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You Don't Need a Self Help Book, You Need the Vikki Fuck Off Diet

You Don't Need a Self Help Book, You Need the Vikki Fuck Off Diet You Don't Need a Self Help Book, You Need the Vikki Fuck Off Diet You don't need another gratitude journal. You need to tell everything toxic in your life to fuck off — starting today. I've bought the books. I've done the affirmations. I've written down three things I'm grateful for while internally screaming. None of it worked, because none of it touched the actual problem. The actual problem was still sitting in my life, calling me on a Tuesday, making demands, draining me dry. So I built something that actually works. I call it the Vikki Fuck Off Diet. What is the Vikki Fuck Off Diet? The Vikki Fuck Off Diet is not a food plan. It is a decision to cut out everything that is poisoning you before you worry about kale. That means toxic people, toxic guilt, toxic self-talk and toxic obligations. You clear the junk out of your life first, and your body and mind start recoveri...

Spoilt Brat Syndrome: What Nobody Tells You About Narcissists (Because It's Actually Funny)

Spoilt Brat Syndrome: What Nobody Tells You About Narcissists

This subject is heavy. Anxiety-inducing, trauma-soaked, 2am-Googling heavy. So today we're doing something different: we're laughing at it. Because once you strip away the clinical language, what you're actually dealing with is a toddler in a grown-up body, and toddlers, from a safe distance, are hilarious.

Psychologists have already said it themselves, quietly, in the professional journals: narcissists behave like children. Tantrums when thwarted. Sulking when ignored. A need to be the centre of every single room. The only difference between a narcissist and an actual toddler is that the narcissist has a driving license, a credit card, and seventy-odd years of practice.

So let's call it what it is. Spoilt Brat Syndrome. Not a clinical term, obviously, don't go quoting this to your therapist. But once you see it, you cannot unsee it.

The Greatest Hits of Spoilt Brat Syndrome

The Vague Invite, Victim Card Combo

Classic move. Don't actually send the details. Don't confirm the time. Just sort of mention the birthday exists, into the ether, and then when you don't show up, act devastated. Bonus points if the party involves pink balloons for a seventy-seventh birthday, because nothing says "the centre of the universe" quite like refusing to age out of the theme.

The Competitive Laugh

You laugh at something. A split second later, they laugh louder. Not with you, over you. It's like watching someone snatch a toy back mid-play, except the toy is your own sense of humour, in your own house, at something you found funny before they decided they needed to find it funnier.

The Debt Car

You buy a car, cash, no fuss. Weeks later, a suspiciously similar car turns up in her driveway, financed on hire purchase, because matching your energy is worth going into actual debt for. This isn't keeping up with the Joneses. This is a full toddler tantrum wearing a hire purchase agreement as a disguise, I want what you have, and I want it now, budget be damned.

The Peacocking

Turns up to occasions, including ones that have nothing to do with them, dressed to absolutely dominate the room. Somewhere between "main character energy" and a toddler arriving at someone else's birthday party in a full superhero costume, because being the most-looked-at person is not optional, it's the whole point of showing up.

Why This Actually Helps

Here's the useful bit underneath the laughs. Reframing a narcissist as a toddler in a grown-up body does something genuinely useful to your nervous system: it shrinks them. Not the damage they've caused, that's real and it deserves to be taken seriously. But the mystique, the sense that their behaviour is some sophisticated, calculated force you can't hope to out-manoeuvre, that shrinks the second you picture them as a two-year-old demanding a cookie before dinner.

Psychologists actually recommend this exact reframe as a coping tool, picturing the tantrum-throwing adult as the toddler they're behaving like, because it helps you respond with the same steady, unbothered energy you'd use on an actual child mid-strop. You don't negotiate with a toddler having a meltdown in the cereal aisle. You don't take it personally either.

Same toddler. Just taller, and with a car finance agreement.

The Serious Bit, Because It Deserves One Line

Humour is a genuinely legitimate way to process pain, wrapping something hard in a joke makes it possible to say out loud at all. But it's not a replacement for the real work, the boundaries, the grief, the anger that's allowed to just exist without being turned into a punchline every time. Laugh at the pink balloons. Still feel whatever you feel about the birthday itself. Both things can be true.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is it normal to find narcissistic behaviour funny sometimes?+
Yes. Humour is a recognised coping mechanism for processing pain, especially the kind that's too heavy to say out loud plainly. Finding the absurdity funny doesn't mean you're minimising what happened.
Why do narcissists act like children?+
Psychologists have compared narcissistic behaviour directly to a toddler's: tantrums when thwarted, sulking when ignored, a constant need to be catered to. It's thought to stem from an inability to self-soothe or take accountability, the same skills a toddler hasn't developed yet either.
Does laughing at a narcissist's behaviour help you deal with them?+
It can. Reframing their behaviour as childish rather than powerful or calculated tends to reduce the emotional charge, making it easier to respond calmly instead of reactively.

Love, Vikki

This post uses humour to explore a genuinely difficult subject and isn't a substitute for professional support. If narcissistic abuse has affected you, a trauma-informed therapist can help you work through it properly.

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