You heartless cunts! I'm an orphan! Any parenting at all would have been welcome!
*sobs*
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:32, Reply)

Incredibly awful names
The topis seems to going for these ones.

Now, i'm only a young lad, just turned 18, so as you can guess, left school 2 years ago.

Bumped into a girl from my tutor the other week, stopped said hello dispensing all of the usual pleasentries. Thought she was with her little sisters. Nope was 14 month old Demi-Liegh Gorgeous Wilson.

I was nearly in tears due to lack of being able to laugh at Sams hideously named offspring. But this just gets better, She said she was on her way to meet Jessica(Younger sister off 4 years) and Armani, too which I say "aww.. young love" for a little giggle.
No, i was wrong, Armani is Demi's 13 month old (premature birth)Brother.

They both got pregnant, by the same guy at the same party!
I quickly had to say bye, get my dinner and bugger off to work, inable to do anything but piss myself laughing for days.

So yeah,

Demi-leigh Gorgeous Wilson
Armani Wilson

(Sorry for legnth)
(Daedalus, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:25, Reply)

My father
Used to take the opportunity anytime possible to knock a piece of living shit out of me whenever I did anything wrong. He thought fear of his attacks on me would set me on the straight and narrow.

Usually it would involve being slammed against the wall face first causing serious nose bleeds (My nose was broken enough times). Other times he would pin my back to the wall, and then take a good low blow to the stomach and winding me. Others involve smacking me around the head and smacking my arse full pelt.

Once in my teens, I couldn't go out in fear of coming home without getting another kick-in, so spent my time never going out cos I was always under curfew. Anyway, the list goes on and on.

He's a alcoholic, heavy smoking, short tempered bastard, and he's turned me into that very person. Cos that's how I was brought up. Only difference is that I don't want kids, cos I dare not try to go any further down that path.

Bad Parenting enough for ya?

/end emo blog
(Spluff McDuff You Love It. You Slag!, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:25, Reply)

Blame it on the mother...
Before I became a rock star I used to flog fruit and veg to the local populace. This were none of yer chain supermarkets and fruit Nazis threatening to shoot you if you don't eat 5 a day. This were a proper fruit and veg shop and I stood behind nice high sloping shelves laden with produce, and so if anything came in that was under 3 feet tall, I couldn't see it.

One day a well dressed lady marched in and started enquiring after various vegetable items. I was half way expounding on the virtues of Pentland Javelins, Cox's Orange Pippins etc. etc., when she suddenly started shouting "Wickford! No, put that down... Wickford, stop that. Wickford, come here. Wickford!"

I was about to ask her what breed it was, but just in time I decided to look for myself, and leaned over the sloping shelves to behold... not a dog, but a little boy of about 2 or 3 years old.

Poor little Wickford. He had at least 13 years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation to look forward to. I hope he stuck her in an institution when he grew up. If he didn't end up in one first himself.
(><(((">, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:15, Reply)

'Nuff said.

( jim_bob can herd cats., Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:15, Reply)

My mum told me she had chickened out of having me aborted
because of the scary stories of back street abortions.

This she told me when I was 10. Nice.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:08, Reply)

My dad
was/is a sadistic fantasist, and my mum is a cold-hearted religious cult-member. Don't be either....your children will hate the fucking ground you walk on : )
( routine has perfected burgers, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 22:01, Reply)

Worst parenting ever!
Have you seen these nanny programs?
How rubbish are they?

The NAUGHTY STEP!

Something similar was used on me when i was a lad.
When i was naughty, i had the shit kicked out of me, by the stairs.

It worked though, I wasn;t a little bastard. Until i turned 14, then all hell broke loose. But thats a differenmt story.

Also, to everybody who got locked in the car while the parents left to go shooping/for a drink/for peace and quiet. i too feel your pain, i remember mnay a time being left alone for hours in the ASDA car park locked in the back of a Ford Sierra Estate.
(Daedalus, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:55, Reply)

More
Oh yeah, they also introduced me to Church. I've no great problem with religion if it's a choice entered into freely but I don't like having some priest ramming it down my throat...


