We'll take a cup of kindness

Well, this is it. The final post of 2010. And what a year it's been. I hope this series of memory joggers has helped you reflect on the ups and downs of the last 12 months, and that not all the memories gave you a headache.

George Bush had his own troubling moment of reflection in November as he reflected on his eight years in the Oval Office. Strangely, it wasn't the economic meltdown, Hurricane Katrina, 9/11, an illegal war, corporate corruption or dubious election results that caused him sleepless nights. It was being called names by Kanye West. Still, at least he has a newfound empathy for Taylor Swift.

Speaking of music, Katy Perry, P!nk, Ke$ha and Lady Gaga plucked their pens from behind their ears and scribbled some inspiring songs to show their support for their gay fans. One person who was unable to contribute to this musical outpouring was Michael Jackson, although that didn't stop his canny record label from cobbling together an album from recordings of the King of Pop clearing his throat and practicing his scales.

Nadine Coyle also released her long-awaited debut album, but only on the shelves of Tesco. As a result, she shifted fewer units than a warehouse worker on long-term sick leave. Poor promotion was blamed for the project's failure, but ultimately, it came down to what her bandmate Cheryl repeatedly refers to as 'the likeability factor'. In that she didn't have any.

The celebrities were also out in force this November - another bunch of desperate 'stewing steak' stars tried to convince us they were still fillet, by gobbling down all manner of marsupial genitals in the Australian jungle. Hungry fans were also able to join in the fun of the Bushtucker Trial this time, thanks to the release of witchetty grub chocolates.

If you prefer your celebreality entertainment with fewer dry-heaving scenes, you could have tuned into Celebrity Coach Trip - a remarkable show which stretched the concept of celebrity to its illogical conclusion. Forget about BAFTAs, what everyone needed to see was Barry Chuckle sharing a beer bath with Ingrid Tarrant.

The Daily Mail continued its war on logic, tolerance and professional journalism, by writing an article warning its white readership that they're just fifty years away from being a minority. Less politically minded readers had to content themselves with a remarkable story investigating the science of celebrity. Its stunning conclusion: famous people mix with other famous people in expensive place. Mystery solved. There were also some handy hints on how to buy your wife the perfect Christmas gift. If you missed this incisive piece, here's the summary - listen.

The recession maintained its icy grip on the wallets of the nation, so David Cameron commissioned the Office of National Statistics to conduct a survey assessing how happy we all are. It's just a shame no-one has found a way to measure the happiness of Britain's turkeys, who had good reason to celebrate on Thanksgiving (for once) when Bernard Matthew finally bit the big Golden Drummer.

The True Clean Towel was also made available, promising to put a smile (and nothing else) on the faces of anyone with a phobia of letting their damp parts touch. The surprisingly graphic ad shocked and amused in equal measure, although if anyone does want a pair of balls rubbing in their face, I can recommend a number of clubs.

Finally, November was a month of shocking revelations, as Michael Moore received a long-awaited apology, Tomasz Schafernaker showed his casual side, and Hobbits were uncovered as a bunch of undersized white supremacists.

Which, rather neatly, brings us to December. As five inches of snow managed to bring the whole country to a standstill, we found ourselves under house arrest, much like Julian Assange. The Australian journalist was eventually released on bail to await extradition, having ironically found himself on the receiving end of a tactical intelligence leak.

Bernie Ecclestone showed his battered features in an ad for Hublot watches, making it the desirable timepiece for anyone who wants to be beaten and robbed in the street. In contrast, Nike became a much less desirable brand when the shoe manufacturer decided to sue a guy who mistakenly bought a fake pair of shoes on the internet.

A school in Memphis waged war on low-slung denim, by creating a wall of shame for slouchy students revealing a little too much underwear. And Disney tried to help out the kids by bringing in Britney Spears to teach the next generation of child stars about how to handle the pressures of fame. Which was a little like asking Katie Price for advice on getting the 'natural look'.

We endured the finals of the X-Factor and The Apprentice, both of which ended rather predictably, with winners that most viewers had picked out in the first couple of weeks. However, both shows did give us some fantastically entertaining highlights, thanks to the most objectionable contestants since Goebbels and Goering appeared on Double Dare with Peter Simon.

So here we are. It's December 31st, the Prosecco's chilling in the fridge, and many of my work colleagues are shivering in the cold by the banks of the Thames, waiting to trigger the fireworks. Whoever and wherever you are, I'd like to wish you a Happy New Year and thank you for spending some of your time on this blog. I hope you'll be back again in 2011.

