Six hysterical adolescent claims you made in your teenage diary that are still true today

WHEN you were an acne and angst-ridden adolescent, you filled your diary with outraged hysterical moans. These six have proved surprisingly accurate: 

Mum and Dad don’t understand me

They don’t, they don’t try to, and they never will. It’s just back then it was about your music and now it’s about your facial hair choices and still driving a second-hand car. And now you’ve got kids who you don’t understand and do you care?

I wish I had bigger boobs / a bigger schlong

A valid hope back then when you were still sprouting, but you’re still vaguely hoping it and you’re 35? It’s time you came to terms with your B-cups and disappointing manhood. No matter what the unsolicited emails clogging up your junk folder promise.

I wish I could go off and live on my own somewhere

You absolutely still do. But instead of dreaming of escaping your mum and dad, your siblings and your school, you’re now dreaming of escaping your flatmates or girlfriend or husband or children.

It’s so unfair

It is and it always will be. Someone younger and with better hair always gets the promotion you were due, your neighbours will always have a fancier garden office than you, your siblings will always be loved more. It turns out that the primal cry of the disaffected teenager is one of life’s great truths.

Everybody hates me

Most probably, yes. Especially as you were the kind of person who spent their teenage years griping about their existential problems longhand in a diary. What is it now, Twitter? Guardian comments? Some kind of pathetic blog?

They’ll all be sorry

Oh, they’re sorry. It’s just that you hoped they’d be sorry because a disregarded teenager triumphed and became an incredible pop star, writer or leader of men and they’d be endlessly contrite about how they treated you. While in fact they’re just sorry you turned out like this.

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The top six ways your dog will f**k up your life

A DOG is man’s best friend and his greatest burden. This is how your pet will ruin you: 

It will f**k up your social life

Spontaneous night out? Not when your canine pal has separation anxiety after 18 months as your constant companion, and now can’t be left alone for 45 minutes. So lockdown’s long over but your socialising is still confined to beer gardens and country walks.

It will f**k up your bank account

Even the shit this thing does costs money. From grain-free food to worming tablets to biodegradable poo bags, to the unpaid labour of accompanying it to its desired dumping locale and collecting the turds. You may as well have a monthly direct debit marked ‘dogshit’.

It will f**k up your sleep

Your spouse snores, your children get in the bed in the middle of the night, and the dog manages both. A hair-covered duvet, sleep broken by four paws in your back and kibble breath, and a prompt dawn wake-up to let the dog into the garden for a piss and a bark at some birds.

It will f**k up your house

Soft furnishings are an amateur destruction expert’s game: a dog will have you googling ‘skirting board repair’ and ‘whole lawn grow back when?’

It will f**k up your house even more

Now it’s time to play ‘guess which canine orifice made the substance that made the sofa cushions reek/turn that weird colour/go all clumpy’. It’s a game where everyone’s a loser.

It will f**k up your cold, cynical heart

That little shit will force you to experience genuine love, and probably teach the whole family lessons in caring and empathy and all that bollocks. You’re the one that let it sleep in the bed. And no one forced you to buy it the bobble hat, you pathetic prick.