[traffic sounds and light music]

Dan: Hey.

Um, can I sit here?

Sophie: No. Sorry.

[background talking]

[funky beat begins]

Ladies and gentlemen, formless blobs

and content detecting algorithms,

please welcome your host: Daniel Howell.

[cough]

Hello internet. I'm Dan and welcome to the

pilot of my new show,

Dystopia Daily with Daniel Howell,

where the show may not be daily

but every day on this planet is
an endless goddamn nightmare.

That's right, I am back, and this time

for the first time in my life

I am finally gonna do it -

- not, y'know, it - have sex -

I'm gonna do YouTube. Properly.

I am finally just gonna give the people 
and the algorithm what they ask for,

collaboration, reaction, interaction, 
self-flagellation.

I am here to create some fucking content

and I am doing it my way.

Welcome, to the world of Dystopia Daily.

Not filming in my bedroom,

crossing some weird personal boundary

in this space that perfectly represents

my spirit - just - no, don't film

too close to any of the materials.

I can be free to express myself

and create the content that I've always

dreamed of, in the committed confines

of a limited series with a defined
structure

- so - get ready,

which I guess you are 'cause you have -

um - already started watching,

and we've started, okay - um...

Give it up for the house band, everyone!

Yes, th-

[cheering]

[funky music]

[fingers crack]

[playing keyboard normally, then badly]

[panting] [cough]

On with tonights show, [clap]

I would like to open each episode

of Dystopia Daily with a monologue

about the times that we live in,

something topical, personal,

controversial, sexual - maybe, I -

I don't know, whatever -

there are simply too many things

happening out in the world

and also deep inside me that make me

wanna scream, maybe do a little cry,

and this is the platform for my agenda.

So, where do we start? Well,

society is crumbling, the earth is dying,

and I'm having a complete 
existential crisis - what's new?

[sigh], yeah, after over a decade of being

one of the most ... there people

on the internet, I am completely broken.

Er - on a personal level that no one 
fuckin' asked about,

I don't know what I wanna do 
with my life because

I don't know what I want!

More attention? God! Please no!

Oh - money? Yeah I've been ruined by

stupid leftist YouTubers and

twitter accounts and now I'm some bloody

low-key socialist that can't live without
the guilt.

Is it just sex?

Is that what this whole relentless

quest to entertain and build my name

is for? Just an insidious plot to get

in some hot celebrity's pants?!

Then what?! What's after the nut!?

Okay, TMI - um - let's pivot.

Ahem - err - career,

so previously on this neurotic bitch

after having my dreams disintegrated

by an uncaring corporate cog in a machine

and thusly relearning how to be 
cripplingly depressed for a while,

after I literally wrote a book about

looking after your mental health.

Look! - I am allowed to knowingly

self-destruct and not take

my own advice - hm?

Guess I can't just also -

ask for sympathy if I should know better.

Hm. Er - well, I'm now picking myself up

and tryna turn my life around...

again. I'm a full adult now,

supposedly. I tried not to shave for

a bit to see if it's possible for me

to not just look like a very

tall and sad child, so, heterosexual men

don't just immediately stop watching me 
after judging me, and, [laugh],

who knows, er, turns out apparently

I've still got another ten years before

I have the kind of sexy full coverage

'I'm a man now' stubble that members of

One Direction had when they were twenty.

Am I still getting taller? Am I just gonna

be, what, seventeen foot six?

Dunno what I'm hoping for,

I actually tried an Insta filter that

gives you a beard to try and visualise

this and, um, yeah I didn't look rugged,

I look like a stock photo of a

serial killer - what was I talking about?

What I'm doing! Right, um, the problem

with everything I aspire to do with

my life, off social media, is it has to

be on someone else's terms and their

timeline which is fine, but I can't

just wait, like a mouldy turkey dinosaur

cryogenically trapped in the bottom of

a bloody drawer because of you, okay?

Some of you sorry shits have been

following me for a concerning amount

of time, since I was bright-eyed and

wearing colour, can't begin to think about

how I've insidiously influenced you

and ruined your productivity over

the years - and some of you have now

grown up to be me where I was back then

and I'm looking back at my attempt at

young adult life like, [laugh], you do

not know what you're in for, it is gonna

be a trainwreck, sorry not tr- um -

r- rollercoaster - uh - that has ups.

Everyday I am tempted to just go live

in the woods but you keep asking me to

come back, trapping me in this liminal

hell where I can neither fully follow my

dreams of just frolick in the forest

and finally be free, so fine!

