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Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comedy. Show all posts

Tuesday, 1 July 2025

Mayor Biscuit

Nobody quite remembers who wrote Biscuit the Labrador on the ballot. It might have been Daisy from the bakery, or old Stan who thinks politics peaked in 1972. Either way, the dog got seventy-three votes. Enough to win.

The incumbent, Councillor Dobbins, demanded a recount. The ballot officer, who had already started on her lunch, refused. “It’s done, Geoff,” she said, biting into a cheese and cucumber sandwich. “The dog won. Try dignity, for once.”

Biscuit, unaware of his victory, celebrated by rolling in something unspeakable behind the co-op. The local paper ran the headline:

BISCUIT ELECTED IN SHOCK LANDSLIDE. VOTERS ‘HAD NO WORSE OPTIONS’.

At the first council meeting, things were tense. Dobbins refused to vacate the mayoral chair, so Biscuit peed on it. No one argued after that. The chair was bleached. Biscuit got a tartan cushion.

Oddly, the meetings improved. Biscuit sat quietly, tail thumping occasionally, eyes wide with mute optimism. When discussions grew heated, he’d let out a soft, judicial woof, and everyone shut up.

Minutes were quicker. Budgets were passed. People stopped yelling about bins.

His approval ratings soared—82% by mid-year. Villagers said things like “He’s got presence” and “Finally, a politician who isn’t all talk.” Even the dissenters struggled. “Yes, but he’s just a dog,” said Dobbins bitterly on local radio. “A very good dog,” countered the host.

Biscuit was eventually awarded the ceremonial chain, specially adapted into a collar. He chewed it once, then wore it proudly.

A journalist from the national press came to write a piece. “It’s performance politics,” she sniffed. “Pure pageantry.” She then watched Biscuit chase off a developer trying to bulldoze the cricket pitch. The story ran under the headline:

BARKING MAD OR BRILLIANT?

By Christmas, Biscuit had won Parish Leader of the Year, and the council had received two grant offers to study “non-verbal governance models.”

He celebrated with a new squeaky toy and a sausage from Daisy, who confided, “You’re better than all of ‘em.”

No one ever replaced him.

He served three terms. Then, upon his peaceful passing, the council held a ten-minute silence—broken only by the squeak of his favourite toy, gently pressed by the village clerk.

Dobbins ran again. But lost to a goat.

Saturday, 28 June 2025

The Apocalypse Rebrand

The Four Horsemen sat awkwardly in a WeWork conference room in Shoreditch, each nursing a lukewarm oat milk latte and silently resenting the presence of beanbags.

“We need to talk branding,” said Ashley, the PR rep, flipping open her MacBook.

War cracked his knuckles. “Branding? We are the end of days. Our names are our brands.”

Ashley didn’t blink. “And yet you’re being meme’d into irrelevance. Someone called Pestilence ‘COVID’s weird uncle’.”

Pestilence sniffled. “Well, I am, technically—”

“Not the point,” she snapped. “Let’s begin with Famine.”

Famine, gaunt and radiating Victorian orphan chic, offered a withering smile. “Do enlighten me.”

“‘Famine’ is outdated. Triggering. We’re rebranding you as Intermittent Fasting. Think: wellness, restraint, minimalism.”

“I kill entire crops,” Famine hissed.

Ashley tapped her screen. “So does clean eating. You’re very on-trend.”

Famine sank back, muttering something about quinoa.

“Next, Pestilence. We’re calling you Airborne Wellness Influencer. You’ve gone viral—literally—so lean into it. We’ll say you offer ‘transformational respiratory experiences’.”

“I gave a pope bubonic plague,” Pestilence mumbled.

“Exactly! Disruption! You’re the Uber of mucus. Now—War.”

He leaned forward, eyes glowing faintly. “I incinerated Babylon. I smashed the gates of Troy. I turned a continent to ash.”

Ashley held up a hand. “Yes, love that energy. But you’re coming off… toxic. You’ll now be Conflict Facilitator—focusing on personal growth through dynamic resolution.”

“I sunder realms.”

“And now you’ll be doing it via team-building retreats. Imagine: axe-throwing, trust falls, moderate bloodshed.”

War considered this.

Ashley turned to Death. He was skeletal, but impeccably dressed, with the timeless calm of someone who’d deleted empires before breakfast.

She hesitated. “Now you… you’re iconic. But… intimidating. So we’ve gone with Life Coach (Advanced).”

Death remained silent.

“We’re also removing the horse imagery. Feels too… equestrian. Instead: e-scooters. Sustainable. Disruptive. Uber for oblivion.”

The four stared at her.

“Look,” Ashley said. “the world’s ending, but it has to feel like a lifestyle pivot. We need curated doom. Apocalypse with a vibe. You’ll be verified, blue-ticked, live-streamed.”

Death stood. “This is obscene.”

Ashley gave him a tight smile. “And yet the algorithm loves it.”

She left the presentation playing behind her: stock footage of fire, collapsing cities, and stylish young people dancing on rooftops as meteors fell.

Wednesday, 26 February 2025

Couple Announces Breakup in Emotional Instagram Post That Includes Discount Code for Meal Kit Subscription

LONDON—After four years together, local couple Chloe Bennett, 26, and Ryan Davies, 27, have officially announced their heartfelt and deeply personal breakup via an Instagram post featuring moody black-and-white photos and a discount code for a meal kit subscription.

The emotional post, which was uploaded to both of their accounts at exactly the same time, immediately drew attention—not just for its raw vulnerability, but for the exclusive 20% off promo code subtly embedded between heartfelt reflections on love, growth, and mutual respect.

“Love Is a Journey—And So Is Finding Fresh, Home-Cooked Meals”

The post began with a carefully crafted paragraph that appeared sincere, yet vague enough to maintain brand appeal:

“Sometimes love isn’t forever, and that’s okay. We have shared four amazing years together, full of laughter, travel, and deep connection, but we’ve decided to lovingly part ways and continue our journeys as individuals. We are still best friends, and we will always support one another. ❤️”

This was immediately followed by a seamless, almost hypnotic segue into an ad:

“Speaking of journeys, if you’re looking for fresh, healthy meals delivered straight to your door, you can use our exclusive code ‘BREAKUPBITES20’ for 20% off your first three boxes at @HomeChefExpress.”

The post was accompanied by a carefully curated carousel of black-and-white images, including:

• A blurry photo of them laughing in a candlelit restaurant, looking effortlessly chic.

• A wistful shot of them holding hands, but slightly out of focus, symbolising the fleeting nature of love.

• A solo image of Chloe staring out a rain-streaked window, captioned “grateful for the memories” but tagged with @LashExtensionsByTara.

• A screenshot of a Spotify playlist titled ‘Moving On, Growing Strong’, featuring multiple paid brand collaborations.

“We’re Still Best Friends, Just in Separate Sponsored Partnerships”

Fans were quick to notice that, despite the aching sincerity of the post, Chloe and Ryan have already signed separate influencer deals—Chloe aligning herself with a new wellness retreat brand, while Ryan has posted a cryptic Instagram story of himself holding a protein shake and staring into the distance.

