Well here we are again.
The end of another year.
A time, if ever there was one, for reflection.
Which is something I like to do here on James Proclaims. Now, I’m aware I won’t be the only person doing this today but, lest we forget, I also did it at the end of 2015 and 2016, so I’m quite the trailblazer in many ways.
So how does one review a year like 2017? A cold hard analysis of the facts and figures? A zeitgeisty nod to some of the trends that have taken the world by storm? Perhaps nostalgic reminiscences of some of the more iconic moments?
Or should I just make a load of stuff up?
After all, if 2017 was anything, it was the year of fake news and alternative facts.
And frankly, I can’t really remember that much about what actually happened. Maybe it’s the champagne I’ve been drinking since 7am this morning…
Only joking – that’s the first alternative fact for you.
Obviously, I haven’t been drinking champagne since 7am this morning.
Champagne is way too expensive.
I’ve been drinking a reasonably-priced prosecco.
But back to the matter at hand.
Which is 2017. And more specifically what happened in it.
There was the Oscar fiasco of course. You remember, back in February. It’s pretty hard to forget a mistake of that magnitude. I refer, of course, to the moment when my mate Oscar accidently put unleaded petrol in his new diesel car. Ok, chances are that you don’t recall that particular incident. Because you’ve never met my friend Oscar. Because I just made him up. Fake News! Ha!
Of course, there has been some real news. British politics is in the worst state it’s been in since…er…2016?
On the one hand we’re got a prime minister who basically took her ‘strong and stable’ majority, a political mandate that just might have been enough to steady the ship to guide us through the choppy waters of Brexit, and decided to gamble it on the basis that no-one would ever vote for Jezza Corbyn. And she was sort of right. But not right enough to prevent her from losing her majority and having to form a government with some scary people at the cost of a billion pounds. Well played Theresa.
On the other hand, the only viable alternative to Mrs May celebrated losing like he’d just won the lottery. And went on Gogglebox. And headlined(?) Glastonbury. Which is obviously what we want and need from a prime minister.
Still things could be worse.
We could have an egotistical megalomaniac in charge. And to be fair there’s no point in trying to make humorous observations about all the stuff The Donald has been up to. That’s a man who satirizes himself whenever he opens his mouth. Or uses Social Media.
And it would be funny if it wasn’t all so terrifying.
But it does take a very special effort to make Kim Jong-Un seem like the sane one.
There’s obviously been some good news this year. Harry got engaged to Megan. I mean I hear it’s good news. I’m relatively indifferent to it, seeing as I won’t be getting an invite to the wedding. But it would take a particularly churlish person to describe the forthcoming nuptials as bad news.
Although Suits won’t be the same.
On a personal note, 2017 was very much a year for me. It began for me on the 1st January, and it’ll end today. I was definitely awake on most, if not all, of the 365 days it took to get to this point.
I’m not sure if it’s been a particularly good year or a particularly bad one really.
All in all, it’s mostly been a bit covfefe…