Now, to play us out, here's a mash-up of 25 of the biggest hits of the year, courtesy of DJ Earworm (Warning: may contain traces of Ke$ha)...

Forever Autumn

Welcome to the penultimate post of 2010. It's been a year of ups and downs, with more than a few sideways glances. And as we sweep up the remains of the decade, along with all the tattered wrapping paper and empty vodka bottles, there's time to take a quick look as what Autumn brought us, in addition to a skip-load of damp leaves.

The month of September got off to a great start for Peter Hitchens, who felt he'd finally identified the smoking gun that confirmed what he'd always suspected - that the BBC leans to the left. No-one had the heart to point out that the telling bulge in the corporation's corduroy slacks had given the game away years ago.

Elsewhere in the pages of the Daily Mail, the knives were drawn for Lady Gaga, Davina McCall and Chloe Mafia. The paper's ill-concealed misogyny spilled out all over the place, as these women were attacked for being too calculating (Our Lady of the Tenderloin), too liberal (Big Mutha) or too slutty (do I really need to point that one out?).

However, it was clear that the real enemy of our traditional British sensibilities, was the growing Islamification of this great nation, as evidenced by the pernicious spread of Halal McNuggets. It was clear, to the Mail at least, that although most people don't give a Towering Zinger about what they put in their mouths, they do care about which religiously associated slaughtering methods are being used in the abattoir.

Which leads me rather neatly onto 'Fuck You' - Cee Lo Green's chart-topping, foot-tapping, profanity spouting retro throwback. Although a radio friendly version was released (managing to squeeze an extra syllable into the title), it was the explicit version that really caught people's imagination. And it was just one of a number of fairly innocuous pop songs, spiced up with some dockyard language. In the past, singers have recommended gargling with warm, salty water before going onstage - these days they'd be more in need of soap and water.

The first few Christmas decorations were already popping up in certain stores, so naturally our thoughts turned to gifts - even though we planned to leave buying anything until the last minute, certain that our postal service wouldn't be impeded by any seasonal snowfall.

Answering the age-old question 'What do you buy for the man or woman who has everything?', we discovered a rare malt whisky distilled from diabetics' piss, a pearl necklace of sculpted silver semen, and a new women's magazine aimed at plus-size ladies.

The publishers' timing couldn't have been better, since women's body size continued to be a big issue. Christina Hendricks complained that dress designers were unable to provide her with suitable red carpet couture, thanks to her abundant figure. Used to dressing stick-thin waifs of indeterminate gender, it's no wonder the designers struggled to dress a woman with more curves than an alpine racetrack. Nonetheless, the media's obsession with post-baby weight loss continued, as celebrity mothers were damned if they did and damned if they didn't.

P0pvulture took a trip Stateside in October to take in the delights of New York and San Francisco, most of which came with a gargantuan side order of fries and dipping sauce. The people were friendly, the shop assistants helpful and the choices varied. In fact, it was only the high prices that reminded me of home.

Meanwhile, X-Factor rolled on, giving the UK a fantastic new supervillain to hate. Apparently, these days you can be branded Satan's emissary on Earth just for having curly hair and an over-inflated opinion of yourself. Lookout Mika, they'll be coming for you next.

The Jackass boys launched another assault on taste, decency and each other's genitals, this time in 3D. Apparently, the immersive nature of the technology makes you really feel like you're there. In this case, that means trapped in an airborne Portaloo.

Looking further afield, we followed closely the developments in Chile, as a major rescue effort was mounted to extract a number of miners trapped in a collapsed shaft. Thankfully, all the men were safely removed, although one found himself facing a different kind of jeopardy when both his wife and mistress turned up to celebrate his safe return.

Over in Spain, prostitutes were forced to wear high-vis jackets when working the rural roads - but struggled to accessorise their new outfits. And a different kind of sex scandal erupted in Italy, as children were removed from a prestigious school because of concerns about the sexiness of one of the teachers. You'd think the mothers of the children would be happy that their husbands finally showed an interest in attending parents' evening.

Concerned by a spate of gay suicides, Dan Savage launched the 'It gets Better' campaign, which saw a huge number of illustrious celebrities, and Ke$ha, create encouraging YouTube videos encouraging kids to rise above the bullies. Unfortunately, no-one pointed this out to Amanda Platell, who continued to churn out her own special brand of underwritten cruelty, directed at anyone who happened to catch her eye. Now, I'm reluctant to lower myself to her level, so I'll simply point out that she looks like a snow shovel coated in vaseline and leave it at that.

