Badly fitting Bras

Badly Fitting Bras
I find myself in an unusual situation, inasmuch as I’m making a cunting on behalf of a third party; to wit, the wife.
It goes back to this morning. I’m lying in bed, drinking my coffee. The wife’s just got out of the shower, and is back in the bedroom, muttering and fidgeting as she gets dressed.

Me; ‘what’s wrong, dear?’
Her; ‘this bloody bra’s what’s wrong. In fact, it’s every bloody bra. These days I can’t find one which fits without nipping and pinching’
Me; ‘well you know my absolute stipulation in this regard. Your underwear must be silky and extremely scanty and revealing, my sweet. Beyond that, I’m not sure what practical advice I can offer you’
Her; (fiddling with strap) ‘you’re about as much use as a chocolate fireguard. It’s all right for you taking the micky, you don’t have to wear this stuff’
Me; ‘I will if it would make you happy, my sweet. Anyway, I know just what you’re going through, after wearing that Chippendales’ posing pouch you got me that Christmas’
Her; (pouts) ‘posing pouch? What are you on about? It’s all just a big joke to you, isn’t it?’
Me; ‘on the contrary, my petal, sniffing your skimpies is one of the few things that gives meaning to my otherwise bleakly nihilistic existence, so I take your underwear well-being extremely seriously. By the way, you look amazing in it. For a woman of your age’
Her; (sticks tongue out) ‘you cheeky sod. But I suppose I don’t look too bad at that’ (sways in front of mirror, hands on hips)
Me; ‘you’re every man’s fantasy, my little butterfly; my ultimate milf’
Her; (girlish giggle) ‘you’re a lost cause!’
Me; (ostentatious leer) ‘but you lap it up. Tell you what, dear. Go to Ann Summers. My treat. In fact I’ll come with you and, er, assist in the changing room’
Her; ‘my mother was right about you. I should’ve taken you to the vet and had you seen to. But it’s not funny. I’m fed up with these M and S bras. They’re a pain. For two pins, I’d go on to that “Is A Cunt” and give them a right bollocking’
Me; ‘you’d better go or you’ll be late. I’ll do it for you and it’ll get it off your chest, no pun intended. You can read it when you come back from the hairdressers’

So here it is, a cunting for all ill fitting bras (Marks and Sparks and otherwise) on behalf of the wife, and indeed, on behalf of women everywhere who are beset with the same problem. Ladies, know that your menfolk give you 100% support, even if your bra doesn’t.

Nominated by Ron Knee

83 thoughts on “Badly fitting Bras

  1. Imagine the bra of the Flabbotasaurus Rex:
    The strength of the material, the hydraulic fortitude of the clasps, the industrial ability to absorb the sweat of a thousand perspiring hippos. They should use it to secure the dam at Derbyshire to save on the pressure-washing it usually receives from Fire engine jet hoses.

    Made by JCB.
    Sponsored by Gravity Trampoline Parks.

    • I’m sure I have seen these things being used to dredge the Thames- scooping up tons of detritus, filth and illegals paddling up the river in rubber dinghies!

  2. Fortunately, my wife has pretty small tits – very firm and pliant given her middle-age; but she too sometimes complains of “bad bras”, convinced that its down to the how they’re manufactured these days, rather than her body slowly shriveling up like an old prune!

    Personally I just tell her not to bother with bras; but then I get moaned at because “you’ll never understand!”; and then I say “But feminists burnt their bras all those years ago!” But she retorts “Well that’s different!”
    “How?”
    “Never you mind!”
    “But….”
    “I need a new bra. Where’s your credit card?”

    You just can’t win a logical debate with wimminz sometimes – they have to be right on both sides of the fucking argument, even when you choose to say fuck all precisely because you know you’re going to lose anyway!

    But she does have nice tits, so I just let her get on with her complaining!

  3. Sorry admin but an absolute EMERGENCY cunting for Caroline Lucas.
    All female cabinet?

    Fuck off you sexist misandrist cunt.

