My achievements in 2012 have made me even humbler than I was before. Yes, I have presided over the most successful Olympic Games ever. It’s true I’ve put the smile and the pride back into British hearts. If there were a gold medal for leadership, I’d be crossing the line as I did as an Olympic champion (twice).
As for 2013, I plan to be a lot more popular – a sort of cross between Gary Lineker and Boris Johnson. Some people have got the wrong idea that I’m a slightly dull Tory peer. They’re in for a big surprise!
At the end of the day, when all’s said and done, I was able to look myself in the mirror at the end of the year and say, “Job done, Pippa. You are now a best-selling writer!”
Going forward, I plan to avoid clichés like the plague. They’re the elephant in the room when it comes to the writing game. If I can just think outside the box during 2013, and right-size my prose to the market while managing expectation, it’ll be a win-win situation all the way to the bank.
When my stable lad mentioned that, after two Cheltenham Gold Cups and a record-breaking five wins in the George VI Chase, I was going to be asked to start a new career, I was not exactly thrilled. Bloody hell, what more did my owner want? Then dressage was mentioned. What??? One of the greatest steeplechasers of all time is asked, at the age of 11, to prance around with his tail in the air, doing tricks like a circus horse? Forget it. My resolution for 2013 is to land a hoof on anyone who comes near me in those ridiculous tails.
Greetings, workers, from the shining leader of eternal dawn. I bring you 2013, another year of socialist prosperity when our enemies will once more gibber and tremble before the might of our motherland. Last year, we landed a man on the moon. Now I shall take our glorious way of life to the wider world. There shall be a Kim Jong-un diet – no one is slimmer than our beloved countrymen. I shall direct a Gangnam Style video starring our internationally famous goose-stepping women soldiers. My haircut shall become globally beloved. Mansei! Victory is ours.
Sir Bradley Wiggins
I’m not much of a one for resolutions to be honest. I’m really just an ordinary bloke. People may call me “Sir Bradley” or “legend” or “the greatest British sportsman of modern times” but basically I’m just the same old Wiggo. It’s like what I said to Kate – the Duchess of Cambridge, that is. We got to keep it real, you and me. That’s what I intend to do in 2013. I’m off to the pub right now, just like anyone else. That’s Wiggo for you.
In a time of oppression, totalitarianism and dystopic facilitation of a liberal fascistic agenda, it is time for men – real, manly men – to fight against the enemies of civilisation. The BBC. America. The Guardian. Swedes.
That is why the eyes of the world are on the Ecuadorian embassy where I am the world’s most famous prisoner of conscience. In 2013, I shall be less reasonable. The millions of my followers will rise up to demand my release. It could get messy, I’m warning you. Could I come out now?
I’m going to use the word “I” a lot less this year. I really don’t care if Nadine Dorries appeared above me in a celebrity politician poll which I wouldn’t even have seen if I hadn’t Googled my name. Now that I’ve left parliament, I’m going to surround myself with my family, my many friends, my husband (who worships me), my Twitter followers and any camera crews who happen to be doing a profile at the time. I feel very good about me this year.
I’m really determined to keep my clothes on when there are cameras around this year. That’s, like, my numero uno resolution. Zip up, zip up – that really can’t be that hard to remember, even for me. OK, so where’s the party?
Lord Black of Crossharbour
Now listen, I shall accept not one jot nor tittle of the utterly absurd, somewhat specious allegation that I am required to make some kind of snivelling, bourgeois little “resolution” for the arcane concept of “New Year”. In fact, I have the severest reservations about your allegation that we are now in 2013. It is the kind of cretinous rubbish that bone-idle journalists dream up to catch me out. I’ll tell you when it’s 2013 – and that’s when I say it’s 2013. Just go away and do your research, you silly little man.
* As told to Terence Blacker