What Was 2009 For...

Now we enter 2010 and the immortal question posed by the marvellous Tim Minchin 'what was (insert previous year here) for?' must be asked once again.

Well, I'm not entirely sure what 2009 was for. In terms of pop culture, it was yet another disappointing, vacuous, contemptible year, full of equally disappointing, vacuous and contempible celebrities. That is why I feel no shame or regret at all for failing to keep up with things. For example, I had no idea who pint-sized, Ellen Page-faced, Paul Phoenix-haired tosspots Jedward were, until it was explained to me by my mum, who has never watched X Factor either. That said, when I did suffer the misfortune of seeing a clip of them, I wanted to tear out my own eyes and use them as earplugs.

Now I've never watched X Factor, but neither have I ever had the faintest urge to watch it. It is a circus sideshow for the modern age - idiots being baited by overpaid wankstains. Cowell sits, trousers hitched, blindingly incandescent teeth on show, while some poor tone-deaf mancub howls at the moon like a bewildered King Charles Spaniel. That said, there are those (like John and Edward) who have mastered the art of being amusingly shit enough to make it to TV, but not so bad that they instantly become hate figures (although the two twins did a fairly poor job of the latter). In BBC's X-Factor ratings rival, Strictly Come Dancing, BBC Breakfast sports presenter, Chris Hollins struck a blow for the ordinary man against muscular driving offender, poor loser and actor, Ricky Whittle.

Of course there was a whole host of much more edifying television on our screens, but the sad truth is that it doesn't tend to linger as long in the memory as those abhorrations perpetually churned out by the idiotbox (yes, I'm looking at you Channel 4's The Execution of Gary Glitter and ITV 2's Fearne Meets... Peaches). Thankfully there were a number of Doctor Who specials to restore my faith in 'popular' television. They featured the last appearances of David Tennant as the Tenth (and greatest) Doctor. The high quality that had become the trademark of Russell T Davies' tenure was maintained and the finale, well... I can't really talk about it seeing as it happened in 2010, though I read in the paper today that Matt Smith is already in trouble for a patently inocuous 'ginger comment' - perhaps another hallmark of the year, the rise of gingers (they seem to have misunderstood how much oppression one needs to go through before they're allowed to whinge about these sorts of things).

In sport, football continued its descent into becoming some manner of Orwellian Hell, where all teams are equal but some *cough* Man City *cough* are more equal than others. The end of the year also saw the introduction of new regulations, the most important of which being that Manchester United were allowed indefinite injury time until they were able to win or draw the game. The Ashes were reclaimed in sometimes nailbiting, sometimes emphatic, but always entertaining fashion. In Rugby Union, England finally called up man-mountain Matt Banahan to play Wing and the big Jersey boy did Bath proud on the international stage.

In music, there was yet another terrible year of hip-hop, dub-step, grime and various other genres that I don't fully understand. There were a handful of half-listenable 'popular' albums, none of which I can actually remember off the top of my head. There was an 80s revival. Sadly this 'revival' consisted of female singer/songwriters, such as Little Boots and La Roux. Now, critics fell over themselves to heap praise onto these kinds of people, but the songs put forward as much of a case for the eighties as a heady, creative decade as Margaret Thatcher does. Now this leads me to believe that either there's something wrong with me or that there's something wrong with everyone else. Well, I can state categorically that it's definitely the second one. I like 80s music - I love Spandau and OMD and Hair Metal and Synth stuff, but even so these modern artists did nothing for me whatsoever, apart from leave me faintly depressed and annoyed that I can't just lay down and accept this stuff. People got over Amy Winehouse exploding in a massive shower of hairspray, booze, cocaine and court orders by leaning on copycat crutches like Paloma Faith and the mini Winehouse, you know the one, the goddaughter one (none of which are really my cup of tea either). Feel free to comment if you can remember any good music from last year, it was a bit of a blur really. I think I gave up on pop music when R&B stopped meaning The Who and the blues revivalist bands and meant pounding, incessant drum machines and warbling. Seriously, I've been listening to Radio 2 since I was about 14, that's what 'popular' music drove me to.

One triumph seems to be comedy. The year saw We Need Answers and the TV series of Cowards (my pick for TV of the year, despite its cruelly short 3 episode run). Criminally there is to be no more Cowards. But, in a world that allows Horne and Corden oodles of cash and a whole bunch of commissions, I suppose it was to be expected.

Radio comedy too continues to put many of its TV counterparts to shame. There was the hilarious ElvenQuest, a spiritual successor to the Geoffrey Perkins-produced Hordes of the Things and Bleak Expectations returned for a triumphant 3rd series.

So what was 2009 for? Well, it mostly stood for disappointment and edging us all, ever-so-slightly, closer to the void, but there were glimmers of hope. So goodbye to the noughties (thank goodness, it is without doubt the worst epithet for a decade ever) and hello 2010 (to be pronounced twenty ten, methinks, for time saving purposes).

I would give you one of those flashy TV style 'Coming up...' segments about future blogs, but truth be told if one were to examine the workings of my brain, you wouldn't see ideas, simply some random thoughts about bears, that man from the Montgomery Flea Market ads doing his rap and the gentle rattle of tumbleweed scratching across the arid plains of my imagination, so you'll just have to wait and see.