    Good morning.

    • A polite reminder –

      “We won’t write your cunt up for you. If you can’t be fucking bothered, neither can we – so don’t be a cunt by submitting a one liner”

      • Kravdarth, Might I be allowed to say that cunt that I am I wrote up a nom on this very subject when I heard it first thing this morning. Imagine old Mother Gin Guts Thornberry and the Soubry tart condescending for England – none of the other old tarts would ever get a look in poor cows.

        As for this bra issue, I have sadly to report that Mrs. Boggs fears the closure of the British Steel Corporation more than most – they make the reinforced steel for her foundation garments. Compared to her, Diane is junior miss size.

        Mrs B has really let herself go – she is so big now she has to get her knickers on prescription.

        • Yep, my piss boiled over when I heard the Bride of Spock/ Zippy saying that this morning. Her feeble excuse is that women are less tribal than men !! She was totally oblivious of the tribal nature of her comment, the demented spastic cunt.

          Fuck off.

  4. Just imagine the bra required for Emily Thornpiggery. An industrial grade tarpaulin complete with eyelets to enable Thornpiggery’s corpulent tit flesh and back fat to be restrained without risk of injury to the public within close proximity.

    The problem she is likely to encounter is degradation of the tarpaulin due to her festering tit cheese.

    Enjoy your breakfasts, cunters!

  5. I used to be very fond of the front loading bra’s… you could get one of them undone with the 2 fingers and a pair of nice big tits would unfold before my lecherous eyes.

    • God I loved those; wonder if they still make them? I’ll see if I can get one for the wife at Xmas. I’m sure she’d be chuffed.

  6. Caroline Lucas’ all-female coven of hags, banshees, bülldykes, and witches would certainly be an “ill-fitting” government.

    As bitter as a cardamom coffee and as smelly as Billingsgate Fish Market.

    • what next, a government full of dark-key poofters? Or perhaps a cabinet of Eastern European transbenders with disabilities?

      No doubt the BBC and the Cuntian will love Lucas’ proposal!

      • “chief political advisor ” = tell lots of porkies, suck lots of cock, stab a few cunts in the back; fuck off when the going looks bad!

          • Mavis May has finally made a good decision, apparently refusing to give knob- head- in- chief Hammond an honour in her parting honours list.

            It would also be a travesty if Mavis got an honour herself. That cunt should not even get an OBE for her betrayal and ineffective leadership. For 3 long years she tortured the U.K., the cunt.

  7. I cannot even begin to comprehend the depth of affection Ron feels for his good lady. I’d only consider writing a cunting of that length and elegance if there was money in it. My sympathy for the female sex, thought long dead, stirred a little, there. A classic and altruistic cunting, Sir; congratulations.

  8. Fuck me , a rubber boat carrying 8 doctors, nurses and architects washed up in Hastings yesterday. Wow, they have gone way off course but, fortunately, they got here safely.
    They then legged it up the beach and disappeared into the town. Obviously they must have relatives in Hastings……….the first stinking, greasy kebab shop they come across.
    No doubt they will soon be offering their invaluable skills to the NHS and becoming hard working, tax paying members of the community. (copywrite @ J O’Shithead 2019)

    • Details of their bra sizes must be made available to The Sun immediately. The public has a right to know what calibre of woman she’s talking about here.
      I saw that Loony Lucas was calling on Nicola Sturgeon to be in her ‘Cabinet’. Funny, but I thought you had to be an MP to hold a Cabinet post. Or is this ‘Cabinet’ just meant to be some sort of publicity seeking stunt?

      • Years ago there used to be an all women debating show on Wireless 4 called Petticoat Line – Anona Winn read out listeners letters and a team of women like Renee Houston, Lady Barnett, Elanor Summerfield, Marjorie Proops etc answered them, they dealt with everyday life problems.

