Peter and Jane and The Birthday Party

Peter and Jane are having a birthday party.

In the interests of economy, both of her bank account and her sanity, Mummy is making Peter and Jane have a joint party.

Peter and Jane are having a disco party.

Mummy has organised lots of different sorts of parties for Peter and Jane before, like a swimming party (just the one near drowning); a go karting party (Eddie Simpson only has to wear the neck brace for a few hours a day now) and a tobogganing party (Sarah Smith has learned to cope very well without the fingers she lost to frostbite). 

Mummy is pretty sure nothing dreadful can happen at a disco party.

The day before the party, Daddy tells Mummy he cannot help at the party, because he has to go to his office to be busy and important in air conditioned peace and quiet.

Daddy says 'I am very sad that I will be missing Peter and Jane's birthday party.  I was really looking forward to it.'

Mummy thinks this is the most blatant and barefaced lie she has ever heard in her puff.

Daddy is not the only one being a useless fucker.

Several of the more pointless mummies have sent Mummy stupid texts whining that they are very busy too, and can Mummy please  arrange for someone else to give their fiendish monsters a lift to the party, because clearly finding out who else is going to the party and arranging a lift themselves is beyond their capabilities.

Mummy could arrange this, but she is not going to.  It is wrong to enable incompetent people, and it is for their own good that she is ignoring their texts, apart from muttering 'Fuck off, useless twatbag' every time one of them texts her.  They must learn.  Or call Uber.

Mummy  has hired a hall for the party.

The hall smells of other people's feet and disappointment.

Mummy bunts the hall regardless, and strews balloons with abandon.

It doesn't matter which filter Mummy uses, the hall still looks unspeakably Soviet.

Mummy decides to wait until the disco man has put his lights up and there are some children having a wonderful time before she puts a photo on Instagram, it will look much more enviable then, and everyone will think she is very fucking clever indeed.

The disco man has arrived.  

Mummy has only spoken to the disco man on the telephone, and she is disconcerted to find he looks rather like a stereotype of a paedophile.

Mummy is very worried she has accidentally hired a paedophile for the party where nothing is supposed to go wrong.

Mummy is actually quite relieved when he ignores Peter and Jane in favour of staring at her tits and trying to pinch her bum.

'Hurrah!' thinks Mummy 'The disco man is just a lecherous bastard, not a paedophile!'

The party guests start to arrive.

Mummy has brought some wine for any parents who would like to have a quick drink and a chat.

None of the parents are stupid enough to fall for this cunning ploy of proffering alcohol to lure them into staying and thus helping, and they all bolt for the door, leaving Mummy with the open bottle.

After some dancing and some questionable games arranged by the disco man, it is time for the party food.

Mummy has bought all the processed pork products that Asda had to offer (Mummy was not forking out on Waitrose for this rabble).

'Actually, I am now gluten free, as well as vegan.' says Perfect Lucy Atkinson.

Mummy shoves the token carrot sticks and tub of houmous at her.

'But I don't like carrot sticks and houmous!' wails Perfect Lucy Atkinson.  'Don't you have any julienned star fruit, with maybe a kiwi jus.'

'No.'  says Mummy 'I don't.  Eat the fucking carrot sticks, or fucking starve.'

While Mummy has been dealing with Perfect Lucy Atkinson's increasingly pretentious dietary requirements, WW3 has broken out over the processed pork products.

Johnny Watson has a mini chipolata stuck in his ear, and Olivia Long is crying because someone ate the piece of pizza that she had specially wanted.  Toby Jones is smeared in an unidentified red substance that Mummy is hoping is pizza sauce and not blood and the amorphous glitter ball that is The Tillymillylucykatiesophiejane Budgie is wittering dementedly because they have got sausage rolls stuck in their hair.

Mummy puts down the lemonade and pours herself a large glass of wine.

After tea, it's time for more disco fun!

Several children are complaining of feeling sick.  This does not seem to be stopping them from glugging down fizzy pop and demanding crisps.

The disco man is playing the Macarena.  

Mummy loves the Macarena.

Mummy edges towards the dance floor, but Peter and Jane bar her way, and forbid her from humiliating them by dancing in public.

Poor Mummy has another glass of wine to counter the sadness of being denied the Macarena.

Now it is time for cake.

Mummy has made the cake herself, and is very proud of it. The tears and sweat Mummy shed while wrestling with the sodding cake have hardly made the icing run at all and she has put many photos of it on every form of social media she could think of with suitably chirpy hashtags #homemadelove #birthday! #cake! #bakeoffnextyear? 

Mummy is looking for the matches to light the candles.

Where are the matches?  Mummy cannot find the matches.

'Oh fuck a duck' says Mummy when she spots Freddie Dawkins in the corner with the matches, starting a fire.

Jane takes advantage of Mummy's distraction removing the matches from Freddie the Firestarter to try to stab Peter with the knife for cutting the cake.

