Delusional Fat Bas-tards

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by convoy_cock, Dec 4, 2008.

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  1. Is it a common thing for fat horrors to be completely delusional about what they look like.

    There’s a new ‘girl’ just started working at our place. I’m out of the office most of the time, but I’ve been in all today, doing reports. She sits about ten feet away from me and has spent the whole fcuking day on permanent send.

    Just from sitting here for a few hours, I know more about her than I do about my mum. She’s been regurgitating every last detail of her deeply uninteresting life to her mate. Right now, she’s talking about the special shampoo she uses because she’s got ‘fine’ hair. Other subjects I’ve been unable to avoid listening to are.

    Her forthcoming wedding to her childhood sweetheart
    Her sore feet
    Her love of the little Irish lad on X Factor
    Her dad and how he left them when she was little
    Her dislike of immigrants (not everyone, just the ones she meets or reads about)
    Her expensive new glasses
    Her wedding dress
    Her swimsuit for the honeymoon
    Her father-in-law’s bottomless pockets.
    Her mother’s cure for verrucas
    Her need to go to Sainsbury’s on the way home, including entire shopping list.


    I’m not joking, she hasn’t stopped. She’s invented some new form of speech that allows her to carry on talking even when she inhales.
    I wouldn’t mind all the stuff about the wedding, but (I’ve just had a quick look round to estimate) she must be knocking on for 16 stone. She’s a proper brute. The fcuking sap that’s marrying her mustn’t have seen her yet. When she started going on about the swimsuit, I gagged in the same way I would have, had I received a full on post-battle-camp skiff from a leper. The worst thing is she’s doing that fat-bas-tard thing that all fat-bas-tards do. The girl who sits next to her offered her a Quality Street from a box that’s doing the rounds. You’d swear to fcuking God it was Lena Zavaroni doing the talking.

    “Oooh, no thanks. I’ll never fit into my wedding dress if I eat one of them”

    Sorry, love, the damage is done. Have a fcuking Quality Street. Thirty years of eating anything that walks past, like a fcuking ant-lion, means that one sweet isn’t going to put a dent in your diet. She made a big deal of eating a solitary baked spud for lunch with no filling. Sorry again, love, the evidence is there. You might have had no filling today, but it’s apparent that all other times you’ve gone for the beans-coleslawy-tuna-wagon wheel-fudge-sugar option. And that’s why you’ve got sore fcuking feet. Shoes weren’t meant for those fcuking trotters, you rotter. And you’ve got fine hair, because your heart is using all it’s resources to keep shifting your pasta-sauce blood round your veins. There’s nothing left for extremities.

    To give a bit of balance, the verruca stuff sounded interesting and apparently she’s a good administrator, mainly because she’s too fcuking fat and lazy to move away from her keyboard.

    Does anyone else have to work with the delusional? You know the type. ‘Yeah, I’m off down the gym after work’ You nod, but you know that they wouldn’t even fit through the fcuking door.
     
  2. I despise all fat people regardless of whether they are delusional or not.

    the only ones that come in for special levels of vicious hatred are the 'proud to be fat' cnuts like that fooking mongphibian who sang 'standing in the way of control' (?) the waste of a stretched out, baggy skin.

    i genuinely believe we are missing a trick by not considering using fat people as an alternative fuel source.... it would help out the pensioners no end over Xmas at no cost to anyone.
     
  3. Any pictures so we can make an informed decision.


    And yea I know what you mean work in a similar open office environment.
    And while the eye candy at times can be great. It is usually ruined by some hippocrocodino pig walking (waddling) past on route to the shop for more food.
    Who then crawls back under the excess weight of 1 small child, a packet of biscuits and a gallon of Diet coke to wash it all down with.

    Who the claims she only had a light lunch and is just snacking before she looks at the gym. Moans all the time about neck, back and legs aching due to the fact they are all bucking under the immense weight
     
  4. Quite possibly the funiest thing I've read for years... and how true.

    To the writer... you should be on the stage. Material is obviously good, but it takes a true star to put it together.

    Superb !! :clap: :clap: :clap:

    Updates always welcome !!
     
  5. Has she got a gland problem, always a classic excuse.
    The problem with the feet is keeping them out of the fukin larder!
     
