I'm proud of the BBC

As seems to happen with depressingly increasing regularity, the knives are once more out for the BBC, amid allegations of news bias, poor editorial judgment and hidden agendas. That these knives are mostly being wielded by those with an axe to grind or a score to settle should surprise no-one, but still deserves greater scrutiny.

This is ostensibly a comedy song from Mitch Benn and is at least fifteen years old, so could do with updating. The sentiment, however, remains spot on. We'll miss it when it's gone, you know?

One life, live it well

As if I didn't love Professor Alice Roberts enough already...

That's good, isn't it? I think I could describe myself as humanist, these days

And I suppose this is a fitting song to accompany the above:

For anyone wondering, the next Cover Charge is coming soon.

Abject fAIlure

First off, let me promise to you that this is the last post I'll write about AI in 2025. I've got a longer-term AI-related project on the go, but the outcome of that, if indeed there is any kind of outcome, won't be known until May next year. So, honestly, this is the last post on AI for a good while, which is good because, after all...

Keep seeing this pinging round the internet with the creator unacknowledged. Anyone know who did it? Oh God please let it be AI-generated.

[image or embed]

— Ian Martin (@ianmartin.bsky.social) March 21, 2025 at 4:45 PM

With those wise words ringing in our collective ear, cast your mind back to last month when I wrote about Suno, the scary AI music generation platform. And for latecomers, that's not an app for generating scary music, minor keys and Psycho-strings, no, no - Suno is scary because of how quickly and easily it generates anodyne, MOR pap, the sort that fills supermarkets aisles and hold-please phone lines and mid-afternoon commercial radio stations and song contests and more. It's a technological software marvel, no doubt about that, but it's also somewhat worrying, to say the least.

The "success" of my little Sunovision Song Contest last month did make me wonder though. Could Suno create a good song? What if it was fed decent lyrics, rather than merely prompted with a theme to write its own? And what if the music prompt was specifically targeted, with a predetermined end-result in mind?

You can already tell where I'm heading with this, can't you?

A quick copy and paste supplied the lyrics to one of my favourite songs, by one of my favourite bands. I added prompt keywords to Suno for the music - "british accent, male vocal, mod, revival, new wave, beatles-inspired bassline, strong beats, power pop, open chords, electric guitar, bass, drums, weller, foxton, buckler" - and clicked the ironically labelled "Create" button, and this... there's no other word for it, this abomination is what it came up with. Ladies and gentlemen, with profound apologies, I present Thin As Thieves by The Conserve. Give it until the first chorus, at least.

The Conserve · Thin As Thieves

I think we can all agree that is just appallingly, abysmally awful - a festering turd of a pseudo-song. Unadulterated, unmitigated crap, and you are, of course, most welcome to hate me for inflicting it on you. Okay, you might justifiably question my prompting skills, but that's not the real problem here, is it? Either way, I won't do it again.

To redeem myself, here's the untouchable source material, from 1979's almost-a-concept-album Setting Sons - this is a proper song, and a damn good one at that. Think of it as an aural sorbet, after the travesty above. AI is undoubtedly getting more sophisticated at an alarming rate but for now, at least, there's no substitute for fire and skill.

And some final thoughts from a long-time fan of this very blog:

Sunovision results

So Austria's JJ, a counter-tenor at the Vienna State Opera no less, pipped Israel at last knockings to win Eurovision, courtesy of a massive public vote share. The awkwardness of an Israel win in the current geopolitical climate was thus avoided, and JJ has since returned to Austria to a hero's welcome. The UK did reasonably well in the judges' vote but again got absolutely nothing from the public, and finished 19th out of 26. My hat remains uneaten.

More importantly though, there was a winner in the Sunovision Song Contest. This was also close, with the win being secured by the last vote. Without further ado, I can reveal the results were as follows:

6th. Alone Together by The Verdant Sigil, representing Virelia
5th. Lonely Shadows by L'Orée d'Or, representing Elystène
4th. In the Quiet of the Night by Solène Morra, representing Caldovaria
3rd. Terminverzug by Frostwake, representing Drevona
2nd. Symphony of Collapse by Elias Vergrave, representing Ormandia
1st. Dancing Kitty by Silver Vatra, representing Thesskora

What does this tell us? Well, the most bland, most anodyne, most MOR pap occupied the bottom two places. First and second were close, and a good margin ahead of third (though Frostwake's heaviness won them a lot of votes). As for those top two, well, Symphony of Collapse is the one I personally like most, musically and lyrically ... but Dancing Kitty is about a dancing cat, and is slightly earwormy, so what's the world to do?

Conclusions? AI is scary and Eurovision is largely pap. There. I'm glad it took two blog posts to work that out.

Let's close with a real song by a real band, to cleanse the palate. The Rat by The Walkmen came on the radio at the weekend, and I was quietly delighted to see Amusements Minor enjoying it as much as me. "Who's this?", he asked. A song that's older than he is, still gaining his attention, and later added to his Spotify playlist. Dancing Kitty won't be doing that in twenty years' time.

Douze points for The Walkmen from me.

The Sunovision Song Contest

Does anyone actually care about Eurovision anymore, in any way that doesn't involve irony or drinking games? Turns out that none of the Amusemenents clan had even heard the UK's entry in the build-up to this year's competition, so some deliberate YouTubing took us to What The Hell Just Happened? by Remember Monday. For my money, it's pretty terrible, features one of the worst first lines in pop music history ("Someone lost a shoe"), and can't seem to decide which of three different types of song it wants to be. If it's in the top half of the table at the close of Eurovision proceedings... well, I don't wear a hat but if I did I'd be seasoning it and finding some cutlery.

But anyway, you've read the title of this post and are possibly wondering what the Sunovision Song Contest is? Let me explain.

Last Sunday night I sat alone, nursing a lovely pint, in an unfamiliar pub in an unfamiliar small market town. At the next table, a loud woman with a dog was pontificating about all manner of things, to the rapt attention of three very different men, all of whom seemed to be falling over themselves to pay atttention to her every word, apparently for the sole reason that she was borderline visually attractive. I may be oversimplifying but that's how it seemed to me, over the rim of my glasses. And trust me, I didn't want to listen in, but couldn't help it as she was quite loud in a otherwise quiet pub. After listening to how she would redesign one of the bloke's website for 50 grand, and how her dog was barking at another dog, she finally got onto Suno. "Have you heard of Suno?" she asked her three devotees, "It's incredible, look." And then she proceeded to demonstrate the Suno AI tool that enables users to provide a text prompt and have a song spat back at them. Yep. A fully fledged, multi-instrument, verse/chorus/middle eight/break/fade song with original lyrics, churned out by Suno's AI engine in a matter of seconds. Honestly, it took longer to type the prompt than it took Suno to generate the song... a song that borderline woman proceeded to play loudly from her phone, shattering the peace of the pub even more than her voice and barking dog already had.