I will log into my account and I will

give you content, thank you for your

continued support!

You hear about so many YouTubers,

musicians, actors burning out,

and honestly who bloody cares?

What I wanna know is what happens

after that, do you just - oh -

wake up one day in a pile of ash and

decide to rise from the embers like a

phoenix, if someone makes a danisonfire

joke I swear to God, I'm gonna crawl

through this camera like the girl from 
The Ring and I'm gonna

choke you the fuck out, right?

Except some of you weird fuckers'll 
probably enjoy that and I don't know

who you are or where you been,
what you been touching

so I'm just gonna keep my hands 
to myself.

A more appropriate metaphor is like

er - a shit Jesus coming out of the cave

after dying, except He doesn't have like,

the super God powers to roll the boulder

and He's just quite physically weak

and sweating heavily and He nudges

the rock an inch every twelve hours.

The small problem that I have to overcome

going forward is that I have developed a

total phobia of social media.

Which as someone who is reliant on

two apps to live is a bit of a

fucking problem.

On 'bird-app' where everyone is angry

but thinks they're very smart and funny

and have important opinions,

I feel like I cannot tweet without it

a ~refined joke~ or some hot take

that I've spent literally hours

workshopping, and when it takes <i>me</i> hours

of iteration to end up posting something

like <i>this</i>, you know I've got a problem.

Honestly, Twitter is just a place to lure

and trap the world's narcissists that

think the rest of humanity needs to hear

them so they can just argue with

each other in an echo chamber, thinking

that it's where all the most important

conversations happen.

If you're watching this and you don't

tweet, <i>you</i> are normal.

I'm obviously not.

On Instagram my problem my lifestyle

is voluntarily already isolating and

lockdown, 'cause I'm a fucking nerd.

For real though, what is Instagram for?

I feel like you're either a style icon

serving looks or someone sharing snippets

into their exciting everyday lives

so that their followers just get to know 
them better.

I don't get dressed or go anywhere

so I'm not serving looks, 
and I don't do anything!

I sit inside eating pizza and playing

Mario Kart, so what the fuck am I posting

on my stories?!

I debated this once, had a little meltdown,

and posted this... [gasp]

And I really don't know where to go
from here,

I might just go full cheeks out

for the lads, just to feel something.

Whenever I post a video there or anywhere

else, people keep asking me to make a

fucking TikTok, where they prefer to

doomscroll their content now

and I think as we've established

on my unethically long, self-indulgent

story time why I quit YouTube,

I have a weird relationship with 
this place.

Firstly, turns out YouTube didn't delete

my channel after posting that,

which is nice. In fact it got

spotlighted number one worldwide,

which was interesting.

An unusual power move from

someone inside YouTube.

More of a power bottom move, really.

YouTube has a sub kink, apparently.

Hey YouTube, d'you want me to drain your

bank account? Feel like that'd be fair

at this point. At the very least,

get on all fours, and you are not allowed

to touch until I say so. Alright,

get on trending.

Anyway!, thanks to the nice people that

work at YouTube apparently,

I appreciate your kindness, considering

the position of absolute power that you

have over my life. But!, as a creator,

I am so desperate to have the respect

of my peers and the snootiest of

some subscribers that <i>do</i> make it clear

they are here for a good time,

not a fun time, that I am am afraid

to upload anything unless it's a fucking

feature film. I did - um - a live gig

for charity in London after Pride,

where in a dank cabaret bar, I stood

in front of a bunch of drunk lesbians

heckling me, through a heartfelt and
[crowd member: "Penis!"]

probably inappropriately humourous

set about hating rainbows and corporate

pride and posted it on my side channel:

danisnotinteresting, which has since

made things weird between myself

and Anthony and Wilbur.

Did I make it weird? Yeah.

That is an hour of unhinged and horny

high quality content that I reccommend,

I will link below and at the end for

your viewing pleasure, but I was afraid to

post any of that on this main channel

in case, I dunno, it somehow wasn't

something even bigger and better than

'Basically I'm Gay' and you all said:

"Dan, what the hell are you doing,

why are you like this?"

I have somehow, pushed myself into

a corner where I can't create a clip

unless I've got some kind of bomb to drop

or trauma to mine for content.

And much like our planet, I have got no

natural resources left, I am old,

uncomfortably warm, and some weird

pale thing just keeps orbiting me.

