Well, we survived, which was a shock to nobody bar the 2% of Americans who believed the apocalypse comes before the end of this year, and that bloke who put a £10 bet on in the hope of winning £50,000 to spend in the burning remains of civilisation.
Another non-surprise came in the form of Bradley Wiggins’ Sports Personality of the Year win last Sunday. Not only did he win the Tour de France, he also tricked the French into loving him and turned out to be cool. Not modern. Cool.
The final and worst of all the completely expected things that have plagued the news this week, is that, once again, it’s Christmas. Which means, like every year for the past 2000 years, nobody will do anything exciting at all, because they’re too full, too drunk and too buried in discarded wrapping paper.
Still, nobody cares that there’s no news, because they’re not reading it. My favourite time to read the news is when I should really be doing something else. People get into work in the morning, and spend a good hour checking three or four different newspapers or websites. Well, how can you do you your work without being aware of the current global climate?
People don’t work at Christmas. Even if they’re supposed to be in the office, they’re certainly not working.
So, Christmas news is pointless. Nothing’s happening, nobody’s reading it.
At the time of writing, the top story on BBC News was that last Christmas, a man overdosed on sprouts.
Last Christmas. Not this year. Nothing’s happened this year that might interest the few of us who are still paying attention.
In fact, you’re not even reading this, are you? You’ve probably got all the festive Baileys flavours lined up on the table and you’re working your way through them all. You might leaf through the TV guide. Doctor Who looks like it might be good. Merlin finishes on Christmas Eve.
The Quality Street are looking at you. Someone’s already eaten all the Purple Ones, then left the wrappers in to taunt you. You’ll show them. The Green Triangles are all yours. Even if they are a bit sickly.
Merry Christmas, everyone. It might not be the most productive time of year, and you might end up eating and drinking a few things you wouldn’t even consider the rest of the year round, but you know what? It doesn’t matter: peace and goodwill to you all.
May your mince pies be deep filled and nutty. May your turkey be moist. I even want your football team to win, unless that team is Villa on the 23rd or Norwich on the 26th.
Merry Christmas: enjoy every minute.