Comments were overwhelmingly supportive, with other influencers rushing to engage:

❤️ “Proud of you both. Wishing you nothing but healing and brand alignment!” — @VeganYogaQueen_

💪 “Growth looks good on you bro! DM me about a supplement collab👊🔥”— @GymWolfAlphaTribe

😢 “Breakups are hard. But with 20% off fresh, organic meals, they don’t have to be.” — @HomeChefExpress (verified)

Monetising Heartbreak: The New Relationship Model?

Marketing analyst Danielle Foster believes this may be the future of breakups in the digital age.

“More couples are recognising that their split is an opportunity for a mutually beneficial business move. Rather than a messy breakup, why not turn it into a brand-boosting moment?”

“It’s genius, really—why waste the pain when you can turn it into engagement?”

While some followers praised Chloe and Ryan for their maturity, others speculated that the entire relationship had been engineered from the start as a four-year sponsorship deal.

Meanwhile, Ryan has been spotted at a bar with a ‘mystery blonde’ (who, sources confirm, is already in discussions with a vitamin brand for a joint soft launch).

Chloe has yet to comment on the rumours, but has posted a cryptic story featuring a quote from Rupi Kaur and a discount code for a luxury self-care subscription box.

Tuesday, 25 February 2025

The Interview From Hell

Jake had been unemployed for six months when he got the call.

“Mr Holloway, we were very impressed with your application for the Strategic Synergy Facilitator position. Can you come in for an interview tomorrow?”

He hadn’t applied for anything with a title that ridiculous, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

He arrived, bright and early the next morning at the office, a glass-and-steel monstrosity in the heart of the city.

The receptionist greeted him with an unsettling smile. “Mr Holloway, the executives are expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Executives? For an entry-level job?

She led him to a windowless boardroom, where five men in identical grey suits sat behind a wide mahogany table. A single chair sat by itself facing them.

Jake sat. The chair was too low. The men loomed.

“Mr Holloway,” the one in the centre said, steepling his fingers. “Do you know what we do here at Pandemonia Associates?”

Jake had checked their website the night before, and it had been aggressively vague—phrases like “leveraging global potential” and “pioneering integrated paradigms”.

“I… uh… believe you’re in consulting?” he guessed.

“Yes,” the man nodded. “But also… so much more.”

The lights dimmed.

A trapdoor opened in the floor in front of Jake, revealing a pit of screaming fire.

Jake felt the heat in his face.

“…Is this part of the interview?”

The executive ignored him. “At Pandemonia, we believe in nurturing talent. Developing leadership. Feeding the ancient one who sleeps beneath the city.”

“Sorry—what?”

“Tell me, Jake,” the man continued, voice calm. “Do you consider yourself a team player?”

“Uh—sure?”

“Would you be willing to make personal sacrifices for the good of the company?”

The flames in the pit flickered expectantly.

Jake squirmed awkwardly in his chair. “Okay, look. I think there’s been a mistake. I thought this was for a—what was it?—a ‘Strategic Synergy Facilitator’ position?”

The executives nodded.

“Yes. Facilitating synergy between your blood and the great devourer. Strategically.”

Jake stood up, hands raised. “I appreciate the opportunity and everything, but I don’t think I’m the right fit for—”

One of the executives slid a contract across the table. The letters on the page seemed to writhe.

“Sign here,” the man said. “In ink. Or blood. Either works.”

Jake sighed.

“…Does the position come with benefits?”

“401k, dental, and immortality.”

He picked up a pen.

“Well,” he muttered, “I suppose I’ve had worse jobs.”

Monday, 24 February 2025

A Step-by-Step Guide to Finally Getting Your Life Together

So, you’ve decided it’s time to finally get your life together. Congratulations! This is a bold and admirable step—one that will last approximately three days before you give up and return to your normal, dysfunctional existence. But let’s pretend, for now, that you’re actually going to follow through.

Here’s a foolproof step-by-step guide to transforming yourself into a productive, responsible, well-adjusted adult. Or, at the very least, someone who appears to have their life together.

Step 1: Cry in the Shower

This is crucial. You cannot skip this step. The shower is the perfect place for a life-altering breakdown. The acoustics make your sobs more dramatic, the water hides your tears, and you can stare blankly at the tiles like you’re in a sad indie film.

While you’re there, reflect on the mess you’ve made of your life. Think about all the unread emails, the unfulfilled potential, and the expired yoghurt in your fridge. Let the weight of it all crash down on you.

Good. Now you’re ready for step two.

Step 2: Make an Overly Ambitious To-Do List

Grab a notebook (or, let’s be honest, your phone) and write down every single thing you need to do. This will include:

• Fixing your sleep schedule.

• Organising your entire home.

• Reading 47 books you’ve been meaning to get to.

• Learning a new language.

• Going to the gym every day.

• Finally responding to that email from three months ago.

Perfect. You’ve now created an impossible standard that will soon lead to crushing disappointment. But at least you feel productive for now.

Step 3: Buy Fancy Productivity Supplies Instead of Actually Doing Anything

Now that you have a plan, it’s time to avoid doing any of it by convincing yourself that you need the perfect tools first.

• Buy a brand-new laptop that you will use exactly twice.

• Get a stack of motivational self-help books that will sit untouched on your shelf.

• Invest in a high-quality pen, because obviously, you can’t change your life with a regular Bic.

Spending money on things that symbolise productivity is almost the same as being productive. Almost.

Step 4: Completely Redesign Your Morning Routine (That You’ll Never Follow)

All the successful people wake up at 5 AM, right? Time to become one of them.

Your new morning routine will include:

• Waking up before the sun.

• Meditating for 20 minutes.

• Drinking a litre of lemon water.

• Journaling about your intentions for the day.

• Cooking a wholesome, protein-packed breakfast.

• Doing yoga or an intense workout.

• Reading something intellectually stimulating.

You’ll do this once. Then you’ll go back to waking up 10 minutes before you have to leave the house and eating half a granola bar in the car.

Step 5: Attempt to Declutter, Get Emotionally Attached to a Broken Charger

Time to clean your space! You’ll start with enthusiasm, throwing things into a donation pile like you’re starring in your own Netflix tidying show.

Then, it happens. You find an old top that you haven’t worn in years, but what if you need it someday? You pick up a half-dead phone charger and feel a strange sense of nostalgia. You discover a box of miscellaneous cables, and even though you don’t know what any of them belong to, you might need them in the future.

By the end of the day, your home looks exactly the same, but now there are just piles of things in different places.

Step 6: Start a New Hobby, Give Up Immediately

Nothing says “getting your life together” like picking up a new hobby. YouTube has convinced you that you could be a painter, a knitter, a pianist, a marathon runner, and a gourmet chef if you just put your mind to it.

You buy all the supplies. You watch one tutorial. You attempt it for 10 minutes, realise it’s hard, and immediately give up.

That’s okay. Just store the supplies in a cupboard somewhere, where they will sit untouched forever.

Step 7: Have a Mid-Afternoon Existential Crisis

At some point, you’ll realise that despite all your efforts, you are still you. The same flawed, procrastinating, overthinking mess you’ve always been. The weight of this realisation will hit you hard.

You will lie down for a while. Possibly on the floor. Possibly in a blanket cocoon.

Step 8: Decide That “Balance” Is More Important Than Productivity

After failing to become a superhuman productivity machine, you’ll eventually conclude that maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to be perfect. You’ll tell yourself that life is about balance.

