It’s time to look back in anger – or at least mild despair – as Paul Kirkley conducts his annual alphabetical autopsy of the past 12 months.
A is for AI. It was the year in which the machines finally rose up, Terminator-style, and enslaved the fleshkind. OK, not quite. But now that the hellmouth has been unsealed – with AI generating everything from Apple news bulletins to the Coca-Cola Christmas ad – it’s surely only a matter of time.
Rishi in the rain – the Sunak statement that sparked the July 4 General Election. Picture: PA
B is for bye, then. We bid a fond farewell to several staples of British life in 2024, from Tupperware to the London Evening Standard, while the Royal Mail will fall into foreign hands after 500 years, the government having cleared its sale to Czech billionaire Daniel Kretinsky. (Cue several thousand identical ‘the Czech’s in the post’ headlines.) But we also said good riddance to Bashar al-Assad, Jacob Rees-Mogg and Liz Truss, so it wasn’t all bad.
C is for Co-op Live. The UK’s biggest indoor arena was forced to postpone its launch three times – once after part of the ventilation system fell from the ceiling, shortly before the doors were due to open. In retrospect, maybe naming the venue after Britain’s leading funeral provider was asking for trouble.
D is for ‘dynamic pricing’. What would it take for the warring Gallagher brothers to put aside their long-running feud and reform Oasis? The answer, to no-one’s great surprise, was “a truck-load of cash”. But the celebrations turned sour as fans spent hours stuck in online ticket queues, only to be subjected to the digital equivalent of a carjacking at the last minute. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they now have to go and watch Oasis.
The interview, billed as ‘a conversation’ between X (formerly Twitter) owner Elon Musk and then former US President Donald Trump. Picture: PA
E is for Elon. In 2024, Elon Musk once again proved that being the world’s richest and stupidest man is a less than optimal combination for the future of the planet. Having helped Donald Trump win the White House through a combination of mass misinformation and old-fashioned bribery, the billionaire manchild will now be given his own kids’ table in the Oval Office. (At least until he falls out with Trump and gets fired, anyway.)
F is for felon. In May, former president Donald Trump made history when he was convicted of 24 felony crimes. So that was definitely the last we’d be hearing of him. Right?
G is for Going Dutch. In his memoir Unhinghed… sorry, Unleashed, Boris Johnson revealed that, as Prime Minister, he had once considered invading the Netherlands. Like you do. (Rumours that the paperback edition will be renamed Unsold could not be confirmed at time of going to press.)
Former subpostmaster and lead campaigner Alan Bates arrives to give evidence to the Post Office Horizon IT inquiry. Picture: PA
H is for Horizon scandal. After years of indifference, the biggest miscarriage of justice in British history finally made it on to front pages – but only thanks to the success of ITV’s Mr Bates vs the Post Office. So forget writing to your MP about that pothole in your road – try getting Toby Jones to star in a drama about it instead.
I is for it’s not coming home. Hopes of victory in the Euros were dashed when everyone was suddenly reminded of England’s enduring inability pass a ball. Despite this, the Three Lions made it all the way to the final, after which Gareth Southgate resigned in triumph/disgrace (depending on how generous you were feeling). Andy Murray also bowed out with a typically effusive parting shot (“never even liked tennis anyway”) while Britain welcomed a new sporting titan in the shape of 16-year-old Luke Littler, who made the final of the World Darts Championship, despite not being old enough to drink (which, let’s be honest, is 90 per cent of the game). Plus Team GB won lots of medals at the Paris Olympics, several of them in proper sports like running and swimming.
An anti-immigration demonstration outside the Holiday Inn Express in Rotherham. Picture: PA
J is for justice. Which is what the summer’s rioters got served with pretty sharpish after expressing their ‘legitimate concerns’ about, er, things, by helping themselves to smartphones, Greggs pasties and bath bombs from Lush. In truth, it was less a political protest and more like an early Black Friday for racists and the long-term unemployable. Extra points to that woman who delivered herself directly into the arms of the law, face first, by forgetting to let go of a wheelie bin.
K is for Kemi. Look, I’m not saying the new leader of the Conservative Party has some extreme views. But her surname is literally Bad Enoch.
L is for landsliding. A word I’ve just made up to describe the phenomenon of winning a whopping electoral majority – then immediately being hated by absolutely everyone.
