18 Signs Your Children are Middle Class

They own a Microscooter

They’ve moaned about ‘bits’ in their orange juice.

They’ve danced to The Archers theme tune

Their bedroom walls are painted in tasteful greys.

They’ve been bought school shoes from John Lewis.

They’ve read Arthur Ransome and/or Enid Blyton

They have porridge for breakfast.

Both sets of grandparents have an Aga.

They call it supper.

They have a museum pass/ National Trust membership.

They know the meaning of any of the following: bifold doors, Waitrose, organic, butter dish, Nutribullet, underfloor heating, sushi.

They’ve asked whether they should make a Christmas card for the cleaners.

They’ve had their noses blown on cotton handkerchiefs.

When they grow up they want to be an architect or a doctor.

They have parents who’ve moved somewhere ‘for the schools’

They have a mild air of entitlement.

You go for bike rides at the weekend

You all own wetsuits

The Mummalo: to be read to the tune of The Gruffalo

A mum has a plan for a nice day out.

The mum tells the toddler and he begins to shout.

‘Where are we goin’ to, mum?’ the toddler groans

‘Can I take the ipad and play games?’ he moans.

‘That’s frightfully ungrateful, son, so no.

We’re off to have fun up the big Tesco’

On goes the mum, determined to be happy.

She packs a day bag with wipes, snacks and nappy.

‘Can you put your shoes on, dear?’ Mum asks politely

‘I hate my shoes and I hate you: can we see daddy?’

‘That’s frightfully hurtful, son, so no

We’re going to be late- come on, let’s go!’

On goes the mum with the kid under arm

He’s not got any shoes but it won’t do any harm

‘I WANT MY SHOES ON MUM’ the kid begins to cry

forfuckssake’ mum mutters ‘Why me? WHY?’

‘What does ‘fuck’ mean, mama?’ the kid asks curiously

‘It’s a male duck’ improvises mum spuriously.

On goes the mumwagon, down the A11

The kid is quiet and radio four is on: heaven

‘You’re being a good boy’ mum says proudly

‘FUCKFUCKFUCK’ the toddler parrots loudly.

‘That’s a little bit rude’ says mum, playing cool

‘Sorry mama’ toddler says, not meaning it at all.

On goes the chitchat and  requests for a snack

Mum is trying to park while passing raisins  back

‘I want Quavers not these’ says child, making faces

‘Never mind’ says mum cursing people in parent spaces

‘We should shoot these kid-free tossers if you ask me’

‘Mummy’ says toddler ‘I really need a weeeeeee’

On goes the trolley through the fruit and veg aisle

The kid’s writhing wildly but mum wears a smile

‘Oh, is he hungry?’ says some helpful old lady

‘No. He’s a dickhead. And sure, hungry, maybe’

The little old lady recoils away in fear

Mum wipes her nose and blots away a tear.

On goes the food shop: up and down to aisle nine

Where mummy is rabidly stocking up on wine.

‘It’s sav blanc’ says mum ‘why Oyster Bay hello’

In goes the case and off they go.

On through Tesco to the checkouts they stroll

Maureen’s on the tills ‘Well, pumpkin, Hello!’

On go the snacks and the bribe magazine

On to the convey belt for all to be seen.

‘Well, aren’t you a lucky boy, my duck?’

‘Did you know a boy one is called a ‘fuck’?’

‘Ha ha’ says Maureen but really she’s glaring

‘Ha ha’ says mum, way beyond caring.

On goes the day and it’s only half past ten

And toddler is refusing to get in his seat again

‘In you go, sweetie’ through gritted teeth, mum coos

‘Nooooooooooooo’ says the toddler and smacks her in the boobs


‘Good’ says the toddler ‘it’s stupid  anyway’

On goes the day and mum unpacks the food

She puts away the wine and the wine looks good.

Not all Heroes Wear Capes: some wear golden catsuits

Scummy Mummies: The Playhouse – 31st Jan

It was 8.30 on a school night and I was wiping tears from my face as a life-sized Iggle Piggle acted out a dogging scene in front of me. Add a masturbating Makka Pakka and I thought I was going to pop a gusset (something that actually happened onstage during an energetic pelvic floor lesson).

And no, I wasn’t at some kind of neonatal sex fest, I was front row at a Scummy Mummies gig. I have been a hardcore fan of their podcast for a long time. I download and listen to it on my way to work or whilst I work out (I once dropped a barbell on my head whilst listening their game of ‘Kent or C**t’ [example: ‘Thong’]). When I heard they were coming to Norwich, I was beside myself.

Who’s more giddy: me or the wallpaper?

The marvellous Emma of We Got This Sometimes has brought the Insta-clan to Norwich and this  brainy beauty has managed to put us (nor)folk on the map and tickets to her fabliss events are selling like hot cakes.

I wrote about a previous hoot-fest with Hurrah for Gin (find it here) and had an almost spiritual time fangirling other bloggers and Instars at the Busting the Supermum Myth event a few weeks ago and the Scummy Mummies was my next night out of joy to look forward to and it didn’t disappoint.

Trio of winners

I had read their book on a kid-free long weekend in Amsterdam and had finished it before the flight had even landed. The woman in 15F asked me if she could have my copy seeing as it was so funny. Couldn’t work out if she was being snidey but I gave it to her anyway.

Bought myself another copy just to get is signed. #keen

So, let me take you back to Iggle Piggle and his red spaff rag which was my personal highlight with stiff competition from 69 Zoo Lane and the Greenwich Men Time who ‘put the MEN in feminist’ a joke a now realise doesn’t translate on page… Anyway, the gig was a proper knees up with lots of opportunity for the (mostly) women in the room to admit how much we love a kid’s party buffet and eating cold fishfingers.

For me, though, it was a celebration of female friendship. I was lucky enough to be checking tickets as people came in and it was a joy to see groups of women in easy company laughing and joking and bustling in with their cups of wine and anecdotes of scumminess.


Helen and Ellie, the two Scummy Mummies on stage, were another great example of what women can achieve when they enable and encourage each other. Their effortless toing and froing, their spontaneous reactions to a Helen’s admissions she’d never…well…never you mind and the way they look at each other on stage: it reminded me of one of those memes ‘Marry someone who looks at you how Ellie looks at Helen when she’s dancing in beige pants’. Beautiful.

So clear your calendars, book the in-laws to babysit and check out We Got This Sometimes on facebook for upcoming events. See you there, Scummers!


Has anyone ever looked happier than me here?!