A white home counties roadman has his phone confiscated

FOURTEEN-year-old Active J, known in his detached home as Joshua Hudson, explains why he unjustly had his brand new iPhone confiscated in violation of his right to Snap.

Wagwan? Man vexed deep. Da authorities have stolen man’s comms. Man has been forced against him’s will to turnover new hiPhone Pro by him’s history teacher, Miss Jackson. Well rank!

Man’s tellin’ you, it’s a hinjustice. Lady G and man’s solid bruv Drilla X had their comms illegally confiscated too. But da crime against Active J is greatest, coz Active J has da most expensivest phone, innit.

Miss thought man was not payin’ attention in class. Man was, but to a Yootoob video of a XL Bully takin’ down a halligator. It woz very heducational, so wot is her’s beef? It’s against man’s ooman rights to be deprived of Snapchat an’ Insta, an’ wivout him’s phone Active J is a wasteman.

Man’s hairpods went dead too, and wivout da Active J grime playlist man felt naked, and vulnerable to conversations wiv randoms.

Like every gangsta, man has a burna phone for business, but parents don’t gift man two phone contracts, so da burna only works on wifi at da man’s crib, savage! 

When da ‘ometime bell goes man will swag into Miss Jackson’s cribroom an’ demand him’s property back. Miss will pure buffer and give da comms over straight away. Not just coz it’s ’ometime and she has to, but coz bossman Active J sez so, innit.

Dat is what I tell da mandem anyway. Miss Jackson is bare strict and man might be well shook.

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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.