A confused Millennial tries to… complain without being a Karen

By Josh Gardner, who cannot remember 9/11

ONLY middle-aged women with mum haircuts complain. For a Millennial like myself the world is a trouble-free paradise I can easily skate through without problems. Or so I thought until my McPlant Burger only came with small fries instead of medium and I was forced to become everything I hate.

Unlike entitled Boomers, complaining doesn’t come naturally to my generation. Besides posting passive-aggressive statuses on social media every 30 seconds and whining about house prices and nepo babies, we’re a very contented bunch.

So imagine my horror when I found myself with a legitimate grievance. I should have had at least 12 more thin chips than I paid for, and my parents weren’t around to take care of it for me. Was I really about to enter my Karen era? I was shook.

I did the only logical thing and tagged McDonald’s in a disgruntled tweet. Maybe it would go viral and I’d get free chips for life for being so chill about their mistake? But as the minutes dragged by and the likes failed to roll in, I started to panic.

I desperately tried to think what my mum and dad would do in this situation. Did they even have McDonald’s back in their day? Or fries? Money even? It was impossible to tell. So instead I risked cancellation and politely informed the cashier there was a mistake.

They smiled and brightly said they’d sort it out for me. Outrageous! Where was the grovelling apology video posted to YouTube? Why was nobody crowdfunding to buy me a gender-neutral emotional support frog? There was only one thing for it.

The words stuck in my throat but they needed to be said. With a loud cough I demanded to speak to the manager. The place went hashtag silent. It was an L move but I had to endure the cringe-to-based ratio.

Within seconds the new fries were thrust into my hands and I was shunted aside for the next customer. I retreated to the safe space of a nearby table and unpacked what had just happened. Clearly I was the innocent in all this and was forced to become a monster by the pressures of adulting.

So there you go, that’s my trauma origin story. Being a Karen is inevitable and happens to us all. I’m thinking of making a weekly podcast about my ordeal to help other Millennials cope. Gotta get that sweet NordVPN sponsorship money somehow.

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Pet names that will turn your lover right off during sex, with the Mash sex columnist

YOU’VE made it this far, you’re actually having sex. Now be careful not to arse it up by throwing a terrible pet name into the mix mid-coitus.


Problematic, to put it mildly. It’s likely to take your shag buddy out of the moment and bring to mind your actual Daddy. Suddenly your tits will be replaced by the image of a disapproving older man, watching as your lover inexpertly fucks his daughter. That’s bad enough, but they’ll get the feeling he’s itching to tell them they’re doing it all wrong, like DIY.

Sexy pants

Silly names are all well and good when you’re doing a bit of ironic flirting and trying to seal the deal, but not so helpful once you’ve got your pants down and are trying to take yourself seriously. The last thing you want while you’re giving a blowjob is to get a laugh. So stay away from ridiculous names like ‘Lover boy’ or ‘Hot stuff’. You’re not Austin Powers.


The problem is that pet names are picked by the owner, not the pet. Nobody in their right mind would opt to be called Snookums. It sounds like the name of a new pupil at Hogwarts who also happens to be a Smurf. Hardly hard-on fodder.

Anything ‘pie’

Cutie-pie, Baby-pie, Angel-pie – anything pie – is to be avoided at all costs. What are you, a Looney Tunes character? You may as well cut the crap and call each other Tweetie Pie and Sylvester the Cat. Any person who calls you these things with a straight face is instantly going to look like an arsehole and a twee loser. That’s not appealing in a sexual partner. See ya, Dickhead-pie.

Pussy cat

Barely tolerable from a partner in daily life because it’s not 1965, and even less so mid-coitus when you’re battling to stay turned on if things aren’t going brilliantly. Also, it feels like a judgement – do you not deserve to be compared to a bigger cat? A tiger at the very least. Even an ocelot would be an improvement.

Sugar lips/Honeybun

Names like this are a red flag. Your shag is setting up unrealistic expectations of sweetness which you’ll never be able to fulfil in a future relationship. And it’s just so cringe. Instead of him coming in your mouth, you’ll be puking in it.