have you wiped everything in the house with anti-bacterial liquid... handles, taps, cups, children, pets, carpet, shotgun (It gets the prints off as well) and all those fucking nauseating Thomas dvds/videos.
Other sodding parents
(45 posts) (18 voices)
A screenshot from Thomas gets the squits....
Thanks Jen - I love having Scottish mafioso mates. And there's little worth watching in my lap these days. This great big fat bird has sat down on it and refuses to leave.
I'm not sure what Thomas is getting in that photo, Will, but not entirely sure it's the squits... And you're right. I should decontaminate the house, although after spending an hour at lunchtime knee-deep in kiddie vom, I suspect any damage may well already have been done. LMM has kept down a bit of water and has gone back to bed, without even giving a thought to her nightly Scotch, so hopefully she will feel better in the morning.
But how to couch this matter with my 'friend'? Do you think a vomit-soaked brick through her window might be interpreted as a little hostile? Or should I just trash her on the Surrey dinner party circuit? I could tell everyone that her beef bourguignon is actually ready-made from Waitrose - that would be social suicide round here...
I'm a father of 5, It's never too late to wipe down handles and taps.
Would "My children are ill and I think your ill advised trip is to blame" suffice, wear your suicidal tendencies skate t-shirt when you tell her....
If I may proffer my own suggestion for wreaking your revenge?
Viruses do have a nasty habit of mutating, so after a brief sojourn in your poor daughter's lower gastrointestinal tract, there's a fair chance that Mrs. Inconsiderate and her precious offspring will be susceptible to infection once more.
Just keep a few "samples" in a nice warm and moist place, then simply administer a fresh dose to your nemesis, when she pops round for coffee on Friday. You can then relax, sit back, and enjoy the Diocalm before the storm. Keep it up for long enough and you might even earn yourself a nice new epithet: "Norovirus Mary".
If that all sounds like far too much effort, you could always resort to simply sneezing on her cupcakes to make her pregnant too.
In the mean time, I hope the all the Mini-Marys get well soon.
Incidentally, what is it about Thomas that brings out the worst in parents? Many years ago, while escorting my two progeny around a meet Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends event in the Forest of Dean, an irate fellow parent actually invited me to accompany him, "outside now!"
Better today Mary?, will the birthday party go ahead?
Bless you Will - had a good old pukey night with her, but she's woken up with the appetite of Jabba the Hutt's love-child, so she's clearly on the mend. Young Master Mary seems fine and touch wood so are we, so all being well, it'll be cupcakes and bouncy castle on Sunday as planned... You're very welcome if you fancy a ham and dairylea butty?
It is a lovely offer Mary, though It is my weekend in work, on Sunday I am the only Photolithography Equipment cover, and I think you know what that is like.
Enough said. We'll raise some fizzy pop to you. Or organic cranberry juice. This is Surrey after all.
I'll have a Tizer at work, and raise a plastic cup.
Yesterday morning I headed to London by train and, having boarded, found myself the perfect spot with a table and a powerpoint. I flipped open my laptop and started work.
At the next station the doors zizzed open and in piled two chubby mummies, a skinny daddy, four kids and a distinct smell of shit.
They flopped down on the seats opposite and then I heard the dreaded words, "We'd better do something about it now."
Fast-forward a couple of minutes, and this strange band - who by now had revealed themselves to be American visitors all the way from California - settled back and did what I can only describe as the uptight English commuter's worst nightmare.
They started singing hymns.
It can only have been a very elaborate wind-up. So which one of you was it? Own up.
Did you do that terribly British thing of sighing loudly but saying nothing?
If it were America, no one would stand for it, and rightly so.
For the record, I'd have said nothing either, and then at some point the red mist would descend and I'd have ended up stabbing them all with the little plastic stirry-thing from my coffee.
(Why have "No Hymn Singing" carriages not been introduced yet?)
Sighing loudly? Good Grief, no. I pretended that I hadn't noticed a thing. And, of course, I hadn't.
You could try
"Sorry to disturb your hymns, but can you smell sh*t?"
It's a friendly yet practical conversation opener and might later shame them into either wiping their feet or their asses properly.
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