God, I sound like a cantankerous old sod, don't I?

Of course, the acolytes all cooed, "That's amazing," or similar. And in a way, it is. Technically, as a programming and computing achievement, it is astonishing, even. But musically? Borderline woman's Suno-song was crap. Anodyne, generic, pointless, meaningless, forgettable... just awful.

And then it occurred to me, after listening to the UK's Eurovision entry yesterday and accidentally sitting through a few minutes of one of the Eurovision semi-finals, that all those words could probably be applied to a lot of the songs that will get churned out in Basel on Saturday night too. And an idea formed.

So here we have the inaugural Sunovision Song Contest. Yes, I used Suno to create the songs, and in keeping with that I used ChatGPT to create fictional countries and their representative artists. But listen up! You have to cast your vote at the end, so strap in and let's take this semi-seriously...

First up, representing Elystène, is L'Orée d'Or ("The Golden Edge") and their track Lonely Shadows. The island nation of Elystène is known for its high art, fashion, and diplomacy, apparently. L'Orée d'Or describe their style as dream power pop, and are known for their ethereal soundscapes, poetic lyrics, and avant-garde fashion.

L'Orée d'Or · Lonely Shadows

Next up is Symphony of Collapse by Elias Vergrave, representing Ormandia. Elias is classically trained, would you believe? Of course you would, he's from Ormandia after all, a central European duchy with misty hills, medieval castles, and a strong literary culture.

Elias Vergrave · Symphony of Collapse

Getting exciting now, isn't it? Silver Vatra describe themselves as politically charged dance punks mixing traditional sounds with modern beats. No surprise as they're representing Thesskora, a Balkan state with a turbulent history and rich musical tradition. But there's no rebellion in Dancing Kitty, an unabashed Europop anthem!

Silver Vatra · Dancing Kitty

The Verdant Sigil are from Virelia, and are known for blending traditional forest instruments with modern rock, evoking the mysticism of Virelia’s deep woods and mountain temples. Not that you'd know it from their entry, the cryptic power ballad Alone Together.

The Verdant Sigil · Alone Together

Next up, the beautiful Solène Morra, representing the warm, Mediterranean nation of Caldovaria, where Roman ruins and Moorish architecture mix. Solène is a sultry and dynamic solo artist who blends classic Mediterranean rhythms with contemporary pop and Latin guitar in her entry, In the Quiet of the Night.

Solène Morra · In the Quiet of the Night

And finally, the bookies' favourite, Frostwake, representing Drevona, a northern land of fjords and pine forests, with a strong seafaring and folklore heritage. Frostwake combine droning harmonies with ancient Drevonan runic chants and heavy instrumentation on their lively entry, Terminverzug.

Frostwake · Terminverzug

So bienvenue and wilkommen, members of the Blogosphere jury, now it's down to you. Who gets your douze points? And who gets the dreaded nul points? You must give every song a score, and you can only give each score value once. Vote now!

As ever, I'm playing with all the AI stuff so you don't have to. And let's be clear, the six tracks produced here are all pretty awful by any objective measure. Laughably so, in places. But really, are they that much worse than some of the pap that will get served up at Eurovision in Basel? Possibly not. And here's the other thing. All the AI work, the Suno track generation, the Chat GPT fictional countries, bands and bios, took less than ten minutes all told. Writing this post took me nearly an hour, what with uploading MP3s to Soundcloud, drafting my devastating prose, formatting it all and pressing "Publish". And therein lies the rub. If you want originality and quality, you might be prepared to wait (and pay for) carbon-based creatives. But increasingly customers are just going to want something cheap and quick. AI is coming for us.

Come back soon to see which track won Sunovision 2025, and what prompt I used to create it...

Gone but not forgotten

I had cause to reach out to a former colleague and old friend this afternoon. I hadn't seen him in the flesh for more than twenty years, but we'd stayed in touch on and off, not least because of our shared interest in creative writing. We proof-read and critiqued each other's work, sometimes. Anyway, I hadn't heard from him since the summer of 2022 when, in reply to an email I'd sent him about blog radio silence, he mentioned that he wasn't writing and wasn't having the greatest year either. To my shame and regret, I didn't follow up on that.

When I struggled to get in touch with him today, I headed over to his Flickr stream - photography was always his most prolific outlet - and found that whilst his account is still there, it's now labelled "In Memoriam".

Now he was a doggedly private person, whose online presence was kept to the minimum necessary to pursue his interests, so it was no surprise that Googling turned up no details of his demise. Only by searching probate records was I able to discover that he'd died in December 2022, just six months after our last email conversation. So I don't know the circumstances of his death, although I have ideas that I won't go into here.

What I will say is that there was a time, a quarter of a century ago, when I considered him a good friend, an outsider-ally in the corporate circus we briefly inhabited. Since we both left that place, he grew into a better writer of fiction than I will ever be, and an accomplished wildlife and astronomy photographer. He also had an excellent, dark sense of humour, though he had his share of demons too. Most of all, he was always a thoroughly decent bloke.

There was a fair degree of overlap in our musical Venn diagram - something else to bond over - but a key difference was that he considered The Rolling Stones to be the greatest band ever to have walked the planet. Now I don't mind them at all, but he knew their work inside out and revered them, in the same way that I laud The Jam or Gene. So it seems only appropriate to belatedly mark my friend's sad passing with something by Mick and the lads. From Let It Bleed, this is Monkey Man.

Rest in peace, Mark.

Was That The Year That Was? 2024

Disclaimer: this post was written in December 2023, and scheduled for future posting. Its contents may no longer be accurate or appropriate.

This would normally be the fourteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others) ... but here's the thing. As you'll remember from this, I've been on a blogging sabbatical, and every post you've read here in 2024 was actually written and scheduled during December of last year. So how can I recap the year, twelve months in advance?

Well, I can't, obviously. Instead, as 2023 draws to a close (This might get confusing - Ed.), I'm going to write about the things I'm maybe looking forward to for 2024 and then, when this actually gets published in twelve months time, maybe I'll drop into my own comments section and update with how reality compared with hope. Because there's always hope, right? Even for this desperate blog...

So enough prevarication - let's get the crystal ball out.

Best album?

Well, if the advance singles are anything to go by (especially Night of the Hunter), then the forthcoming Libertines album All Quiet On The Eastern Esplanade might be alright, and certainly better than the health of its chief protagonists might have led us to hope. What else? Well, by the law of averages Paul Weller will probably have a new album at some point in the year, that I will inevitably buy and find something to like on. And this is in hope rather than expectation but I wouldn't mind another solo album from Graham Coxon, but I might be pissing in the wind on that score. Who knows?

Best song?

