Sea monkeys, and other pets you sincerely wished would die

REMEMBER when you asked for a dog and your parents palmed you off with one of these substandard substitutes, all worse than nothing? 

Sea monkeys

How do you sell brine shrimp to kids? Call them sea monkeys and advertise them with a drawing of a wizened, cheerful creature smoking a pipe in a rocking chair. The creator of this con is living in a billion-pound mansion, laughing at children staring at a bowl of ugly little swimming prawns and wonder if anyone would notice if they flushed them.

Stick insects

You wanted to throw a stick for a lovely bouncing Labrador. Instead you were given the f**king stick to look after. In addition to being boring and crap, they bred like crazy so even when the original died you still had 50 disgusting offspring you resented owning and gave away at school.


The ultimate crap pet, a halfway house between animal and plant, bought so you could prove you could look after a pet. Proved the opposite by dying. Your mum swore it recognised her and had a personality, but she was projecting. It provided the companionship of a Birds Eye fish finger.


Hamsters had personality. Gerbils were desert mice on speed that slept all day and pissed all night. Constantly twitching in fear of predators, they couldn’t be played with and weren’t cute. Never actually died, but after escaping the 466th time the family tacitly agreed to stop looking.


Tortoises are cool for maybe the first year. But then they keep living and living and living, if you can call being largely comatose living. If it died then you wouldn’t have to pass this boring curse down generations like a slow-moving, lettuce-munching hereditary disease.

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Newspaper columnist wakes from dream he was prime minister

A JOURNALIST turning out inflammatory columns for a downmarket rag has woken from a dream where he was briefly prime minister. 

The overweight, lazy, scruffy hack, who has done nothing but write ill-informed columns firing up idiots about bullshit his entire life, woke from a start at his desk from a wonderful fantasy where he led the whole country until it went horribly wrong.

Johnson, a former Daily Telegraph columnist who has now sunk to the depths of the Mail, said: “But it seemed so real.

“I was Mayor of London and got all the girls, then I discovered this magical thing called Brexit. What was it? Like an… amulet, or a glowing mineral or a spray aerosol that made everything perfect.

“Because I held The Brexit I became prime minister, and I was wise and good and loved throughout the land but then there was a plague, or something? And I was living with this blonde I used to work with who said she was Queen and kept turning up with new babies?

“Then I was at a party and I was naked, maybe, or had committed some social infraction and suddenly everyone hated me and I couldn’t find Brexit then I woke up here.

“Where I’ve always been. Churning out crap for dickheads.”