You’ll abandon your 5 AM routine and decide that waking up at 7 is fine. You’ll accept that you’ll never read all the books on your list, and that’s okay. You’ll realise that maybe it’s better to make realistic goals instead of aiming for perfection.

You’ll realise that personal fulfilment is actually nothing to do with perceived achievements but everything to do with appreciating the world around you.

This will feel like a profound and life-changing breakthrough.

Step 9: Forget Everything and Return to Your Old Ways

One week later, you’re back to doomscrolling until 2 AM, living in mild chaos, and convincing yourself that next week is when you’ll really get your life together.

And the cycle continues.

Congratulations! You’ve successfully followed every step of this guide. Now, go take another shower. You’ve earned it.

The Ghost Who Wouldn’t Leave a Bad Review

Kevin knew the Airbnb was haunted the second he walked in.

It wasn’t the creaky floors or the flickering lights. It wasn’t even the way the temperature dropped ten degrees every time he passed the bathroom. It was the muttering.

Low, whispering complaints from the walls, like a disappointed pensioner in a supermarket queue.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then, on his first night, as he settled into bed, a voice groaned from the corner of the room:

“Ugh. This place used to be so much nicer.”

Kevin sat up, in a panic. “What?”

The voice sighed. “Back when Mrs Holloway owned it. Before they put in those godawful spotlights. I mean, honestly. Who renovates a Victorian home with IKEA lighting?”

Kevin turned on the bedside lamp. The room was empty.

“Are you… a… a… ghost?” he barely managed to ask.

“Obviously. Who else would be complaining at this hour?”

Kevin blinked. “You’re… upset about the lighting?”

“And the décor,” the ghost grumbled. “They painted over the original wallpaper, you know. Floral print. Absolutely stunning. Now? Just blank white walls. No personality. No history. No soul.”

Kevin pulled the covers up. “You don’t, like… want to kill me or anything, do you?”

“What? No, no, I’m not that kind of ghost. I just want people to know this place has gone downhill.”

Kevin was much relieved. “Oh. Well, I mean, I guess you could leave a bad review?”

There was a long pause. “I couldn’t do that.”

“…Why not?”

“Because Jeremy is lovely.”

“Jeremy?”

“The host. Sweet man. Bakes his own bread. Uses real butter, not that margarine rubbish. You can’t just destroy someone’s livelihood over a few bad design choices.”

Kevin stared at the ceiling. “So you’re just going to… haunt this place forever and complain about it?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Have you talked to Jeremy?”

“Oh, sure. I ruffled some curtains. Moved a mug. He thought it was a draft.”

Kevin sighed. “Look, I’ll mention it in my review if you want. I’ll just say, like, ‘Great stay, friendly host, but the ghost thinks the house has lost its charm.’”

“Hmm. Maybe also note that the pillows are a bit too firm?”

“Sure.”

“And that the wi-fi cuts out at night?”

“Okay.”

“And that it wouldn’t kill them to put one antique back in here? Just one. For the aesthetic.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a good man, Kevin.”

“Thanks, Ghost.”

He heard a satisfied sigh. Then silence.

The next morning, Kevin left a five-star review.

Jeremy replied, thanking him for the feedback and promising to look into the wi-fi issue. He didn’t mention the ghost.

But when Kevin checked the listing a month later, he noticed the place had been updated.

A single antique chair in the corner.

Kevin smiled. Somewhere, a ghost was finally at peace.

Sunday, 23 February 2025

Your Life in Customer Reviews

By the time I realised I was dead, I was already in line.

The queue stretched a long way, a slow-moving procession of the newly departed. There was no pain, no fear—just a strange sense of acceptance, like I was waiting for a coffee I hadn’t ordered but was happy to drink anyway.

Ahead, a glowing kiosk hummed gently, with a ring light flickering above it. A digital voice chimed:

“Thank you for living! Please rate your experience.”

The person in front of me, a hunched old man in a tweed jacket, tapped the screen hesitantly. His expression shifted from curiosity to horror. He muttered something under his breath, then shuffled off into the mist.

The screen blinked invitingly. It was my turn.

Welcome to the Afterlife Feedback Portal!

Life of: Daniel Everett

Status: Concluded

Time Spent Alive: 38 years, 4 months, 12 days

Total Rating: 2.9 / 5 stars

Two point nine? That was dangerously close to “would not recommend.”

A glowing progress bar appeared. Review Breakdown Loading…

Relationships – 2.5 stars

• “Started strong but lost momentum. Needed better communication skills.” ★★☆☆☆

• “Girlfriend of three years? More like unpaid therapist of three years.” ★★★☆☆

I winced. That was… uncomfortably fair.

Career – 3.0 stars

• “Showed up to work on time. Mostly.” ★★★☆☆

• “Colleagues liked him. Boss tolerated him. Printer hated him.” ★★★☆☆

That last one stung more than I expected.

Personal Growth – 1.8 stars

• “Kept saying he’d learn a language. Never did.” ★☆☆☆☆

• “Joined a gym. Went twice.” ★☆☆☆☆

• “Had an epiphany about life’s meaning once. Forgot it immediately.” ★★☆☆☆

The screen flickered. A new section appeared.

Regrets – Most Common Mentions:

• “Too scared to take risks.”

• “Spent more time looking at screens than faces.”

“Would you like to leave a response?” the kiosk asked.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the screen. What was there to say? That I tried? That I thought I had more time? That I wish I’d paid more attention, held on to people tighter, been braver, been better?

The screen pulsed.

“All feedback is final. Thank you for existing.”

A door opened, and I stepped through.

Saturday, 22 February 2025

Congratulations! You’re the Chosen One

Dave Saunders had spent his Tuesday afternoon the same way he spent most Tuesday afternoons: avoiding work, scrolling on his phone, and wondering how early was too early to microwave a pasty.

Then, the ceiling cracked open.

A booming voice echoed across the office, rattling coffee mugs and making Sandra from HR spill her tea. “DAVID SAUNDERS,” it bellowed, “YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE.”

Dave sighed.

“Right,” he muttered. “And what exactly am I chosen for?”

A golden portal materialised in front of his desk, swirling with celestial energy and an unreasonable amount of dramatic lighting. A robed wizard stepped through, staff in hand, eyes glowing with divine knowledge.

“Oh, brilliant,” Dave said. “Another one.”

The office workers stared. The IT guy took out his phone to record. Sandra was still mopping up her tea.

The wizard looked momentarily flustered, then recovered. “The prophecy has foretold your coming! The Dark Lord is rising! You alone can save the world!”

Dave swivelled slightly in his chair. “Yeah, see, I’m really busy today, so…”

The wizard blinked at the empty desktop surface and the Microsoft Outlook tab open to a blank email draft.

“But—but you’re the one!” the wizard stammered. “Born under the Blood Moon! Marked by fate! A warrior destined to wield the Sacred Blade and bring balance to the realm!”

Dave took a sip of his lukewarm instant coffee. “Alright, couple of things. One, I was born in Stoke-on-Trent under some very ordinary streetlights. Two, I don’t ‘wield’ anything. The last time I tried axe-throwing at a stag do, I nearly took out the instructor.”