OK folks, tomorrow's the big one, as we count down the last two months of the decade. Please join me and we'll raise a celebratory glass of something to the year that once was.

Summer blogging, had me a blast

This epic feat of endurance rolls on, as we find ourselves remembering July, with the same kind of fond recollection usually reserved for our first bout of tonsillitis. 

As usual in the summer months, our attention was focused on Hollywood. But as another year of tedious and uninspired blockbusters rolled out, it was the action behind the scenes that really made us sit up and take notice. Mel Gibson was this year's big celebrity casualty, plunging into a downward spiral, like Lindsay Lohan, Vanessa Feltz and Michael Barrymore on a helter skelter. Christopher Nolan proudly unveiled Inception, despite its jittery studio worrying that it had blown $200 million on a film designed to make people think. 

Thankfully, the lowest common denominators were also well catered for, with Hugh Jackman offering a sweaty one-to-one workout, Robert Pattinson keeping people guessing about which bodily fluids he really likes to suck on, and Jeremy Boreing living up to his name, with a slate of films which depicted 'real American values'. And then there was the Human Centipede, a European arthouse horror movie which became the talk of dinner parties around the world (albeit after the chocolate souffles had been served). 

The Czech Republic saw a saucy calendar being released, showcasing its hottest female politicians in various states of undress. Critics were quick to point the finger that they were debasing their public roles by participating in the project; everyone else's hands were otherwise engaged. In the UK, we had to put up with Lembit Opik writing an impassioned defense of Phillip Coates, who had been arrested in Barnsley for riding a Segway on the road. Where's a cliff when you really need one?

The Scissor Sisters released their long-awaited third album, which sounded like a bunch of arse. Funnily enough, it looked like one too, with a cover that used a famous Mapplethorpe image of two snugly dressed buttocks. Speaking of which, Jedward continued their baffling recording careers even though they were dropped by their record label and injured on stage. 

Elsewhere in the deepest, darkest depths of the music industry, Katie Price managed to convince a record label that a sideline in singing was a good idea for the zeppelin-titted humility vacuum. She told the world that it was all in fun, a point that was missed by anyone with the misfortune to hear her output. Interestingly, her single's release coincided with a report on a baffling new trend called iDosing, as teenagers around the world started listening to 'repetitive drone-like music' in search of a non-pharmaceutical high. 

Innovation was also a big business in July. We had the Butch Bakery, which offered buttercream for blokes, beer served in the body of a dead squirrel, and a contraceptive with teeth. Now there's an episode of Dragons' Den I could actually sit through. 

The following month had its own fair share of clever products hitting the market, most notably the Brian Blessed edition of Tom Tom. Essentially the same old in-car navigation system, this software upgrade ensured that no-one would ever fall asleep at the wheel. We were also shown the wonders of Stashitware, the world's most voluminous pants, and the Lady Gaga Halloween costume range, which sadly debuted too soon to include the coldcut-couture she showed off at the MTV awards.

August was also the month when employees fought back, from the strippers who decided to protest outside a local church, to Steven Slater who gave an effective (and dramatic) demonstration of how to operate the emergency evacuation slide on a JetBlue aircraft. 

It was a case of better the devil you know for gay conservatives GOProud, who invited random hate generator Ann Coulter to give a speech at their annual conference. A decision that, in retrospect, seemed about as sensible as Lindy Chamberlain hiring a nanny from an ad in Dingo Weekly. But not all celebrities were as willing to grin and bear it for a paycheck - silver fox Anderson Cooper turned down a million dollars in exchange for dying his platinum barnet. 

When we weren't talking about the inevitable return of the X-Factor, we were speculating about the facts in the case of Gareth Williams, the MI5 agent who was found dead in his own suitcase. Rumours circulated that it was a bizarre sex game gone wrong, when it was more likely that he was just trying to avoid some of the gratuitous surcharges on a Ryanair flight. 

EastEnders courted its fair share of controversy this summer, as viewers complained about scenes of Phil Mitchell's descent into drug addiction. They complained that the show was too realistic, not exactly a familiar accusation for a programme in which Ian Beale has managed to marry three times. 

Lynne Rosenthal hit the headlines for not feeling the love in Starbucks, whilst Donald Duck was accused of feeling a little too much of it, when posing for a picture with one guest at the Magic Kingdom.  And finally, there was Pineapple Dance Studios, a show so gay it made Glee look like Match of the Day. 

