S'pore content creators tap popular ‘Italian brainrot' memes, unaware of darker undertones
These surrealist internet memes first garnered views and 'likes' in early 2025. Nonsensical and mildly grotesque, the artificial intelligence (AI)-generated characters instantly earned themselves a spot among social media's beloved 'brainrot' genre.
Brainrot refers to content deemed to be of low quality or value, non-intellectual, trivial and addictive, and also refers to the supposed negative psychological and cognitive effects caused by it.
Tung Tung Tung Sahur (the wooden oblong object), Ballerina Cappuccina (the ballerina), Tralalero Tralala (the walking shark) and Bombardino Crocodilo (a crocodile head with a bomber plane body) are part of the cast. They all have pseudo-Italian names and their clips are voiced over in Italian.
One video of Tung Tung Tung Sahur doing a famous TikTok dance that was posted on April 27 received 26 million likes.
But these memes are sometimes embedded with offensive and problematic messaging, which viewers may be unaware of. The original AI-generated Italian-language video featuring Bombardino Crocodilo mocked the deaths of children in Gaza and glorified terrorism as a whole. As for some Tralalero Tralala clips, the narration mocks Islam and includes blasphemous statements.
Several Singaporean influencers and content creators have leveraged Italian brainrot's virality, creating fashion videos featuring outfits inspired by the characters or a Zumba video starring the dancing aunties of local community group Everdance .
On May 19, content creator Jovanna Yam, 22, posted a TikTok video of her mother reading out Italian brainrot names, while she played the instrumental audio on the piano.
The video has since amassed 15,600 likes and 284,000 views, up from her usual 13,000.
Ms Yam, who goes by migraineyy on TikTok, told The Straits Times: 'I mostly post videos of myself playing classical piano pieces and pop covers, so I did not expect this one to go this viral. I was trying to create more funny content to hook my audience.
'When you watch an Italian brainrot video for too long, the algorithm deems that you like this kind of content and pushes out more of it on your 'For You' page. All my social media accounts were filled with these videos.'
But she added she was not aware of the darker undertones of Italian brainrot.
'It is definitely a cause for concern as nobody would expect them to be controversial. Most of us watch these types of videos for entertainment because of how nonsensical they are.'
Since finding out about some offensive versions, she intends to check her comments thoroughly to ensure she has not offended any followers.
In April, local Gen Z social media couple Dyce and Ce posted a video of themselves on Instagram and TikTok trying the Guess The Italian Brainrot Character filter challenge, which garnered 358,000 likes and nearly four million views.
In the comments section, most netizens praised their humour and asked where they could find the filter . But a few demonstrated more awareness of the implications of the series.
One netizen wrote: 'I'm Italian. The first name (Tralalero Tralala) means something bad.'
Another added: 'It was funny until someone told me the meaning of Tralalero Tralala and Bombardino Crocodilo.'
