In a totally unashamed take on David Mitchell’s column in today’s Observer, over the next four articles I shall compile a look into the future. What does 2010 hold for us? Will the world end? Is it only just beginning? How many flashes of Gaga’s Gaga will we be subjected to this year? Find out the answers to none of these questions by casting your eyes half an inch below.
January 2010
The year starts with much celebration and anticipation. It’s 2010! TWO-THOUSAND AND TEN. TEN. We’re practically the fucking Jetsons.
January’s news primarily revolves around the party held at the White House in celebration of Obama’s first year in office. Scandal erupts after it emerges the puppy Barack and Michelle offered their children has still yet to arrive. They go fucking mental, screaming the house down. Michelle offers them a rabbit in the meantime, but, as the children rightly point out – what can a rabbit do. It’s a useless pet by anybody’s standards.
February 2010
February 2010 will forever be known as ‘the Month of the Celebrity Age-Differences’. The start of February saw the announcement by two members of the Saturdays, probably one of the ones that used to be in S Club Juniors, and one of the ones that didn’t, describing how they had both started relationships with the Chuckle Brothers.
This bold move, probably by Frankie and one of the other ones, sparked celebrities in similar situations to come clean. Ann Widdecombe announced she has been in committed relationships with the cast of Blue Peter for the past twenty years, while one of the Olsen twins, she’s not sure which one, is reported to be dating the ghost of Christmas Past.
A spokesman for ‘the Protection of ADRSHIPS (Age-Differentiated Relation-SHIPS)’, said he “Hold[s] a lot of respect to these celebrities for facing up to their demons and opening up in a public field about their relationships”.
March 2010
In March Saddam Hussein came back to rage an episode of terror over us all once again, only to get his plans foiled by a small boy and his intelligent-yet-dull sister.
Saddam is known as a recurring character amongst viewers. Originally working as a sideshow clown on a low-budget American cable channel, Saddam started a rage of terror against the small, as yet unnamed, boy after he foiled his attempted to frame his boss during an armed robbery of the local corner shop. Since being sentenced for fraud and robbery, Saddam has come back year on year with one goal in mind, to kill the boy – once being cited as getting a tattoo done displaying the words “Die, [boys name], die”.
March’s incident with Saddam – involving two cats, a Casio watch and a copy of Zadie Smith’s ‘White Teeth’ – was minor compared to past occurrences, including the ‘episodes’ in which he ran for Mayor of the city, tried to murder the boys family on a boat, and failed to blow up the boys aunt in a horrific gas attack.
Look out for April – June, soon.
I don’t care for important, long-winded news stories.
I know I should care. I know I should turn on Sky News, see the report on screen concerning the Copenhagen Summit or Iraq Inquiry, and sit down listening intensely for the entirety of the report until my intellect is so huge I’m late for work due to my head refusing to fit on any mode of transport invented since the beginning of time – but I simply don’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t jump for joy the moment a story involving kittens stuck in a tree comes up, but at the same time I find it very difficult to look at the front of the Independent without thinking “Please leave me alone” (at this point please do not assume I am a Daily Mail or Express reader. They’re awful in their own racist Diana-dragging-out ways. Here I’m solely concentrating on news stories so importantly boring you honestly consider putting on ‘In the Night Garden’ just so the colours can assist you in regaining conciousness).
Sometimes even the news readers can’t pretend to care. “100 people were killed in a suicide bomb in Baghdad today… And now over to Paul with the weather, I hear it’s going to be another chilly night Paul”.
A selection of the exciting headlines the Independent have thrown up recently include -
Met Office reveals last decade was the hottest ever recorded
Yaaawwnn…
Sea levels may rise three times more than first thought
…nnnnn…
Emin work to feature in climate change exhibition
…zzzzzz…
For the sake of our own sanity I suggest all headlines, over the coming months, should be replaced by facts found within this breakthrough piece of literature by David O’Doherty, Claudia O’Doherty and Mike Ahern.
100 Facts About Pandas. Image courtesy of David O'Doherty, Claudia O'Doherty and Mike Ahern.
If this panda-based dream were to become a reality we would be saying goodbye to dull climate-afghanistan-bankers-baghdad headlines and saying hello to…
Hear no Panda, Smell no Panda
“The panda smells through its ears and hears through its nose, technically making its nose its ears, and its ears its nose.”
Top Attraction
“A blindfolded panda will always head north. This is due to the iron content in the panda’s liver, which makes the animal slightly magnetic.”
Pox Shock
“Pandas are immune to all human illnesses except chicken pox. However, if a panda becomes infected, they suffer none of the usual human symptoms. Instead, on the tenth day of the illness, the animal’s eyeballs will fall out.”
So please join me in my attempt to block out the ridiculously boring self-important headlines of the outside world in favour of humour. The climate may be doomed, but the pandas will march on.
Panda facts courtesy of http://100factsaboutpandas.com.
We never learn.
Waking up bright and early Tuesday morning I was distraught to discover that it was December 1st. The first of December. 01/12/09. In summary; THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS.
Where did 31st November go? I thought I had one more day, just one more day before the pissing tide of Christmas joy became acceptable once more.
But no. The real reason for my confusion lies in the simple fact that none of us really know how many days are in each month. “But you’re wrong, what about the rhyme?” I hear you snear. Well yes, Thirty Days hath September certainly has its uses, but you are remembering the (not so catchy) rhyme itself, not the actual content sitting within it.
We’re all guilty of it. It’s one of those things that we as human beings just simply never bother to learn throughout our entire lifetimes. We don’t act this way with anything else important in our lives. “Shall I learn how to walk?” Go on then. “Should I get into this whole business of ‘brushing my teeth’ twice a day?” If I must. “Should I try to remember how many days each of the months hold?” I’ll give it a miss.
Despite this, I am ridiculously judgemental when it comes to April. My birthday falls on 30th April (each year) – the last day of the month.
Because of this, I have always been fully aware of how many days April holds – it would be hard not to be. Throughout my childhood and now my young adult life, if a friend, relative, or indeed parent was trying to remember my birthday, I would snear and scold them for even beginning to suggest that it could be on April 31st. “April the what? How long have you been living on this planet that could make you possibly think April has 31 days. You’re a fool, Mum, a fool”.
So it seems we’re all as bad as each other. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to discover the principles behind daylight saving. Which is ‘the good one’ again?
Discuss