Jenny stared at the screen and sighed.

The mirror wasn't helpful, either. Tall, nice figure, long straight hair, nose in the middle of the face.

She had posted a new photo yesterday that had generated the usual number of likes. But the worst were the comments by her followers.

Beautiful.

Such a beauty.

Love your looks.

Argh. Jenny was nearly in tears.

She had changed her name to B1tchK1ss, thinking that was a clever move. The name Jennifer Ryders would never make her stand out from the crowd. B1tchK1ss, now that was an eyecatcher, she had been convinced.

Turned out that she was only one of millions of bitch-variants on social media.

She was a woman, which was slightly better than being a man in the modern world. She could try crossdressing or selling a new sexual orientation. But there were already so many of them, she felt hard-pressed to come up with something so edgy that it would tickle people's interest.

Jenny had no degrees, but she had aspirations. You didn't need intelligence or talent to become rich these days, fame an optional but welcome side-effect. All you needed was common sense and a unique selling point, even if what you were selling was just an air bubble.

So "beautiful" was a death sentence, "ugly" achievable, but only marginally better. Oh, the good old days, when beautiful, boring and dumb was enough to fill the tabloids and your pockets. Jenny could have been a Paris Hilton in a flash.

She needed to look at the problem from a totally fresh angle.

She would have gone with nude, but that was a dime a dozen as well. A disease would have been welcome, something very rare and chronic but, please, not fatal. But Jenny was not even lactose-intolerant. And even Google had given up finding a condition or personal idiosyncrasy that would make the minorities weep with envy.

Wait a minute! A sudden epiphany!

Environmental activism! That was it. People loved energy-saving lighting, paper straws and cotton bags. They'd go crazy for environmentally-friendly lateral flow tests.

Jenny smiled and set to work. A pair of scissors, some old cereal boxes and paper straws later, the first plastic-free test was born.

The proper hashtags applied, a catchy slogan – Ease your conscience with the only carbon-neutral lateral flow test this planet offers, mentioning the unique inefficacy of this product in much smaller print, of course, and Jenny's phone began to blow up with orders.

Seven hours later, she fell into bed, exhausted. Her back was in bits from being bent over the table all day, her hands were killing her from all the cutting and gluing, but Jenny had never been happier in her life. The order book was full to the brim.

Jenny had always known it – it doesn't matter when you are stupid, as long as you find uniqueness somewhere and there are still people much thicker than you.