“But the prophecy—”

“The prophecy can get in line,” Dave said, pointing at his inbox full of ignored emails. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really have time for all that ‘hero’s journey’ nonsense. I’ve got a report due by Friday and a dentist appointment I’ve already rescheduled three times.”

The wizard hesitated. “But… the fate of the world—”

The wizard stared. The entire office stared. Even the IT guy was staring, instead of looking at his phone.

“But… this is not how these things should work,” the wizard finally said.

“Well, maybe you lot shouldn’t keep having Dark Lords popping up all the time,” Dave pointed out.

The wizard’s eye twitched. His dramatic celestial glow flickered slightly.

“Besides,” Dave continued, taking another sip of his coffee, “even if I agreed to this, what’s the deal? Do I get paid? Dental? A company horse?”

“You would be rewarded with eternal glory,” the wizard said weakly.

“Uh-huh. And how’s the annual leave policy?”

“…There isn’t one.”

“Right. Yeah, no, I think I’ll pass.”

The wizard’s shoulders slumped. He turned to leave, then paused. “What if I offered you a powerful enchanted sword?”

Dave shrugged. “Can I trade it for a Greggs voucher?”

The wizard sighed, muttered something about “the end of civilisation,” and vanished in a puff of magical smoke.

Dave leaned back in his chair. “Honestly,” he said, “some people just don’t know how to recruit properly.”

And with that, he returned to his phone, scrolling until it was an acceptable time to microwave his pasty.

Friday, 21 February 2025

Signs Your Partner Might Actually Be Five Squirrels in a Trench Coat

Love is blind, they say. But is it this blind? You thought you found the perfect partner—charming, mysterious, maybe a little jittery—but something just feels… off. They disappear for long periods, avoid direct questions, and seem way too interested in nuts. Could it be that your significant other isn’t a single human being at all, but rather five squirrels working together in an elaborate disguise?

Here are some clear warning signs that you may, in fact, be dating a highly coordinated team of woodland rodents.

1. They Avoid Sitting in Chairs Like a Normal Person

Have you ever actually seen them sit in a chair properly? No, they either crouch on the edge, sit bolt upright with an unnatural stiffness, or refuse to sit at all. They might even grip the chair arms a little too tightly, as if struggling against gravity. Almost as if… they’re trying to prevent the whole operation from toppling over.

2. They’re Weirdly Obsessed with Trees

A casual stroll in the park turns into an uncomfortable experience. Their eyes dart towards every tree, their whole body tensing. They get distracted mid-conversation whenever they spot an oak, and they always suggest sitting under a tree instead of at a café. One time, you caught them stroking the bark and whispering, “Home”.

3. Their Diet Consists Almost Entirely of Nuts and Berries

When you first started dating, you thought it was just a quirky personality trait. “Oh, they’re just really into healthy snacks!” But now that you think about it, they’ve never ordered anything at a restaurant that requires cutlery. They recoil at the sight of soup, avoid pasta like the plague, and get visibly excited whenever they spot an unattended bowl of peanuts.

4. Their Hands Are Always Hidden

Gloves. Long sleeves. A firm commitment to pockets. They refuse to let you see their hands, no matter how many times you jokingly ask, “What, are you hiding something?” If you do manage to catch a glimpse, they seem… smaller than expected. Although strangely dexterous. Suspiciously furry.

5. Their Speech Patterns Are Strange and Repetitive

They keep repeating phrases like, “Yes, indeed, what a normal human thing to say” or “Ah, the stock market, of course, a topic I understand.” Their vocabulary leans heavily toward survivalist themes: “Dangerous world out there.” “Must be alert at all times.” “Food storage is key.” If you ask them about their childhood, they get evasive and say something cryptic like, “I was raised in the trees.”

6. They Have a Deep-Seated Fear of Dogs

You introduce them to your friend’s Labrador, and suddenly, they’re on edge. Their eyes widen, and they slowly start edging toward the nearest tree. When the dog notices them and barks, they disappear so fast you barely see them go. Later, they claim they “just had somewhere to be”.

7. You Once Caught Them Trying to Fit Into a Postbox

This should have been the moment you realised. Maybe it was a dare, maybe they said they “dropped something,” but no normal human attempts to crawl inside a postbox with such determination. When you confronted them, they panicked and threw a handful of acorns at you before bolting at an inhuman speed.

What To Do If You Suspect Your Partner is Five Squirrels in a Trench Coat

• Test their reflexes. Drop something suddenly—do they dart after it with alarming precision?

• Offer them a salad. If they pick out everything except the nuts, you have your answer: you’re dating an unstable stack of rodents.

At this point, you have two choices:

1. Confront them. Sit them down (if they can sit) and ask for the truth.

2. Accept it. Maybe love really is blind. Maybe five squirrels working together in perfect harmony is actually the most romantic thing of all. Just know this: your relationship will require a steady supply of cashews.

Hollywood Announces Bold New Plan to Remake Every Movie Ever Made, Forever

Hollywood executives have unveiled an ambitious new initiative to remake, reboot, and reimagine every single movie that has ever existed, ensuring that original ideas will remain safely buried where they belong.

The announcement included a slate of upcoming remakes, including:

• Titanic (2026) – Now a cinematic universe where multiple Titanics sink across different timelines.

• The Godfather (2027) – Starring a TikTok influencer with 50 million followers but no acting experience.

• Jaws (2028) – Remade with 100% CGI and a gritty backstory for the shark where he’s actually the misunderstood hero.

• Citizen Kane (2030) – Reworked as a musical with EDM remixes and a post-credits scene teasing a sequel.

Industry analysts say the strategy is foolproof.

“Think about it,” said film historian Mark Reynolds. “If you watch a movie as a kid, then Hollywood remakes it when you’re an adult, you’ll go watch it for nostalgia. Then, when you’re old, they’ll remake it again, and you’ll go see it for nostalgia of your nostalgia.”

Some critics have voiced concerns that Hollywood’s obsession with remakes is killing creativity.

However, studio representatives dismissed these fears, stating:

“As long as people keep showing up, we’ll keep pressing Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V.”

What’s Next?

Looking ahead, Hollywood is already working on the remake of the remake of the remake of Spider-Man.

Thursday, 20 February 2025

A Guide to Making Small Talk

Small talk is an art—one that, when wielded correctly, can turn brief, forgettable encounters into excruciating experiences people will remember forever. Whether you’re at a party, in a lift, or trapped in an Uber with a driver who just won’t take a hint, here’s a foolproof guide to ensuring your small talk is as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

1. Start With a Wildly Inappropriate Icebreaker

Most people ease into conversation with something light—weather, current events, a vague compliment. Boring. Instead, kick things off with something truly unsettling:

• “Ever wonder what your last words will be?”

• “Do you think your cat secretly hates you?”

• “I read somewhere that eating too much rhubarb can kill you. Anyway, what’s your name?”

Watch as their eyes widen in mild panic, and congratulations—you’ve already made an impact.

2. Make Every Compliment Slightly Creepy

If you must resort to a compliment, make sure it leaves the recipient with more questions than answers.

• Instead of “Nice jacket!”, say: “That jacket really suits you. I knew it would.”

• Instead of “You have great hair”, say: “Your hair reminds me of someone… but I can’t remember who. They disappeared under mysterious circumstances.”

