Well, 2018 certainly pinged by like the clappers, didn't it? It doesn't seem a minute since I was proudly and steadfastly ignoring the January sales, which actually seemed to go on until sometime in April.
So, what's in store for 2019? Here are a few predictions.
The newspapers will continue to fill their pages with unfathomable Brexit discourse, causing readers to smoke uncontrollably from the ears until their cerebral cortex implodes at which point they might need to turn to the sports section. Here they may find that Jose Mourinho has become manager of their favourite team causing them to smoke uncontrollably from the ears until ... oh, you know the rest.
On social media, people whose lives have been wholly inconsequential hitherto, will continue to feel empowered by having their views 'liked' by their mother and their best friend and proceed, as has become the norm, to label anyone who doesn't agree with them an idiot. These are presumably the same people who, when asked in a survey what empathy was, said they weren't sure but thought it might be the name of Beyonce's new perfume.
President Putin will continue to do whatever the hell he pleases and then say "It wasn't me, Miss" while all other political leaders stare at their shoes and twist the bottom corner of their shirts with both hands.
In Spain, anti-corruption investigators will, as usual, be keeling over from exhaustion on a regular basis until they themselves are investigated by anti anti anti anti corruption officers who may or may not find that they are all related to each other having all been given the job by a mysterious brother-in-law figure. Apparently he's a man who knew the postman of the head honcho's sister's dog walker a long time ago. One person will, however, be appointed to a job somewhere having actually passed through the official channels but will be sacked the following day when Paco in accounts, the boss's son-in-law, realises that his six-year-old nephew could do with the work.
The world of entertainment will see animated versions of every book ever written while those charged with coming up with new and original storylines will slowly waste away in a Hollywood office building somewhere, sucking on the ends of their pencils, occasionally shouting "I've got it!" before slumping back in their chairs, muttering "No, no, it's been done."
In music, an enterprising entrepreneur will gather together all of the world's unsold CDs and build from them a series of high rise offices for Spotify.
Meanwhile, all readers of this paper will be blessed with good health and fine fortune. Happy New Year to one and all.