Day 29 - Per Una Cunts and Paco

There's a certain type of mum I despise.  The ones dressed up to the nines in Monsoon and Per Una or worse in work out gear for the school run. Their tight little backsides rushing there kids into school so that they are on time for circuit training at David Llyod with Paco, who she will screw in the steam room before meeting up with the girls for lunch (which consists of drinking Cava and trying subtly to  play the my husbands richer than yours game) The Per Una set are annoying in different ways. They are like the head girl and prefect set at a Swiss finishing school, they think their shit doesn't stink. They huddle for chats in the playground dressed like 1950's curtains, discussing what PTA event they should put on, and how wonderful daughter Pippa should be on the gifted and talented register but isn't, so will simply have to take the head for dinner to discuss this, Charles is on the board of Govenors you see"! All the while Pippa is licking a tree (probably because my Summer told her to) . The thing is, like real prefects they all actualy hate eachother and spend there waking hours thinking of ways to get one up on the headgirl (think Mean Girls, but frumpy) There tombola stand at the Summer fete was like Sotherby's as they tried to bring in better and better prizes - which also showed there wealth by proxy. I offered a packet of Super Noodles! They are the mums that reserve front row seats at assembly and gives the teacher a weeks stay in their spanish villa. They Make sub standard cakes for the endless charity events at school.

So why the big rant today? Well this is what I overheard one of them say today. "Pah! they should rename the after school club to ...I dont love my child enough to get her at 3:30 club"

Listen up cunt, and listen up good. Because I didnt sell myself out and marry for money to end up in a loveless sexless relationship - noooo I married a poor immigrant and still have a sexless relationship. I have to work mother fucker, no actually I have a fucking career, and that career is the one thing that stops me from being the stereotypical mother, with a brown baby, yardie baby daddy  and a Staffordshire bull terrier.  I provide for my child without a penny from your Charles taxes. I work hard in the city and see my daughter for precisley 2 waking hours a day - because I love her, because I want her to grow up and aspire to achieve in business not open her legs to the closest banker. You moan about how you are so stressed and busy - how can I possibly get my legs waxed, meet Carol for lunch and go to Sainsbury's all in one day. I am stressed because I have deadlines to meet and corperate wankers to pacify (not you boss! : )  )Mortgages and bills to pay. Then after nine hours of that I head home cook, clean, love, bath, read, play with my child in the precious time I have. So dont you ever judge me (insert chicken head, hands on hips) Look when our kids are grown up I will probably be rich, running my own business filled with the sense of achievment and pride from my daughter, you will be waiting for Charles to pull his dick out of his secretary and come and taste your lavender soufle recipe.

Do something Per Una mum, give yourself something more than being just a mum, then my taxes wont have to pay for your valium addiction.

Ohhh I feel better now! Breathe , oh hang on one more thing.....Catholic School mums, please actualy go to church. God is watching!

In other news, I have a half day, but I'm not going to pick Summer up at 3:30pm ...