For about the last 10 years I’ve been composing a short end of year piece on my reflections of the year. It’s a kind of way to deal with the absurdity of human existence. Each year I find myself thinking, “well that was a bit mad, surely next year can’t be THAT bonkers” and every year I’m proved wrong…
In movie terms 2021 has turned out to be an unexpectedly dark and twisty sequel to 2020 with a tagline reminiscent of Jaws 2 – ‘just when you thought it was safe to go down the pub.’ If you compare the pandemic to the original Star Wars Trilogy then 2020 is ‘A New Hope’ with the year ending with the introduction of a vaccine. 2021 is basically ‘Covid Strikes Back’. Let’s hope that in 2022 we’ll all be saved by Ewoks.
2021 started with a reminder that just as you thought America was showing signs of sanity it still had a few tricks up its sleeve. January 6th saw a large gathering of crying manchildren assemble in Washington to weep that the world wasn’t exactly how they wanted it to be. Such was their outrage that they decided the Capitol building was where they needed to go to collectively toss their toys out of their prams. Daddy Trump was certainly encouraging. Off they trotted in their combat gear, hoodies and…er…horned furry helmets – but what may have seemed like a good idea at the time quickly descended into chaos when they realised that no one had an actual plan.
“Hey Billy Joe, we got in but now what?”
“I dunno Earl, maybe we should just steal some shit and take selfies.”
It was an inglorious end to the most inglorious of presidencies.
Over in the UK a new hero emerged – Jackie Weaver. The Handforth Parish Council Zoom meeting went viral on social media and made a celebrity of the unflappable host. It’s like what a Chuck Norris movie would be if it was set in Little England. Instead of dispensing ruthless baddies with a swift roundhouse kick Jackie used the power of her mouse to eject angry middle aged men who were deeply entrenched a virtual turf war for local council authority from the meeting. “You have no authority here” became a battle cry for those whose epitaph might read “He wished to be Prime Minister, but settled for tabling a motion on what day was bin day.”
Flags were big in 2021 – quite literally big – huge in fact. For some reason Union Jack flags that were clearly made to fly from flagpoles in the open air had migrated into the offices and homes of politicians. There now seems to be a competition going on as to who can out flag each other. No flag was too big, no office too small. And the more the merrier. I’m hoping that in 2022 people will start installing giant fans so the flags can actually fulfil their flapping potential.
Summer treated us to the spectacle of large gangs of English football fans congregating in London for the Euros. It’s always an edifying site to witness our famously world beating hooliganism but 2021 gave us a true English icon – Arse Flare Man. Forget The Queen, David Attenborough, Bernard Cribbins and all the other supposed ‘national treasures’, Arse Flare Man is the true spirit of Albion. The Sun informed us the he drank 20 cans of cider, snorted coke then stuck a lit flare up his jacksy. Surely a tale Arse Flare Man will be entertaining guests with at after dinner speaking events for years to come. Churchill would have been proud – he’d have probably bent down and lit his cigar on the dying embers.
In September the public decided that Petrol was the new toilet rolls. Yes the famously plucky Brits once again demonstrated their Blitz spirit and ‘keep calm and carry on’ mentality by using up all their petrol driving around for hours in search of any stations still selling petrol. It quickly escalated into fisticuffs on the forecourt as panicked Top Gear viewers attempted to fill empty KFC bargain buckets with fuel. I suppose we have to be thankful that Arse Flare Man didn’t ignite any filling stations with his presence.
Boris Johnson once again proved that beneath his bumbling clown exterior lies a nastier bumbling clown by shooting himself in his giant clown shoes over Tory corruption. Instead of Owen Paterson receiving the customary slap on the wrist and short suspension for lining his own pockets Boris decided instead to change the rules so that there would be no penalties for lining your pockets (or lining your walls with tacky gold wallpaper). No sooner had the less than Right Honourable Mr Paterson been let off than Boris grabbed his steering wheel which only turns in 180 degree increments and performed a sacrificial U turn. Paterson resigned prompting a by-election that led to the Tories losing a seat they had held since neolithic times.
Mind you, the whole debacle was swiftly forgotten about once a new debacle emerged. It seems that whilst everyone else was busy doing stuff like social distancing, mask wearing and dying the Tories were hosting a series of wine and cheese events because they were a bit shagged out at having to look like they were doing some actual work. Most of the parties were held at 10 Downing Street because they had been unable to find anyone who was capable of organising one in a brewery.
Christmas Day saw some good news with the James Webb telescope being successfully launched into space. The telescope is a remarkable feat of scientific endeavour and the mission took 30 years of preparation at a cost of $10 billion. Some have baulked at the cost, but remember our ‘world beating’ ™ Test & Trace app cost four times that much so clearly we all have on our phones a piece of code the represents the very pinnacle of human achievement.
As for 2022 who knows what it will bring? Will we ever be free of the pandemic or will it just keep mutating until it adopts its final form of a Cthulhu like beast, feeding on the souls of anti-vaxxers. Let’s be optimistic and believe that one day we shall be free, not as the result of rationality or good management but more down to the laws of crazy golf which state that no matter which direction you hit the ball or how badly you play you will eventually find the hole.