This looking forward lark is hard. Most of the new songs that have featured on this blog in recent years have been serendipitous finds, and how do you predict that? So I'm going to take an absolute punt and say that my best song of 2024 will be something I haven't heard even a snippet of yet, by some band that is completely new to me, and will probably be on Bandcamp. I know, brilliant insight, eh? Bet you're glad to be reading this...

Best gig?

Well, this might be a little easier to look forward to, because I've already started booking tickets and planning trips. For example, I already know that I will be seeing The Smyths and From The Jam, and I can confidently state that I will enjoy both very much. I hope to see Sea Power too, touring the anniversary of Do You Like Rock Music? (which is on the Every Home Should Have One masterlist, lest we forget), although the nearest they come to me is on Valentine's day, so that might prove challenging, let's say. There's a chance I may also get to the Suede and Manics double-header tour, which is bound to be something, plus I note Pixies are touring briefly, playing Bossanova and Trompe le Monde in full. Plus hopefully there will also be some festival action, either Latitude (with Duran Duran headlining one day, no less) or CarFest. So there's lots of potential here, basically. More good gigs to go to than I can realistically afford. And I haven't even mentioned the annual pilgrimage to see The Wedding Present, which is bound to happen at some point...

Best book?

Another one that's hard to predict. I know that Stephen King has a new collection of short stories coming out in May, because I've already pre-ordered You Like It Darker. And I already know that I will like most if not all of it, because I always do - even when he's not firing on all cylinders King keeps the pages turning like few other authors do for me. I'd also love it if there was also something new from the simply wonderful Sadie Jones and the criminally underrated Michelle Paver, because I love their respective bodies of work. It might be a bit soon after Amy & Lan for Sadie, but there hasn't been any new adult fiction from Michelle since Wakenhyrst, so fingers crossed there...

Best film?

I'm going to cheat a bit here because Wonka has just come out at the time of writing, but I haven't seen it yet. Based on trailers and the fact that the team behind it gave us the Paddington movies, I'm not really going out on much of a limb here when I predict it will be quite good. But what else? Well, novelist-turned-director Alex Garland's new film Civil War looks interesting (and hopefully not prescient), and stuntman-turned-director David Leitch is bringing The Fall Guy to the big screen, hopefully without dumping on our childhood memories (I'd like a Lee Majors cameo please, David). Amy Winehouse biopic Back to Black will either be terrible or excellent, as will Beverley Hills Cop: Axel F (yes, really). Actually, 2024 looks like being the peak year of sequels, most of which, on paper, leave you scratching your head and wondering "why?" and "please don't be terrible", to whit: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, Beetlejuice 2 (only 30 years too late), Joker: Folie a Deux, Gladiator 2 (yep, really), and an as yet untitled Alien franchise movie. Leave the horse alone, why don't you, it's dead already... And director Richard Eggers is remaking Nosferatu for 2024 ... really, what could go wrong? Oh, and spoiler alert from December 2023 - I don't actually get to the cinema very much any more, so I probably won't even see half of these. Boo.

Best television?

Well, I'm going to need something new to fill the holes in my televisual life left by Ghosts and, since I've just given up my Disney+ subscription because of ridiculous price hikes, Only Murders In The Building. I don't yet know what that something will be. The final series of Stranger Things is coming, and had better arrive in 2024, else the young cast will all be too grown to pass for teenagers. The second series of Wednesday is coming too - so far, so Netflix. In the interests of balance, apparently Blade Runner 2099 is coming to the small screen courtesy of Amazon Prime, with Ridley Scott involved, so hopefully that will be good. Oh, and there's a live action version of Avatar: The Last Airbender coming too (Netflix again) that will be a must-watch for Amusements Minor (and, by extension, me), so hopefully that is better than the famously awful film adaptation from 2010. On terrestrial TV (do people still say that?), the BBC brings us series two of The Tourist, which I plan to watch, and the intriguing premise of Nightsleeper, a six-part real-time thriller set on a sleeper train from Glasgow to London. I have high hopes for that.

Best sport?

Well, I'm going to go out on another limb here and predict that the best sport of the year will also, in a way, be the worst, as England threaten to win the Euros but ultimately fall agonisingly short, probably on penalties. Staying with football, I'm hoping for a Liverpool title in the Premier League, but won't mind if it's Arsenal, not least because my old man's a Gooner. Moving down the pyramid, I'm also hoping that Norwich City will somehow (and despite themselves) sneak into the play-offs, but if so they'll undoubtedly revert to form and miss out, whilst watching their noisy neighbours from down the road get promoted as champions. Sigh. In other sport, I hope that Ronnie O'Sullivan prevails at the snooker world championships in May, to stand alone on eight titles in the modern era. And I'm praying for some kind of comeback from Emma Raducanu - such talent, such promise, hopefully to re-emerge in 2024. And of course it's an Olympic year, so I'm hoping that Katarina Johnson-Thompson scoops the heptathlon gold her career so richly deserves. Oh, and is one more title for Lewis Hamilton too much to ask? Probably, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

Person of the year?

Well, it's Keir Starmer, hopefully. Since the next general election must take place on or before the 28th of January 2025 at the very latest, I really need Keir to have a good year, because we need the Tories out more than ever. I know Starmer is not perfect, occasionally misses open goals, and perhaps lacks some charisma ... but I also think he is, at a fundamental level, a decent man, and that's what we need right now. So here's to a year of no gaffes, no own goals and no scandal, a year of side-stepping the offensives the right-wing press will inevitably launch against him, a year of Labour by-election victories and Conservative implosion, and a year that ultimately culminates in a landslide electoral triumph, with a compassionate party of the people back in government, where they remain for a generation. Fingers crossed. Meanwhile, internationally, I'm also desperately hoping Joe Biden has a good year because otherwise...

Tool of the year?

As I type this post, at the tail-end of 2023, I have an awful and inescapable fear that repugnant man-child and morality-vacuum Orange Don will somehow evade all attempts to rein him in, whether in the courts or in the Republican party, and that not only will he contest the 2024 presidential election as a free man but that he will also win it. It chills my heart to think of him back in power, but I can see it happening, I really can. I just pray that in the twelve months that elapse between me writing this and you reading it, something legal, conclusive and incontrovertilbe happens to prevent him: either he is convicted of something, or the Republican party realise they don't have to remain in his thrall, or the Democrats find a way to beat him, or the US electorate come to their senses. I can't think of too many things more dangerous for the world than a stupid, immoral, entitled person with ultimate power but little accountability and even less care. It is a hideous, but very real, prospect for us all.

Well, that's the future foretold. Hardly a cheery note to end on, but really, what else did you expect from me? I wonder what you'll make of all this in December '24? Blimey, I wonder what I'll even make of it...

Happiness remains elusive

Disclaimer: this post was written in December 2023, and scheduled for future posting. Its contents may no longer be accurate or appropriate.

