These 15 Brutal City Roasts By ChatGPT Are The Funniest Thing You’ll Read Today

Can we talk about the weird judgment around asking for milk? Like, what is Paris’ deal with people who want a cappuccino after noon? If you’re really the city of love, then let me romanticise my coffee, whenever I want please.

Two things I’d actively avoid in the city: the subway (obviously) and the potholes, because I’ve seen that video of rats dragging entire slices of pizza under them, and I haven’t recovered since. But I can go to have the infamous New York slice. 

Honestly, if I had to be a city during one of my emotional rollercoaster phases, it’d be this one. Moody, dramatic, sometimes cold, but somehow still comforting in a weird, tea-and-toast kind of way. And while we’re here, can we stop pretending baked beans are a crime? They’re actually kind of great (don't hate me for this).

Now this city? This one’s the ultimate cover-up. Because underneath all the sunshine and smoothies, it’s the place where everyone’s trying to fit into something. A role or an image. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if babies in LA popped out asking, “So when’s my casting call?”

Whenever I hear the word Dubai, one thing immediately comes to mind: Labubu matcha pistachio kunafa chocolate. Yes, I’m a woman of culture, obviously. 

Tokyo feels like the one city that’s this close to fully replacing humans with robots. They’re already everywhere—serving food, guiding traffic, bowing politely—so honestly, the only thing left is building luxury high-rises for them and handing out robot citizenship cards.

Ah, Mumbai, the so-called city of hustle and bustle. The Indian LA. The city that never sleeps, which, let’s be honest, is a lie. Mumbai absolutely sleeps.

But it’s also the only city where I’ll happily stand on the side of the road with a paper cup of kadak chai in one hand and a vada pav in the other.

It’s almost ironic, really. The place that gave us the saying “When in Rome, do as the Romans do” seems to have forgotten it itself. The Romans do… exactly what they’ve always done. Like they hit pause sometime after Caesar and never really hit play again.

Every time I hear the name of this city, a loud, pulsing techno track just starts playing in my head, completely uninvited. 

It’s like my brain has permanently associated the place with flashing lights at 3 a.m. and the sound of bass echoing through a concrete warehouse. I think I have a collective internet brain.

I cannot be the only one who immediately tries to pronounce Vegemite in the thickest Aussie accent possible every time I hear it. It’s like a reflex. That, and thinking about bugs. So many bugs.

Hong Kong kind of feels like the gifted kid who peaked early and has been hustling ever since to prove they’ve still got it.

 From a distance, it’s polished, efficient, and looks like it has its life very together. But get a little closer and you can feel the stress radiating off the glass buildings. Like it’s trying to hold it all in… with a perfectly ironed blazer.

The moment someone mentions Amsterdam, my brain short-circuits trying to process an image of a plate piled high with stroopwafels and Dutch cheese, I swear, even the cheese has its own museum. You’ll dodge more bikes than cars and somehow leave with 47 photos of the same bridge.

Seoul life always looks so tempting in K-dramas: cute coworker at the office, late-night beer and fried chicken with your bestie, glowing skin and perfect outfits. It’s all so aesthetic it almost feels scripted. 

But then there’s the flip side, that crushing social pressure to look flawless 24/7. Like, I love a good sheet mask, but I also love having pores. Let me live.

This city might be a little confused, caught between continents, history, and identity, but there’s one thing it’s crystal clear about: its kebabs and its deep, unapologetic love for spices. I believe its kebabs are also as roasted as this response from AI, to perfection.

The city is running on pastel, pão de queijo, and pure adrenaline. Between Avenida Paulista, Ibirapuera Park, and all-night samba spots, there’s barely time not to feel like you’ve had five espressos.