Join ST's Telegram channel and get the latest breaking news delivered to you.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
AsiaOne
18 hours ago
- AsiaOne
'How dare you': YouTubers call out London stall for selling 'fake Malaysian food', Lifestyle News
Manchurian chicken, sweet and sour tofu? These two dishes definitely do not come to mind when one thinks of Malaysian food, and one British YouTuber named Pat was none too pleased when he came across these items being sold under the guise of "Malaysian street food" at a London market. For some context, Pat is one half of the duo behind Pat & Giulia, a British-Italian couple who spent six months locked down in Malaysia during the Covid-19 pandemic. It is understandable then that they developed an appreciation for Malaysian food, as well as a basic grasp of Bahasa Melayu. In the video published on Tuesday (July 22), the couple appear to be on a mission to seek out both authentic and inauthentic Malaysian cuisine in London. Sharing that London is home to a large number of Malaysians, they wrote: "There exists some very good Malaysian food, but we also uncovered some of those selling fake Malaysian food." "Now we're back in London, we're craving a bit of Malaysian food, so we thought we'd come out here to get some," said Pat. Their first stop? An eatery in northeast London known for offering "the cheapest roti canai (roti prata) in London". "British people love a roti canai, let me tell you," said Pat. Their order of two roti canais cost £4.95 (S$8.60), along with two curry puffs for £1.80. Their review of the curry puffs? "Very nice," said both. "It actually tastes like Malaysian ones, doesn't it?" Pat remarked. The freshly made "not frozen" rotis also received good reviews. The dish came with a dhal curry as well as sambal. "Very, very delicious," said Pat, adding that it might be the best roti canai he's had in London. "It's like being back in Malaysia," Giulia concurred. However, their next stop in their Malaysian food hunt left more to be desired, with Pat proclaiming that they'd "found fake Malaysian food in London". They do not identify the stall's location, but the camera pans to a shot of Camden Lock, suggesting that it could be at Camden Market, a place known for its many food stalls. When asked what's classic Malaysian food, a man behind the Malaysian food stall replies, "beef rendang" and "chilli chicken Manchurian", even adding that it's a "traditional curry from Malaysia". "Interesting," Pat responds. The hawker then recommends "sweet and sour tofu", as well as a soupy item he introduces as "laksa". "Can you speak Bahasa Melayu?" Pat quizzes the pair in Malay, also asking "Dari mana (where are you from)?" But it is evident that they don't speak the language. "You guys aren't Malaysian," Pat adds, to which the duo behind the counter state that their boss is from Malaysia, more specifically, Penang. Needless to say, Pat and Giulia leave empty handed. 'How dare you say this is Malaysian?' "How funny was that?" Pat remarked to the camera following the encounter. "It wasn't Malaysian food at all... we called them all out." Sharing that he was "getting a bit annoyed", he added: "How dare you say this is Malaysian [food]?" Pat also indicated that the items sold were all "typical Chinese-British food". "There we go, fake Malaysian food here in London," he quipped. Many in the comments praised the couple for their effort in calling out such stalls and also for appreciating Malaysian culture. "You guys are so Malaysianised... For non-Malaysians to be able to spot that fake stall is crazy, respect!" one commenter stated. Wrote another: "I hope this brings awareness and vendors should stop misrepresenting and mis-labelling food as an easy way out. Good on ya for pointing it out. I'd be hangry too." One netizen appeared to notice another small sign that the stall wasn't authentic. "The guy didn't call you 'boss', which suggests he isn't Malaysian selling authentic Malaysian food," joked another, to which several others agreed. [[nid:678898]] candicecai@
Business Times
19 hours ago
- Business Times
Burnout, breakdown, repeat: Why young adults are ‘crashing out'
[SINGAPORE] Over lunch, an intern was excitedly sharing how Justin Bieber was having a 'crashout'. Naturally, as a millennial, I thought: Nap? Car accident? Both at the same time? Turns out, the new phrase entering the Gen Z lexicon describes something as old as time – essentially, a full-blown meltdown after hitting your breaking point. Let's be real: Gen Zs aren't exactly having it easy. Many are graduating into a dismal job market, with artificial intelligence (AI) increasingly wiping out entry-level roles. Add on the constant stream of bad news with potential wars and global instability, and it's little surprise why some are crashing out. But what's new isn't the breakdowns – it's how Gen Zs are embracing them on TikTok. Just search for 'crashout', and you'll find everything from genuine hysterical outbursts to memes. A NEWSLETTER FOR YOU Friday, 3 pm Thrive Money, career and life hacks to help young adults stay ahead of the curve. Sign Up Sign Up The line between healthy vulnerability and unhealthy oversharing is thin, but what's clear is that Gen Zs are moving away from Instagram's curated perfection and leaning into messy, unfiltered authenticity. Why share it online? For some, it's catharsis. For others, it's about feeling less alone or trauma-bonding in a world that can seem isolating. Source: TikTok One viral video shows a content creator sobbing as she studies. It received mostly positive comments, with many relating to her experience. 