Way back in 2013, when I was clearly short of things to blog about, I wrote twice (here and here) about Alex Quick's book 102 Free Things To Do - inspiring ideas for a better life and how I intended to try the suggestions therein to see if life did indeed get better. At the last update, in December 2017, I identified 43 that I had done (green), three that I would never do (red)...and the other 56 were up for grabs. Anyway, here's an update, as at December 2023 - newly done are bold (with explanatory notes in italics):

Go out and look at the stars Keep a diary - but only one sentence a day Meter your energy use with a smart meter (but I quickly got bored of doing so) Give up your car Get up earlier Sketch your relatives - it's better than photos Treasure your precious human body Go on an archeological dig Write a letter to your future self Don't confuse affluence with well-being Memorise a poem Ask a child for advice Take part in a police line-up Give up craving for recognition (and be admired for it) Notice when things have improved Go on holiday without leaving your bedroom Practice random acts of kindness (and, if time permits, senseless acts of beauty) Climb a mountain Turn your house into a restaurant Start a film society Remember that making mistakes is part of being human See the sun rise and set on a single summer's day Get fit without joining a gym (I got in great shape for LEJOG in 2021 ... but am currently back in awful shape) Sit still until you see wildlife emerge Contact a friend you haven't spoken to for years Go cloud-spotting Learn to meditate Volunteer for something Spend a day and night in a forest Cherish older people Reconsider your career Enlarge your comfort zone Achieve your ideal weight (as above, this was when training for LEJOG ... am overweight again now) Learn how to talk to strangers in public Visit Project Gutenberg Gather a meal from the wild Learn another language (if Japanese on Duolingo counts) Invent a language Pretend you are a valet for humanity Go busking Start a book in which to record things that have really, really made you laugh Go somewhere outdoors that is very silent Make Christmas presents for your whole family one year Give something up Cheer up lonely men in public places Swap your CDs Adopt or invent a personal motto Support your local eccentric Become a freegan Swim in the sea Get to know your neighbours

Act without expecting anything back Deliver meals on wheels (sort of, and a one-off) Look for glue Send a message in a bottle Have an eco-friendly bonfire Attempt a world record Walk in the rain Give away free trees Do a sponsored parachute/bungee jump (I used to think this was still on the cards, but now accept my stomach for such lunacy has gone) Perform Cycle 100 miles in a day Serenade someone Reflect on something you're grateful for Cook and eat a nine-course meal Write a love letter Create a lair Notice beauty Let go of emotional pain Write down your parents' or grandparents' stories Look at your day-to-day concerns from the point of view of five years from now Fan the flames of desire Contemplate imperfection and impermanence as forms of beauty (after a conversation with a writer friend) Join a gardening scheme where only your labour is required Laugh in the face of death Train your memory Accept the full catastrophe Write the first sentence of a novel Cherish solitude (Sister Wendy does) (realised I always have) Get your friends to sponsor you to go to Spain and celebrate La Tomatina Embarrass your children/teenagers (sadly and more frequently) Work a room Confront people politely Learn a trick Be a representative of your country, in your country Try lucid dreaming Come to terms with ageing Be a bookcrosser Teach a child something fun Make your gratitude less perfunctory Give away your superfluous possessions Grow huge sunflowers Smile Go bell-ringing Form a debating club Take your shoes off and walk in the dew on a sunny morning Dress up Give up your TV Be 'Lord' for a day Write fewer emails and more letters Don't expect that things will be different in Tenerife Find out what's happening near you and join in

So, now 51 done, halfway there... but also back up to four nevers. So am I happier?

No, of course not. I'm still the same cantankerous, miserable old sod I've always been. Important to remember, though, that not being happier isn't the same as being sadder, or even sad. Though of course I am that too, at times. Who knows, by the time this post goes live in May, perhaps I'll have ticked off a few more on the list and reached nirvana ... but don't hold your breath.

Meanwhile ... are you happy? What makes that so? Maybe I'll build your answers into my own, real-world "how to be happier" list some time. Until then, here's the obvious brilliant song from the much-missed Mark Hollis and Talk Talk:

That Was The Year That Was: 2023

This is the thirteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others); I nearly didn't bother, on the grounds that I consume so little new material, and no-one cares about my opinion. So I was going to give it a swerve...

...but then had an attackers of blogger's guilt. So here we are ... if "here" is realising that what I "consume" these days is, more than ever, driven by my notional roles of father and partner than by my own individual, personal taste. Especially what I watch, as will become apparent.

Aside from updating twelfth to thirteenth, those opening paragraphs are an exact copy'n'paste of last year's post. Which probably tells you all you need to know about my enthusiasm for this end of year recap. Basically, I have had very few highlights in my cultural life this year, so what to write? But enough prevarication; let's crack on with this load of old balls and see how little new stuff I've tried this year (and that line is also lifted from last year).

Best album

Turns out I've bought very few original albums this year. Lots of compilations, best ofs and retrospectives, but not many of all new material. Consequently Ballad of Darren by Blur wins almost by default, whereas it perhaps wouldn't have won in other years. Don't get me wrong, it is good, borderline great. But it probably isn't essential. If I was Q magazine (remember that?) it would garner a four star review, not five. That said, it does reward repeated listens, and is definitely worth your time, as long as you're not still expecting Popscene.

Best song

I've got a bit more to say here, at least. What about Bending Hectic by The Smile for starters? Then there's The Last Rotation of Earth by BC Camplight, which has been living rent-free in my head since I heard it, and I absolutely love the brilliance of Expert in a Dying Field by The Beths. In other years The Beths would have prevailed, but this year saw Dublin's Fontaines DC cover Nick Drake's Cello Song, and I'm not sure a new song has hit me more so far this decade. I called it as early as March, and this remains my song of a year. A worthy winner - play it loud!

Best gig

It's been another quiet year, gig-wise. There have been the usual suspects, of course: The Wedding Present (for the last time with Mel on bass), From The Jam (with excellent company from my oldest friends), The Smyths (as close as you're going to get without a time machine) - all reliably excellent, of course. Sleeper nearly stole in and took the crown this year, for their wonderful intimate acoustic gig at the Arts Centre, though I accept my judgement may be coloured by still being smitten with Louise (obligatory sigh) after all these years. But it's a tie between Pulp, who were simply brilliant at Latitude (and, crucially, shared with the rest of the Amusements clan) and Suede, who were far better than anyone has any right to expect after thirty years. So yes, another bunch of old people from my youth, basically.

Best book

I've read a few books this year, but not many of them are new for 2023. In fact, I think crime procedural Holly by Stephen King is the only book published this year that I've read so far. So that ought to win but it won't, good though it was. I also got a surprising amount out of Before & Laughter by Jimmy Carr; I'm not his biggest fan but there are genuine nuggets of life advice to he had here, delivered in an accessible and funny manner. However, the nod this year must go to The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson, even though the subject matter - climate catastrophe - meant that I had to read it in small doses, over the course of a year, for my own mental health. The first chapter in particular hits as hard as any opening I think I've ever read.