<i>This</i> is the burnout.

I'm tired, I'm terrified, I care

<i>way</i> too much about what people think

and what it all means.

Have I just done too much?

Have I seen too much?

Have I lived a thousand lifetimes

of extreme existence online and my fragile

human psyche just simply cannot

comprehend it anymore?

Or have I just let various paranoias

mutate unchecked and trap me in a prison

of my own toxic thoughts?.

I am in terminally online rehabilitation,

just tryna learn to shitpost again

and find some fuckin' serotonin somewhere.

So this show here is immersion therapy.

They say the best way to face your fears

is head on, so I am here, and I'm queer,

and I am just gonna force myself

through the tears.

So brace yourself for dangerously

uncensored ranting here,

I have DMed at least twenty-five people

to get some really special guests on

that we can have some amazing, insightful

conversations with, y'know, really connect

and have a good time.

I'm gonna experiment with the idea

of making the types of videos that

normal YouTubers do, to see if I can just

get over this.

And I want to interact with you,

the viewers, that scare and inspire me 
so much.

This is it for me, hail Mary,

I've got big plans, and high hopes

for this show, so either this goes

perfectly, first time, or I will just

live on a remote island writing erotic

fiction under a pseudonym and

self-publish on Amazon.

Which let's be honest, I'd probably

be better at...

'So many Ds, so little time.':

A One Direction reunion self-insert fic

by - Haniel Dowell. Tags: POV, group,

shame, tentacles, anthro, fire,

humiliation, broken hands -

watch out Liam.

Right - er - yes, now, a word from our

first sponsor, um, so, er, I couldn't,

er, get a proper sponsor in time, so,

today, I am the- the sponsor.

Hi! Hashtag ad. Do I - do I have to say

that if I am the person?

I'm doing a whole world tour until 2023,

it's a show called 'We're All Doomed"

about all the worst things in the world

and how humanity is on the brink of
collapse

but tryna laugh at it all so we can cope
with the pain.

I'll also probably overshare, maybe have

an emotional breakdown, and interact with
you live.

Um- in- in like a comedy way, interact.

Obviously.

If you're watching this in 2024, there's a

reasonable chance the world will have

already ended, 'cause of, uh, y'know

[unintelligible], so this won't matter,

but I'm sure you can watch the recorded

special on... Roblox, or some kind of

metaverse trapped in.

There's an NFT embedded in your nipple,

I don't fucking know.

Seriously, I've been working on this show

for months, it came from a deep, urgent
place inside me,

it's a show I made to just give me

something to head towards, to save my own
life,

it's probably the most, er, not

self-deprecating, destructive,

possibly offensively funny, and, um,

biblically epic thing I've made so far,

and I can't wait to do it with you in
real life.

[mumbles]: No, I'm not going to
acknowledge it.

Unlike this dystopian digital shit,

nothing makes me feel alive, and real,

and meaningful like being in a room

full of physical people just laughing,

forgetting the stress and having a good

time together, so if you come see me,

we are gonna party like it's the end of 
the world,

'cause it probably is.

I'm travelling all across the UK, er,

America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand...

Europe places, uh, you can go to

danielhowell.com to see if I'm in your

town and get tickets now.

Unless you're in - er - the Netherlands,

or Finland, and a few other places

that have sold out already when this

record- so I guess I should've mentioned

those specifically, um, just,

[unintelligible], I'm probably outside

your fucking house in a bus right now,

get a ticket, whatever.

Thank you! [clap]

I just wanna show the world and show you

that even when every part of you

is screaming not to do something,

sometimes you should just go for it -

in a really extra way, because what's

the worst that could happen, huh?

No one turns up to your thing after
inviting them,

you try something and decide that your

instincts were definitely right and you
do hate it,

or that the people in your life are weird

and you don't wanna interact with them -

that will not happen!

Do not go down without a fight!

I am here, and I am gonna fight to
the death.

If this show inspires you to pick yourself

back up and do that thing for you,

hell yeah!

Unless that thing is a- a bad crime,

in which case I wanna be clear to

law enforcement that I do not know these
fucking people.

So, press all those buttons that make

the algorithm happy, subscribe to see

this show, succeed and I will see you
next time,

unless society collapses,

on Dystopia Daily, with me, Daniel Howell.

Dan: We, are going to put something on the
table,

Phil: Ooh.
Dan: that is a truth we have never dared

admit to the internet...

[outro music]