        Ironically the BBC axed the show because they thought at the time it was “sexist and patronising”, but those ladies spoke far more fucking sense than the names Lucas has come up with.

        Anyone remember it? It used to be on at lunchtimes on weekdays and I heard it at work.

    • Isobel Barnet, I remember her from ‘What’s My Line’ when I was a kid HB. Decent bit of posh totty in her day. Wasn’t she done for shoplifting or something?

        • I just would like to put in a word for Lady Barnett. It seems she was deeply affected by the death of her husband, and she had a son with special needs. It doesn’t excuse but perhaps explains. I suspect she had a mental health issue, and her death a few days after the court case strongly pointed to that. I did have a soft spot for her (and after 1966 I would have taken Lady B any day over Mrs Boggs. Fuck it, I’d even have taken Emily Thornberry over Mrs B. – nothing wrong with her a bare-arsed spanking across the knee wouldn’t have sorted out)

  9. …..and here it is,the day that we finally outmum Mumsnet.

    Just kidding,Ron…another enjoyable nom. from your good self.

    • Cheers Dick. The sad truth is, I think about the wife’s underwear a tad more than is probably good for my blood pressure. She will leave the stuff lying about.
      In fact, I think about women’s underwear in general a tad more than is good for my blood pressure.

    • I fear that you’re right CC. The wife’s been saying that my obsession with her skimpies isn’t normal, and that I need counselling. Personally I can’t see what’s wrong with the odd sniff, but then I suppose that the addict can never see that he’s got a problem.

  10. My missus had a pair of her knickers stolen off the washing line.
    She’s not bothered about the knickers she just wants the eight pegs back….

  11. Excellent cunting, Sir Knee. I empathise greatly with good Lady Knee.

    There is so much to despise about bras. I have yet to find a bloody bra that fits me properly now. I was a modest 34B in my late teens/twenties. A skinny size 10 and despite resembling a couple of fried eggs, my boobage fit my frame. No trouble at all getting a bra to fit.

    When I hit my late thirties and after giving up nursing (which kept me fit), my girth expanded to a large size 12-14 and my rack suddenly got bigger too. Having gone from a small bra size for most of my womanhood, I felt something akin to bloody Dolly Parton…..and I hate it!

    I now hover between a 36B/C and a 38/B/C I actually have no fucking clue what my exact size is as women also have the huge problem that their bust size changes with ‘hormonal stuff’ from month to month. One minute your bra can accommodate you, (sort of) the next your boobage is attempting escape, exploding out of it like Flabbott’s arse in a thong.

    No bra fits me anymore. If the cups fit, the back is too small. If the back is larger, the cups are too big. Bloody nightmare. Don’t even get me started on the cost of bras these days. You cannot get anything decent for less than twenty quid now.

    Where can I sign up for a sex change? Sick of this titty shite.

      • Yep Moggie. I would need a second mortgage for that (not that I even have a first mortgage, but I digress)

        The place to go is apparently ‘Rigby & Peller’ who expertly measure and are spot on at fitting bras. The Queen always got her bras there, until they lost the royal warrant by blabbing about royal fittings in a book, silly cunts.

        The fittings are by appt only and free….however you are compelled to buy a bra of course, which are not cheap.

        Think I’ll have to persevere with my M&S bargain rail titty holders.

        • Are everyday rubber bras made at all (not the black, shiny ones with gimp masks to match, you perverts). I think that might be the answer to your problem of the monthly hormonal enlargement in the chest area. Rubber has a lovely co-efficient of expansion and returns to its original size every time. What more could a woman want?

          • Hmm….maybe they are available in ‘Ann Summers’ perchance, Smeggy? Think I’ll have to steer clear though. It’s a great idea, but I’m having enough hot flushes lately without donning a rubber bra. Boob tube-type bras are good as they expand, trouble is they offer no support. If I wore them frequently enough, I’d be kicking my titties like footballs…..

