Absurd Society: A Brand That Wasn’t Meant to Be

How It (Accidentally) Started

I didn’t mean to start a brand.

I meant to complain online like a normal person. But the internet, being the internet, escalated things. 🔥

I was happily posting on Threads little satirical observations about life in the UK. Things like:

• trying to buy a house in a country where the walls are made of breeze blocks and apparently gold 🏚️
• train fares that cost more than the train itself 🚆💸
• the NHS crisis and our national hobby of "just waiting it out" 😵‍💫
• the endless lifestyle advice (hydrate, eat 5-a-day, sleep 8h, exercise, optimize, glow, ascend) 🥦🧘
• and of course, the universal truth that a human will use literally anything (a fork, a book, a whisk) to scratch their back when it itches 🤣

These were the absurd truths I couldn’t stop noticing. Writing about them made me laugh, and apparently made other people feel seen. It was chaos therapy. Free, effective and with shorter wait times than the NHS 😅.

Then one day, a single Threads follower commented, "Why don't you put this on a T-shirt?" Just one person. A sensible adult would have ignored that. My brain, however, said, "Yeah alright, let’s ruin your free time."

My Skills? Questionable. My Intentions? Also Questionable.

Before carrying with the store, I have to say that I possess the organizational abilities of a dropped croissant, the business instincts of someone who just Googled “what is ROI” for the fourth time, and the professionalism of someone who still can’t fold a fitted sheet without summoning dark forces. I don’t understand PowerPoints, company pillars, vision statements or any other adult-shaped concepts. If someone asked me to present a business plan, I’d simply hand them a biscuit and hope for the best 🍪.

But I tried making a T-shirt anyway. Not because I thought it would sell, or because I thought I was starting a business, but because it felt like the funniest possible wrong turn. I thought I’d make one design. But you make one, suddenly you’re making three; you make three, suddenly you’re comparing fonts at 1am like you have imaginary CEO to impress. But in the case the CEO is you, the designer is you, and the one desperately googling "how to make a logo that doesn’t look like a cult" is also you, all squinting at Canva like it owes you money 😵‍💫.

The Part Where It Somehow Became a Shop

Somewhere in that spiral, I realized that if I was going to accidentally create merchandise, I didn’t want it to become future landfill. So I partnered with Teemill. Partly because they have resources and competence (which I do not), and partly because they make everything sustainably with organic materials 🌱. They handle manufacturing, shipping and ensuring the garments don’t dissolve in the wash. I handle the absurdity, the words, and the designs inspired by the everyday nonsense that keeps all of us mildly unhinged and deeply relatable.

Before I knew it, I’d somehow built a shop. A real shop. Made of organic cotton, renewable energy, and my total inability to leave a silly idea alone..

And because I am stupidly honest, we even talk about it openly on our blog: how we’re figuring things out, how we’re winging most of it, how we’re not exactly drowning in orders, and how the entire project feels like it’s held together with sarcasm and emotional tape. But weirdly, that honesty is what people love.

Absurd Society became this pocket of truth where people laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of adult life. Where it’s normal to feel overwhelmed by everything from climate anxiety to realize you’ve been holding the TV remote instead of your phone for ten minutes.. Where the vibe is tired, sarcastic, confused, but somehow still functioning...just. And where life gets so absurd that even Santa gave it a big red stamp of approval, probably because he thought, "Finally… someone else acknowledges the madness."

Thanks for coming to my accidental TED Talk

We’re not a giant brand. We’re not pretending to be clever, polished or strategic. We exist because life is absurd, and sometimes the only logical response is to make designs about the weirdness of living in the UK and hope someone else says, "Omg, that’s me" or "You've read my mind". And honestly, when that happens, it feels like we’re all mundane superheroes quietly surviving the nonsense together.

So yes, I didn’t mean to start a brand. The internet decided I should shout out loud about the absurdity of life, whether I was ready or not.. But I’m weirdly grateful for the chaos. If my accidental shop gives even one person a smile or a soothing "oh thank God, it’s not just me" feeling, then the absurdity was worth it. Welcome to Absurd Society, the shop that really shouldn’t exist, and yet… it does. Like most of us, really 🤷‍♂️✨.