Greta Thunberg first came to my attention one Friday after I had spent the final hour of school putting cling-film over every toilet seat so that the following Monday, students and teachers would find themselves in a horrible mess when it came to do potty-time. The next week however, Greta encouraged the other children to join her in a strike, the purpose of which was to demand the Swedish government take steps to reduce carbon emissions. While this was going on, the school caretaker discovered my plan, and undid all my hard work. Curses. I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for Greta and that pesky janitor. From that day, I swore revenge.

I sent a message on Facebook to both the Swedish government and my school principal, informing them that I refused to go to school until Hybrids were outlawed, and SUVs were made a mandatory form of transport. This did not work however, because Principal Strömberg called my parents that night and told them I was suspended until further notice for the toilet/cling-film incident.

For months now I have endured Greta’s incessant whining as she fights to save the planet from an impending climate catastrophe. In her wake, easily-manipulated adults (including world leaders), fawn over her with sickening adulation. She is all like ‘Oooh look at me, I am saving the planet with my pigtails and my clever words!’ and the grown ups are all like ‘She is only 16 so this is very wow for us!’ Idiots. It is all so pathetic; I could just puke up the microwave ready-meal my mother made for me while she watches repeats of Murder She Wrote on our beautiful energy-guzzling 50” plasma TV.





Who wants to save the planet anyway? I don’t. It’s full of stupid humans and disgustingly cute animals. Personally, I am doing everything I can to speed up the climate crisis. Every day, I hide my mother’s canvas shopping bag so that she is forced to purchase plastic ones when she goes to Lidl. Three weeks ago, I turned the thermostat up to maximum and then smashed it. Our house is a sauna now and I feel ill from heatstroke and moderate dehydration, but it is worth it. Whenever I take a shower, I run it for 10 minutes longer than necessary and on full heat. Over the past few weeks, I have watched every single episode of Friends three times on our plasma TV despite the fact I find Ross uncomfortably bland and irritating. At Christmas, I made sure every present I asked for came from China and was manufactured using unsustainable resources. This way, I am undoing everything Greta is seeking to achieve.

Every time Greta makes a speech urging people to reduce emissions, conserve energy or plant trees, I use my mom’s credit card to order a dozen copies of The Day After Tomorrow on DVD and have each one delivered to a different country. Each time I see her stupidly concerned face in a newspaper or magazine, I set fire to five more bushes in my neighbor’s front garden. Whenever she tweets about how old people have stolen her future, I throw a box of grandpapa’s incontinence pads into the sea.

So ironically, like Greta, I have also dedicated my life to climate change. I am only eight years old now, but by the time I am 25, my carbon-footprint will be bigger than Leonardo DiCaprio’s.

I will see the world burn.