That Was The Year That Was: 2025

Incredibly, this is the fifteenth time I've recapped a year like this (for completists, here are the others). Fifteen times, blimey ... God alone knows what we are both still doing here...

But since we are hanging around, still, I'll crack on with this nonsense, whilst you gaze in wonderment at just how staid, parochial and predictable I am.

It'll keep us both busy, if nothing else. Having said that, I've written noticeably less than in years gone by, so I won't keep you for long - we can all be thankful for that.

Best album

Well, there have been a couple of stand-outs for me this year: the unexpected joy of More by Pulp, and Antidepressants by Suede, who continue to surprise us all with the excellence of their third age.

Also noteworthy are Bowerbirds and Blue Things by Jetstream Pony and Find El Dorado by Paul Weller, the latter proving what a great reinterpreter he has always been.

Best song

Many of the songs I've heard for the first time this year are old, just new to me. But of 2025 releases, I've been impressed by Masquerade by Cardinals, Bonnet of Pins by Matt Berninger and Disintegrate by Suede. Oh, and a late dive for the tape was made by The Light Won't Shine Forever by Aussie band Floodlights. The nod, though, goes to Apple Green UFO by Andy Bell, which makes me feel about 30 years younger than I am. Who could ask for more? Here's the full length version to luxuriate in...

Best gig

As good as the usual suspects (The Smyths, From The Jam, The Wedding Present) have all been, and as good a night out as Roger Daltrey (morphing into Warwick Davis) was, the nod here, unsurprisingly, goes to the Gene reunion show at the Hammersmith Apollo in October. Literally everything I could ever want from a gig.

Best book

Like the song category, this has been tricky because most of what I've read for the first time this year has been old: Cider with Roadies by Stuart Maconie was very enjoyable, but was published in 2005. Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, though an astonishing work of memoir, is even older (1999). But of course I can always rely on Stephen King - Never Flinch was not only published this year but also dependably enjoyable, even if not his best work.

Best film

The year was bookended by stand-outs: Dylan-goes-electric biopic A Complete Unknown at one end and Edgar Wright's ever-so-slightly-disappointing take on vintage King (as Bachman) The Running Man at the other. In between, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey deserves a special mention, for really making me think, whilst Brad's F1 and Tom's Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning both delivered predictable thrills without reinventing cinema. I must also mention Nina Conti's brilliant surreal simian road movie, Sunlight. Oh, and as a dad, it was lovely to share movie nostalgia with Amusements Minor with the live-action remake of How To Train Your Dragon.

Best theatre

I haven't seen much on stage this year. Does an NT Live cinema screening of Dr Strangelove count? Steve Coogan was excellent in four roles. Also noteworthy was the 30th anniversary on-stage gathering, for performance and anecdotes, of The Fast Show ensemble, minus the late Caroline Aherne. Aren't end-of-year round-ups brilliant?! Oh, and I finally got to see the Jon Ronson: Psychopath Night stage show. Entertaining and thought-provoking stuff.

Best television

I feel like I must have forgotten something, because this reads like a really slow year for TV. Finally got Wednesday 2 on Netflix, which was good but inevitably not as good as the first series, despite a liberal sprinkling of Joanna Lumley. Like the rest of the nation, Amusements Towers got into Celebrity Traitors, despite never having watched a single moment of the regular, non-celebrity version. Apologies if there's a theme developing, but Celebrity Race Across The World also hits the spot in our house. And as I write this, we're half way through Stranger Things 5, so far living up to the almost impossible levels of expectation.

Best sport

I enjoyed Liverpool FC winning the Premier League, even if it felt anticlimatic. Just as well, because they've blown up a bit this season. Other notables included Iga Świątek at Wimbledon and Georgia Hunter Bell at the World Athletics Championships (both awesome), and the Lionesses at the UEFA Women's Euros.