M is for marooned. Passengers on a round-the-world cruise ended up being stranded in Belfast for four months, while astronauts on an ‘eight-day mission’ to the International Space Station have been stuck in orbit since June. It’s still not as long as the average wait for a GP appointment, though.
N is for not going back. What Kamala Harris repeatedly promised we weren’t going to do. (Spoiler: We’re going back.)
O is for Oompa Loompa. Willy’s Chocolate Experience – an unlicensed Charlie and the Chocolate factory-themed event in Glasgow – went viral after the ‘experience’ turned out to be standing in a draughty, deserted warehouse with some very bored-looking Oompa Loompas. A world of pure imagination it was very much not.
P is for pets. When he wasn’t babbling about his good friend Hannibal Lecter, or who would win in a fight between a shark and an electric boat, Donald Trump was throwing around baseless conspiracy theories about Haitian immigrants eating cats and dogs in the town of Springfield, Ohio. So that was definitely the last we’d be hearing of him. Right?
Taylor Swift performs the first London concert of her Eras Tour at Wembley Stadium. Picture: PA
Q is for queen, an audience with. Shortly after coming to power, Keir Starmer was granted a private meeting with the world’s most powerful ruler. But he had to keep it short, as Taylor Swift had a concert to perform.
R is for rain. For all the talk of a Brat summer, 2024 will mostly be remembered as the year it rained, and rained… then rained some more. If there’s a single image that defined the year, it was a sodden Rishi Sunak, standing in a torrential downpour in Downing Street, trying to announce a General Election while a protester blasted out Labour anthem Things Can Only Get Wetter… sorry, Better. He may have been the Prime Minister, but he was also just a boy, standing in front of a nation, asking them to vote for him. (Spoiler: they didn’t.) Meanwhile, Storm Boris caused devastation in Europe. Honestly, this stuff writes itself sometimes.
Sir Keir Starmer has an audience with King Charles III following the landslide General Election victory for the Labour Party. Picture: PA
S is for sausages. Keir Starmer made himself a sausage to fortune by accidentally demanding the return of the meaty tubes during his speech to the Labour conference. Now all we need is for That’s Life to find a dog who can say “hostages”. (One for the kids, there.)
One of Liberal Democrat leader Sir Ed Davey stunts on Lake Windermere while on the election campaign trail. Picture: PA
T is for teacups. Ed Davey made the most of the summer election by treating the entire campaign like an extended Center Parcs holiday. But amidst all the pratfalls and water slide stunts, the Lib Dem leader did make time for a serious interview about rejoining the EU single market – conducted while riding the teacups at Thorpe Park.
U is for underground, overground…. In February, Transport for London announced the names of its six new Overground lines, designed to reflect an inclusive modern Britain. Welcome, then, the Brexit Line, the Replacement Bus Line, the Clarkson Line, the Middle Aisle at Lidl Line, the Leaves On The Line and the Del Boy Falling Through A Bar Line. (Are you sure about this? – Ed)
V is for vote to strike. In August, GPs voted to take collective action for the first time in 60 years, with warnings of potential disruption for the eight people who’d actually managed to make an appointment this year.
W is for women of a certain age. Which is how shouty MasterChef irritant Gregg Wallace described the people who’d made allegations of inappropriate sexual conduct against him. It’s always the ones you most expect, isn’t it?
X is for XCX. British pop star Charli XCX’s album made Brat (a defiant expression of “messy, party girl energy”, it says here) the undisputed word of the year. Kamala Harris famously enjoyed her own ‘Brat summer’ – followed rapidly by a Splat autumn.
Y is for you will be missed. Rest in peace Steve Wright, Dame Maggie Smith, John Prescott, Quincy Jones, Michael Mosley, James Earl Jones, Donald Sutherland, Dave Myers, Liam Payne, Sven-Goran Eriksson, Kris Kristofferson, Bernard Hill, Timothy West, Shannen Doherty, Derek Draper, Annie Nightingale, Shelly Duvall, Franz Beckenbauer, David Soul and, er, OJ Simpson. (OK, maybe not him.)
Z is for zzzzzz. Aka Sleepy Joe Biden. Remember him? He probably doesn’t. From his disastrous debate performance to the #awks moment when he called President Zelensky President Putin – not to mention forgetting not to pardon his wayward son Hunter – the leader of the free world stumbled through his final year in office like an unholy mash-up of The West Wing and Weekend at Bernie’s. Still, at least he wasn’t as bad as the other guy. So we could at least rely on people not voting for him. Right?