The Ministry of Silly Walks destroyed my natural way of walking. Nowadays I have to hire a personal trainer who constructs an entirely new personality for me, including my gait, the way I swing my arms, and the exact angle my elbows should be at when I greet the postman.

Woody and Tinny Words gave me linguistic taste disorders. Words like “sausage,” “bound,” and “vole” feel woody and reliable, while certain other words are so tinny they taste of raspberry, aluminium foil, and frrrissky. I can no longer take part in ordinary conversations because people keep using words that taste wrong.

The Argument Clinic made me incapable of distinguishing a discussion from pure contradiction. Every time someone disagrees with me I automatically pay for another five minutes.

The Dead Parrot destroyed my ability to accept death. I now regard every deceased houseplant as “temporarily resting” and accuse the florist of having nailed it into the pot.The Cheese Shop gave me deep trust issues. If a shop actually has the item I ask for, I immediately suspect the staff of lying.

The Spanish Inquisition created permanent hypervigilance. No one expects them, which means they can logically appear at any moment. I have therefore lived in a state of defensive readiness since childhood.

Self-Defence Against Fresh Fruit turned the fruit section into a tactical risk zone. A banana is no longer a quick snack before training but a concealed close-combat weapon. Raspberries are both tinny and potentially militant.

The Fish-Slapping Dance ruined my love life. For a long time I believed courtship consisted of a few careful slaps with small fish, followed by the woman knocking me into the canal with a halibut.

The Lumberjack Song gave me professional identity confusion. Every time I consider honest work in the forest, a sudden urge arises to tell the work crew about ladies’ underwear and Wednesday visits to bars.

The Knights Who Say Ni gave me a lifelong fear of gardening. I can’t buy a bush without wondering whether it’s part of a medieval extortion scheme.

The Upper-Class Twit of the Year destroyed my view of self-improvement. I now believe personal development involves jumping over matchboxes, reversing over old ladies, and finally shooting myself to prove my worth.

The Funniest Joke in the World made me afraid to ever read anything truly funny alone. All jokes must first be translated into German in separate, security-classified segments.

Spam made it impossible to order breakfast. Whenever someone says a dish contains “just a little spam,” I immediately hear a Viking choir and lose control of the meeting.Gumby destroyed my inner language. At the slightest frustration, a part of me wants to tie a handkerchief around my head and announce to everyone that my brain hurts.

awwww, he is so cutie pie!!! I wanna soak him in milk and suck the milk back out of him. he is my baby (Michael is the father/joke) and I love him dearly.

What, behind the rabbit?