Person of the year

Well, it's not a person but a thing: the NHS. Fourteen years of Tory underinvestment have left it on its knees and, as a result, it's pretty far from perfect these days. Yet still it goes on, against the odds, delivering care and services to our sick and injured. It's easy to point out when things go wrong in the NHS, and to be frustrated by bureaucracy and poor communication... but it gets so much right, still, even in the most trying of circumstances. We'll miss it when it's gone, you know.

Tool of the year

Trump again, obviously. Not content with sending troops into US cities for paper-thin, politically motivated reasons, claiming to end wars that have not ended, failing to touch the sides of what's going on in Ukraine, bulldozing bits of the White House to make way for a huge/vulgar ballroom (compensating much?), not sending anyone of any status or significance to COP 30, doing anything to divert attention from the Epstein files, pardoning people he doesn't even know, expressing interest in somehow running for a third term, presiding over the longest shutdown in US political history, finally promising to release those Epstein files and then not, and so much more besides... he's ended the year by going after the BBC and giving himself a sports day peace prize medal at the World Cup draw. That's a sequence of words I never conceived would be necessary or even feasible to write. What a desperate, sad, insecure, delusional little man he is ... and/or a colossal orange prick.

I hope that was worth it but know, deep down, that it wasn't. Reader: how was 2025 for you?

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...

I'm in the final now, you know

I had hoped not to have to break my sabbatical for any more RIP posts this year but sadly I have to, for one of my first sporting heroes has passed away.

Terry Griffiths was a coal miner, bus conductor, postman and insurance salesman before trying his hand on the professional snooker circuit. He'd had a very successful amateur career but it wasn't until he turned 30 that he thought the sport might be able to support him and his young family. At the time he gave himself three years to make a go of it.

In 1979 he won the world championship at his first attempt, beating Dennis Taylor 24-16 in the final (the last year it was played over so many frames). This was only his second professional tournament, and in winning it Terry became only the second qualifier to scoop the world title (after Alex Higgins in 1972). He went on to win many other tournaments, and became only the second player (I think) to complete snooker's triple crown of world, UK and Masters titles. There are still only eleven players to have done this. He would have won so many more titles too, if not for a certain Steve Davis. Terry once said that, after losing 13-10 to Steve in the 1980 world championships, he had to contend with the idea that there might be someone better at snooker than him ... and he found that hard to accept. Over the years that followed he tried everything to keep up with Davis, tweaking his technique and altering his stance, all in pursuit of technical perfection. In the 1982 season Steve and Terry contested five major ranking event finals - Steve won three, Terry two. But this pursuit of technique kerbed Terry's natural free-flowing play and he became the methodical player he is somewhat sadly remembered as now, as known for slow play and late-night finishes as he should be for his tournament successes in snooker's golden era.

As a boy growing up in the 70s and 80s, yes, I had Kenny Dalglish on my wall but I had Terry's books Championship Snooker and, later, Complete Snooker on my shelf. I read and re-read them, and learnt to play the game from them, and from him. My first cue had Terry's name stencilled on the side. My interest in the technical side of the game was all from him. The occasions I met him, got his autograph, left long and lasting impressions. My love of the green baize has lasted ever since, even if failing eye-sight means I can't play as well as I used to.

With pleasing symmetry, Terry ended his professional playing career by qualifiying for the world championships in 1997, where he was drawn to play fellow Welshman Mark Williams. Terry lost 10-9, though had chances to win what would have been a tremendous upset. I don't think Terry would have been too upset though, as he had been coaching Mark up to that point. I think he would just have enjoyed playing at the Crucible one last time. Coaching became his career from then on, and the list of top players he worked with is as long as your arm. Interestingly, over time his coaching became more about the psychology of the sport than the technical - it is, after all, the cruel game. Maybe that's why Terry never achieved quite as much as his talent deserved - you won't find anyone in world snooker with a single bad word to say about him.

Terry's family announced his death yesterday. He was 77, and had suffered with dementia in the last years of his life. Of course the Beeb and the Grauniad have obits, but for me he'll always be more than just the sum of his professional record. To me, he was a genuine sporting hero. I wanted to do what he did, and I wanted to play like him - not Davis, not Higgins, not White, not anybody else. I'm not likely to ever improve on my highest break, not with these eyes, but if I ever did, even now, it would still be down to him.

