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You judge how your year will go on how well the novelty New Year glasses in the shape of that year work. 2026 will be mediocre.

WAKING with a hangover that is literally headsplitting – a mixture of red, green and cerebral matter is trickling from a gash in my forehead – I apply a plaster and reflect on my New Year sermon.

Turns out if you both resolve to lie back and think of England, sex will be even worse.

CHRISTMAS is a time celebrated with Anglo-Germanic traditions and delight at gifts, but according to one of the founders of our feast, it was not always thus.

On the same day as Live Aid a much smaller event called Fife Aid took place. And despite having Big Country and Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson on the bill, it was not as successful.

WAKING with a hangover so excruciating I vomit up chunks of my liver which unfortunately my dog snaffles before I can retrieve them, I reflect on an encounter earlier this year with Liz Truss.

TUCKED away in the picturesque town of Laglio in Lombardy, George Clooney’s mansion boasts a swimming pool, tennis court and patchy CCTV coverage that allowed us to dig under his fence with ease.

NOW the sacred feast of Cyber Monday is over, we’re fast approaching Boxing Day sales eve, or to use its preferred pronoun, ‘Christmas’.

Sales are down. Debts are spiralling. Funko Pop! may soon no longer exist as a going concern. Lads, it’s time to do the Nazis.

WAKING with a hangover so searing I have to call the fire brigade and have them direct a hose at full blast directly into my mouth for ten minutes in order to rehydrate, I reflect on the past week.