The Daily Annagram is signing off for the year.
For the next fourteen days I shall be in the constant company of my beloved family who have informed me that shutting myself away all day to smoke fags and prattle away at you is not acceptable mumming behaviour at Christmas.
I have agreed to this, but they have yet to realise that I shall be blowing smoke and words directly into their faces instead.
It is tradition at this time of year to undertake a review of the last twelve months; to reflect on the gains and the losses, the changes and the challenges.
I have decided that the best way to do this is to interview the year itself:
Me: Hello 2016.
2016: Alright. Mind if I spark-up?
Me: Not at all, please do.
2016: I’ve only a few days left to live. Might as well enjoy them. Is that a mince pie?
Me: Yes! Do help yourself.
2016: I see you’ve been helping yourself alot this year…you’ve got a right Angela Merkel vibe going on there aintcha?
Me: How rude!
2016: What d’you expect? I’m 2016. I tell it like it is, don’t I?
Me: Right. Well, let’s get started. Welcome to The Daily Annagram.
2016: The what?
Me: The Daily Annagram.
2016: Whassat then?
Me: I’m so glad you asked. The Daily Annagram is a blog with a growing readership of highly intelligent and engaged people who come here every day to be entertained and amused by my complete lack of actual knowledge about the topics of the day.
2016: And who the arse are you?
Me: My name is Anna Macgowan and I am a clever writer.
2016: Never heard of you. How many people read your Daily Telegram blog?
Me: The Daily Annagram. And I have 306,187 hits so far and readers from Tanzania to South Korea!
2016: Are you using this fictional conversation with me as a lousy device for showing off about your blog?
2016: Coz it’s pretty embarrassing if you are.
Me: I just thought, you know, it’s a good time to reflect isn’t it? At the end of the year, the end of this year in particular because you’ve been quite the do-er, haven’t you 2016?
2016: I ain’t finished yet. Are you more loved than Holly Willoughbooby? Coz she’s next on my list of celebrities I need to cull.
Me: No. You’d take Willoughbooby before Gwyneth Paltrow?
2016: Nobody loves GP. I’m only taking the ones you’ll miss.
Me: Can’t you take Trump or Farage?
2016: What did I just say? My year is the year of killing the famous people you all love. That’s my remit. To kill off loads of good people and replace them with massive arseholes.
Me: Why? Why do you have to do that?
2016: So you lot sleeping at the back, face-first into your copies of The Guardian, will finally wake up to the fact that while you thought everybody loved David Bowie and Victoria Wood which meant everyone was lovely and lefty, the rest of the world were reading Mein Kampf and watching re-runs of Till Death Us Do Part and GETTING ORGANISED to take over the world.
Me: You mean there IS a plan? Oh my GOD. Is there actually a GOD????
2016: Arsehole. No. I take my orders from history. We work on a rotational basis. You’ll be on this loop of social liberalism > complacency > fascism > hellish wars > revolution > social liberalism > yadda yadda yadda until you lot all stop scrabbling for power and start having some actual lasting ideas.
Me: 2016, are you telling me that you have unleashed 365 days of grotesque loss and the rise of fascism because you are, in fact, a leftie and are challenging the rest of us lefties to rise up and sort it all out?
2016: Look, you made me up. I am a figment of your imagination. I’ll say whatever you want to believe if it makes you feel better.
Me: It does make me feel better.
2016: Joy. Pass us another mince pie.
Me: Well, anyway you’ve been good to me, 2016. You are the year I started this blog, got up on stage, went on telly. You are the year my husband and I went to therapy to sort out our shit and remembered how much we adore each other. You are a year in which my kids have been healthy and mostly happy and sometimes even nice to be around. You have let me keep my Dad and helped me lose others who I’m better off without. You’re alright really, 2016.
2016: Yeah? Wait ’til you meet 2017.
Me: I’m ready. I’m awake and alert for whatever 2017 throws at me.
2016: You’ll need to be. In 2017 you’re gonna publish that book.
Me: Am I? I am. Can I do it? Yes I can!
2016: Fucks sake shuddup with the Obamaisms and have another fag, Annagram. You’re gonna have to cut down on both next year.
And so, my dear readers, there remains nothing more for me to say this year, except to thank you for your continued patronage.
I have heard others profess to ‘love’ their fans/readers/followers which I shall not say as I have met very few of you in person and am therefore unaware of your deeply unloveable bad breath and tendency to interrupt.
But I have definitely, absolutely loved having you along.
I do hope your festivities are as merry and bright as you all deserve. And if it all turns to YAK by Christmas Eve, let us remember these words of solace from the last-known intelligent politician to exit the arena:
“No matter what happens, the sun will rise in the morning.” Barak Obama
See you in Jan, guys.