I'll just leave you with this video of Terry returning to the Crucible, 40 years after his world championship win, and then a clip of him doing what he did best, in a different age. RIP Griff, and thank you.

People are stupid so, you know, they'll buy anything

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

If I've got my dates right, Wimbledon starts today. A fortnight of sporting excellence and perhaps the best event of its type in the world. I'm crossing my fingers that Katie, Emma and Andy all make it into the second week, but that seems slightly optimistic written, as this is, in the middle of December. Anyway, it seems like a good time to share a video that might have passed you by if Wimbledon is the only tennis you watch all year. Lots of detail in this to enjoy.

And so, with a tenuous tennis link, this is La Electricidad by Spanish band McEnroe. After spending much time pasting text into Google Translate, I can tell you that McEnroe are from Getxo, a little town just north of Bilbao, and have been recording off and on since 2004 (although currently they seem to be on hiatus). Main man Ricardo Lezón seems to have a competing solo career, from what I can make out, and publishes poetry too. Anyway, La Electricidad opens side two of McEnroe's 2015 album Rugen Las Flores (The Flowers Roar) and sounds like this:

Here are the original lyrics, and a rough translation, with all apologies to Spanish speakers everywhere:

La Electricidad

Electricity

Acuérda te de mi, cuando pises algún charco Cuando escuches algún pája ro cantar Acuérda te de mi, cuando veas algún rayo Agrietando todo el cielo como un cristal No dejes de buscar, incluso en la hora más oscura Puede apa recer de pronto la electricidad Yo estaré por aquí, escondido en algún recuerdo O en el leve movimiento de sentir Y cabe la po si bi lidad De que te vuelva a encontrar, en algún incendio Y cabe la po si bi lidad De que te vuelva a encontrar, en algún incendio Me acordaré de ti, parado en algún semáforo O afinando justo antes de salir Estás por aquí, escondida en alguna frase O en el leve movimiento de vivir Y cabe la po si bi lidad De que te pueda olvidar, en algún momento Y cabe la po si bi lidad De que te pueda olvidar, en este momento

Remember me, when you step in some puddle When you hear some bird sing Remember me, when you see some lightning Cracking the whole sky like glass Don't stop looking, even in the darkest hour Electricity can suddenly appear I'll be here, hidden in some memory Or in the slight movement of feeling And there's a chance That I may find you again, in some fire And there is the possibility That I'll find you again, in some fire I will remember you, stopped at some traffic light Or tuning up just before I go out You're around here somewhere, hidden in some sentence Or in the slight movement of living And there's a chance That I can forget you, at some point And there is the possibility That I can forget you, at this moment

So there's a first for New Amusements, a Spanish language track. Bastante buena, en mi opinión. ¿Qué te parece?

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?

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?

About CarFest

I didn't go to my nearest big festival, Latitude, this year, not even for a day. Nothing on the line-up equated to the expense of a ticket, for me. Instead, the whole Amusements clan decamped to CarFest South instead, and not for a day but for the whole shebang. The Chris Evans-powered festival has grown over the years, and is now a similar size to Latitude, and for the first time was adding prominent book and wellbeing content, billing itself as "seven festivals in one". The obvious preconception for CarFest is that you probably need to have an interest in cars to enjoy it, and watching various exotic, historic and unusual four-wheeled vehicles parade around the track is certainly a focus. But there's a lot more fun to be had, I would say. It also turned out to be the most family-friendly large festival I've ever been to, which might persuade people put off by the petrolhead content. But anyway... in the style of my old Latitude diaries, here's a very brief précis of what we got up to. All photos can be embiggened with a click.

