14/11/2025
How funny but very true 🤣
THE “EQUINE” TAX: APOCALYPSE EDITION
(A forensic investigation into why your horse eats better, lives better, and bathes with more expensive shampoo than you do.)
Let’s face it: the word EQUINE is not a description — it’s a financial weapon.
It’s marketing plutonium. It turns ordinary objects into instruments of economic despair.
A bucket in B&Q? £3.99.
Same bucket with a galloping silhouette and the word EQUINE? £48.
Now it’s a Hydration Delivery System™.
You will still fill it with the same hose that leaks brown sludge and occasionally waters the dog.
Fly spray.
Human: £4.
Horse: £58 — clinically proven to repel nothing but your savings account.
The label promises “long-lasting protection.”
Reality: lasts three minutes, or until your horse exhales.
Shampoo.
Human: £2.
Equine: £28.
Exact same ingredients, different label font.
You know this. You’ve read the bottle. You’ll still buy it — because “apple scent” smells like devotion and denial.
Hoof balm.
Vaseline: £1.20.
Equine Keratin Horn Nourishment Complex™: £54.
Smells like beeswax and bankruptcy.
Applied reverently with a brush that costs more than your first phone.
Vinegar.
Tesco: 39p.
Equine vinegar: £17.99.
What’s the difference?
The horse version “promotes natural hoof balance.”
The human version promotes pickling. Same thing. Different target species.
Supplements.
You could buy human magnesium, vitamin E and linseed for £12.
Or you could pay £89 for Equine Zen Harmony Pellets™ —
now with “quantum calm technology” and a picture of a horse that looks like it owns a Tesla.
Therapeutic rugs.
For humans: a blanket. £20.
For horses: £249, lined with “ceramic nano-particles that reflect far-infrared dreams.”
You’ve been sleeping under a 2007 duvet,
but your horse is basically in a five-star spa in Dubai.
Feed balancer.
Translation: vitamins in a bucket.
Price: your dignity.
Every ingredient sounds like a Harry Potter spell — ascophyllum nodosum, methionine, unicorn tears —
and it still smells like dead seaweed and guilt.
Boots.
For people: £45.
For horses: £175 each, and sold as Impact Reduction Systems™.
They’re Velcro tubes, not NASA tech.
Even salt isn’t safe.
Human: 99p.
Horse: £29, “harvested by moonlight from an ancient Himalayan cave.”
The horse licks it once, glares at you, and goes back to chewing the fence.
But the final boss?
Equine-specific cleaning products.
Dettol: £2.
Equine Disinfectant Concentrate with Bio-Active Hoof Harmony Technology™: £35.
It’s Dettol. With a horse sticker.
We are not customers. We are believers.
We’ll pay £90 for mud (mineral clay poultice) and call it “therapy.”
We’ll eat toast for dinner while our horses get organic linseed pressed under a waning moon.
We don’t own horses anymore.
They own us — and their marketing teams know it.
(This is satire. But if you just googled “bio-active hoof balm,” it’s also an intervention.)
