Mrs Hinch #559 not content with pulling the rug over the sheep's eyes, she's gone for the whole gifted carpet
Credit to our lovely @Pollyanna263 for the title.
Soph was up bright and early on Sunday pondering why an apple growing on the tree was so tiny. I say growing, she's clearly picked it, so it's growing no longer. Given that she probably thinks apples just magically appear in a supermarket pallet and are all the same size and shape, it'll blow her mind to know it's a type of apple that's supposed to be small.
Then it was time to clean the builders tea station. Why couldn't they save her a job and clean it themselves ey?
Then Braggy McBoastpants just had to lament the size of her "fairly small" downstairs bathroom. Which is bigger than a lot of people's family bathroom. She just couldn't help it.
The woolly wankers popped up eating their usual kilo of carrots. There was a pan -and-dip which has us questioning - is the hot tub being installed? What is she hiding?
Sunday evening was a treat. It looks as though the wheels are coming off, as a well-known Hunch Facebook group ran a thread about how unrelatable she is becoming. And it was full of agreement. Until the comments were turned off, as per. Uh oh Hunch, days are numbered!
Monday morning she was up and outside early (thanks Henry, apparently) to ponder yet more of life's big questions: where do these flowers come from overnight and why am I so overwhelmed by them?
Dunno Soph, ask your gardener.
More Braggy stories, this time a #gifted #ad carpet installation. But it wasn't the changing colour of the carpet between stories that had us talking. The spirit of the back passage made itself known in a spooky appearance over the asbestos lino tiles.
Maybe it was ghostly ectoplasm? Fiddle and Inch, you've been rumbled again.
They went out for lunch at 4:30pm. Only the pub stops serving food at 2 and shuts at 3. Lies lies lies.
Then she curled up on the sofa, watching reels of her own merch (that whole sentence put me into a depression). Where she stayed until 3am.
The next post was 99.9% fabricated and needs to be dealt with as a list.
1. Jamie fucked off and left her on the sofa until she woke up at 3am.
2. Ron needed to use the bathroom at 5:30am.
3. The postman arrived needing a signed for delivery
4. At some point between 2 and 3 Lon appeared downstairs and needed changing.
5. The heating came on. 12 days into July and 3 days into a heatwave.
6. Ron wiped crappy wipes all over the table.
7. Hunch discovered a pile of poo in the fireplace
8. Henry ate last night's kebab leftovers in the garden. Because Jamie hadn't put them in the bin securely.
9. She was still wearing last night's makeup. Except it was a filter.
In Soph world, tit and rotting kebabs strewn over the garden is apparently very relatable content and sure to get the sheep loving her again.
There were so many questions it would take forever to round up. But the two biggest takeaways: where tf was Jimbob during this chaos and did they really have a kebab for tea after a pub lunch?
Finally, following the Sophie Rose Script for Social Media Content Success, after a sob story comes an ad. Which rounded the last thread off nicely.
Side note: followers have been in the negatives two days in a row. Has the credit card been declined for bot purchases? We're following this with anticipation!
Sopha/Hunch/Slotha - Sophia aka Mrs Hinch
Jimbob/Inch/Janine - Jamie aka Mr Hinch
Fiddle/Fiddle fingers/Ma Barker - Sophs mum
Weeping Al/Gepetto - Sophs dad (who may be locked in the workshop building a dining table, 3 knocks to let us know you're okay Al)
Thread suggestions from page 30 and marked with "thread suggestion". No swears and short and sweet please!
Wiki is pink button at the top. Thread 500 is great, read it if you haven't or are new here. Or if you just want to remind yourself of what a deplorable human she is.
#mrshinchisover
Argh the title
Credit to our lovely @Pollyanna263 for the title.
Soph was up bright and early on Sunday pondering why an apple growing on the tree was so tiny. I say growing, she's clearly picked it, so it's growing no longer. Given that she probably thinks apples just magically appear in a supermarket pallet and are all the same size and shape, it'll blow her mind to know it's a type of apple that's supposed to be small.
Then it was time to clean the builders tea station. Why couldn't they save her a job and clean it themselves ey?
Then Braggy McBoastpants just had to lament the size of her "fairly small" downstairs bathroom. Which is bigger than a lot of people's family bathroom. She just couldn't help it.
The woolly wankers popped up eating their usual kilo of carrots. There was a pan -and-dip which has us questioning - is the hot tub being installed? What is she hiding?
Sunday evening was a treat. It looks as though the wheels are coming off, as a well-known Hunch Facebook group ran a thread about how unrelatable she is becoming. And it was full of agreement. Until the comments were turned off, as per. Uh oh Hunch, days are numbered!
Monday morning she was up and outside early (thanks Henry, apparently) to ponder yet more of life's big questions: where do these flowers come from overnight and why am I so overwhelmed by them?
Dunno Soph, ask your gardener.
More Braggy stories, this time a #gifted #ad carpet installation. But it wasn't the changing colour of the carpet between stories that had us talking. The spirit of the back passage made itself known in a spooky appearance over the asbestos lino tiles.
Maybe it was ghostly ectoplasm? Fiddle and Inch, you've been rumbled again.
They went out for lunch at 4:30pm. Only the pub stops serving food at 2 and shuts at 3. Lies lies lies.
Then she curled up on the sofa, watching reels of her own merch (that whole sentence put me into a depression). Where she stayed until 3am.
The next post was 99.9% fabricated and needs to be dealt with as a list.
1. Jamie fucked off and left her on the sofa until she woke up at 3am.
2. Ron needed to use the bathroom at 5:30am.
3. The postman arrived needing a signed for delivery
4. At some point between 2 and 3 Lon appeared downstairs and needed changing.
5. The heating came on. 12 days into July and 3 days into a heatwave.
6. Ron wiped crappy wipes all over the table.
7. Hunch discovered a pile of poo in the fireplace
8. Henry ate last night's kebab leftovers in the garden. Because Jamie hadn't put them in the bin securely.
9. She was still wearing last night's makeup. Except it was a filter.
In Soph world, tit and rotting kebabs strewn over the garden is apparently very relatable content and sure to get the sheep loving her again.
There were so many questions it would take forever to round up. But the two biggest takeaways: where tf was Jimbob during this chaos and did they really have a kebab for tea after a pub lunch?
Finally, following the Sophie Rose Script for Social Media Content Success, after a sob story comes an ad. Which rounded the last thread off nicely.
Side note: followers have been in the negatives two days in a row. Has the credit card been declined for bot purchases? We're following this with anticipation!
Sopha/Hunch/Slotha - Sophia aka Mrs Hinch
Jimbob/Inch/Janine - Jamie aka Mr Hinch
Fiddle/Fiddle fingers/Ma Barker - Sophs mum
Weeping Al/Gepetto - Sophs dad (who may be locked in the workshop building a dining table, 3 knocks to let us know you're okay Al)
Thread suggestions from page 30 and marked with "thread suggestion". No swears and short and sweet please!
Wiki is pink button at the top. Thread 500 is great, read it if you haven't or are new here. Or if you just want to remind yourself of what a deplorable human she is.
#mrshinchisover
Argh the title
because she was cleaning shiz and pee. 