...Not like that you filthy B3tards!
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:53, Reply)

asha_safiya
Pretty much the same story but the kitchen utensil was the rolling pin (wooden handles were seperate from the bit that actually did the rolling).
Thats right, my mum broke are rolling pin smacking me with it.
I love my parents, they did as good a job as is possible with a child as demanding as I must have been but still; I'm never going to smack my children.
(ComplexStuff Was confused by life on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:50, Reply)

Apologies for YouTubeage in a foreign language, but I dare you to find a worse example of parenting:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOwPJeoRrRI

222 kilograms and an internet meme. I feel so sorry for her. But not for her parents.
( KersaI Missive Free Michael Shields! with Monday's Liverpool Echo, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:39, Reply)

My dad
used to go down the pub while my mum was working evenings. We lit a fire in the middle of the living room one night while he was out. It was burning pretty well, then there was a bang on the living room window and my dad's face appeared. He didn't look very pleased at our resourcefulness so we ran out the back and locked ourselves in the bathroom until mum came home.
They got divorced not long after that.
(kendo saggy knackers, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:38, Reply)

I knew
a girl at school called Unicorn.

No, really. She hated her parents.

Her sister was called Rainbow, which was marginally better.

I've not heard of the two of them since I left primary school, but I'm pretty sure the former changed her name as soon as she was old enough.

Stupid names... it's just asking your kids to hate you!
(YayLady is cold, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:35, Reply)

Woman walks into bakery with two screaming children.
The kids are maybe 5 and 7 years old. They buy little fairy cakes and sit down at one of the tables for customers.

The mother proceeds to take off the shoes of her little girl - the shoes she was wearing outside on the street, among the dogshit and pigeons - and put them atop the table where they're eating. Someone else's table. Lesser animals know that you don't put shit next to your food, but apparently this mother never took that lesson.

YOU UTTER MONGWOMAN.

Then another woman comes in with hyperactive sons who proceed to tear around the bakery, smacking the elaborate model cakes, pushing the displays, and generally acting like idiots. The clerk repeatedly says, "Please don't touch." The mother makes no effort to control her kids, but manages to snap at the clerk, "Look, I'LL discipline my children, OK?"

Anytime you're ready, lady.

Some people should not breed.
( KersaI Missive Free Michael Shields! with Monday's Liverpool Echo, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:30, Reply)

Good times around the table..
Not sure if this counts as terrible parenting, but, when I was younger, I was a very very fussy eater. My mum, being from a poor background in Malaysia, thought I should eat what I was given and be happy (I should of, but at 5 we do not know these things).

She said that if I did not eat dinner, I would have to wear it.

I did not believe her.

Two minutes later, there is spaghetti bolognese in my hair and all over my face.

I never moaned about dinner again...

Actually I guess that was pretty good parenting! :D
(YayLady is cold, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:28, Reply)

Two words:
Bowl haircut.
( Beve The Spaniard broke off his horse's head, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:22, Reply)

Rabbit
My Dad's sister had a pet rabbit. Just before they were all going on holiday as a family, the rabbit was most decidedly nearing the end of it's life. Rather than get someone to look after it, my grandparents decided to 'put it down'. With a spade.

Then they ate it.

I'm not joking. Apparently my now aunt didn't partake in the delicious stew my Grandmother lovingly prepared.
(Merrep, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:15, Reply)

My grandma
left my mum outside the butcher's in her pram, and went home. She only remembered when she got back that she'd left her at the mercy of teh Gary Glitter or one of his friends.
( Maladicta, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 21:00, Reply)

My Dad's a biker
and he regularly used to pick me up from school on the bike (instant kudos, which I still managed to piss away, but anyway). One time he came straight from work and consequently only had one crash helmet, so rode home bare headed with me wearing the lid.

Actually, that's not terrible parenting, that's pretty decent of him.

Ok, have a link to some quite deranged New Zealanders, who are battling with the NZ courts to name their kid "4real". If that's not bad enough, if they're unsuccessful they'll call the kid "superman". Does anyone else think people should require a license to breed?
(jamesthegill opens new tabs with his scroll wheel, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:58, Reply)

i have friends
who refer to their son's knob by the name "mickey" ... i find this insane as he's bound to grow up with some very strange fetishes

("put on these mouse ears, baby")
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:49, Reply)

the most embarrassing thing evar
i went to a boys school of around 800-900 pupils ... there was a swimming pool and every last one of us minger adolescents went through that heavily chlorinated pool every week ... at one point, as a careless 13-14yr old, i managed to slice a small paper cut on my face, on swimming day - massive infection resulted and my face looked like a sloppy guiseppe pizza - the doc prescribed calamine lotion and patience ... under the prompting of my mother, my father was told to have "a quiet word" with me one day about the *real* reason for this explosion of plooks ... we were in the car outside the house ... he stopped the engine but didn't get out ... he had question ... i waited ... "er, do you, um, masturbate?" he asked ... the earth failed to turn on its axis for a few seconds while i wrestled with my conscience (lie and be damned; admit it and be damned) ... "yes" i squeaked ... and he made some mild comments about "not overdoing it" ... it was never mentioned again ... the idea that an open cut in a manky swimming pool full of boy piss and god knows what else caused the problem? nah, impossible. our son must be wanking himself stupid to get spots like that ...

at least they didn't inspect my palms for hair growth
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:47, Reply)

with apologies to pooflake
very small early '70s fiat ... aberdeenshire winter ... sunday ... smoking father and frail mother who "felt the cold" in the front ... kids in the back ... runs in the country in the car, heater on, windows up ... "why is writerblock car sick?"
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:40, Reply)

Where do I start?
One incident sticks out in my mind. I must've been about 6 and I'd fallen out with my sister. My mum had "taken her side" and I was throwing a strop. My mum had a really annoying tactic of not shouting back sometimes and it really frustrated me when she would simply reply "yes mole, if you say so" etc. So I decided to run away. Now being 6, my playtime boundaries were pretty narrow, so running away basically consituted crossing those boundaries. So I packed a little bag with some clothes and my toy rabbit (not the rampant kind) and off I went.

After going down the road and hanging around for a bit, I got bored and a bit scared so I decided to go back home. I arrived to find that mum had gone out looking for me. So my dad bundled me upstairs and when my mum got back he told her I was still gone so she went off in a panic looking for me, when all the time I was sitting in my room. She went mad when she found out!

There are other bad parenting stories but they're far less amusing!
( El Lazarus is calm now, Ish,, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:39, Reply)

My parents were always fantastic
But if I ever have kids, a boy will get the name Judas, as I believe the name is under used in the Christian name stakes. I mean all the other apostles have loads of people named after them. But poor old Judas, no-one.

And if it's a girl, she'll be Bonanza Jellybean, after the cow girl in the great book 'Even cowgirls get the blues'.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:32, Reply)

Shit Parenting = Dickhead Kids.
Sorry-bit epic this one.

Tom and I went to primary school and secondary school together, and even ended up at the same Uni and even now live just one bus stop away from each other, so we are both pretty much honorary members of the others family.

Tom's big brother was always a twunt, he'd constantly have his friends around, and whenever I was at Tom's residence my friend and I would find ourselves spending most our time locked in Tom's bedroom, as whenever we left we risked our heads being shoved down the toilet/being locked outside in the rain/ having the shit kicked out of us. You've gotta love upper middle class kids eh?

Big Bro being the massive cunt he was left home at 17, much to everyones relief and he and Tom didn't speak for a long time after that, besides, his parents had always wished I was their son instead. But this story is not about those parents, oh no, this is about Big Brother Joe himself and his horrible bastard little girl.

Last December Tom gets a lettter from his brother, assuming it to be the usual stiff, impersonal "To Tom, Merry Christmas from Joe" he recieves every year he sighs as he opens it and, is very surprised to find his brother has invited Tom and Myself down to his house for Christmas/ New Year week!

We arrive there to find Joe a broken man, quiet with bags under his eyes his swagger had become a slow shuffle and it didn't take long to realise why- Old Wifey is an absolute bitch. We are greeted with a smarmy "Can you take your shoes of please this was a very expensive carpet (fake laugh) thank goodness for Christmas bonuses eh?" (forced smile.)

I did the maths instantly.Absolute bitch of a mother and a whipped ex-yob for a Father- I am not looking forward to meeting The Daughter. And rightly so.

I've never hated anyone more than Little Rosie, and she was eight when I met her. Shed make random demands in the middle of the day to anyone within earshot. "Muuummy! I want an Appletiser. Buy me an Appletiser!"