All in all, it was a pretty good summer. 

The countdown continues

In case you missed yesterday's post, we're taking a look back at the events, people and tell-all-autobiographies that helped to shape 2010. If you don't like year-end reviews, check back here on New Year's Day for some fresh content. Otherwise, pretend you're like Guy Pearce, and join me in creating some new short term memories of the last 12 months.

March saw the arrival of a new kind of puritanism, as Florida offered tax breaks for family-friendly movies, Clearplay launched their automated film-censoring software, and a gay couple was controversially turned away from a British B&B by its Christian owners. Even a supposedly risqué photoshoot featuring a young Samantha Cameron turned out to be about as sexually incendiary as an Amish bonnet.

A different kind of traditionalism also made its presence felt/groped in Hollywood, as the producers of Pirates of the Caribbean announced that they only wanted to see actresses with all-natural treasures. At the same time, two gay teens made the headlines by being banned from their high school proms because of their proclivities.

Thankfully though, it wasn't all coyness and propriety in March, some people were still willing to spice up our lives with their bedroom antics. Fashion's most famous cadaver Karl Lagerfeld told the press he was proud to pay for rent boys, Donna Simpson told us all about fast food porn (people pay to watch her choke down 20 McNuggets), and even Darren Day was arrested due to his offensive weapon. Lonely gamers also discovered that they could rent a girl by the hour to accompany them in cyberspace while they played on their X-Boxes.

March also saw the arrival of Ke$ha, smeared in glitter gel and the remains of last night's burritos. It was clear from the start that she was out to steal Lady Gaga's crown, but our queen was too busy to take notice, as she proudly unveiled the Tarantino-influenced video to Telephone.

The differences between men and women were made more explicit for many, as adland delivered the world's first realistic commercial about periods, and Tyler Bowling showed the world his pearly penile papules (before regretting it and attempting to sue the TV network). Things were less clear in Brangelina's house, as it emerged that their daughter Shiloh has been displaying the signs of 'gender non-conformity'. But March was definitely the month for masculinity, as Tomasz Schafernaker revealed his warm front in Attitude magazine and one alpha male published his uber-butch vegan cookbook.

After the tedious traditionalism of March, April was refreshingly uninhibited. Christina Aguilera foreshadowed her recent X-Factor appearance by telling us that she was more sexual than ever, Ricky Martin revealed to the world what it had known for years about his vida loca, and even Archie and the gang got a new gay pal to hang out with at the beach. Sadly, the tolerance in Riverdale wasn't felt elsewhere in the States. David Archuleta got into a bit of a panic about being spotted in a gay bar and the right wingers compared homosexuality to having an amputee fetish.

People's hopes were temporarily raised when it was announced that Courtney Love was dead, until it turned out that Courtney herself had created the story to tell the world that she was 'killing off' that aspect of her life. In a similar vein, Britney tried to turn over a new leaf, by releasing unretouched pictures of herself from a recent magazine shoot, and Lindsay Lohan attempted to remind the world that she was more than a twenty-four year-old trainwreck, by taking on the role of Linda Lovelace in a biopic of the Deep Throat star.

It was a case of 'do as I say, not as I do' for two women who came to prominence in the 1980s. Madonna revealed that she struggles with her daughter Lourdes over her age-inappropriate wardrobe, despite the fact that she seemed to spend most of her early career dressed in scrunchies and lacy underwear. Mandy Smith also crawled out of the woodwork to lament the loss of innocence in today's youth, neatly sidestepping the fact that, as a teenager, she'd hooked up with a man old enough to be her chemistry teacher.

Controversy was everywhere in April, from the BBC irritating Doctor Who fans by running Graham Norton trailers over their favourite show, to Gisele and Tom Brady revealing plans for a 20,000 sq ft house that threatened to put half of California in the shade. However, public enemy number one was comedian Frankie Boyle, who shocked audiences with a string of jokes about people with Down's syndrome. At least he seems to have learned his lesson, and now studiously avoids offensive remarks.

While James Nguyen's astoundingly craptacular 'Birdemic' hit the big screen, Michael Bay was making plans to bring his explosive brand of bullshit to the small screen. And another popular TV show found itself courting a different kind of drama, as Nicollette Sheridan attempted to sue Desperate Housewives producer Marc Cherry for slapping her on-set. Interestingly, her claims were only marginally less believable than the usual plotlines on Wisteria Lane.