The Duck-Footed Pisk
This tiny slimeball hides in your fridge and makes all your food taste slightly of fish, which is, of course, the absolute worst thing for anything to taste slightly of.

The Schnuff
Creeps into your bedroom at night and sucks the farts from under your duvet. Even he doesn’t know why.

Dark Lord Statin
A denizen of one of the outer regions of Hell (near Redcar), the Dark Lord Statin lowers cholesterol levels by hacking off your arms, legs, buttocks etc with his rusty sword. The weight literally drops off you. Although the side effects include asymmetry and death, he’s still quite a popular alternative to diet and exercise.

Imp
Bellends. Total bloody bellends. Imps are wild and uncontrollable, seemingly existing only to follow their whims, no matter who they may annoy or irritate or accidentally decapitate or push out of a window for chuckles. Imps are full of boundless energy and a limitless capacity for malevolent fun. Not to be confused with children, which are worse.

The Matryoska Monster
Really the only time you want to see a Matryoska monster (or Russian Doll Demon) is at this moment: just after he’s finished pulling all his tiny selves out of his bum, and just before he starts stuffing them back in.

Bobby Mahogany
A suave little sprite, Bobby Mahogany lives in furniture stores and whispers suggestively into ladies’ ears: “oh… that chest of drawers would look adorable in your bedroom” or “come on my sweet, you’ve only been here an hour, why not look at all the chests of drawers again?” or “of course a lady can never have too many chests of drawers”.

But a lady can have too many chests of drawers. He’s evil. Pure evil.

The Ravenous Amorph
Look, you’d better do what he suggests and give this a like, because I think he means it. It must have taken him ages to write that sign with those tentacles. What? No, I didn’t write the sign. I admit the writing looks like mine but that’s because I used my tentacles to write it.

The Hash Brownie
“Riddle me these questions three,
Woah, I am fucking toasted, me
What was I..? Did I say the bit
about the questions? Lemme take a hit
While I think…
…I think
…OK, all right
Did I ask you the questions? And did you get them right?
Well shit! Nice work! Be on your journey
Riddle. Riddle. Riddle. Does that word sound funny?”

The Flaming Selfie
This jolly jasper is a rum old conundrum. He appears to be as happy as Larry, constantly photographing himself grinning like a Cheshire beachball, as though his life literally couldn’t be any better. Don’t follow him on Facebook, unless you want your life to feel empty and joyless in comparison. Oh, feeling “blessed” again are you? How lovely!

But… his head is on fire. There’s flames coming off his face. That’s got to hurt hasn’t it?

I hope it does. I hope it absolutely knacks and that he cries himself to sleep every night, in the vain hope that the tears will dampen the flames, but they won’t, and the tears are really salty so it stings even more. Stupid happy-looking clot.

Or, look, maybe he’s an inspirational lesson to us all, smiling through his adversity. So brave!

Nah.