Thursday:

• The campsite opens a day early to allow people to arrive and pitch at leisure if they wish. We did, and got an excellent pitch for our tent right on the perimeter, close to the car park, far from the noise of the main arena, close enough without being too close to the loos. Perfect, in other words.
• Drove into nearby Overton for dinner in a pleasant Italian restaurant, then back to the festival site for...
• Silent Disco : The Big Early. A little stage was set up between the camping area and the entrance to the arenas proper, and a silent disco filled a happy hour. There were three channels of music to choose from, so we donned headsets and got stuck in. Of course this wasn't really a silent disco, since most people were singing along. The headsets had LED lighting, colour-coded to the channel of choice, so you could tell from a cursory glance of the field how popular each channel was by the colour of the listener's headphones. All three channels ended with Bohemian Rhapsody, leading to the biggest and most enjoyable singalong of the lot.

Friday:

• Show 1 : The Track. Yes, we started with the obvious, it being the CarFest USP. Lots of exotic and historic cars whizzing round a purpose built track. I know this sort of thing isn't for everyone, so I won't include too many pictures, but here are a couple: a lovely Audi Quattro rally car and my personal favourite from the event, a sumptuous Aston Martin DBS.
 
• Esther Rantzen in conversation with Adrian Mills : StarFest stage. Caught the tail-end of this, which seemed to be mostly anecdotes about That's Life, although conversation also turned to Childline and Silverline, and how hard it was to fundraise for charities that focus on the elderly. But we only really went along to be early and ensure a good seat for the next session, which was...
• Rob Brydon and Philip Glenister in conversation with Linda Barker : StarFest stage. A slightly odd pairing, and an even odder choice of host (yes, it was that Linda Barker who used to be one of the designers on Changing Rooms) but Rob Brydon can't help but be entertaining, and this was a very enjoyable way to pass three quarters of an hour. Then we headed back to the tent for an early tea, via the Cinch paddock to have a look at some more exotic cars, in good time for our return to the action, specifically...

• James Blunt : Main stage. No, I know. Not my usual cup of tea, but worth a listen, as it turned out. Big CarFest learning - everyone (except us) took folding chairs and, as soon as the gates opened, charged to the Main stage, set up their chairs and claimed their patch for the day. In other words, we were sat a long way back. Blunt ran through his hits, we all recognised more than we expected, and even Amusements Minor proclaimed to like one or two.
• Sophie Ellis-Bextor's Kitchen Disco : Main stage. The breeze picked up a bit during Sophie's set, which played havoc with the sound for those of us sat a long way from the stage. But again, we all recognised more of her back-catalogue than we were expecting, which was nice. Sophie threw in a few covers too, in a nod to the "kitchen disco" she made her own during lockdown, and proved that she can probably do Madonna better than Madonna... Another big CarFest learning - the Main stage actually has two adjacent stages, so there is no waiting around between acts. One act literally follows directly on from the next, which is brilliant. When later asked about this, Chris Evans said the inspiration for it was DJing, and having two decks. Why don't all festivals do this? Anyway, here's a photo of the lovely Sophie E-B.

• Faithless : Main stage. After a bit of a wander, since none of us fancied Tom Walker, it was back to the Main stage for the biggest musical surprise of the whole festival, the surprise being just how much I enjoyed the Faithless set. I was expecting Insomnia and God Is A DJ but I found myself recognising a lot more besides, even if I couldn't name the tracks. I guess I hadn't realised Faithless had been so prolific. Whatever, I found myself enjoying this way more than I had expected. Amazing light show too. Ironically, we headed to bed after set-closer Insomnia... but none of us had any trouble sleeping.

