A TRAWL through the archives has confirmed This Reporter's suspicions. At this time of year she should be angling her words towards things of more festive note. It was this time last year, for example, she regaled you with the hoi polloi extravagance of shelling out tens of thousands to hire in professional Christmas decorators. The ultimate yuletide 'Keeping up with the Jones', where it is de rigueur to have a sleigh and live reindeer moored up in the garden.
This Reporter approximates this year's equivalent - measured by weight of same level of grotesqueness - would be that of President Donald Trump's son Donald Trump Jr having to put up with his dad's incessant regifting of monogrammed items, because he unfortunately bears the same name.
Similarly, the news Russian President Vladimir Putin's 2019 calendar, featuring such delightful shots as a semi-clad Vladimir lowering himself into the icy waters of Lake Seliger and nonchalantly lifting weights in the gym, has sold out in Japan.
Style-wise - the word to the savvy last yuletide was to splash out on a huge pair of dangly ear-rings, which were toted as an excellent way to battle through the festive season. Something about being the ideal conversation starter, over incessantly awkward mince pie and mulled wine gatherings.
Which leads us, clumsily, to this year's festivities, for which, quite frankly, the Prime Minister could wear a pair of ear-rings so gigantic, she would have to invest in two sparkly wheelbarrows to get them around in, and still the first thing people would say on meeting her would be: "When are you going to resign Mrs May?"
To summarise the political year briefly, we find we are not exactly where we wanted to be. Alternatively - to coin a phrase, a Brexi-shambles. Word of the year 2020, according to the Oxford dictionary. "Brexit" (adjective) to describe a massive balls-up, or to exert a massive balls-up upon somebody.
The Tory party are more riven with division than when the year started. And in manner of natural order appear to have sprung up an opposition from within their own borders, in absence of a more traditional political one - coming in the form of the ERG. Which in lower case ("erg") becomes the sort of expression elicited upon stepping in something extremely unpleasant. And indeed very much sums up this band of octogenarian brothers headed by Victorian pall bearer Jacob Rees-Mogg.
Mrs May, still Prime Minister at time of typing, solved very little in terms of progression by winning that no confidence vote. Buoyed up temporarily, she declared she was back off to Brussels to spruce up her deal so everyone would vote for it, only to be confronted yet again by an immovable EU.
Who stared blank faced at Mrs May's vague request to make her deal workable. "Speak what you want" the EU were heard to say, before denigrating into a steely faced brawl that has done several rounds of the Internet.
"Nebulous" accuses Jean Claude Juncker. "Brexit means Brexit", apropos to nothing, replies Mrs May - simply, it appears, as something nebulous to say.
The "meaningful vote" in Parliament seems to be off the agenda - certainly this side of Auld Lang Syne - despite a paltry attempt by Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn to table a no confidence motion against Mrs May that amounted to, absolutely nothing.
Indeed, as any sensible, rational person (and Tony Blair) joins in the lyrical rallying chorus to "call the whole thing off", or at least throw it back out to the people to decide, Mr Corbyn appears this year to have fully adopted the persona of a man monitoring the infinitesimal growth of a batch of seedlings, with all the time in the world.
Sure, from small acorns, large oak trees grow but the rest of us simply don't have the patience. This is not the time for playing Mozart to the tomato plants. The rest of the country is very much "Do something Corbo".
"Stupid woman", Mr Corbyn expounds in Mrs May's general direction. But no, that's not quite what we were looking for.
And so, as we gear up to enter 2019, dear readers, there's really nothing else for it. We must buckle into our seat on the No Deal Brexit bus - destination Cliff Edge. Let's first, however, make our final fashion pit stop of the year to pick up a pink party dress.
Vogue magazine advises this party season it is the perfect colour to make an uplifting entrance in - and, as is the case here, exit in. And This Reporter is opting for this Ganni number, with sequins, seeing as this is the most auspicious of occasions that will go down in history as the biggest "Brexit" (adj) since the beginning of time. Merry Christmas.
This Reporter approximates this year's equivalent - measured by weight of same level of grotesqueness - would be that of President Donald Trump's son Donald Trump Jr having to put up with his dad's incessant regifting of monogrammed items, because he unfortunately bears the same name.
Similarly, the news Russian President Vladimir Putin's 2019 calendar, featuring such delightful shots as a semi-clad Vladimir lowering himself into the icy waters of Lake Seliger and nonchalantly lifting weights in the gym, has sold out in Japan.
Style-wise - the word to the savvy last yuletide was to splash out on a huge pair of dangly ear-rings, which were toted as an excellent way to battle through the festive season. Something about being the ideal conversation starter, over incessantly awkward mince pie and mulled wine gatherings.
Which leads us, clumsily, to this year's festivities, for which, quite frankly, the Prime Minister could wear a pair of ear-rings so gigantic, she would have to invest in two sparkly wheelbarrows to get them around in, and still the first thing people would say on meeting her would be: "When are you going to resign Mrs May?"
To summarise the political year briefly, we find we are not exactly where we wanted to be. Alternatively - to coin a phrase, a Brexi-shambles. Word of the year 2020, according to the Oxford dictionary. "Brexit" (adjective) to describe a massive balls-up, or to exert a massive balls-up upon somebody.
The Tory party are more riven with division than when the year started. And in manner of natural order appear to have sprung up an opposition from within their own borders, in absence of a more traditional political one - coming in the form of the ERG. Which in lower case ("erg") becomes the sort of expression elicited upon stepping in something extremely unpleasant. And indeed very much sums up this band of octogenarian brothers headed by Victorian pall bearer Jacob Rees-Mogg.
Mrs May, still Prime Minister at time of typing, solved very little in terms of progression by winning that no confidence vote. Buoyed up temporarily, she declared she was back off to Brussels to spruce up her deal so everyone would vote for it, only to be confronted yet again by an immovable EU.
Who stared blank faced at Mrs May's vague request to make her deal workable. "Speak what you want" the EU were heard to say, before denigrating into a steely faced brawl that has done several rounds of the Internet.
"Nebulous" accuses Jean Claude Juncker. "Brexit means Brexit", apropos to nothing, replies Mrs May - simply, it appears, as something nebulous to say.
The "meaningful vote" in Parliament seems to be off the agenda - certainly this side of Auld Lang Syne - despite a paltry attempt by Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn to table a no confidence motion against Mrs May that amounted to, absolutely nothing.
Indeed, as any sensible, rational person (and Tony Blair) joins in the lyrical rallying chorus to "call the whole thing off", or at least throw it back out to the people to decide, Mr Corbyn appears this year to have fully adopted the persona of a man monitoring the infinitesimal growth of a batch of seedlings, with all the time in the world.
Sure, from small acorns, large oak trees grow but the rest of us simply don't have the patience. This is not the time for playing Mozart to the tomato plants. The rest of the country is very much "Do something Corbo".
"Stupid woman", Mr Corbyn expounds in Mrs May's general direction. But no, that's not quite what we were looking for.
And so, as we gear up to enter 2019, dear readers, there's really nothing else for it. We must buckle into our seat on the No Deal Brexit bus - destination Cliff Edge. Let's first, however, make our final fashion pit stop of the year to pick up a pink party dress.
Vogue magazine advises this party season it is the perfect colour to make an uplifting entrance in - and, as is the case here, exit in. And This Reporter is opting for this Ganni number, with sequins, seeing as this is the most auspicious of occasions that will go down in history as the biggest "Brexit" (adj) since the beginning of time. Merry Christmas.
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