The Mary Celeste, and other mysteries with simple explanations and totally bollocks ones

SO bored you’re always Googling various historical mysteries at work, and leaping immediately to believe the most outlandish theory? You should not do that: 

Jack the Ripper

Basically a bad man murdered prostitutes. Grim, but it happens. It only becomes interesting if you claim it was Queen Victoria’s grandson or doctor or Walter Sickert. As there’s no way of proving it, why not just say it was Victoria herself? ‘I will cleanse London’s streets with the blood of whores,’ she may have said, dual-wielding katanas.

The Mary Celeste

A ghost ship found drifting and abandoned, chances are because its cargo of ethanol caused a fireball. So the crew fled an industrial accident then drowned because they didn’t have radios or GPS in 1872? That’s boring. Far better if they were abducted by aliens, though getting anally probed on a UFO is a busman’s holiday for sailors.

The Baghdad Battery 

Clay jars that could be low-voltage electric batteries 1,800 years old, used to power who knows what? Though they weren’t because they were containers for scrolls. However, ‘They’re jars’ is boring compared to ‘History is a lie!’ so believe the latter. You’ll have the last laugh when they find the Baghdad iPhone.

The Dyatlov Pass Incident

How did nine experienced Russian hikers end up dead with many of their clothes missing? Aliens and a yeti attack are both incredibly stupid explanations, but without them all you’ve got is an account of people killed by an avalanche and hypothermia. Stick with a yeti eating their tongues and eyeballs. That’s much better.

The Hexham Heads 

A pair of two small stone heads, found in 1971 presumably when there wasn’t much else going on, claimed to move on their own, cause poltergeist activity and summon werewolves. There’s not a shred of proof but once you’ve invested 45 minutes in a paranormal podcast you’re the dick if none of it happened, aren’t you?

Lord Lucan 

Where did the nanny-murdering peer go? Does he survive to this very day? No. He drowned himself shortly after the murder. Or, if you want something more lurid for the pub, his aristocratic friends fed him to lions at a private zoo ‘to protect the Establishment’. A conspiracy with massive risks and no real benefit. Perfect second pint material.

Alien jellyfish

Aliens now appear as giant hovering jellyfish, most famously at a US airbase in Iraq. Terrifying, as long as nobody says ‘That’s a bunch of balloons’ or ‘It’s moving at windspeed as a bunch of balloons would’ or ‘Why is this video so low-quality? Nobody has an iPhone?’ The true mystery? Why you’re wasting your time on this bollocks.

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday
privacy

Am I part of the whiniest generation in history?

I WAS born in 1994, at the tail end of the shoegaze era. Am I especially unfortunate to be part of the whiniest generation in history? 

I missed out on student grants. I missed out on cheap house prices. I missed out on lead poisoning from exhausts, corporal punishment in schools and mass unemployment as well, but I’m not interested in those because they didn’t happen to me.

Meanwhile my generation has suffered endless inequitable treatment. We missed Britpop, due to being children, so the first record I bought was Big Brovaz’s Nu Flow. You see how we’re cursed?

We couldn’t go to university. I mean loads of us could and did, unlike all those boomers who worked down the pit and got their pet hawks killed for daring to dream, but it wasn’t free and that’s a terrible injustice.

Our chances of buying an Instagrammable property in Notting Hill are basically zero, unlike in the 60s where you could rent a subdivided slum and get dogs set on you if you didn’t pay on time or they evicted you regardless.

And we’ve had the terrible misfortune of the internet meaning we get bullied on social media, instead of in real life, and we have non-stop 24-7 internet filth traumatising us instead of having to get what erotic charge we could from shop mannequins.

Finally, there’s pensions. Anyone older than us has an incredible pension, financed by most men dying of massive smoking-induced heart attacks aged 64 after which their wives moved in with their children to sit in the corner frowning for 20 incontinent years.

Yes, we truly are the unluckiest, and consequently the whiniest, generation in history. Though I bet another generation will come along and claim to be even whinier. It’s so unfair.