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Tag: pe

  • Mummy Hasn’t Missed The School Uniform

    There had been a lot of things Mummy had missed in the last 6 months.
    But one thing Mummy had not missed, was trying to keep up with emails from school.

    Mummy’s eldest daughter wasn’t even due to start back at school until Monday, and she was already fed up of trying to keep up with which location she should drop off and collect her darling offspring, at which time, and trying to work out what she should and shouldn’t be sending her to school with.

    Mummy felt a little unorganised this year, the annual shopping trip for school uniform had been swapped for a last minute online shop, and thanks to Mummy not being able to concentrate on anything for a twatting second without one of her horrorfus children interrupting her asking for a snack or informing her that someone had done an actual shit on the lawn, Mummy ended up purchasing school shoes which wouldn’t be arriving until two weeks after school resumed.

    “Fuck it all!” Said Mummy when she realised her error. “Fuck it all.” She said again as she frantically ordered some of the last shoes remaining online which happened to be the most bastarding expensive shoes in the whole damn sodding world complete with next day delivery.

    The shoes arrived.
    They didn’t look like fifty pounds worth of shoes.
    And they would most definitely be lost in the cupboard of doom within two months when warm boot season commenced.
    But Mummy dealt with it, because it was her fault for being unorganised.

    Finally after a last minute dash over to amazon for name labels, Mummy had got EVERYTHING she needed.
    ‘Thank god for prime.’ Mummy thought smugly.

    Fast forward to today, where Mummy found herself reading a dreaded school informational email which stated that the children would be expected to wear their PE kits for the full day on their designated PE day.
    “Shit, bugger, bollocks.” Thought Mummy, remembering she had only ordered shorts and a T-Shirt for her little angels PE kit.
    Mummy realised she would now need to order tracksuit bottoms, a hoody and a pair of trainers.

    ‘It’s ok!’ Thought Mummy, I don’t want to see any of my wages this month anyway, I will just go ahead and order MORE PE KIT! All of the PE KIT.

    As Mummy once again trawled the internet in attempt to find a bastarding shell suit, smart enough for a day at school but sporty enough to do a few star jumps in the playground, both of her tiny terrorists decided to help theirselves to a bag of crisps, the youngest decided to distribute all of the crisps onto the carpet, whilst the eldest shouted “NOOOOOOO!!! Mummyyy!!!! Looookkkk!!”
    ‘Will you two just shut the fuck up for a single second? Please???’ Thought Mummy as she attempted to ignore the chaos unfolding around her.

    It was at that very moment when Mummy’s phone began to ping, the ever- so -helpful group chat with fellow mothers from the class began to discuss how the PE days were Thursday AND Friday.

    So not only had Mummy spent a bastarding fortune on school shoes that would only be worn three times a week for approximately the next two months.
    But she also had to purchase an extra two PE kits.
    WITH SODDING NEXT DAY DELIVERY.

    Mummy didn’t want to come across as a massive moany bitch to all of the other lovely-quite possibly more organised Mummy’s in the group chat, but she couldn’t quite help herself from letting out a little “For fuckity fuck fuck fucking sakes.”

    Mummy didn’t quite understand, was it her being ever-so-thick? Or could getting changed at school cause a virus to spread?

    Mummy was informed that the school were trying to eliminate bags and belongings from home being taken into school.
    And Mummy did wonder to herself for a second…where the actual shitting hell did the people who made up the rules think Mummy kept her children?
    Because her child was allowed to go into school, from her home.
    But her twatting PE kit wasn’t??

    After a couple of minutes, Mummy decided it was all just abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous.
    Then Mummy decided to drink a bottle of liquid grapes to get over the whole charade and came to terms with the fact she would probably never-ever financially recover from the purchases of uniform in 2020.
    The end.
    😂😂😂

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/laughwithmummy/

  • Dear Mr.Wicks

    Dear Mr Wicks,

    I appreciate everything you are trying to do with your ‘P.E. with Joe’ lessons every morning, but I do have some constructive criticism, if you wouldn’t mind taking it on board for future lessons:

    1. Stop pretending your target audience is the kids. I know this is meant to be in lieu of the P.E. lessons they would ordinarily be having at school, but most of them gave up on Monday (I know ours did), so the sooner you realise your audience is mostly made up of flabby middle-aged folk like me, who are only taking part because it is a welcome distraction from their own children / trying to work from home / watching daytime TV while eating biscuits by the packet, the better.
    2. With that in mind, I have some recommendations for those of us who are badly out of shape and unaccustomed to fitness work-outs. While I suspect the women taking part have had the good sense to put on a sports bra each morning, a reminder for the men to perhaps wear something ‘secure’ downstairs wouldn’t go amiss. I mistakenly took part in my loose fitting pyjama shorts this morning, and to say my junk was behaving erratically would be an understatement (especially during the ‘bunny hops’, where I honestly thought my wife was going to be sick in her mouth).
    3. A similar warning for those of us over six foot tall would also be welcome. It’s all well and good getting us to ‘jump up and reach for the stars’, but I very nearly punched an LED spotlight clean off our ceiling this morning, and those fuckers aren’t cheap.
    4. Equally, if you do acknowledge that most of us are not children, I suspect the ‘bunny hops’ and ‘kangaroo jumps’ may cease anyway, but, if they do continue, please warn us to do little jumps, as I alternated this morning between hitting my head on the ceiling, and sending my colossal weight crashing through the living room floorboards each time I landed.
    5. That said, I quite liked the Spiderman moves (even though I couldn’t get my knee all the way to the floor, so I looked less like Spiderman, and more like a geriatric pensioner bowling), but please bear in mind that advising us to jump up and bounce off the wall to our right only works if we actually have a wall next to us. I had an open door and, in the heat of the moment, I damn near went down the fucking stairs.

    Other than that, keep up the good work, and I’m sorry for calling you a ‘sadistic cockney bellend’ half way through the workout.

    Yours

    MR x

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/middlerageddad/