Saturday:

• Chris Evans : everywhere. Saturday began at 8.30am with Chris Evans leading a convoy of golf buggies around the campsite, horns tooting, Virgin radio blaring, waking everyone up. Whatever you think of the bloke, you've got to admire his energy levels - he was involved in so many aspects of the whole festival, popping up at different stages throughout the weekend, plus introducing all the acts on the Main stage, plus driving some of his own exotic cars around the track, plus, plus, plus...
• Show 2 : The Track. Started the day with a leisurely breakfast at the tent, before heading to the arenas and then going our separate ways for a bit, Mrs Amusements to the SpaFest stage and Inspiration Hub for some wellbeing sessions, Amusements Minor and I to play crazy golf and then take in another session of dream cars blatting around the track. Particularly impressive was the sight of ex-Formula 1 world champion Jody Scheckter barrelling around the track in a 6.3-litre V8 bi-turbo Mercedes AMG, proving that a fast car is one thing but a fast driver is something else altogether.
• The Joy Journal for Grown-Ups - Laura Brand in conversation with Russell Brand : StarFest stage. Ostensibly there to talk about her new book, Laura found herself in conversation with ... her husband. Who, inevitably, upstaged her somewhat. There was a huge crowd for this, and we couldn't get very close to see much, but we could hear just fine. Russell, not always everyone's cup of tea, was on fine form.
• Minnie Driver signing : Waterstone's. Mrs Amusements re-appeared and spirited the boy off somewhere, leaving me free to wander. I found myself in the pop-up on-site Waterstone's, and noticed a sign advertising an imminent appearance by Minnie Driver. I quickly purchased her memoir and got in the queue. What do you say to someone famous at a book signing? Especially someone you've liked for thirty years? Well, I was quite near the front of the queue, so I didn't have long to think. Everyone ahead of me had post-it notes with their name on, stuck to the signing page, but I didn't, so I figured that would be my route in to saying more than just "hello" and "thanks". "Hi," said a fresh-faced and smiley Minnie. "Hello," I managed, proffering my copy of her book, open at the obligatory page. "It's to Martin," I said, "but could you sign it to Martin Blank, in an admittedly quite obvious reference to Grosse Point Blank?" "Aaah," said Minnie, "I see. Then I should probably sign it like this." Whereupon she signed it twice, once as Minnie and then, in brackets, as Debi, her character in GPB. "That's perfect," I said, "thank you." Minnie smiled some more, and that was my meeting with her over (if you can even call that meeting). And in case I didn't love her enough already, she was wearing a Nora Ephron t-shirt. And more was to come.
• Minnie Driver and Russell Brand in conversation with Chris Evan : StarFest Xtra. Each day, the last StarFest session would be someone in conversation with Chris Evans, not at the StarFest stage but sat on hay-bales in front of the Main stage. This was billed as Minnie Driver but Russell Brand sort of added himself to the bill. I got a great seat for this, and enjoyed nearly an hour of chat - this is what Chris does best, I think. Minnie talked more about her memoir, and Chris even got her to talk about her break-up from Matt Damon, without either of them mentioning the words "Matt" or "Damon". This led to quite an exchange between Russell and Chris, in which the former anticipated a Katy Perry question and pre-emptively replied by bringing up Billie Piper! All of which was made more interesting by the sudden and expected arrival, and addition to the hay-bales, of Russell's wife, Laura. This session was supposed to end at 3.45pm so that Chris could do an interview with Formula 1 driver Lando Norris on the big screen, but a quick audience vote led to that being cancelled and having an extra ten minutes of Minnie and Russell. A real highlight.

• Jack Savoretti : Main stage. After a bit of R&R back at the tent, and a bolognese-based dinner poorly cooked by yours truly, we headed back down to the Main stage to take in some of Jack Savoretti. The gravel-throated crooner wasn't really to any of our tastes though, and we listened well enough whilst wandering around the paddock some more, taking in a close-up of some of the cars we'd seen on the track earlier in the day. He's alright, Savoretti, I suppose, but I can't imagine myself ever buying a record of his. Sorry Jack.
• Judge Jules : Main stage. We needed hot chocolate (or tea, in my case) to get through this. As unexpectedly brilliant as Faithless had been the day before, Judge Jules was, perhaps expectedly (by me, anyway), nothing to write home about. Lots of people seemed to go for their supper during his set. Many families, small kids in tow, just packed up completely. He let off a few fireworks near the end, at least.
• The Kaiser Chiefs : Main stage. No packing up for us though, the Amusements crew are clearly made of sterner stuff and we made it through to the evening's headliners, though only after I'd played Amusements Minor a couple of tracks on YouTube to maintain his interest. To be honest, the Kaisers were alright, but not much more. Sure, Ricky is an animated and engaging front man but so many of the songs just sound very ... similar. I Predict A Riot and Ruby aside, everything just seemed to merge together. Somewhere, in a field in Hampshire, is a giant tent containing all the chords The Kaiser Chiefs didn't use. Anyway, here's a picture of them in action, taken at the full extent of my old camera's zoom.