"Uncle Tooom I need some lipstick"
Tom looked bemused before asking "Why?"
"oh my God are you STUPID?!!! So that Bernard Steel will go out with me. YOU DUMB FUCK?!!"
This shit I could manage. This was just spoilt child, I could deal with it. But there was more. A gentleman came calling at the house one day, selling something or canvassing the area I assume. Little Rosie answers the door and shouts "HOW DARE YOU KNOCK HERE!" and slams the door in the gentlemans face.
"Why did you do that?" I asked.
"The cheek of a nigger to knock on my door!" She says shaking her head. The girl is 8 years old! I stare at mother expecting her o tell her daughter off, but all i get is a look of contempt! Now THAT is shit parenting.

The icing on the cake came when she demanded
"Get me a drink."
I glared at her. "Get it yourself."
She looks at me like I've just slapped her (If only)and runs out the room. A few minutes later Mother comes up and screams at me because Rosie claims she walked in on me having a wank!! Of course despite my vehement and logical denials (why would i choose to have a wank in the lounge while watching countdown) she had none of it and demanded Tom and I leave the next day. That woman is the reason you should have to have a license before having a baby.

However just before we're leaving Tom got sweet vengeance, Little Rosie comes to say goodbye to him on her own (i.e no mummy dearest present)
"Bye Uncle Tom."
"I'm not your Uncle."
"What?"
"And your parents aren't your real parents either. You're adopted. Probably from a black woman as well. Their kind are always having teenage babies arent they?"
Little Rosie is for once at a loss for words and begins to silently cry.
"Oh," continues Tom, "and you know that boy you wanted to look pretty for- Bernard Steel?"
"Yeah?"
"He probably thinks you're a fat bitch jutst like the rest of us do."
At this she starts bawling, Tom and I grab our suitcases and leave.

There is no sound sweeter than that of a crying child.

Apologies for length :)
(Vadge is new to all this, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:29, Reply)

*sighs
well she wasn't a bad parent, by any means, but the highlight (or lowlight ..whatever) for me was when i'd yelled back at her after she told me off for something

she got the wooden spoon out the kitchen draw, told me to bend over, then hit me with it.

next thing i know im on the floor and my mums pissing herself laughing. i then look over and see the handle of the said spoon on one side of the floor, and the spoon bit the other side.

yes. she'd hit me that hard she'd broke the wooden spoon..

she was laughing so much she couldn't stop to tell me to go to my room..

*sob* o so mean mother. i wasn't laughing...
(mcspannered yes m'lord, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 20:07, Reply)

Hmm
My boyfriend gets hopelessly broody sometimes, namely whenever he sees a baby.

As we have no intention to breed in the near future, a pet seemed the next logical option. Unfortunately, we are not allowed to harbour anything possessing fur or wing in our building.

So we have Sea Monkeys.

My boyfriend has managed to kill three of them through overfeeding in the last week.

It's probably for the best that we don't have a baby.
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 19:52, Reply)

I wanna be a parent...
...just so I have the chance to discipline my kids by threatening them with a live Eagle
( Extinct Jesus Dossier "...I think it counteracts Hitler's magic...", Thu 16 Aug 2007, 19:19, Reply)

parents
Not funny and i'll guess familiar to many: church.
My parents are devout traditional catholics and would take us to traditional Latin masses. These lasted for hours, had excruciating sermons and did a good job of convincing me to be athiest.
Not evil but should be.
(DustyD, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 18:37, Reply)

Mine is quite similar to Scaryduck's original QOTW story
My dad used to see us once every two weeks, on Suturday he would pick us up at 12pm in his rusty transit or whatever rusty old bucket he'd bought from some bloke in the pub that week, then he would drive us to the pub, and leave us in the van.
Every third pint he had, he would send out a bottle of coke and a packet of crisps for us, we would hang out with the other orphans of alcohol in the car park, til we moved on to another boozer for more coke and crisps, then at at 3pm (pubs weren't allowed to stay open all day in those days) so pissed he could hardly stand, he would drive us to his house and fuck off to bed to sleep it off, leaving us with our long suffering but very lovely step-mum.
He would then wake at 6pm, get a bath then piss off for opening time at 7pm

Repeat this for Sunday
I loved it
( Hankster, Thu 16 Aug 2007, 18:35, Reply)