There is a lot of screaming and once Mummy has all the knives and matches in her possession again and has assured Peter that Jane has not cut his whole ear off, Mummy has some more wine.

The party is over.

The children have left, and the disco man has packed up and gone.

Peter and Jane have opened and broken all their presents, apart from the clothes that kind and sensible people gave them.  Mummy likes those people.

Someone, out of stupidity or sadism has given Peter a Nerf gun, with which he is attacking Jane, in revenge for the attempted stabbing.

Mummy no longer hears the screaming.

She has finished the wine and is dancing the Macarena alone in the darkened hall, lit only by the glow of her iphone.

Peter and Jane Go Back To School

Peter and Jane are going back to school tomorrow.

The holidays have been a very long two weeks for Mummy, trying to think of things for Peter and Jane to do that do not involve extortionate amounts of money or extreme violence.

As a result, Mummy now has glitter in places even Essex girls don't glitter, and a deep loathing for Pinterest craft boards.

Mummy asks Peter and Jane to look out their school uniforms, school shoes and PE kits, and pack their school bags ready for the morning.

Peter and Jane assure Mummy that they have done this.

Mummy is feeling a beatific glow at the thought of Peter and Jane going back to school, and all the things she will be able to achieve without them.

The next morning, Peter and Jane tell Mummy they have no school uniform or PE kit.

Mummy says they must look for it.

Peter and Jane continue to flatly deny the existence of any uniforms or PE kits whatsoever, despite Mummy's increasing cross demands that they just fucking look for them.

Eventually Mummy is forced to go and find the uniforms and PE kits herself, which are of course in the uniform and PE kit drawers, where Mummy put them at the start of the holidays.

Mummy suspects the same performance will be enacted with the school shoes, and Mummy is right, but she thwarts Peter and Jane by finding the shoes before they can tell her they are lost.

'Ha' thinks Mummy to herself 'See?  I am going to be Mrs Totally Organised this term, and not ever late with all the important things lost again, let the fuckers judge me now.'

Silly Mummy has underestimated Peter and Jane.

As they leave the house, Jane cunningly hands Mummy the Very Important Letter that Jane hid at the start of the holidays.

The Very Important Letter has a Very Important Permission Slip that must be returned today, along with a Very Large Cheque.

Mummy completely understands why some people put vodka on their cornflakes instead of milk.

Mummy finally gets Peter and Jane to school and pushes them in the gate so she can scuttle off before she is cornered by a Boden Mummy, demanding to know if she 'had a good break?'

Mummy does not know what is wrong with these women.

School holidays are not a 'break', 'breaks' involve many potent cocktails, and delightful novels by Jilly Cooper and Penny Vincenzi, and other people doing the cooking.

School holidays involve none of these lovely things; school holidays are a damp, sticky, glitter smeared Purgatory and the best you can hope for is to endure to the end while retaining a modicum of liver function, and with both children still alive.  

Mummy goes home and thinks she will just have a very quick look at Facebook, before she does the many Important and Organised things that she plans to do today.

Facebook is full of the Boden Mummies bewailing how much they miss their perfect children now school is back.

Mummy wonders if the Boden Mummies are actually all on drugs.

Mummy sees that a girl she didn't like when they were at school together has commented on someone else's photo.

Mummy decides to have the tiniest peek at this woman's profile to see if she is now fat and aging badly, and if Mummy can feel superior to her.

Suddenly Mummy realises that it is time to pick up Peter and Jane from school and she has spent all day judging strangers on Facebook and watching videos of cats and taking quizzes to find out what sort of cushion she was in a past life.

Mummy's resolution to be Mrs Totally Organised is not going very well.

Peter and Jane Go For A Walk In The Woods.

Today, Peter and Jane and Mummy are going on a lovely woodland walk with the Dog.

It is peaceful and quiet in the woods.

The birds are singing.

The leaves are rustling.

There are carpets of bluebells.

The sun is shining.

'I have picked you some bluebells, Mummy' says Jane.

'Look at me frolicking adorably on the rope swing!' says Peter.

'Can I play on the rope swing with you, Peter?' asks Jane.

'Of course, Jane!  It will be fun to play on the swing together!' says Peter.

Peter and Jane let Mummy take lots of photographs for Instagram and Facebook, without any crying or swearing at Mummy, and Mummy does not even have to bribe or threaten them!

Mummy feels very smug as she uploads her photos, complete with appropriately smug, vomit making captions.

'Ha!' Mummy thinks 'Take that, you perfect bloody Boden mummies, ram that up your quirkily patterned skirt and swivel on it, we are having SUCH FUN!!!!'

'Where is the Dog?' Jane asks Mummy.

'Oh fuck.' says Mummy.

The Dog has run away while Mummy was distracted by sharing the smugness.

Bad Things often happen when the Dog runs away.

'Quick, children!  We must look for the Dog!!!'  says Mummy.

'I don't want to look for the Dog.  I hate the Dog.  The Dog is an arsehole ' says Peter.

