How I'd cope if I shrunk to the size of a Lego person, by Scarlett Johansson

I OFTEN think what would happen if one day I woke up and discovered I was a miniature plastic version of myself. Ridiculous, I know. There’s probably only a 15 or 20 per cent chance of it happening.

But it’s a scenario which dominates my daily life and haunts my dreams. It’s ruined relationships, driven away friends and frustrated therapists. Often, I’ll talk of nothing else but ‘Tiny Johansson’ for weeks on end. Planning for this outcome is clearly the sensible thing to do.

Here’s the plan. I’m a celebrated, award-nominated, globally-recognisable actor. That wouldn’t change just because a mad scientist’s experiment went awry or a witch had placed a hex on me and I’d become completely f**king tiny-fied. 

I’d call my agent and get them to tell every casting director in Hollywood that Scarlett was back with a new USP – she’s tiny! I’d be hoovering up roles left, right and centre. Although ironically hoovers would become a much larger issue in my life. 

It’s tough to admit to myself, but my marriage would be over. Not least because sex would be impossible. A normal-sized man can’t do it with a 1.5 inch woman. Not even in niche pornography, I’ve checked. So that’s that. I’d need to find someone of my own new stature. Which leaves Tom Cruise as a shoo-in for husband number four. 

Professionally, I’ll be coining it in from Lego movies. Looks like I’d be every new Lego film heroine: Wonder Woman, Rey Skywalker, Captain Marvel, Harley Quinn and Madame Web, although they might not make that one. 

And without the pressure to be a simmering sexpot, I could take on roles I’ve never tackled before: a wise-ass teenage mouse in Stuart Little 3, a singing marshmallow in a Pixar movie, or Clippy the Microsoft paperclip. I’ve bought the rights to that for $70m so I can turn it into a Barbie-style mega-hit when I turn tiny. I’m nothing if not shrewd.

I’ve got it all mapped out. I’ll be attending the Oscars in a designer dress made from a scrap of fabric. They’ll have to carry me around on a small tray so no one steps on me. I’ll watch my latest hit movie while chowing down on a single piece of popcorn, which will be very slimming.

Yes, I’m ready for when I turn tiny. Let’s just hope I don’t turn giant, like a theme park dinosaur. Shit, I hadn’t thought about that.

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Letting someone with one item go in front of you: Good deeds you've got no sodding choice about

SOME acts of kindness are so unavoidable you can’t even congratulate yourself on your incredible generosity toward the little people. Here are some you just grudgingly have to do. 

Letting a person with one item go in front of you 

The person anxiously clutching a lunch break chocolate bar in the supermarket is full of friendly well-wishes when you let them go ahead of you, but it was never an option to force them to watch you unload your big shop onto the conveyor belt. Tesco would probably put you on the special noticeboard they have for shitty local events, maybe a screengrab of you on CCTV and a caption simply saying: ‘BASTARD.’

Picking up someone’s shopping from the floor 

Clearly the person who just launched a full bag of tins, avocados and snack bars to the four corners of the earth expected you to coldly sneer and walk away arrogantly, because now they’re acting like you’re their saviour or potential future spouse. However you will subsequently wonder numerous times if you should have chatted them up during their moment of distress, proving you are a horrible, devious person after all. 

Watching someone’s bag 

It’s impossible to refuse what is possibly the lowest-effort favour a person could be asked to do, requiring only the movement of your eyeballs. Even so, did you detect a note of mild sarcasm when they thanked you for performing this non-task when they returned? You sincerely hope next time they’re forced to leave their bag on a train inexplicably full of thieves, junkies with the ‘rattles’ and kleptomaniacs. 

Bringing your tray back at a café 

A polite notice on the table asks you to hand in your tray. A prominent sign next to the bin says: ‘Please leave your tray here.’ You’ve essentially been brainwashed into compliance, so why do they act like you elected to do it out of the kindness of your heart? The answer, tragically, is that most of their customers are terminally lazy f**kers who make you look good for doing basically nothing. 

Anything your mum asks you to do 

There is an implicit understanding – which has often been made explicit – that you are forever in your mother’s debt after she went through the pains of labour, fed you, clothed you and put a roof over your head for 18 years. The very least you could do is cut her grass. While you’re there you might as well put a shelf up, fix her computer, and ring the pharmacy about getting her thrush cream delivered. Any protest means you don’t love her and want her to die alone, obviously.