly about the Cheshire Set, a group of snooty spoilt harridans trying to out-botox each other, buying £900 dresses to go to coffee shops in and brag about their new Mercedes SLK.

Then they went to the other end of Cheshire and filmed some people who were 10 times as rich, but went everywhere in tatty jumpers and jeans and drove ancient land-rovers.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 17:48, 24 replies)

i'm a princess
i had the misfortune to meet this delightful person named sarah (real name used, she was a brat) when i was at high school.

she was terribley spoilt for a 15 year old. convinced she was royalty (she wasn't) and would say things like "i'm not supposed to tell you this but i'm actually a princess, my real name is sarah collette andrea porsha alexandra elizabeth maria..."etc she would go on like that for ages and speak very loudly so everyone could hear.

we'd be sat in food tech and she'd walk in and say in a very loud voice "OH! PEOPLE KEEP ASKING ME WHAT ITS LIKE TO HAVE A PONY"
and then she would wait for someone to say oh have you got a pony?

one day, one of the lads in the class was saying he wanted to be a mechanic and was talking about cars. "princess" walks over
"well when i'm 17 i want *nameofcar*"
the lad said to her that they were nice cars but expensive. she said
"oh i'll just tell my daddy to get me one he hates me being mad at him, so i always get what i want"

another time in english, she decided she didn't want to do the work. our teacher asked her why she didn't want to do it.
"because i don't want to!"
he explains that she's going to have to do it. she says
"well i don't do anything that i don't want to, if you make me i'll get mad!"
teacher really pissed off asks who she thinks she is and why is she so different from the rest of the class.
she tells him to shut up, gets up and storms out.

we were all glad she'd gone.

.
(i eat crayons, Thu 9 Oct 2008, 17:34, 2 replies)