The Poké-profiles: Mr. Mime

Find a cork for your posterior, my brethren! This guy is the epitome of horrifying nastiness.

Mr. Mime, psychic type, endures from the inaugural generation of ‘mon. He has been the harbinger of bed-wetting children for a good couple of decades, primarily due to his don’t take candy from that guy, little Jimmy creep-tastic gesticulations. A palpable miasma of wrongness follows this fellow like a musty smell. You just know his days are spent encroaching on unsuspecting people meandering sans company down country lanes. Whereupon, he coerces them into returning to his lair and has his deviant way with them.

This is actual knowledge-truth, as an inebriated hobo I once met in an alley that stank of urine told me so (to wit: he bellowed it in my face as he clung steadfastly to my lapels. Nonethless, I’m inclined to believe it). Clowns, as everybody ever knows, are disturbing dudes. Anybody that has beheld The Nightmare Before Christmas, and the fanged fiend therein, can surely attest to this. In summation, coulrophobia combines with disconcerting miming antics to bear this monstrosity; a beast that should be locked in an underground prison guarded by savagely belligerent chihuahuas that shoot bullets from their eyeballs.

Facetiousness aside, Mr. Mime demonstrates all the combat prowess of a comatose earthworm. Its defences are turdtacular, and attacks/special attacks are almost as potent as poking your foe in the groin with a cocktail stick. Almost. As such, there would appear to be precious little utility for the miming maestro in battle. Its primary function is performing novelty shenanigans via its myriad of supporting moves. Baton Pass, Barrier, Light Screen and suchlike can be utilised by canny players to quasi-effective ends.

Most pertinently, though, Mr. Mime personifies weirdness on a monumental scale. Would you bring this dude home to meet your mother? You would not. It would indubitably transform, in an IT-esque fashion, and eat her in the face.