Press "Enter" to skip to content

The Next Mary Poppins? Our British Nanny Is Letting My Kids Hang Out With Dirty Transients

I want the best for my kids, but being the workaholic that I am it’s nearly impossible to find the time to raise them. It’s odd to say out loud, but when I set out to find them the perfect nanny I couldn’t help but use Mary Poppins as a template. Not every day has to be a magical, transcendent life-changing experience. I mean I expected a little whimsy, you know? Just enough for my kids to see the world as a wonderful adventure but grounded enough that they’ll get into a good school.

I thought we found her in Moira Darby of Bedfordshire, but it turns out the only thing she and the irreproachable flying nanny have in common is their love of hanging out with transients and dirty street urchins.

It started innocently enough! They’d come home from what I thought were day trips to the park, only to find out it was the race park and they were blowing their inheritance on “sure bets” with her associates who from the looks of it live in the track parking lot.

Far be it from me to prevent her from exposing my children to people of different socioeconomic backgrounds, but something tells me her “magical adventures” just involve hitting up skid row and remote underpasses. I confronted one of her friends that I was assured was “cool” (and crashing on my couch), and I don’t know if he was on ludes or had a speech impediment because he had the worst fake British accent I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t make out a word he was saying but I think he mentioned something about working in chimneys.

Who the fuck are these people?

I wish I could be there for my kids more often, but being a bank executive doesn’t have the most ideal work/life balance. But I’m dropping a small fortune to ensure my kids are looked after properly and not getting kicked out of class for wearing a Discharge shirt. A stolen one at that!

I called her references and none of the families she listed could confirm she worked for them. I’m starting to think that she’s less an off-beat caretaker and may actually be a factory-town crust punk I am letting run rampant in my home. It would explain why she’s always rummaging through my medicine cabinet.

I should’ve just let my ex-husband pull a Mrs. Doubtfire and dress up like a nanny instead. It would’ve been much cheaper my kids wouldn’t have fucking scabies.