Best film

I am once more somewhat embarrassed by the paucity of new films I've been to see this year, partly because Amusements Minor is now at an age when he wants to go to the cinema with his mates instead of me. That said, I very much enjoyed Spielberg autobiog The Fabelmans at the start of the year. Barbie pleasantly surprised me, and I got a lot out of Oppenheimer too. However, the best film I've sat amongst spilled popcorn for this year, by a short nose from Señor Spielbergo and Oppenheimer, is Justine Triet's Anatomy of a Fall. I don't know if it's that foreign language films make you work harder, and therefore appreciate what you get out of them more, or whether this really is a great film but, whatever, it kept me very focused for all of its two and a half hours, plus stimluated plenty of discussion with Mrs Amusements afterwards.

Best television

Even if not up to the dazzling standards of earlier series, Ghosts has continued to be a joy - there's a Christmas Day finale coming too, so get your Button House fix whilst you still can, would be my advice. In terms of documentaries, Louis Theroux's recent BBC1 interview with Pete Doherty was a captivating watch, for fans of both, and the Ronnie O'Sullivan behind-the-scenes film The Edge of Everything on Amazon Prime was a real eye-opener - I defy anyone not to be moved at the end at Ronnie's emotion. Definitely worth a watch. However, my TV choice this year is Only Murders In The Building on Disney+; no other show has given me as much satisfaction and all manner of laughs, from knowing "that's clever" chuckles to tea-spurting laugh out loud roars. Steve Martin is as good as he has ever been, his chemistry with Martin Short elevates their every shared scene, and Selena Gomez is a revelation. Very highly recommended indeed.

Best sport

In a year that has been pretty mundane in terms of sport, it is hard to look beyond the superbly victorious European Ryder Cup team, but I'm going to because once more the Lionesses gave us all something to get excited about; yes, they fell at the final hurdle against Spain, but that was still as close as England have come to winning a World Cup in my lifetime. And sure, they've just missed out on Nations League qualification by the most heartbreaking of slender margins, but let's not forget they did beat Brazil to win the Finalissima at the start of the year too. Aside from that, I must also mention Katie Boulter, who was next level at the recent Billie Jean Cup qualifier against Sweden and continues to look our best hope on court, at least until Emma Raducanu can get herself back on track.

Person of the year

Well, it's Chris Packham, obviously. Quite apart from his televisual impact on the natural world, through Springwatch, Autumnwatch and this year's outstanding five-parter Earth, he also gave us the illuminating documentary Inside Our Autistic Minds, asked difficult questions in Is It Time To Break The Law? and even found time to pop up on Celebrity Gogglebox for Stand Up To Cancer, alongside his step-daughter Megan McCubbin. And all the while, he was fighting an exhaustive and intrusive legal battle against Country Squire Magazine for defamation - he stood up to be counted on this, and won, at some personal if not financial cost. That he continues to be a publicly active activist, despite arson attacks on his property and having dead badgers nailed to his front gate, tells you all you need to know about the man. The natural heir to Attenborough, and there's no higher praise than that in my book.

Tool of the year

I need a bigger toolbox ... although most of last year's candidates are still here. Johnson, Sunak, Patel, Braverman ("As thick as pig-shit, basically" - Mark Watson), Rees-Mogg, Shapps, Hancock, Dorries, Cleverly (a new entry, and proof of all the flaws in nominative determinism). We need shot of them all from public life, from public service, because they do us all a dis-service, to say the least. Further afield? Man-child Putin, throwing missiles and young Russians onto the bonfire of his own vanity, the seemingly inevitable comeback from Trump, the dollar-enabled kid-in-a-candy-store that is Elon Musk, the batrachoidal puddle of bigotry that is Farage and all those who conspire to keep him in the news, the perma-tanned barrel-scraping and down-dumbed miasma of reality television, those who are famous for being famous, anyone who applauds themselves on television, oh Jesus, I could go on. I'm not going to pick one person... I'm just begging, hoping beyond hope that 2024 is better. 2023 hasn't been, to the extent that, aside from a few tweaks and updates, I have basically just copied and pasted this paragraph from last year.

Well, blogger's guilt, I hope that was worth it. But reader ... how was it for you?

Anything is hard to find, except self-loathing

I've been writing this post in my head for nearly two weeks now, trying to wrangle what I want to say into some form of words that someone (anyone!) would want to read. However, I've failed repeatedly, to the extent that this is only going to materialise if I start typing ... so here goes. Don't worry, I'll embed some embarrassingly predictable songs along the way - I know that's all you're really here for, after all.

In part, this is inspired by Rol's exceptional Self-Help For Cynics blog series. But mostly it comes about following a conversation one Sunday evening that took an unexpected turn. I'm not going into details here, suffice to say that the person I was talking to revealed that they had done something unwise, one result of which was a very low mood and even a degree of self-loathing. I sympathised of course, because no-one wants someone they care about feeling that way. But I empathised too. After all, anyone can make a mistake...

It's not necessarily the size of the mistake that's the issue, of course, or even the conventional consequences, although they can both be factors. No, the pertinent issue, both in this case and in my own past, is the nature of the decision or action. Specifically, these are mistakes, for want of a better word, that make you question your own sense of self - who you think you are, at the most fundamental level. And that line of questioning is, from my experience, a shortcut to depression and self-loathing. Go directly to jail. Do not pass "Go". Do not collect £200.

One counter argument might be that this level of self-awareness, of considered introspection, must be a positive thing, along the lines of "Well, you might feel bad for doing X but the fact that you're questioning why you did it, can't even believe you did it, shows what a well-rounded, reflective character you are, making personal progress that should offset any regret or self-loathing." And maybe that's true, to a degree and in retrospect, but try telling someone that when they are in the midst of self-directed angst. Because I'm not just talking about plain old regret here:

We're talking about things that make you question who you really are, at the most basic level. After this conversation, I reflected that in my adult life, there have been four things I have done that made me question my very sense of self in this way, actions that I couldn't reconcile with who I thought I was. Don't get me wrong, I'm no saint: there have been many, many other mistakes, misdeeds and generally awful / horrible / reprehensible behaviour. There have been plenty of things I'm not proud of, in other words: people I've treated very poorly, bad decisions I've made that not even hindsdight can justify, all of that. But all those things I can square up in my head with who I think I am. In all but those four cases, I can see how I got to where I did, why I did what I did, and why I reacted (or didn't ) to it afterwards. But those other instances, those four things... There's a disorientating effect to not understanding yourself, to not recognising actions as something you'd do. It can be horrible, truly. And if, like me, you have a simmering baseline level of self-loathing at the best of times, it can plough you into a very dark place.

