That’s it! Christmas and New Year are over. The tree has been returned to the attic, your relatives have returned from whence they came, and their presents have been returned to the Oxfam shop. All that remains is the desperation with which we now cling to our New Year’s resolutions. After four solid weeks of eating selection boxes for breakfast and brushing our teeth with Baileys, it is time to atone.
We’ve piled on the timber like a festive goose and we’re under pressure to detox, dry out, and generally become better human beings. Our feeds are awash with adverts for diet clubs, gym memberships, and teetotal programmes. Why? Because its January! The most miserable month of all. You can try “Dry January”, “Veganuary”, or do the “Step into January” – the offers are endless. Or, you could just say bollocks to the entire thing, stick two fingers up at 2026, and tell anyone touting a “new year, new you” slogan to shove it up their arse. To my mind, this is the far more sensible option. The world is scary enough without you embarking on a juice cleanse as well.
New Year’s resolutions are lies we believe about our future selves – normally thought up while we are half-cut and balancing on a barstool. “I’m only going to eat organic from now on,” we cry, while brandishing a kebab and pissing in an alley. “It’s going to be a whole new me! I’m going to read a book a week, learn Mandarin, and lose five stone!” Lies, lies, lies. You know good and well that if you harvested every screed of willpower within yourself, you might, on a good day, manage slightly less gravy with lunch. Don’t pretend otherwise. Embrace your true, grubby self.
1 January is not endowed with magical properties that will stop the little party goblins in your head going into overdrive at the mere mention of a bottomless brunch. It is just a day. You can pick up a hobby or take holy orders any day of the year, but you didn’t and you won’t just because it’s the first day of the new year.
I am not being mean; I am being a realist. Almost 90 per cent of all New Year’s resolutions are abandoned by the second week of January. By the end of the year, only eight per cent have gone the distance – a whopping 92 per cent failure rate.
It’s not that I am averse to a sincere effort at self-improvement, far from it. We should all be trying to live better, healthier, smarter lives [[[all the time]]]. I would love for you, dear reader, to hit all of your health and wellness goals this year. What I object to is the gimmicky, short-cut, “get-rich-quick” set up to New Year’s resolutions, and, more importantly, those who use it to cash in on our post-Christmas guilt. How very dare they. Just let me be fat in peace.
True self-improvement comes through intense personal reflection, and an ongoing dedication to change, not through a “January reset” meal deal. You won’t become a better person simply because you signed up to a bum-sculpting bootcamp or bought yourself a wiggle-weight off eBay. It’s a con! Set up by rich companies to make them richer and you sadder. We’ve only just limped through the financial black hole that is Christmas, and already these buggers are gearing up to fleece you for what’s left.
The message from the capitalist overlords from November to January is spend, spend, spend. Don’t hold back, treat yourself! Eat as much as you can and drink anything presented to you in a glass. Spend money on yourself, on other people, but definitely keep spending. “It’s Christmas!” We duly bust both our waistline and our credit cards, and then as soon as January rolls into town, boom! “Stop eating at once, you fat bastards! Lose weight immediately. You are disgusting. Here is a bunch of ruinously expensive health apps you can download and then forget about until you check your bank balance.”
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New Year’s resolutions do not work, but they are very lucrative – not for you, you understand, but for the diet and wellness industry, who are only too happy to collude in the idea that 1 January is a substitute for ongoing therapy. Don’t listen to them! It’s nonsense designed to take your money and make you feel bad about yourself. If anything, I think you should commit to getting even fatter this year just to spite them. At least you’d enjoy that.
I’ve never liked the idea that each year comes with a “new start”, but given the terrifying state of global politics right now, wishing anyone a “happy new year” seems bitterly ironic, doesn’t it? Every day brings fresh horrors about wars, genocides, environmental disasters, and general atrocities. At the time of writing, America has just invaded the sovereign state of Venezuela without United Nations approval, kidnapped the sitting head of state, and announced they are in charge now. We were only three days into 2026! And I’m supposed to be drinking less? Are you serious? On a micro level in the UK, we are facing a cost of living crisis, a housing crisis, unemployment is on the rise, and I’ve just learned that Bon Jovi are reforming for a world tour. There is no way I am going to eat less cheese this year.
Making it out sane will be an accomplishment, bollocks to being thinner as well.
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