  6. Easy f**k ????
     
  7. I used to manage one at my previous place. Always banging on about how she "needed" to lose weight.

    This didn't stop her hiding packets of biscuits, cakes, nuts and dead friends in her desk drawer so she could graze for eight straight hours while she thought no-one knew?? Then she would try the old "Ricecake only for lunch as I'm watching my weight" routine.

    If anyone brought in cake (CAKE!) for birthdays etc, she would crush you in the rush to get in first, then she would always ask for "a couple of bits for her kids" which I bet did not survive the journey home on the bus!

    Also used the same tactic for any leftover sarnies from meetings etc.

    Who do they really think they are kidding? Us or themselves?

    Edited for typing faster than I can think
     
  8. Bowmore_Assassin

    Bowmore_Assassin LE Moderator Book Reviewer

    Quality opener C_C, :D Made me lol and spit Gatorade all over my keyboard.

    This has the prospect of becoming a classic from the outset - can you send us a daily SITREP on said lard arse ? Obvioulsy same high quality descriptions will be obligatory :)
     
  9. I LIKE this post, not only do I get a new insult for the chubsters ' waste of a stretched out baggy skin', we also save some drinking tokens spent on fuel for something else, like drinking!
     
  10. Fat cunts are good for one thing and one thing only - that superbly entertaining game called "Finding The Remote Control".

    It involves stripping the fat cunt, and moving / dislodging all mountains of body butter until you find the TV remote control. Additional points can be awarded for all discoveries of small change, crisps, biscuits (including wagon wheels) and pet hair.
     
  11. I had the fattest lesbian in the planet sitting next to me on a plane. The armrests buckled onto my lap.

    She had the cheek to complain to the hostess that i was too tall, and made her flight uncomfortable and could she move.

    The pretty young air hostess smiled sweetly and said "sir would you like to follow me" and promptly guided me to the leggy seats at the back.

    needless to say fatty was on the outrage brigade.

    it winds me up something chronic the way they feel that their lard is everybody elses problem.
     
    • Like Like x 1
  12. I've (unfortunately) had my fair shair of those fcuking monsters in my short time on this planet and i completely agree with you. I know the type, at my old school there was an offensively fat whale who absolutely convinced herself she was gorgeous. One time when walking to class she exclaimed (In an essex accent) 'I hate all you english, you're all slags' when somebody replied 'well what are you then?' the fcuking hippo had the liberty to say 'well I'm spanish ain't I'. Not only was she pale and ginger but a fcuking 10 tonner too. No love you aren't spanish, you probably just ate the entire population of spain.
     
  13. Liar! Dirty fucking, keyboard spraying walt.
     
  14. BrunoNoMedals

    BrunoNoMedals LE Reviewer

    I live with one of them. I feel your pain.

    You've had a bad day? Her's is worse. Even if your mum has just died, it will pale in comparison to the cold her mum's got. You've had a good day, maybe earned a bit of cash? Screw you, she just wangled £100 off daddy, and mummy is a company director for one of the biggest private healthcare companies in London. Think you're bright? She's got a Masters in law. Just cooked for everyone? Yeah it was ok for a simple, no-nonsense dish. Nothing compared to that Quorn Risotta she bunged together for £3 the night before. Think you're thin? Ok, now we're getting somewhere.

    She's 5'3", easily 15 stone, unattractive, with ginger hair that is thinning and receding at the same time. She has a Masters, yes, but she's the lowest earner in the house (and the other four of us are low-level civil servants) who's been rejected from five interview in the last few months and is essentially stuck answering phones for a living. Even rich, successful mummy knows enough not to offer her a job above receptionist. She hates her ex, but is so scared of going out in public and getting rejected because nobody likes her, that she still goes to his house three nights a week to get laid.

    I could go on for hours and still not express the utter, utter horror that is this woman. The only thing bigger than her belly and chins is her ego. The chins were years of hard graft in the kitchen - the ego, not so well earned.

    Utter, utter cnut who is liable to get some good news from the rest of us before the year is out.







    On the plus side it should be pointed out, she's a part-time rug muncher (no point restricting your options when they're already slim) and so tends to hang around with some tremendously attractive young girls. This is the only bonus I have yet found in six months living with the bint.
     
  15. Better still, would you be prepared to take one for the team and throw yoursel on the fat grenade to de-rail the wedding?

    You'd being doing the groom a favour in the long run, just think how she'll expand when he knocks her up! No bloke deserves that!