3. Ask Deeply Personal Questions Immediately

Forget polite chit-chat; real connections happen fast. Cut through the nonsense and demand emotional vulnerability from the start, such as:

• “When was the last time you cried in public?”

• “Do you consider yourself a good person, or just someone who avoids getting caught?”

If they hesitate, maintain unblinking eye contact until they answer.

4. Answer Every Question in the Most Confusing Way Possible

If someone tries to steer the conversation back to normal, resist.

• Them: “So, what do you do for work?”

• You: “I mostly haunt places.”

• Them: “How’s your evening going?”

• You: “Better than most. Worse than some. Time is a flat circle.”

• Them: “Do you live around here?”

• You: “In a sense.”

Now they’ll have to decide if they want to dig deeper or run. Either way, you win.

5. Respond to Every Silence with an Overly Intense Statement

Nothing kills a conversation like an awkward pause. Which is why you should fill those pauses—with something that immediately makes everyone regret starting this interaction in the first place.

• “I used to make plans. Then I realised everything we do is just a distraction from the inevitable.”

• “If you had to fight one person here, who would it be?”

6. Exit the Conversation on the Most Suspicious Note Possible

If your interlocutor somehow stays this long, it’s time for a grand finale. Leave the conversation with a vague yet haunting remark, ensuring they think about you long after you’re gone.

• “I should go. The police are probably looking for me.”

• “Well, enjoy your night. And remember: don’t answer the door if you hear knocking after midnight.”

Then simply walk away, leaving them with nothing but a deep sense of unease.

Final Thoughts

Making small talk is an essential life skill, but making memorable small talk is high art. By following this guide, you can ensure that strangers will not only regret speaking to you but possibly rethink their entire approach to social interaction.

And isn’t that what conversation is all about?

How to Break Up Like a Professional

Ending a relationship is never easy, but it can be efficient. Why waste time on teary, emotional conversations when you can deliver a clear, data-driven exit strategy?

Step 1: Schedule a Formal Meeting

Casual breakups are for amateurs. Instead of vague texts or dramatic confrontations, send a well-crafted calendar invite, titled “Relationship Performance Review”.

Step 2: Prepare Your Breakup Presentation

Craft a concise, informative, and brutally honest PowerPoint deck. Keep it under five slides—nobody likes an overlong presentation.

Slide 1: Title Slide

• A simple, professional title like “Moving Forward: A Relationship Realignment Proposal”.

Slide 2: Relationship Performance Overview

Key highlights:

• Strengths: “We had a good run. Mutual love of pizza etc.”

• Weaknesses: “Severe communication breakdowns. You never laugh at my jokes.”

• Opportunities: “Escape from the daily misery of coming home to you, etc.”

• Threats: “If we continue, resentment will spike. Risk of accidental marriage.”

(Pro tip: Include a bar graph comparing happiness levels at the start vs. now. Let the data do the talking.)

Slide 3: The Decision Matrix

• A flowchart demonstrating why staying together is not a viable option.

• Key categories: Emotional exhaustion, lifestyle incompatibility, general levels of suffering.

• Use an arrow leading inevitably to “Breakup Confirmed”.

Slide 4: The Exit Strategy

• Clearly outline the roadmap with milestones and next steps to ensure a smooth transition, such as a social media deletion strategy: “You untag first, then I do.”

Step 3: Deliver the Breakup with Confidence

Use corporate jargon to soften the blow:

• “I appreciate all the effort you’ve put into this project.”

• “Unfortunately, I must pivot towards personal growth at this time.”

• “It’s not you; it’s the evolving market conditions.”

Step 4: Handle the Q&A Session

After your presentation, open the floor for questions. Be prepared for the following:

• “Can we still be friends?”

• Suggested response: “We are open to renegotiating our terms after a cooling-off period.”

• “Is there someone else?”

• Suggested response: “Due to confidentiality clauses, I cannot confirm or deny third-party involvement.”

• “Do you even care?”

• Suggested response: “I value our shared history but must prioritise future investments.”

Step 5: Wrap It Up and Log Off

• Conclude with a firm handshake.

• Send a formal follow-up email:

Subject: “Relationship Dissolution Summary & Next Steps”

Dear [Name],

Thank you for your time today. As discussed, our relationship will be concluding effective immediately. Please find attached our breakup agreement with key points outlined. Let me know if you require clarification on any items.

Wishing you continued success.

Best regards,

[Your Name]

Final Notes

Breaking up doesn’t have to be messy. With a professional approach, you can streamline the process and ensure both parties walk away with clear deliverables and actionable next steps.

Job Interview Tips

Ah, job interviews. That magical experience where a stranger decides your entire fate based on how well you can pretend to be a functioning human for 30 minutes. If you, like me, suffer from chronic overthinking, you’ll know that preparing for a job interview isn’t just about research and confidence—it’s about meticulously crafting every possible scenario in your head, and ultimately sabotaging yourself by saying something deeply unhinged.

To help you navigate this minefield of anxiety, I’ve compiled some foolproof job interview tips, designed specifically for overthinkers.

1.     When They Ask, “Tell Me About Yourself”, Try Not to Have an Identity Crisis

This is where normal people say something simple like, “I’m a marketing professional with five years of experience” and so on.

This is not what you will do.

Instead, you’ll briefly forget who you are, panic, and blurt out something alarming like, “Oh wow, where do I even start? Well, I was born on a Tuesday, I have a fear of deep water, and one time in primary school I cried because I thought the sun was following me.”

Alternative Strategy: Memorise a safe, boring script. If you feel the urge to overshare, don’t!

2. Maintain Eye Contact (But Not in a Psychotic Way)

Eye contact is important! But if you’re an overthinker, you will immediately start obsessing about it.

Too much eye contact? Intimidating.

Too little? Suspicious.

Accidentally stare at their forehead instead? Now you look cross-eyed.

Alternative Strategy: Use the “triangle method”—casually shift your gaze between their eyes and nose. If you forget how to blink, just fake a thoughtful nod to break the tension.

3. The “What’s Your Greatest Weakness?” Trap

A normal person would say something harmless like “I sometimes get too invested in my work.”

You, however, are about to overthink yourself into oblivion.

• First thought: Should I be honest?

• Second thought: If I say something too weak, will they think I’m a liar?

• Third thought: If I say something too real, will they call security?

• Fourth thought: Why do I have so many weaknesses? Am I a fundamentally flawed human?

And before you know it, you’ve said something horrifying like, “My biggest weakness is that I feel crippling guilt over what I did in the summer of 2009.”

Alternative Strategy: Pick a fake weakness. Something harmless. Something that makes you sound both flawed and employable. Try: “I sometimes over-organise things” or “I care too much about the Oxford comma.”

4. The Deadly Silence After a Question

They ask a question. You answer. Then… silence.

At this moment, your brain will catastrophise at lightspeed:

• Oh no. They hated my answer.

• Are they waiting for me to say more?

• Did I accidentally insult their entire family?

• Did I just ruin my entire future?

To fill the silence, you will start nervously rambling. You’ll tell them a completely unnecessary story. You’ll say, “Does that make sense?” 27 times. You’ll add an awkward laugh at the end, even if the topic wasn’t funny.

Alternative Strategy: When you finish your answer, STOP TALKING. Count to three in your head if needed. Interviewers sometimes pause—it doesn’t mean they’re judging your soul.