Sunday:

• The day began in two strands again, as Mrs Amusements took herself off to the Inspiration hub for some more wellbeing sessions whilst the boy and I played crazy golf again (I topped the leaderboard, nine holes in sixteen shots) and did some paintball target-shooting. It's that kind of festival. Then we had a relatively early lunch, because I was very keen to get to...
• Paula Radcliffe, Steve Cram, Victoria Pendleton and Matty Lee in conversation with Vassos Alexander : StarFest stage. This was very, very popular, drawing one of the largest non-music crowds of the entire festival. And rightly so, considering the sporting achievements of those on-stage. Matty Lee, in case you were wondering, was Tom Daly's dive partner when they won gold at last year's Olympics. Perhaps the recent nature of his acheivement warranted his inclusion with the others, all of whom have been retired for some time. Anyway, as a keen amateur cyclist, I was particularly keen to see and hear Victoria Pendleton, though Crammie was perhaps the most relaxed, natural speaker. Really interesting to hear a difference of opinion from the panel about what sets them, as the elite, apart from us, as amateurs. Nothing, was one view, we could all do if sufficiently motivated. Not so, said Cram, identifying that ultra competitiveness is important, and that you either have that or you don't. I tend to agree. Anyway, my photos of this were spoiled by the couple who, having chosen to sit near the front but behind a family with a push-chair, then stood up throughout. When someone tapped the man on the shoulder and asked him to sit down, he shrugged and said, "Then I wouldn't be able to see," pointing to the pushchair. What a bell-end. So these are the best pictures I managed - sorry Matty.
 
• Rob Brydon and Jimmy Carr in conversation with Chris Evans : StarFest Xtra. Another chat-show performance from Chris on the hay-bales in front of the main stage, this time with Rob Brydon who, with his family, had been at the entire festival, and car-enthusiast Jimmy Carr. This was another very funny and very popular session that, as the previous day's had, ran over time, but nobody was complaining. As you can see from the photograph below, Chris had to drape a hastily-provided sweatshirt over his lap, for fear of exposing himself, as he was wearing quite loose and short running shorts, having taken part in the CarFest fun-run earlier in the day.

• Natalie Imbruglia : Main stage. The rest of Team Amusements went off to find the F1 simulator, whilst I stayed at the Main stage to watch what turned out, for me, to be the absolute musical highlight of the whole festival. There's a temptation to think that, just because Natalie made her name in Neighbours, that she was just another soap-star who jumped on the Minogue/Donovan bandwagon. But by god, she can really sing! Okay, so some of the new material might be a little too MOR for my taste generally, but she has enough of a recognisable back-catalogue for the set to be very entertaining. And as she bounced around the stage in what could be described as an over-emphasised jog as much as a dance, it was easy to cast my mind back to the late 90s and remember that she actually established a bit of street-cred for herself back then, far removed from the SAW-beginnings of her soap-mates. I went into this thinking, okay, it'll be nice to hear Torn live, but came away feeling that Natalie was the highpoint of the weekend's musical offerings. Here she is.