'Same, girl, same,' wrote one user. 🩺 TikTok therapy? Gen Zs may be more open about talking about their mental health challenges, but putting your pain online can be a double-edged sword. Yes, knowing that others are going through the same thing helps one to feel seen. But on the other hand, some of these crashouts can end up seeming performative. And when breakdowns become a punchline, this could well trivialise important mental health issues. And here's something worrying – as crashouts become more 'mainstream', it's harder to tell when someone truly needs help. Watching such content can numb you to the reality that some behaviour signals real distress as lines are blurred. And no one is immune to crashouts, Gen Z or not. 'Small meltdowns are part of being human, especially in today's high-pressure world,' says Dr Ong Mian-Li, clinical psychologist and founder of Lightfull Psychology and Consulting. 'Crashing out is not weakness – it's your brain's way of waving a red flag to yourself.' According to him, signs that warrant closer attention include crashouts that increase in frequency or to the point where it affects sleep, relationships or your sense of self-worth. But as more Gen Zs egg on others to broadcast their crashouts on TikTok – labelling it 'empowerment' – that's when it can get problematic. Source: TikTok 'Letting it out can feel relieving in the moment, and is one short-term solution but it is not a long-term strategy,' says Dr Ong. 'If venting is the only tool in our toolbox, it can keep us stuck.' Healthy processing involves both release and repair: understanding why you're crashing, and what needs to change – be it taking care of ourselves or reaching out for help, he adds. Learning emotional regulation and having the wisdom to seek professional help might not go viral on social media, but in the long run, it's far more helpful than advice from strangers in the comments section. That said, it's perfectly okay to enjoy crashout content. Not everything on social media has to be that deep. Sometimes, watching someone else spiral over work stress or a bad day can feel oddly comforting or even funny as it's just the kind of dark humour we need to get by. What's important is knowing when it's just entertainment – and when it might be time to log off and check in with yourself. Source: TikTok 📋 Crashout checklist It's okay to fall apart – but it's also okay to ask for help before you get there. Dr Ong suggests these steps: Instead of shaming yourself, get curious. What do you really need right now? Sleep? Connection? Boundaries? Acknowledge what you're feeling: Name it without judgment. Behaviour: Do something to shift your state. Try journalling, going for a walk, making a meal or going out to get some sunlight. Community: Talk to someone you trust, be it a friend or a mental health professional. Don't wait till things are dire before reaching out. As Dr Ong puts it: 'The goal isn't to never crash… It's to build better roads around the potholes.' TL;DR
Straits Times
19 hours ago
- Straits Times
America's ‘Toupee Queen' uses TikTok to combat stigma of men's non-surgical hair restoration
Toupee artist Emily Cheney with her client Luke Williams at her studio in San Diego, California. SAN DIEGO, United States – As Mr Luke Williams looked in the mirror from his salon chair, he debated how short to cut the hair on the sides of his head. The top was already shaved in preparation for his new hairline. He told toupee artist Emily Cheney that he would defer to her expertise because she was the professional. ''Cause I'm the queen!' she exclaimed in response. Ms Cheney, 25, the self-crowned monarch of non-surgical hair restoration, has developed a strong brand thanks to the 1.4 million people who follow her on TikTok and Instagram, where her display name is Toupee Queen. In a small one-room salon tucked inside a building in downtown San Diego, California, Ms Cheney fits men – most of whom are in their late 20s – with toupees. Her work, which she has been documenting on social media for five years, routinely draws millions of views, with transformation videos that showcase the before and after of a toupee installation. Toupees, which have been rebranded by some as hair systems and are called cranial protheses by medical professionals, have become an unexpected fixture on social media, with both clients and stylists documenting the low-risk method of reinventing a hairline. 