5. “Where Do You See Yourself in Five Years?”—A Loaded Question

Normal people answer this with “I hope to advance my skills and grow within the company.”

Overthinkers? Oh no. We see this as a trap.

• What if I don’t know?

• What if in five years I’m dead? Should I factor that in?

By the time you’ve finished spiralling, you’ll blurt out something like, “In five years? Oh. Um. Ideally, I’d like to have a dog.”

Instead, say something about how all your ambitions will be fulfilled by devoting your precious life’s energy to working for their tedious company (but try not to mention the tedious part).

6. Handling an Unexpected Question Without Having a Meltdown

Some interviewers like to throw in an unexpected question just to see how you react.

• “If you were an animal, what would you be?”

• “Describe yourself in three words.”

• “How many basketballs would fit in this room?”

Your overthinking brain will not process this like a fun challenge. It will immediately panic.

• Why basketballs?

• What if I pick the wrong animal? Am I now stuck with that as my spirit guide?

• What are three words that sum me up? “Chronically, Anxious, Overthinker”??

Before you know it, you’ve answered, “I’d be a squirrel because I have a lot of anxiety and like snacks”—and now you’ve ruined your credibility.

Alternative Strategy: Take a breath. Laugh a little. If needed, stall with “That’s a great question!” while your brain catches up.

7. Ending the Interview Without Ruining Everything

The interview is almost over. You’ve survived. Now comes the final hurdle: the goodbye.

If you’re an overthinker, this will not go smoothly.

You will accidentally say “You too” when they say, “Good luck.”

You will wave in a weird way.

You will stand up too quickly and knock over your chair.

You will walk to the wrong door and then have to turn around in shame.

Alternative Strategy: Move slowly. Think before you speak. If you mess up, just pretend, with confidence, that you meant to do it.

Final Thoughts

If you’re an overthinker, job interviews are basically an extreme sport. So breathe. Speak slowly. And for God’s sake, do not talk about squirrels.

Unless the interviewer loves squirrels. Then, by all means, lean into it.

Wednesday, 19 February 2025

Texts Ruined by Autocorrect

Once a noble invention designed to streamline our messages and save us from our own typos, autocorrect has instead become a rogue agent of chaos. It has an uncanny ability to derail apologies, sabotage romance, and transform heartfelt sentiments into deranged gibberish.

Take, for example, the perils of intellectual discourse. You’re making a profound point, aiming to impress with your knowledge of psychology, only for autocorrect to intervene:

“The theory of cognitive dissonance suggests that—”

Autocorrect: “The theory of corgi distance suggests that—”

Nothing dismantles an intellectual argument faster than an unexpected parade of small, faraway dogs.

But nowhere is autocorrect more diabolical than in the realm of romance. You’re crafting the perfect flirty message—light, witty, effortlessly charming. You type:

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful.”

Autocorrect: “Can’t wait to see you tonight, bathtub.”

Congratulations. You are now a psychopath. There is no recovering from this. Even worse:

• “Hey babe” → “Hey bank” (Are you in love, or in debt?)

• “Hey babe” → “Hey Baby Yoda” (Unclear, but certainly a vibe.)

• “Sending love” → “Sending lice”

• “Can’t wait to see you” → “Can’t wait to sue you”

Autocorrect’s appetite for destruction is especially brutal in moments of grief. A friend has suffered a terrible loss. You carefully compose a message of sympathy:

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Let me know if you need anything.”

Autocorrect: “I’m so sorry for your boss. Let me know if you need anything.”

Now, instead of offering comfort, you appear to be mourning the fate of corporate leadership.

Then there’s damage control. You’ve made a mistake. You need to apologise. You type:

• “Please forgive me.” → “Please forget me.” (Devastating.)

• “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” → “I didn’t meme to hurt you.” (Sure, blame it on the internet culture.)

And at its most malevolent, autocorrect strikes when you’re sending a spicy text. You write:

“Can’t wait to kiss you all over.”

Autocorrect: “Can’t wait to kiss you all ogre.”

Even worse:

• “I’m in bed waiting for you.” → “I’m in debt waiting for you.”

Autocorrect is proof that technology, for all its intelligence, has no sense of timing, tact, or emotional nuance.

Try talking instead, but without the Freudian slips this time.

Local Man Achieves Spiritual Awakening After Finding £10 Note in Old Coat Pocket

In what experts are calling “a profound breakthrough in modern spirituality,” local man Darren Wilkes, 38, achieved full enlightenment yesterday upon discovering a £10 note in the pocket of his old winter coat.

Wilkes, a self-proclaimed seeker of meaning, had previously embarked on a decade-long journey of self-discovery through yoga retreats, meditation apps, and a suspiciously expensive online course titled Manifest Your Best Self Through Crystal Healing. However, nothing had quite opened his third eye like the unexpected appearance of legal tender.

“I was just patting the pockets, hoping for an old bus ticket to scribble on, and there it was,” said Wilkes, still visibly glowing. “I reached in, felt the crumpled paper, and in that moment, I saw the truth of existence. Everything just… made sense.”

Friends and family report that Wilkes has undergone a remarkable transformation. Once prone to existential moaning, he now spends his days sharing the gospel of “checking your pockets more often” and “living in the now, because you never know what’s been left in your jeans.”

Wilkes’s wife, Sandra, remains cautiously optimistic about his newfound enlightenment. “It’s nice that he’s stopped going on about his ‘inner void’,” she said. “But now he’s redecorated the living room with signs saying, ‘Abundance is all around us—especially in unworn jackets’.”

Local spiritual leaders have expressed mixed reactions to Wilkes’s epiphany. The Reverend Michael Fadden of St John’s Church praised the simplicity of Wilkes’s discovery. “Sometimes, the divine works in mysterious ways,” he said. “Though, to be honest, I’d prefer if our congregation found God through prayer rather than rifling through old coats.”

However, not everyone is convinced. Dr Naomi Hughes, a psychologist specialising in sudden spiritual awakenings, warned that Wilkes’s experience might be more about dopamine than destiny. “Finding money unexpectedly triggers a surge of happiness,” she explained. “But calling it ‘nirvana’ is a bit of a stretch. Otherwise, cash machines would be considered holy sites.”

Despite the scepticism, Wilkes remains steadfast in his conviction. He has launched a YouTube channel, Pocket of Wisdom, where he shares life-changing insights such as “Always check behind the sofa cushions” and “Sometimes, happiness is just a crumpled fiver away.”

When asked what his next steps would be, Wilkes responded with a serene smile. “I’m going to the charity shop to try on all the coats. I believe the universe has more blessings to bestow.”

A Day in the Life of a Pigeon Who’s Seen Too Much

06:00 – The Awakening

I jolt awake, heart pounding. The nightmares are back. The things I’ve seen. The horrors. The discarded chips left to rot. The toddler who gripped a handful of bread and then… just walked away. The betrayal.

I shake off the memories, ruffle my feathers, and fly off into another day of survival.

06:30 – Breakfast

The scent of stale dough lingers in the air. Near the bin, a chunk of bagel sits in the dust, untouched. My instincts scream at me: Trap. I’ve seen it before. An easy meal never comes without risk.

