Super Bumper 2008 Metro-Retro-Intro-spective

I didn't write much in 2008. I am aware that this is a highly regrettable state of affairs, and I extend my humble apologies to anyone left stricken by the sudden void of vitriol and bile in their lives caused by my inaction. But if I were forced to make one New Year's resolution, aside from upholding and reinforcing my own imitable personality flaws, it would be to make it up to you, my faceless and probably non-existent reader. And what better way to do that than with a timely glance back at the year gone by?

The New Year is, after all, a time for quiet and pensive introspection. As an acquaintance in the pub informed me, New Year's Eve is wonderful as it permits us to write-off our misdeeds of the year gone by and begin the new one as a tabula rasa, unburdened by memories of past mistakes (and presumably more likely to make them again next year). Unfortunately for this particular acquaintance I'm not sure the Police National Computer will be quite as selectively forgetful as he is, but I'm probably missing the point.

Incidentally, I am very happy to report that a large percentage of people whom I spoke to on New Year's Eve all hated it as much as I did. These findings shouldn't be too difficult to stomach given that at its heart, New Year's Eve is a wretched cacophony of stupid Scottish songs, Big Ben's overhyped clanging, drunken old people touching each other up, and Jools Holland. For the latter in particular there is surely no justification whatsoever. If you feel any differently you could probably argue that my study was a bit biased, given that misery loves company, but in my case company makes me miserable.

Loser gets what's coming


So what crises and events beset us in 2008? My favourite was the omnipresent Credit Crunch. What began as an amusing joke about Gordon Brown's favourite breakfast cereal soon erupted into a terrifying series of jagged line charts and downward-pointing red arrows, culminating when BBC News Business Editor Robert Peston had an actual stroke on live TV. Of course, whilst everyone else was running around screaming for their lives and mortgages, I was loving it. After years of collective scorn for refusing to wear any label apart from Primark, suddenly everyone was brought down to my level. Righteous smugness was mine to exude, but the highlight was still to come. The news footage of the Lehman Brothers layoffs brought not a tear to my eye but a lump to my pants - all the City twats, having spent the past decade spending outrageous sums of money whilst driving Lamborghinis and wanking into strippers faces, were finally getting their comeuppance. And truly it was a beautiful thing, replete with cardboard boxes of belongings, sullen faces and choked-back tears. Welcome to the real world, bitches.

2008 was also a bad year for British criminals, bringing two sets of brilliant idiots to justice. John and Anne Darwin, the brain-dead canoeist and his soulless horse of a wife, had been watching The Bourne Identity and decided it would be a great idea to replicate the whole film and replace the assassination subplot with some medium scale insurance fraud. The whole plan of course went tits up when a) John Darwin gave himself up to the police, b) they took a photo of themselves together in Panama and c) they came up with the whole idiotic plan in the first place. They were both banged up in a prison for the terminally stupid, with Anne being given a few extra years for being an ugly, steely-eyed bitch into the bargain.


My web host considers images of Karen Matthews to be indecent content, so please accept this image as a substitute

Speaking of ugly, I'm not one to judge a book by its cover but Karen Matthews' book is so hideous that she can't even find a publisher. Her bright idea for some extra cigarette money involved staging the kidnap of her own daughter and appealing to the gullible British public in the same manner that the McCanns had managed so successfully the year before. What Karen didn't realise was that her plan to woo the media was not going to work because she was about as photogenic as a bramble bush full of hypodermic syringes and soiled nappies. When she cried her crocodile tears she looked like the leaking radiator of a knackered Ford Escort. Of course, the public reaction was muted in comparison to the McCann case - you can't trust the working class, after all. And the public's suspicions proved spot-on as usual when Shannon was found, Karen and her accomplice were arrested, and Karen's yokel boyfriend Craig Meehan turned out to be a nonce. Although they are Northern so none of this should really have come as a surprise.

2008 also saw an unstoppable deluge of death and knives and the blood of innocent people flowing through the streets and drowning more innocent people. This horrible mess was caused, naturally, by immigrants and children. In fact, the situation got so bad that Barnado's themselves flung up their arms in resignation and released an advert which actually endorsed the hunting and killing of the troublesome little tykes. Of course, this is an action which I condone wholeheartedly. There are too many children gallivanting around outside with impunity, texting their friends and littering the streets with crumbs. When I was a child I was locked in a room for eighteen hours a day and only allowed outside to clean the drains. And now I still can't go outside for fear of having my face stabbed off by a hooded menace with a meat cleaver. Bleeding-heart liberal nonsense like this did very little to reassure me, especially with the tabloid press keeping a handy tally of the year's gruesome murders in every story.

It wasn't all doom and gloom though, much to my displeasure. Barack Obama was elected as the US president, completely defeating racism once and for all. To be honest, the election result was a foregone conclusion: given the alternative of a moribund Mr Potato Head caricature and his God-bothering bear-murdering counterpart, even the American electorate could work that one out. In science news, the Large Hadron Collider was switched on and solved all the mysteries of the universe, providing atheists around the world with a carte blanche to tell religious morons to shut up. And Israel and Palestine finally decided their lover's tiff had gone too far and called the whole thing off.

So that was the year that was. In fact, in retrospect it was pretty unremarkable, so much so that by New Year's Day most of it had been forgotten already, forcing me to unscrupulously crib from other similarly clichéd sources in order to remember enough to pad out this blog. I wonder, as the fireworks lit up the Hogmanay night sky in an explosive waste of money, who was being especially grateful for their blank slate? I suspect Alan Davies will be glad to forget the distinctive tangy taste of tramp's ear, not that I for one am going to help him. The BBC would certainly like the idiot population to forget that it's a lying, cheating bastard. And granddaughter-fucking Russell Brand will probably be doing his best to avoid Connie Booth's prostitute niece. Personally I just hope that 2009 will bring me something to blog about and not culminate with some boring retrospective bullshit - and you should hope that too.

Permalink || Posted 3/1/2009 by Pete


  1. Heath - 3/1/2009 - 4:31pm

    Pete, I'm disappointed you forgot to include me in your blog. I was one of the biggest bandwagons of 2008!


  2. Dan - 3/1/2009 - 6:17pm

    This blog is mediocore at best.

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