        • Blimey, can you imagine being the Queen’s bra fitter? There’s something to get a chat going down the pub.
          ‘What line are you in?’
          ‘I work for Rigby and Peller, titty holder and undercracker suppliers, by appointment to HM the Queen. I measure up HM and get her into her new bra’.
          ‘Mmm, well fancy that. Big, are they?’

          You have my sympathy Nurse. I’m beginning to appreciate that this bra buying caper isn’t as straight forward as it seems. The wife’s gone and bought some new kit from somewhere else (can’t remember the name) but she seems happy now. Cost me a few bob but it’s black and silky, so I’m smiling as well. Every one’s a winner!

          • Just imagine old Queenie lying there squeezing her tits together while old Phil the Greek gets a tiitywank and spaffs all over The Regal face….they probably prefer this method in case they happen to breed another fucking halfwit son using the conventional method.

            Might go and have a wank over a 10 pound note later just so that I too can see what Queen Betty looks like with a facial frosting.

  12. Top shelf cunting,thank you.
    I too have listen to this caper quite often,as another bra gives way under the wife’s ample bosom.
    Didn’t they use to use whale bones or have I gone more madder?
    Anyway,the all “female” cabinet can get fucked.
    The daft cunts.

  13. The missus dragged me into a Singapore department store. The sixth floor, approx 1.5 hectares, was devoted to the brassiere. She spend two hours among 17,000 bras (my guesstimate) and came back empty handed.

    “I couldn’t find anything I liked”

    I shit you not.

      • Thanks HBH for the useful tip.

        I can scarcely imagine a woman who would not wish for a “black latex bra with the nips cut out”, and if such an item had been stocked in Singapore she would not have returned empty handed.

        Perhaps you would suggest some suitable shops?

        • I like your style, boys.
          Not surprised you couldn’t find such a desirable piece of women’s kit in Singapore, Three. I heard that they’re a bit straight laced. Don’t know if that’s true.

  14. After I’ve been shopping with the wife I like to take her for a drink.

    Not straight away, obviously. I like to take her to six different pubs, not bothering to have a drink in any, but then decide to go for a pint in the first one we visited….

  15. I’d certainly cuuuunt M&S bras and other items of F frillies.

    One of the dubious benefits of ticking two boxes on the Sparks card application (M, and over 54) seems to be, as of last week, an invitation to go and sniff round their wimminz undies section. Obviously they’ve decided to identify me as a tranny.
    Perhaps I should borrow cassock and dog-collar from a clergyman friend, and go and do a “Fr. Ted.” Maybe wait until Christmas.

    Sparks cards are a heap of wank. Unlike Tesco’s, you NEVER get a cash-value voucher, just annoyin inducements…
    “You’re over 54, so you will obviously love these baby-shit brown cords that our dyers in China fucked up. Going cheap, but not very.”

    And the state of the floor-covering in their Cardiff branch suggests “Can’t be arsed to repair, we’re closing down soon anyway.”

    Sod off.

  16. Arent the ladies periodicals telling their readers to go down in the number but up in letter/cup size?

    A 36 DD becomes a 34 E.

    I knew young lady who was
    34J. She wore big woolly jumpers but they still heaved forth and hovered over her laptop at college.
    My flatmate managed to free them from the brazier after a few drinks. His response was ‘holy fuck!’

    • I knew a 1/2 Italian girl at school who could’ve carried a tea tray on her rack (front AND arse). She came in one day (sixth-form) wearing a T-shirt with a racquet and the word “Squash” emblazoned upon it.
      Oddly, the joke had to be explained to her.
      She was my first goddess; my jokes made her laugh. Like a hyena. Bless her rather enormous cotton titty-holster.

  17. Recommend Rigby & Peller, purveyors of undergarments fit for a queen.

    Mrs Knee should be able to get an over the shoulder boulder holder there. The difference would be like a pair of cheap slippers from Tesco vs a pair from Lobbs.

    Otherwise M&S and John Lewis do a fitting service.

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