I scan the area. No hawks, no sudden movements. Hunger gnaws at my gut. I swoop down, talons scraping pavement, and peck cautiously.

It’s good. Too good.

Then I hear it—the flutter of wings.

Terry. The bastard.

“Oi, that’s my bagel,” he squawkily coos, landing hard beside me.

There’s no discussion, no diplomacy. He lunges. We spiral in a flurry of wings, beaks snapping, feet clawing. The bagel is forgotten, hurled aside, rolling into the road—right into the path of a double-decker bus.

Gone.

We pause, both panting. Terry glares at me. I glare at Terry. The battle is over, but the war? The war never ends.

11:30 – The Child

The park is busy. The air smells of damp grass, fried food, and uncertainty.

Then I see him. A small human. Sticky hands. Beady eyes. The scent of bread clings to him like a warning.

The others are moving in, but I stay back. I’ve been in this game too long. I know better.

He lifts a chubby hand. A smile spreads across his face.

Then—chaos.

He screams in delight, throws the bread into the air, then charges at us, arms flailing.

The flock erupts into a frenzy of wings and terror.

I barely escape, wings beating furiously, my heart pounding. Never trust the small ones. Never.

15:00 – The Forbidden Zone

A pigeon I don’t recognise lands beside me. His feathers are ruffled, his eyes darting back and forth.

“You ever been to The Station?” he asks.

I shudder. The Station. Where birds go in but never come out.

“I knew a pigeon,” I say, voice low. “Tried to grab a chip off the tracks once.”

The memory haunts me. The screech of metal. The blur of motion. The feathers everywhere.

“Stay away from The Station,” I cooed.

The strange pigeon nods. Then, without another word, he flies off into the grey. I watch him go, wondering if I’ll ever see him again.

19:00 – The Sky is Ours

As the sun sets, we gather on rooftops, watching the city below. The humans hurry home, their heads down, their bodies hunched against the wind. Trapped in their strange routines.

We are free. We are everywhere.

A gust of wind rattles the city. The last light of day gleams off glass and concrete.

Then I see it.

Below, a man drops an entire sandwich.

Silence.

Then the cry goes up. A battle cry.

The flock descends.

Feathers, beaks, claws—we are a storm, an unstoppable force.

Tonight, we feast.

Tuesday, 18 February 2025

“It’s Just a Phase,” Say Parents, As Son’s Career in Finance Stretches Into Third Decade

Gary Watkins, 52, has been reassured by his parents that his well-paid, stable career in finance is merely a temporary diversion from his true path in life—writing a novel about a sad man in a café.

Despite working as a senior investment strategist for 27 years, earning six figures, and owning a four-bedroom house, Gary’s mother, Janet, 76, remains confident that he will eventually “grow out of this financial services nonsense” and return to his real calling as a writer, a passion he last pursued in 1994 after reading Catcher in the Rye.

“We all go through these little detours,” said Janet, rifling through his childhood sketches for evidence that he once wanted to be an artist. “One minute you’re selling your soul to corporate greed, the next you’re scribbling away in a Parisian attic, truly feeling things.”

Gary, who currently has a wife, two children, and a mortgage, confirmed that his parents regularly remind him that he “used to have such an imagination” before “falling in with the wrong crowd” at HSBC.

“I keep telling him, all it takes is one spontaneous road trip to Tuscany,” said his father, Brian, 78, who once watched Eat, Pray, Love and now believes all life’s problems can be solved by dropping everything and moving abroad. “Gary could be writing brooding poetry about autumn leaves while sipping espresso by now if he hadn’t got so caught up in this whole ‘having financial stability’ charade.”

When asked for comment, Gary sighed deeply and revealed that he has, in fact, been secretly working on his novel for the past 15 years. “It’s about a disillusioned banker who quits his job to find meaning in the world,” he admitted. “So far, the protagonist has spent 200 pages sitting in a café thinking about quitting his job.”

Gary’s parents remain hopeful that, any day now, he’ll “come to his senses” and abandon his financial security for a life of artistic struggle. “It’s just a phase,” Janet insisted. “He’ll grow out of it.”

Monday, 17 February 2025

Talking Like a LinkedIn Post

LONDON—After years of quiet resentment and just enough productivity to avoid being fired, local employee Dan Matthews has finally been promoted to a managerial role—an achievement that, according to colleagues, has transformed him overnight into a human LinkedIn post.

“It’s like he’s been possessed by LinkedIn,” said long-time coworker Emily Carter. “This morning, I asked him if he wanted a coffee, and he said, ‘Let’s touch base on that offline.’ He used to just say ‘yeah, cheers’.”

In his first act as manager, Matthews sent out a 2,000-word email titled “Reflections on Leadership, Learnings from the Trenches” in which he compared his recent career advancement to “climbing Everest” and “leading a Roman legion into battle”. The email, which began with an inspirational Steve Jobs quote and ended with a completely unnecessary hashtag, was later found to contain no useful information.

“I used to like Dan,” said team member Josh Patel. “But today, he said he’s ‘laser-focused on leveraging our core competencies to drive impact’. We work in an accounts payable department. What the hell does that mean?”

Meanwhile, his LinkedIn activity has skyrocketed. Where he once used the platform exclusively to ignore recruitment messages, he is now posting daily threads on “the importance of adaptability in an evolving business landscape”. One such post, which began with the phrase “Not your typical promotion story”, detailed his “incredible journey” from Junior Accounts Payable Assistant to Senior Accounts Payable Assistant in just eight short years. It included a staged photo of him thoughtfully staring out of a window, an unrelated anecdote about a childhood struggle, and the sentence, “If this inspires just one person, it’s worth it.”

“Honestly, I can’t look at LinkedIn anymore,” said Patel. “Yesterday he posted a stock image of two people shaking hands with the caption, “Partnerships are the fuel of progress”. Who is he partnering with? The photocopier?”

Coworkers have also noticed a shift in Matthews’s physical behaviour. Formerly known for his relaxed, borderline apathetic attitude, he now enters every meeting room with the urgency of a man delivering a TED Talk.

“The other day he stood up during a Zoom call and started pacing back and forth like he was unveiling a new iPhone,” said Emily Carter. “At one point, he paused, stared at the camera, and said, ‘We’re not just pushing numbers, guys. We’re telling a story.’ He then spent five minutes explaining what storytelling means, to a room full of accountants.”

Despite mounting concern, office insiders predict that Matthews will continue down this path, with upcoming behavioural milestones including:

• Ending every email with “Let’s disrupt this space together!”

• Taking a one-day management seminar and updating his bio to “Passionate about leadership and mentoring”.

• Posting a “humble brag” about his promotion while thanking “everyone who believed in him”.

At press time, Matthews was seen in the break room, staring wistfully into the distance while muttering, “At the end of the day, it’s all about mindset.”

Saturday, 15 February 2025

Alien Disappointment

The mothership materialised over Earth in a shimmering pulse of energy. Inside, Supreme Overseer Xylox of the Galactic Concordance folded his many arms, antennae twitching with anticipation.

“This is it,” he announced to his crew. “The moment we make first contact with the dominant species of this planet.”

A murmur of excitement rippled through the control room. It had been centuries of observation, endless reports, and, frankly, an exhausting amount of patience. The humans had finally developed enough technology to justify an introduction to the greater interstellar community.