There are two options then, of course: you either get over it or you don't. And if that sounds like I'm over-simplifying, I'm sorry, because that's not my intention. Getting over it doesn't mean forgetting it, or leaving it behind, after all. As I have tried to show, there is a difference between doing something you're "not proud of" and something that actually causes you active personal, inward, private shame. When you do something that leaves you sorrowfully thinking "I can't believe I did that", then getting over it means coming to terms with the fact that you did. In my experience, this is impossible to do completely, to the extent that "getting over it" actually just means accepting what happened, accepting yourself and finding a way to carry on being the revised edition of yourself. At first, you think about it every waking moment, then a few times a day, then a few days a week... Eventually you can go so long without thinking about it that it's almost like it never happened, and you really are who you thought you were. But only almost. For whilst time is a great healer, when something happens that prompts a recollection of your secret personal shame, it's a fresh wound, almost as deep as the original cut.

I have been trying my whole life to accept myself. I'm starting to think that perhaps I won't ever succeed. I hope you have better luck, and I hope those actions, inactions and choices that give you cause to question your self-image are few and very far between. Be well.

About that job you love...

"Find a job you love," they say, "and you'll never work a day in your life." Well, maybe. To try to find out if that's a realistic goal, I ran a noddy survey last month, in a well-intentioned but ultimately futile attempt to gauge people's view of their livelihoods. Since the response rate has flatlined now it's time to see what, if anything, we can make of the results. Here's the headline:

A surprising (to me, at least) 30% of respondents love their jobs! I had expected this figure to be much lower, maybe because I'm on my seventh full-time job as an adult and haven't loved any of them. It's heartening to learn there are people out there doing better than me.

You'll recall I asked a load of other questions too, in a feeble attempt to discover whether demography or geography had any bearing on the headline question. I say feeble because with such a small sample size (n=20) it's hard to establish anything with any confidence, the numbers are just too small. With that in mind, here are some unreliable findings:

• You're more likely to be in a job you love if you are self-employed (50% chance compared to 28% for employed)
• Geographically, you've got a better than average chance of loving your job if you currently work in London or Scotland and the best chance of all if you live outside the UK altogether (make of that what you will). And it's the same three areas coming out best for where you currently live too.
• Age-wise, only respondents in their fifties were more likely to love their jobs than not. No-one below 50 reported loving their job at all, which is slightly depressing.
• Let's talk about sex, baby. Women seem marginally more inclined to love their jobs than men (33% compared to 27%)
• Christians seem marginally more likely to love their jobs than those with no religion (33% vs 23%)
• No gay or bi respondents reported loving their job

If I'd had 200 respondents, this might have been an interesting exercise. However, all it has really done is illustrate how few connections I have and how little reach. As well as the original blog post, I tweeted the survey a few times, put it on Facebook and (against my better judgment) even posted it on LinkedIn where current work colleagues no doubt took glee in the implications of me asking the question. All that, and I still only got 20 responses. I mean, really - why bother, eh?

On returning to work...

I'm curious as to many people love their jobs. Not like, love. This may or may not have something to do with my returning to work after 11 days off. Anyway, please indulge me and fill in this questionnaire. It's completely anonymous.

That Was The Year That Was: 2022

This is the twelfth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others); I nearly didn't bother, on the grounds that I consume so little new material, and no-one cares about my opinion. So I was going to give it a swerve...

...but then had an attackers of blogger's guilt. So here we are ... if "here" is realising that what I "consume" these days is, more than ever, driven by my notional roles of father and partner than by my own individual, personal taste. Especially what I watch, as will become apparent.

But enough prevarication; let's crack on with this load of old balls and see how little new stuff I've tried this year.

Best album

When I wrote about Autofiction by Suede earlier in the year I described it as "a faster, heavier sound than most of the output from their Indian summer" and that it "might just be their best Bernard-less album". I stand by all that; here's a band, 30+ years after they started and with no small amount of drama in their history, still sounding exciting, still sounding like they're trying. Highly recommended and my album of the year. Honourable mentions: Johnny Marr for Fever Dreams Pts 1-4; The Smile for A Light For Attracting Attention.

Best song

I though Suede were going to have this stitched up too, with the excellent She Still Leads Me On but no, the nod goes to Graham Coxon's new project Waeve, for the sheer brilliance and audacious ear-wormery that is Something Pretty - once heard, never forgotten. Reformation nostalgia enormo-gigs might be his pension plan, but he's still the most interesting quarter of Blur.

Best gig

It's been a quiet year, gig-wise. So, excellent (in very different ways) though Crowded House and Half Man Half Biscuit were, this is a toss-up between two old men: Paul Weller at the local uni, early in the year, and Morrissey, in Brighton, as autumn got up and running. There's nothing in it, they were both excellent. I ought to give Paul the nod, it's the socially acceptable answer, but I'm going for SPM, the deciding factor being that I had The Man Of Cheese for company in Brighton, and a gig shared is almost always better than a lone gig.

Best book

I've read a few books this year, but not many of them are new for 2022. In fact, I think Fairy Tale by Stephen King is the only book published this year that I've read so far. So that ought to win, but it won't. The best book I've read this year, by some distance, is Fallout by Sadie Jones; I summarised it at the time as a "supremely well-written tale of love, lust, lies and liaisons, set against a beautifully-realised evocation of early 70s theatreland," and if that doesn't whet your appetite, nothing will. Jones also has a new book out, Amy & Lan, that I haven't read yet but already predict will be in the running for this accolade, if you can call it that, next year. Oh, and I should also give a mention to Headhunters by Jo Nesbo, as that would have got the nod if not for Sadie.

Best film

I am somewhat embarrassed by the paucity of films I've been to see this year. Indeed, most of the films I've seen have been for the benefit of Amusements Minor. So whilst I'm sure there have been plenty of good films out there, the pick of what I've seen in 2022 is Spiderman: No Way Home, which is an indecent amount of fun and even managed to prise some grudging admiration for Tobey Maguire's Peter from the boy. I should also give honourable mentions to Netflix's Don't Look Up, the biting climate-change analogy that everyone should watch, and, for sheer ludicrous spectacle, Top Gun: Maverick. Blimey: remember when I used to watch real films?

Best television

Even if not up to the dazzling standards of earlier series, Ghosts has continued to be a joy - there's a Christmas Day special coming too, if you're interested. And I've watched the Alex Rider series on Amazon Prime's annoyingly-named Freevee channel, and that has been a hoot, real whole-family-watching-together television (decent theme song too). But other that that it's been a slow year for TV, at Amusements Towers, at least. I'll edit this later if I suddenly remember something but at the moment I can't think of a standout highlight. Sorry!

