14/11/2025
Ain't this the truth π
THE βEQUINEβ TAX: APOCALYPSE EDITION
(A forensic investigation into why your horse eats better, lives better, and bathes with more expensive shampoo than you do.)
Letβs face it: the word EQUINE is not a description β itβs a financial weapon.
Itβs marketing plutonium. It turns ordinary objects into instruments of economic despair.
A bucket in B&Q? Β£3.99.
Same bucket with a galloping silhouette and the word EQUINE? Β£48.
Now itβs a Hydration Delivery Systemβ’.
You will still fill it with the same hose that leaks brown sludge and occasionally waters the dog.
Fly spray.
Human: Β£4.
Horse: Β£58 β clinically proven to repel nothing but your savings account.
The label promises βlong-lasting protection.β
Reality: lasts three minutes, or until your horse exhales.
Shampoo.
Human: Β£2.
Equine: Β£28.
Exact same ingredients, different label font.
You know this. Youβve read the bottle. Youβll still buy it β because βapple scentβ smells like devotion and denial.
Hoof balm.
Vaseline: Β£1.20.
Equine Keratin Horn Nourishment Complexβ’: Β£54.
Smells like beeswax and bankruptcy.
Applied reverently with a brush that costs more than your first phone.
Vinegar.
Tesco: 39p.
Equine vinegar: Β£17.99.
Whatβs the difference?
The horse version βpromotes natural hoof balance.β
The human version promotes pickling. Same thing. Different target species.
Supplements.
You could buy human magnesium, vitamin E and linseed for Β£12.
Or you could pay Β£89 for Equine Zen Harmony Pelletsβ’ β
now with βquantum calm technologyβ and a picture of a horse that looks like it owns a Tesla.
Therapeutic rugs.
For humans: a blanket. Β£20.
For horses: Β£249, lined with βceramic nano-particles that reflect far-infrared dreams.β
Youβve 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 β ascophyllum nodosum, methionine, unicorn tears β
and it still smells like dead seaweed and guilt.
Boots.
For people: Β£45.
For horses: Β£175 each, and sold as Impact Reduction Systemsβ’.
Theyβre Velcro tubes, not NASA tech.
Even salt isnβt safe.
Human: 99p.
Horse: Β£29, βharvested by moonlight from an ancient Himalayan cave.β
The horse licks it once, glares at you, and goes back to chewing the fence.
But the final boss?
Equine-specific cleaning products.
Dettol: Β£2.
Equine Disinfectant Concentrate with Bio-Active Hoof Harmony Technologyβ’: Β£35.
Itβs Dettol. With a horse sticker.
We are not customers. We are believers.
Weβll pay Β£90 for mud (mineral clay poultice) and call it βtherapy.β
Weβll eat toast for dinner while our horses get organic linseed pressed under a waning moon.
We donβt own horses anymore.
They own us β and their marketing teams know it.
(This is satire. But if you just googled βbio-active hoof balm,β itβs also an intervention.)