 

And that's where we left it. We didn't hang around for The Horne Section, or Sunday headliner Paloma Faith, because we were all knackered and I had a long drive to do. What do I think of CarFest, then? Well, I think it still needs to strengthen its programme a little, if it is truly going to bill itself as "seven festivals in one", but it does have something for everyone, plus exotic cars the likes of which you'd never see elsewhere. As I mentioned earlier, it's the most family-friendly festival I've ever been too: I saw no "casualties" of over-indulgence anywhere, there were hardly any herbal aromas floating over the Main stage crowd to explain to the boy, and there were plenty of things we could all see or do together. Even the camping field was pretty quiet from about midnight on. It might not have the strongest music programme but yes, I'd recommend it, and the consensus amongst the family was a solid eight out of ten... which is probably a shade higher than I would have rated my day at Latitude last year. Make of that what you will.

Twenty-two in '22: The World of Cycling According to G

I've set myself modest reading targets in each of the last three years and failed every time (I managed 17 books in '19, 11 in '20 and 18 in '21), so I'm determined to read twenty two books in 2022. I'll review them all here.

6/22: The World of Cycling According to G by Geraint Thomas

The blurb:

Like no other cycling book, from no other rider - Britain's cycling star shares his unique take on the world of cycling.

Sit back or saddle up as double Olympic gold medallist and multiple world champion Geraint Thomas gives you a warts and all insight into the life of a pro cyclist. Along the way he reveals cycling's clandestine codes and secret stories, tales from the peloton, the key characters like Wiggins, Hoy and Cav, the pivotal races and essential etiquette.

Geraint Thomas is treasured for treating his sport just as the rest of us see it: not a job but an escape and an adventure. He's been with Team Sky since its inception, and is one of our most successful and gifted track and road riders, but Geraint reminds us that getting on the bike still puts a smile on your face and fire in the legs like nothing else.

Funny, informative, diverting and droll, this is a joyful celebration of the world of cycling.

The review: I know what you're thinking: oh god, here it is, the point at which the wannabe cyclist and Strava enthusiast lets his hobby bleed through from his sideline bike blog to the "main" blog, and thereby bores us all with talk of chainsets, carbon frames, and KOMs. Right?

Well, not really, you'll be relieved to hear. Because although this is a book by a cyclist, about cycling, I'd argue that you need only a passing awareness of Geraint Thomas and the world of elite cycling to enjoy this book. If you've paid just enough attention to the sports pages for the last ten years to know how much success Britain has had in this field, or any of the names Wiggins, Hoy, Cavendish and Froome ring a bell with you, well, that's enough for you to get something out of this book.

Geraint Thomas, for the uninitiated, is a gold-medal winning track and road cyclist who, since writing this book, also won the Tour de France with Team Sky (the sixth British win in seven years). He's done it all, basically - and, brilliantly, he's able to convey it here, in a humourous and informative way that appeals to the Stravanauts and non-cyclists alike.

Well, I say he ... but Geraint has had some help, in the shape of sports journalist Tom Fordyce. In his acknowledgements, Geraint describes this help thus: "... obviously a huge thanks to Tom Fordyce for listening to my stories, putting them all together and dealing with all my questions."

But the fact that this book is a collaborative effort (or ghost-written, depending on your perspective) needn't put you off. The prose tone here is consistent with the version of Thomas you see in interviews, as is the humour. Fordyce has captured the man, basically. And the result is very readable.

The book is structured in chapters that look at specific aspects of cycling, namely: "Living It" (much here for the amateur); "People" (chapters on each of the big names in British cycling but also on the unsung heroes in the team); "Doing It" (the actual rides and events); "Places" (imagine a series of stadium tours if you're a football fan); "Feeling It" (handling the physical and mental impact of cycling); "The Rules" (do's and don't's for cyclists of all abilities); and "Bossing It" (what it's really like riding for the best team, in the top events). It's a great structural idea - you could almost be reading a series of (admittedly lengthy) blog posts, which makes the book very digestible, whether you know your Campagnolo from your Shimano, your soigneur from your directeur sportif, or not.

The bottom line: you'll enjoy this more if you cycle semi-seriously, but this is an enjoyable memoir for any fan of sports biographies (even if there isn't much actual biography in it).

Since everything online is rated these days: ★★★★★★ for cyclists, ★★★★☆☆ for everyone else

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?