Best sport

Easy to forget, in the aftermath of Qatar and the inevitable disappointment of losing as soon as we come up against a top-tier team, that actually England won a major football trophy this year. And were quite brilliant doing it, so much so that the Lionesses scooping the Euros is my sporting highlight of the year, not just for the achievement but hopefully for the permanent change they have triggered in football in this country. I'll give an honourable mention to my individual sports personality of the year too, pro cyclist Imogen Cotter, who suffered a potentially career-ending (life-ending!) injury in training at the start of the year and has been nothing short of inspirational fighting back from it ever since. Just, wow.

Person of the year

For a long time, it looked like money-saving expert Martin Lewis had this in the bag, championing the poor of the nation and speaking truth to power too. It seems impossible for me to fathom that so many are so poor, struggling so badly, in what is still the fifth or sixth largest economy in the world. But we are where we are. So well done, Martin, your efforts have helped so many. But my person of the year is Paul McCartney, headlining Glastonbury at 80 years of age, and doing an excellent job of it. He's basically a very few years younger than my old man who, on occasion, struggles a bit to headline the armchair. So well done Paul - I hope you tour at least once more, so I can finally see you live.

Tool of the year

I need a bigger toolbox ... where shall we start? Johnson, Truss, Kwarteng, Sunak, Patel, Braverman, Rees-Mogg, Shapps, Hancock, Dorries. We need shot of them all from public life, from public service, because they do us all a dis-service, to say the least. Further afield? Man-child Putin, throwing missiles and young Russians onto the bonfire of his own vanity, a possible comeback from Trump, the dollar-enabled kid-in-a-candy-store that is Elon Musk, the Oscars implosion of Will Smith, the angsty proclamations of minor royals enjoying major privilege, the perma-tanned barrel-scraping and down-dumbed miasma of reality television, those who are famous for being famous, anyone who applauds themselves on television, oh Jesus, I could go on. I'm not going to pick one person... I'm just begging, hoping beyond hope that 2023 is better.

Well, blogger's guilt, I hope that was worth it. But reader ... how was it for you?

None The Wiser

I am willing to bet this is the best song you'll hear today. It's eight years old now, but sadly more relevant than ever... in a world where the country dashes head-first into self-inflicted economic chaos, small mad dictators throw missiles at their neighbours, teenagers drown themselves in a morass of algorithm-led anti-social media, and we all quietly avert our gaze from the inevitable climate disaster. All aboard the handcart - hell ahead!

Be careful, I fall into playing this on a loop - you may do the same.

Blue Friday: The Book of Love

I wrote a post last month about This Is Going To Hurt, the TV adaptation of Adam Kay's bestselling book. I wrote at the time that everything looked set fair for the Beeb's version and, having since watched the whole series, I'm happy to report that my forecast was accurate. There were changes from the book, but these were probably necessary; fortunately, the TV version found a different way to be heartbreaking. And that's important because, whilst the series might have received criticism from some for being too bleak, and with too little humour to offset the darkness, I think it's important that the key message of Kay's book is preserved: the NHS is full of brilliant, talented, dedicated people, working hard to look after us all, often in trying and underfunded circumstances, often working ridiculous hours under enormous pressure. All of this was true before COVID; I dread to think what a pressure cooker an acute hospital must be at the moment. And this takes its toll; in real life, the unrelenting pressure became too much for Kay, and he reluctantly walked away. In the TV adaptation ... well, no spoilers. But an astonishing statistic comes out towards the end that I can't attribute to a published source but have no reason to doubt: one doctor takes their own life in this country every three weeks. Every. Three. Weeks. This is the effect of what the dramatised version of Kay describes as working "in a broken system, under shoddy conditions." I could turn this post into a political piece about how this government are after the NHS, through years of chronic underfunding and privatisation by stealth, contracting bits out to their mates ... but you know that already. Just be ready for them, that's all I need to say on that. The NHS should be sacrosanct but, under this administration, isn't.

Anyway, my first post about this TV series enthused about the excellent soundtrack, and that has been very good throughout. The last episode featured this beauty, from The Magnetic Fields. You might not think it a blue track, but it is to me.

Королева Не Померла

You'd think, with pandemics and climate change providing enough existential threat already thank you very much, that war would not be something anyone would want. Yet here we are, with the barrel-chested Soviet throwback doing exactly what he wants and the West seemingly unable to do anything about it other than warn it was going to happen. Certainly our government, up to its grime-encrusted neck in oligarch donations, seems entirely powerless, immaterial and without purpose: neither use nor ornament, as my parents might say.

Whilst I hope for a swift return to peace in the Donbas, I don't see that happening, sadly. I thought war in Europe was consigned to the history books, but no. Awful, awful, awful.

I don't know how to end this post other than with a song from Peter Solowka's Ukrainians. You might recognise it.

That Was The Year That Was: 2021

This is the eleventh time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others), and what a year it has been, one like no other...

...except it's been quite a lot like last year, hasn't it? Almost like those in charge are incapable of learning lessons, seemingly because they think that to do so would imply a fault or failing in the first place, and that couldn't be right, could it, because they're all flawless, after all. Sorry - I just feel very tired of everything, and it may show in this (very brief) recap of the year's highlights. Or, as I very unfairly prefer to think of them this year, shallower depths. Alons-y.

Best album

See, this is a great example of why I probably shouldn't bother with this kind of recap - I buy so little new material. I have become what I once ridiculed: an old man stuck in a parochial rut. So I could talk about new albums this year from Paul Weller, The Wedding Present and Billy Bragg (Fat Pop, Locked Down and Stripped Back, and The Million Things That Never Happened respectively), all of which I bought and all of which are excellent (especially TWP's) but they are just other old men that I've grown up listening to and now buy out of habit. So for something new, I am pleased to report that I also bought Heavy Elevator by Hamish Hawk, and you should too because it's excellent. Imagine a hybrid of Neil Hannon, Jarvis Cocker and Morrissey, but box-fresh for the third decade of the 21st Century. Highly recommended and my album of the year.

Best song

Someone check my temperature because I must be unwell - I want to acknowledge that Bad Habits by Ed Sheeran is a fine song of its type. But you'll be relieved to know that isn't my song of the year. Nor is Mid-Century Modern by Billy Bragg, despite it being perfect, in many ways, for 2021. And much as I have enjoyed Real Thing by Bleach Lab and Sand Fight by Folly Group, I want to suggest you give repeated listens to Let's Stick Around by Riton Presents Gucci Soundsystem featuring Jarvis Cocker - the latter's spoken word delivery and a driving, end-of-days beat is as good as you might imagine, and my song of the year (even if I'll probably be sick of it by March '22)...