'I hate you.  You are an arsehole.  In fact, you are an arsemonster.  I wish you were lost instead of the Dog.' says Jane.

Peter hits Jane.  Jane tries to hang Peter from the rope swing.  There is a lot of screaming, and the birds are no longer singing.  It is not peaceful anymore.

The sun goes in.

Mummy is very worried about the Dog.

If someone finds the Dog doing Bad Things, they will probably post something passive aggressive on Facebook, along the lines of 'To the shouting deranged woman with the very bad dog and the delinquent children, you are a terrible person and your life is shit and I have a good mind to name and shame you actually.'

If this happens, there is an excellent chance people will work out that it is Mummy that is being referred to, and then they will know that Mummy's life really is a bit shit and is not all made up of #happymemories in sunny glades and in fact Mummy is neither #soblessed or #livingthedream.

If Mummy's perfect social media life is outed as a fraud, there is really no point in carrying on anymore.

The Boden Mummies will judge her, and probably burn her at the stake.

'I see the Dog!!!' shouts Peter, pointing across a ravine.

'I see the Dog!!!' shouts Jane, pointing into an enormous bramble patch.

Peter plunges over the edge of the ravine and Jane dives into the bramble patch.

Peter and Jane are both screaming loudly, when a cross lady phones Mummy and says she has found the Dog.

'You are a very bad dogger.' says the cross lady.

Mummy would quite like to tell the cross lady to fuck off, but she daren't, because Facebook, so Mummy just says 'Yes, I am.'

After Mummy has retrieved the Dog from the cross lady and scraped Peter off the river bed and hauled Jane out of the brambles, and wiped the worst of the blood off them both, they go home.

When Daddy comes home, Mummy is drinking gin and crying and obsessively checking Facebook.

'Why are you crying now?' asks Daddy.

Mummy sobs harder.

'You have had a lovely, wholesome, jolly day, frolicking with our adorable children and delightful dog, whereas I have had to spend the day being very busy and important at my very busy and important job.' says Daddy.

Mummy considers throwing the gin bottle at Daddy's head, but there is still quite a lot of precious gin in it.

'Oh do fuck off, you twat.'  says Mummy.

Peter and Jane and the Easter Holidays

This week, it is the Easter holidays.

In the school holidays, there are lots of activity camps and sports camps, for the children to have fun at.

Mummy says they are a fucking rip off and she is not forking out.

Mummy says she is perfectly capable of having fun with Peter and Jane herself.

Mummy seems to have forgotten who she is.

On Monday, Mummy takes Peter and Jane and the Dog for a picnic.

Mummy has brought bunting and sausage rolls and dreams, even though it is pissing mercilessly with rain.

'I am too cold' whines Jane.

'When can we go?' shouts Peter

'Why can't we go to McDonalds?' sobs Jane.

'What is the Dog doing to that sheep?' asks Peter.

On Tuesday, Jane remembers that Perfect Lucy Atkinson has gone skiing this week.

'Why haven't we gone skiing?' Jane asks Daddy.

'We cannot go skiiing, because Mummy chose to spend the price of a skiing holiday on seventy five million Laura Ashley cushions instead.' says Daddy.

'Also, we can't go on holiday because the Dog is not allowed in the kennels anymore because he is an ASBO dog.'  says Peter.

Jane had forgotten that the Dog has an ASBO because he ate the Atkinsons' chihuahua.

Mummy drank a lot of gin on that day.

On Wednesday, Mummy takes Peter and Jane to Waitrose, to replenish her supplies of bunting and sausage rolls for lovely picnics.

Ten minutes later, Mummy and Peter and Jane leave Waitrose.

Mummy needs to find a new Waitrose now.

On Thursday, Mummy is cooking Peter and Jane a delicious, healthy dinner, because she has read an article in the Daily Mail that says all the sausage rolls she has been feeding Peter and Jane to shut them up are probably causing behavioral problems, as well as the cancer that is caused by everything in the Daily Mail.

'Mummy, can I buy this app?' says Peter.

'No!' says Mummy.

'Mummy, can I buy this over priced piece of pointless plastic tat from Amazon?' says Peter five minutes later.

'NO!  Fuck off!'  says Mummy.

'Mummy, can I buy this app that is slightly different to the one I just asked to buy?' says Peter.

'NO!  NO, YOU FUCKING CAN'T!  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, I AM COOKING, NOW FUCK OFF!!!!' says Mummy.

'Mummy, can I buy this piece of pointless tat from Amazon then?' says Peter.

'If you don't fucking fuck the fuck right fucking off this fucking minute, I am going to fucking stab you.' says Mummy.

On Friday, Mummy decides to take Peter and Jane to an art gallery and museum for a day of culture.

When the policeman has finished interviewing Mummy and Peter and Jane, Mummy telephones one of the activity camps.

Mummy sobs pitifully into her gin as she offers to pay them any money, any money at all, if they will just take Peter and Jane next week.