If I ever have to sit or stand through another 4 year old's middle class, toss fest of a birthday party I will staple my nads to a table and then throw it in front of a train. What a bunch of cunts - the parents, not the kids. Hey who cares about the kids they will eat anything with sugar, additives or fizz you put in front of them and then charge about until they puke it all up, but oh no, not anymore.
Today's party for the average pre-teen is a revolting game of one upmumship and it stinks like the contents of dead rat's arse. Gone are Golden Wonder crisps in a huge washing up bowl, fish paste sandwiches and squash and in comes an assortment of foods produced by a local "named" restaurant and organic waters with a touch of fuck knows what! Gone is pass the parcel and musical chairs and in with the overpaid twat in a bright blue bow tie pretending to be a child's entertainer. The only entertaining thing about them is wondering what the room would look like if the kids were given the right razor sharp instruments and told there was a Kinder Egg deep inside the the clown and the first one to get it out would meet Justin Beiber.
Then there is the goody bag. A bag containing cheap shit and a pencil with a cartoon character on it. Why? Whose birthday is it?
But worst of all are the parents. It's not the kids' fault they have arseholes for parents but most of them do. There is the dad that spends the whole time staring out of a window, on his phone, looking at his car with a personalised number plate. Then there is jokey dad flirting with all the fat stupid mums that are craving a bit of attention. Then there is super dad getting involved with everything, like an overgrown beer-bellied Blue Peter presenter in flip-flops and an Hawaiian shirt - your basic twat.
Then there are the women. They just compete at every level. Earth mum is sitting right in the middle of the room, expressing milk out of a big, fat tit. Fashion mum is tottering about on designer shoes, caked in slap talking in a loud voice about little Emilia's dress. Then there are the Tory voters, that wear twin sets and pearls, big dresses to cover their fat arses with puffy, white, moon faces and horse teeth. I hate these the most with their "I'm not racist but" but they are racist. Their complaints about Antonia's private school and how intelligent their three and four year olds are for their ages and how they need stretching academically. FUCK OFF! I just want to smash out every horse tooth in their stupid fat faces. I want to tell them just how unremarkable their children are and how they will probably grow up to be as ugly fat, bored and unhappy as their bitter, money obsessed parents. I just want them to take their spoilt kids, their spineless, golf playing, boring husbands and drive off into the sunset in their 4x4 which explodes in a ball of fire, cooking them all to the texture of Golden Wonder crisps.
To sort this out there needs to be a system. As well as children's entertainers and goody bags the parents should wear badges. That have the answers to these following four questions.
Do you often find yourself agreeing with the Daily Mail or Telegraph?
Do you send your children to private school?
I have a personalised number plate with your name on, do you want it?
Would you breast feed a 5 year old?
If the badge has any combination which includes one or more "Yes" answers, I won't talk to you as we won't get on. However, if you talk to me, I will probably tell you your child looks like it has cancer, is a retard and ugly. Call me judgemental if you like, because I am. Maybe next time I should just stay at home.
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