Best gig

I've had a flurry of gigs recently, as many of the dates that were cancelled in 2020 all seemed to be rescheduled for November of this year. The Wedding Present, touring for the 30th anniversary of Seamonsters, were brilliant in one of my favourite venues, but the gig of the year, and a new entry in the top five (three? one?) gigs of my life was the farewell live performance by Martin Rossiter, at The Forum, Kentish Town. Drawing on his Gene back catalogue as well as his more recent solo offerings, and featuring a cracking band of youths (instead of, annoyingly but not surprisingly, reassembling Gene), this was as good as I hoped. Better actually. With no support, he played for about two and a half hours, and it flew by. The only tinge of regret for me is that this was it, he's done - there will be nothing more from Martin. What a colossal shame that is ... but what an amazing way to go out.

Best book

I've read a fair few books this year, but not many of them are new for 2021. So, I should probably focus on the most recent publications of those I have read: I can recommend Two Tribes by Chris Beckett if you want a thought-provoking examination of the now, through the imagined lens of history, Billy Summers by Stephen King if it's a suspenseful thriller you're after, and Airhead by Emily Maitlis if current affairs are your thing. But I think that Jews Don't Count by David Baddiel is my book of the year, a brilliantly argued, thought-provoking and compelling takedown of the ism-schism that still persists, meaning that anti-Semitism is somehow regarded differently to other forms of prejudice. It's a quick read but lingers long in the mind - go and get it.

Best film

Once again, I haven't really been to the cinema much this year, so No Time To Die wins almost by default, and that's a shame because it deserves to win from a crowded field: it's terrific. It's Daniel Craig's swansong in the role and he's excellent, but then so are the returning "regulars": Ralph Fiennes as M, Ben Whishaw as Q, Naomie Harris (swoon) as Moneypenny and Jeffrey Wright as Felix Leiter. Talking of swooning, Ana de Armas steals every scene she is in as Paloma. In fact, the only slight letdown in Rami Malek as bad guy Lyutsifer Safin, not through any fault of his, it's just that the character is somewhat underdeveloped. But other than that, this is a terrfic film, satisfying on many levels and maintaining a pace that sees its 163 minute running time whizz by. For my money, this would be a great and fitting way to bring the Bond franchise to a close, for good; that almost certainly won't happen, it's far too lucrative, but the film is that good - I can't imagine anyone who went to see it coming out without "wow" writ large upon their face.

Best television

There's been nothing on TV this year that has given me as much simple joy as Ghosts, the BBC adult comedy from the original minds behind Horrible Histories - it's terrific, stuffed full of memorable characters and quotable dialogue, and something you could watch equally happily with your kids and grandparents. Then there was the sixth series of Line of Duty which, even if you were unhappy with the big "H" reveal, still delivered. But the television event of the year (decade? century?) has to the Peter Jackson's docu-series Get Back, taking us through The Beatles' recording of songs for Let It Be and the now famous rooftop concert that marked their last public band performance. It's astonishing, firstly for its restoration (it looks and sounds like it was filmed yesterday), but also for its behind-the-curtain vibe, achieving a level of intimacy that a modern, media-savvy band would probably not allow. It's a staggering piece of work and, as I have said previously, fully deserves the investment of eight hours to watch it all and eight pounds to subscribe to Disney+ for a month. Stunning.

Best sport

I enjoyed watching the deferred Olympics, of course. The women's team pursuit cycling silver medal was a highlight, as was Britain's gold in the triathlon mixed relay (a truly brilliant spectacle that was non-stop rivetting for 84 minutes). I'd love to say Norwich City's dominance in winning the Championhip was a highlight, were it not followed by an inability to step that up at Premiership level. But this is all academic, for there has been one very clear sporting highlight, an achievement as high as it was unexpected... step forward, Emma Raducanu. As if reaching the fourth round of Wimbledon as a teenage wildcard wasn't enough, she only went and won the US Open, aged 18, as an unseeded qualifier. To put that in context, she became the first singles qualifier in the Open era to win any Grand Slam title: a staggering achievement, however you dice and slice it. And all whilst seemingly being very grounded and personable - bravo!

Person of the year

I'll be honest, Emma was in with a shout here too, as were fledgling national treasures Liz Bonnin, Chris Packham, Professor Alice Roberts and fully-fledged national treasure Sir David Attenborough. I was tempted to go with Joe Biden too because, let's not forget, 2021 began with Trump supporters storming the Capitol, incredible as that may seem with the benefit of eleven months hindsight. But no - the nod this year goes to Greta Thunberg, standing up to The Man's attempt to marginalise her from COP26 and the surrounding debate. The status quo doesn't like her because they can't put her in their pocket, can't buy her or silence her... and yet she, more than anyone else, can mobilise the youth, tomorrow's voters, tomorrow's consumers, and maybe, just maybe, do something to limit the damage being done to this small blue dot we call home. That she does all this whilst being subjected to media scorn, horrendous onlne abuse and trolling makes it all the remarkable.

Tool of the year

As ever, it's a crowded field, and it's primarily Tory politicians doing the crowding. Empathy vacuum Priti Patel, for repeating failing to understand that migrants are people, first and foremost; reality vacuum Jacob Rees-Mogg, for embodying a level of privilege so divorced from reality and either not knowing or not caring; rules agnostic Owen Paterson, for excessively feathering his own nest and not even having the good grace to fess up when busted; loyal to his mates Matt Hancock, for dishing out multi-million poind contracts to his friends' companies without scrutiny, even when those companies weren't qualified; and Geoffrey Cox, for ripping the piss out of the nation for years and thinking that was just fine. But of course the tool of the year/decade/century, retaining his title from last year is Boris Johnson - let's recap a few of the reasons why. Calamitous, playground politics with Macron over fishing and refugees; not wearing a mask on a hospital visit; "forgive me, forgive me"; apparently not knowing what parties were happening at his own gaff last Christmas; confusing Glasgow and Edinburgh at COP26; hiding the UK's natural gas dependence under a smokescreen of Chinese and Indian coal dependence; I could go on an on. Any one of these things is bad in isolation, but this isn't even an exhaustive list, it barely scratches the surface! In days gone by, the levels of incompetence he has repeatedly displayed would have done for him, and as for deliberately misleading the House (a delicate euphemism for "purposefully lying to Parliament"), that would definitely be a resigning matter. Yet still he is here, the living embodiment of unjustified entitlement and brass neck, casually banging out more kids, frittering public money away, trashing our global reputation, mismanaging COVID, and all the while, you suspect, doing very nicely thank you very much, for himself and his equally entitled mates. And yet he's still ahead in the polls and confidence in politicians is allegedly up... what will he have to do to finally come unstuck, you wonder, sleep through the Queen's funeral? Jesus H Christ.

That's it for another year. Sorry if I got a bit ranty towards the end there but, really, what did you expect? All that really remains is for me to say, 2021 ... how was it for you?