Well, the curtain is finally falling on 2026, and 2027 is hovering in the wings, clearing its throat and looking important. It hardly seems twelve months since we were holding our meetings in the frozen foods aisle of a retired supermarket, huddled between a defrosted chest freezer and a sign that still claimed “Peas 3 for £1.”

Now look at us.

We are positively ensconced. Wood-panelled walls. Proper chairs. A meeting room in the brand new library building that smells faintly of fresh paint and intellectual ambition. Luxury has arrived, and it brought a laminated visitor badge.

Of course, this is the very same building that last November consisted of a single heroic row of bricks after the original construction firm vanished like a budget magician. Salvation came in the form of a builder called Bob, recently freed up after completing a “small overseas project,” assisted by a team who introduced themselves with suspicious enthusiasm and the slogan, “Yes we can.” One month later, five storeys now soar skyward, each crammed with books, magazines, and at least one person pretending to understand modern poetry.

At the top sits a revolving restaurant with panoramic views over the rolling sheds, which glow at sunset like a metallic savannah. Starbucks runs a free coffee shop up there. Free. We do not ask questions. We simply sip and feel chosen.

As for world events, I have been expressly forbidden from mentioning certain political figures by name, so they shall instead be referred to as Nappy Rash and The Brexorcist, which feels both respectful and medically accurate.

Nappy Rash continued eyeing up international real estate like an overenthusiastic estate agent with a globe and a dart. The Brexorcist reportedly underwent a spiritual awakening somewhere near Scunthorpe services. The details remain unclear, though it has certainly made dinner party conversations more energetic.

Elsewhere, Venezuela staged a reverse takeover of the United States, rebranding it as the USV, now buoyed along on a glossy tide of oil and confusion. Russia and Ukraine settled their conflict with a winner-takes-all football match that ended in a draw, which feels about right for international diplomacy. Meanwhile, a newly established Palestinian state rose with remarkable grace and has become a surprising hub for cooperation, commerce, and extremely successful aggregate exports. World peace, it turns out, was hiding in the gravel all along.

History had a busy year too. The Ark of the Covenant was finally discovered on Oak Island. Unfortunately, decades of enthusiastic drilling have left it ventilated to a degree best described as “theologically breezy.”

Astronomers then announced we have all been looking at the world map upside down. North is South, South is North, and suddenly Newcastle is enjoying an influx of former Londoners who cannot cope with living “up north” any longer. Estate agents in Gateshead have not slept since.

Sport offered its usual emotional rollercoaster. England did not win the World Cup. Again. This time they were dispatched early by a resurgent Scotland, who went on to lift the trophy fuelled by Irn Bru and what nutritionists are bravely calling “experimental confectionery frying.” Germany were defeated in the final, possibly out of sheer confusion.

In the World Tea Making Championships, England also stumbled. The mighty United States of Venezuela triumphed in extra time after our captain, Mary Berry, tragically failed to warm the pot. A national inquiry is underway.

Culturally, the Bayeux Tapestry is now on display in London, prompting our writing group to visit for “research,” which mostly involved nodding thoughtfully and buying sandwiches. By a clerical error involving six accidental zeros, our last book briefly rocketed up the bestseller list. We are choosing to describe this as “a breakthrough moment.”

Fashion also flourished. The must-have accessory of the year is the Harold Eye Patch, complete with decorative arrow. I am delighted to see so many of you wearing yours today. Depth perception is temporary. Style is eternal.

So yes, 2026 has been memorable. Historic, even. Personally, I did not captain England at cricket, nor did I drive a Formula One car. I am, however, tantalisingly close to finishing an entire book, which feels almost as unlikely.

Still, I remain gloriously consistent in one area. I continue to produce this noble stream of well-dressed nonsense.

Onward to 2027. Try not to blink.