“Prepare the transmission,” Xylox commanded. “Let us greet these beings of intelligence and culture.”

The communications officer, Z’rrl, activated the ship’s intergalactic broadcast system, sending a message in all known human languages:

“GREETINGS, HUMANS. WE COME IN PEACE.”

There was a pause. Then, across the world, humanity responded.

On X, #FakeAliens trended within minutes. On Facebook, thousands in cargo shorts posted aggressive, barely coherent rants about government conspiracies. Meanwhile, a group on Reddit attempted to determine the mothership’s propulsion system using only blurry screenshots.

News anchors speculated wildly. Some declared it a hoax. One station accidentally aired footage from Independence Day and caused mass panic.

Then, a missile was launched.

It didn’t even reach the mothership before exploding mid-air due to faulty engineering, but the attempt was noted.

The crew watched as the humans continued their baffling reactions. A talk show debated whether the aliens should be considered illegal immigrants. A group of influencers attempted to go viral by standing directly beneath the mothership and filming reaction videos, while a self-proclaimed “alien hunter” fired wildly into the sky with an assault rifle he had bought three hours ago.

Xylox turned to his lieutenant. “Check the records. Did we actually confirm these creatures were intelligent?”

“Uhh…” The lieutenant scrolled through a holographic tablet. “They built particle accelerators, landed on their own moon, and mapped the human genome.”

“Impressive,” Xylox admitted.

“But they also still have diseases, and, um… they think pigeons aren’t real.”

Xylox narrowed his many eyes. “What?”

“The pigeon theory,” the lieutenant explained, showing him a webpage. “Some of them believe birds aren’t real.”

Xylox read for a moment, then shut his central eye cluster. He was so very, very tired.

On Earth, the situation escalated. The U.S. president held a press conference where he made finger guns at the camera and announced that America was “more than ready” to go to war with “whoever those space nerds” were. The United Nations debated whether to send a diplomat, but before they could decide, an enterprising billionaire announced plans to build his own spaceship to “challenge the aliens to single combat.”

In the meantime, Xylox and his crew continued to observe.

One human attempted to charge the mothership with a sword. Another posted a TikTok of herself trying to “vibe” with the aliens by performing a dance. A major corporation released a limited-edition “Alien Burger” to capitalise on the hysteria.

A group of scientists, desperately trying to salvage the situation, put together a formal message inviting the aliens to discuss philosophy, science, and interstellar cooperation.

It was promptly ignored by broadcasting executives in favour of a reality TV special titled “Abduct Me!”

Xylox sighed deeply. “I was hoping for another enlightened species to share knowledge with. Instead, we got…” He gestured with his antennae vaguely towards Earth. “This.”

“What do you want to do, sir?” asked Z’rrl.

Xylox considered it. “Mark the planet as ‘underdeveloped, mildly dangerous, and deeply embarrassing.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Prepare for departure.”

The mothership shimmered, then blinked out of existence.

Meanwhile, on Earth, a new conspiracy theory erupted. Some claimed the aliens had left because they feared humanity’s strength. Others believed they had never been real in the first place. One particularly vocal podcaster insisted the entire thing had been staged to distract people from the rise in avocado prices.

Humanity moved on.

The Galactic Concordance never returned.

Friday, 14 February 2025

Therapy for Supervillains

Dr Evelyn Carter took a deep breath as she glanced at the name on her schedule. Lord Cataclysm. Again.

She pressed the intercom. “Send him in, please.”

The door burst open, and in swept a tall, ominous figure draped in flowing black robes, his metallic gauntlets gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Behind his elaborate mask, two glowing red eyes burned with intensity.

“I DESIRE TO SPEAK,” he boomed, sweeping dramatically into the chair opposite her.

Evelyn nodded and clicked her pen. “Go ahead, Cataclysm. What’s on your mind?”

“I AM WEARY.”

She made a note. “Weary how?”

“I AM TIRED OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD,” he growled. “TIRED OF MY INFERNAL MINIONS FAILING ME. TIRED OF NARROW ESCAPES. TIRED OF—” He gestured vaguely. “BEING THWARTED IN MY PLANS AT THE LAST SECOND.”

Evelyn adjusted her glasses. “You’ve been threatening to destroy the world for fifteen years. That sounds exhausting. Have you considered taking a break?”

Lord Cataclysm scoffed. “A BREAK? FROM VENGEANCE?” He slammed a fist onto the armrest. “THEY MOCKED ME. THE SCIENTISTS AT THE LABS CALLED MY THEORIES MADNESS. I CANNOT REST UNTIL THEY—” He stopped, inhaled sharply. “But… lately, even annihilation feels tedious.”

She tapped her notepad. “Have you felt this way before?”

He shifted in his seat. “ONCE. In my early days, when my first Doomsday Device failed to launch. It was… disheartening.”

She nodded. “And what did you do then?”

“I… BUILT ANOTHER ONE,” he admitted. “And another. AND THEN A WEATHER DOMINATOR. THEN A GIANT LASER. THEN A—” He paused slightly. “Are you suggesting I am coping through destruction?”

Evelyn gave him a look.

“…THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” he exclaimed.

She smiled. “Tell me about the other scientists at the labs. Did you make any friends?”

His red eyes flared. “THEY SAID MY WORK LACKED RIGOUR. THAT I WAS—” He made air quotes with his gauntlets. “—’A DANGER TO SOCIETY’ AND ‘A HOMICIDAL MANIAC’. CAN YOU BELIEVE THE AUDACITY?”

She leaned forward. “And when you built your first death ray, did you feel validated?”

He hesitated. “…NOT REALLY. I WAS HOPING FOR MORE SCREAMING.”

“Mmhmm.”

Lord Cataclysm sank back into the chair. “THIS… THIS WHOLE THING. THE EVIL. THE MONOLOGUES. THE ESCAPES.” He gestured tiredly. “IT’S GETTING OLD.”

Evelyn tapped her chin. “Maybe you’re outgrowing it.”

“OUTGROWING VENGEANCE?” He let out a bitter laugh. “WHO EVEN AM I WITHOUT IT?”

She flipped back a few pages in her notes. “Last session, you mentioned wanting to try painting.”

He stiffened. “THAT WAS… A FLEETING THOUGHT.”

She pulled out her phone. “You emailed me a picture of your first canvas, remember?” She turned the screen towards him. It displayed a dramatic, apocalyptic sunset over a smouldering cityscape.

Lord Cataclysm stared. “…YES, WELL. I HAVE A VISION.”

She smiled. “Maybe you don’t need to rule the world, Cataclysm. Maybe you just need to paint it.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then, slowly, he exhaled. “DO YOU THINK THEY SELL ACRYLICS IN BULK?”

She nodded. “I can send you a few recommendations.”

Lord Cataclysm rose from the chair, his dark cape swirling. “THANK YOU, DOCTOR.” He turned dramatically toward the door, then paused. “NEXT WEEK—SAME TIME?”

She jotted it down. “I’ll see you then.”

He swept out of the room.

Evelyn sighed and stretched. A moment later, her intercom buzzed.

“Doctor Carter, your next appointment is here.”

She glanced at the schedule. Doctor Carnage. A known mad scientist with an unhealthy attachment to giant robot sharks.

She clicked her pen and smiled. “Send him in.”