'I was struggling to come up with something using the term 'hair system',' Ms Cheney said about how she landed on her title. After some deliberating, the Toupee Queen was born, with a pink neon sign on her wall making it official. Top stories Swipe. Select. Stay informed. Asia Live: Thailand, Cambodia clash with jets, rockets, artillery in deadly border row Asia 9 Thai civilians killed as Thai and Cambodian militaries clash at disputed border: Reports Singapore Boy, 15, charged after being caught with vapes 5 times; ordered to stay 2 years in S'pore Boys' Home Business MOM probing work injury claim flagged by late Sumo Salad boss Jane Lee: MOS Dinesh Business Marina Bay Sands sees record second quarter with revenue up 37% to $1.77 billion Singapore What's key to a good life? Most Singapore residents choose emotional and mental well-being Singapore Over 2 years' jail for man who worked with wife to cheat her then boyfriend of $220k Asia South Korea police raid offices of BTS' agency Hybe over share probe Ms Cheney's social media success allowed her to move from Utah to San Diego in 2024, and it is how many clients find her. But she also sees her videos as a way of pushing back against the stigma that so many men face when they engage in anything cosmetic. 'When I decided that one of my goals was to normalise toupees and male cosmetics and femininity among men, I decided that the best way to do this is to use the real word,' Ms Cheney said of toupees. 'We can't keep changing the word and expect it to be normalised.' Mr Williams, 44, said his hairline began receding in his 20s. After evaluating his options, including a hair transplant, he decided two years ago that he would go with a toupee. This was, however, his first visit with Ms Cheney, whom his wife had found on Instagram. 'I didn't realise the technology was quite as good as it was, and they looked as real as they do,' Mr Williams said, adding that the fuller head of hair had given him a confidence boost, particularly when going to work or meeting new people. 'Ideally, I'd have nice natural hair. But if you don't have it, you've got to buy it.' Many of Ms Cheney's clients have a similar story. Mr Ben Sherry, 26, got his first toupee with Ms Cheney in May. He is open to more permanent solutions in the future, he said, but this is a 'Band-Aid' for now. 'The support that I've gotten has been great,' he added in reference to his TikTok videos documenting his experience. 'And then, obviously, my perception of myself has also improved tremendously.' Restoring confidence Male pattern baldness is a common condition that affects up to half of men by 50. Although the loss is physical, experts said the experience often influences how men feel. Professor of social psychology Viren Swami at Anglia Ruskin University, whose research focuses on the psychology of body image, said hair loss could affect confidence in interpersonal relationships and social relationships, which in turn might have a negative impact on mental health. 'Losing your hair doesn't necessarily mean you suddenly become depressed,' Prof Swami said. 'You might feel sad, you might feel like something's changed. But that then in turn has an impact on how you negotiate the world around you.' Mr Sherry said that before getting a toupee, his hair was the first thing he noticed when he looked in the mirror, and he hated it. 'It does take a toll,' he said. An elaborate process At the salon, Ms Cheney runs an efficient, one-woman operation. First, she meets potential clients through virtual consultations. If they decide to proceed, they come in for a two-hour application appointment, which includes shaving the top of their head and working to colour- and texture-match toupees to their natural hair. Known as the Toupee Queen online, Ms Emily Cheney wants to change the way people talk about men's hair loss. PHOTO: JOHN FRANCIS PETERS/NYTIMES This is followed by washing the toupee, applying it to the scalp with three to four coats of medical-grade glue, and a haircut and styling. The applications cost US$1,400 (S$1,790) for the initial installation – she provides a discount for those willing to be featured in her social media videos – and require daily maintenance, as well as a monthly glue refresh. A new toupee is recommended every two to three months, she said. The hair pieces come from Toupees by Argyle, a small business owned by Ms Cheney's mother Anndrea Argyle, who introduced her to the industry. That relationship allowed Ms Cheney to create custom 'blueprints' for her stock toupees. The number of people who do toupee applications is small, she said, and lacks community, partly because of the shame associated with wearing them. Her attempts to remove that shame, and to use the word toupee, have not always gone over well with her peers. 'I feel rejected by the industry,' Ms Cheney said. 'And I did feel a bit lonely, but the changes are happening.' She added: 'If the industry won't adjust with us, then we will build a new industry that is kinder and more happy to deal with change.' NYTIMES
