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Monday, 31 December 2012


The best part about 2013 was enjoying the month of December. Remember back in 2012, we watched the months slip by with dread, believing that it would all go up in a raging Mayan-inspired apocalyptic blaze on 21 December, leaving the world overrun with zombies and nary a Bruce Willis in sight?

But Earth dodged a bullet, and we spent 2013 pretty much drunk on relief and joy. And repaying our Visas because naturally we had maxed them in the foolishness of end of world actions.

The biggest news of the year would have to the twin girls born to Kate and William. Little princesses Diana and Victoria would be nearly six months old now, and enjoying their new digs in Kensington Palace.

And in line with the new succession laws, I can’t wait to see first-born little Diana become Queen Diana The First, Leader of the Commonwealth, Supreme Governor of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith. And it may be sooner than we initially thought what with William becoming king the day his wife gave birth. Loving Queen Liz for saying she’s had enough and wanted the best man for the job.

Interesting that when the Queen announced the she was skipping Charles and handing over the “reigns” to William at the time he became a father, the world simply nodded in agreement. I think Camilla was the only one who was upset, and I hear on good authority that she took up smoking again that same day. And put her crown back in the hat box on top of her wardrobe.

Obama lost no time enacting gun control laws, long overdue as they were. Better late than never. He actually took it a step or two further, banning slingshots, anything that remotely resembles playing Cowboys and Indians including F-Troop re-runs, and online gaming violence. It was blackout curtains for CoD Black Ops, World of Warcraft, Grand Theft Auto and the like.

And miracle of miracles, he also halted the obesity crisis at the same time. Those ignorant pale-faced mutants who lived behind gaming consoles since birth needed something to do. So they picked up a football and went outside. Who’d have thought?

Do you really think it’s true that Tom Cruise is pregnant? I know he wanted to give Suri a little brother or sister, but apparently he couldn’t even get an ex-Playboy Bunny to fill the role as wife and potential mother, regardless of the size of his cheque book. But really, the man has got a smile that can warm the heart of a white pointer shark. But did he have to invent a way to get pregnant? Is that taking things too far? Talk about being a control freak! Who’s the mother?

And speaking of pregnancies, I can’t believe Posh is having baby #5. I know her husband is rather good looking but I get really put off when he starts to speak. It’s Elmo meets Thomas the Tank Engine. Though I guess no one says you have to speak when making love. Either way, she’ll be back to her usual size zero within three hours of giving birth. Like all the other times. I hope it’s a boy. For Harper’s sake.

Russell Crowe wasn’t able to woo back his wife Danielle Spencer so he made a play for Noni Hazlehurst. Seriously? I suppose it’s because Danielle’s father and Noni mucked about with Jemima and Big Ted on Play School back in the day. I suppose he wanted to keep it in the family. I suppose I can see the connection. Mmmm, actually I can’t.

And more on the homefront in Australia, I wept with despair when I found out that Manu Feidel and Pete Evans had been discovered in flagrante at their secret lovers shack beachside at Byron. Not those two! The spunks of television cooking, the jovial blokes – one with the beseeching blue eyes and the other with a fake French accent. Nnnnnoooooooooooo. Mind you, my husband was secretly very pleased and willingly helped me put all their cookbooks up in the attic. Now, do I have to wait for news from Bill Granger? I hope not!

And bloody Home & Away got the bullet. Thank goodness. Perhaps we can get a decent game show in its place, or a re-run of Bellbird. Anything would be better.

Apple finally seems to have fixed the map setting problems on my new iPad9.2.2a, which is a good thing considering it was telling me that I was looking at the Eiffel Tower when I was on a ferry staring point blank at Liberty. At least they have renamed the Executive Building in George Street from “Peter Beattie” to “John Howard”. That’s progress.

Les Mis didn’t get a single Oscar and I’m not miserable about that at all. Musical films needed to stop after Grease. I can’t believe Jennifer Aniston finally got an Oscar, I wasn’t aware of any films she did this year apart from starring in her own wedding. Maybe it’s like when they gave one to Nicole to stick it to Tom. Up yours Brangelina.

Queensland didn’t take too long to throw out Campbell, despite the excitement his appointment heralded. We are all very confident that Kevin Rudd v2 will take us through 2014 without a sulky aside or a swear word. I hear he’s already priming his granddaughter to take over the spot. Aspirations much?

Anyway my loves, that’s my wrap of 2013. For a year that ended in such a suspicious number it turned out to be a bewdy! Happy 2014 to you all.

Love Bron x

PS I pulled this lark last year too - read here what I had to say about 2012 xx

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