World book day has infact fucked off in my house, now that my son is in secondary school.
It fucked off along with the lunchbox police (lunch is now a red bull and a packet of Doritos from the shop on the way to school and no bugger cares) and playdates (replaced with going the house of whoever has downloaded Tor without their parents twigging).
Truth is, I didn’t even do the whole world book day costume fiasco when he was in primary school – Apart from the one year he went as the fit one from the Hunger Games; but all that took was a dirty t-shirt and pound shop bow and arrow so it was hardly an effort.
Yep, I am lazy. And what of it?
I can dress it up with “we read books, we don’t need to dress up to prove it”, but the truth is, I could never be bothered. Luckily my son is a miserable, argumentative sod like me and always liked something to gripe over, so World Book Day boycotting was his thing.
Do you know what though? No one cared. We weren’t lynched. No one died.
Yes, I was probably the parent that the teachers rolled their eyes over, but so what?
Other parents used to call me “brave” for saying no to the hassle. I know what they meant by that. They meant, “Obviously you don’t do world book day. You are probably illiterate (I do look a bit scruffy and thick, to be fair) and your child will end up in prison reading Viz on the toilet”.
Fuck you, other parents.
I judge you harshly as well when I see your children running to school dressed as Spiderman. It’s hardly Dickens, is it?
I also judge the ones who go all out and turn it into World Cunt Day. The ones who spend a fucking fortune making their miserable looking 11 year old dress like an obscure Shakespeare character.
Shakespeare wrote plays, you hipster cunts. Boring ones at that.
When my daughter starts school, I am going to move to Scotland, purely so I can do this, which is the most genius World Book Day costume I have ever seen: