I predict a diet

Let's get politics out of the way first. On the world stage, it's highly likely that a couple of old boys will slug it out as representatives of an increasingly polarized US population some of whom seem to think that Empathy is the name of a celebrity perfume. In Spain, the leader of the right-wing PP party Alberto Nuñez Feijóo has brought a level playing field to traditional rivalries by having a last name that is as difficult to pronounce as the title of the left-wing party, the PSOE. This is the real reason most foreign residents won't be allowed to vote in the national elections - by the time they've mastered the pronunciation of both, the winner's four-year term will be up anyway.

In film, following the inexplicable success of Barbie in 2023, bandwagon-jumping film production companies will make Action Man! - a story about a bloke in army fatigues with 'eagle eyes' that swivel like those of a demented lunatic. Or they might just re-release Rambo. There may also be one or two films without Benedict Cumberbatch in them, but this possibility is still being debated by some fat men with cigars.

The world of sport will see the continued rise of Luke Littler, the sixteen-year-old darts player who has just reached the final of the world championship and may well have won it by the time you read this. He will be grilled mercilessly about the secret of his success during interminable interviews before everyone decides that it must simply be a question of his diet which is, apparently, a tailor-made daily combination of formula plus and Farley's rusks. In Spanish football, anyone with any sense will be cheering on second-placed Girona as they bid to do a Leicester City and topple the tedious monopoly of Real Madrid and Barcelona. "Come on you red and whites with blue trims!" will be the chant of choice, although finding a catchy tune might prove taxing.

On a local level, the continued exponential surge in tourism in Malaga city centre will mean that the only Malagueño left in town by the end of the year will be that nice bloke with glasses who sells newspapers from a doorway on the city's main street, Calle Larios. He'll be inundated by requests from pale northern Europeans to share a jug of sangria (which I've never once seen any Spanish person drink, by the way) so they can regale their friends with tales of their "authentic experience" when they get back home. He'll say no, thank you, and ask if they want to buy a Spanish newspaper. They, ironically, will say no, thank you.

So, there you have it - 2024 in a nutty shell. Happy New Year, everyone!