The most popular column I wrote last year was one I wrote while off my face. It was a list of things I think are sexy, to rival the official sexy list of Victoria’s Secret. In the name of tradition and in lieu of any kind of originality, we’re bringing back the drunk column. That’s right, readers, it’s that time of year again. Time to get wankered for journalism! 

As last term’s drunk column was a response to a popular list, I figured we’d go with that again. To reiterate, I really do have no new ideas. What I have had is a frozen margarita (don’t ask) and a lot of wine, and I’m feeling ambitious. I’m going to take on a pretty big list. You’ve guessed it (or read the title) – I’m going to predict the 2018 New Years’ Honours List. 

The New Year’s Honours List is a thing the Queen does when she picks her extra special favourites. She gives out letters left, right and centre like a toddler having a strop in a game of Scrabble. (Try say that dead fast and drunk it’s fun. They should do that instead of breathalysing.) The 2017 list had some pretty big names on it, like Mark Rylance and Mo Farah. They got knighthoods, which is no longer as cool as it was in the olden days, so I’m not even a little bit jealous. There’s also a thing called the Order of the Bath, and you can either be a Knight of the Bath, or like a Companion of the Order of the Bath, which is just the person who holds the shampoo. Maybe. Sounds steamy, whatever it is. 

Anyway. 

PEOPLE WHO ARE (DEFINITELY) GOING TO BE ON THE NEW YEAR’S HONOURS LIST FOR 2018:

Me. Let’s get that out of the way now. If I’m giving out honours that makes me the Queen, and, as Queen, giving myself a knighthood is something I can totally do. Also, I can kill and eat swans. But I’m not going to do that just yet. Holding off on the swan death. Yes.

All my friends. (I’m worried they might hate me now I’m Queen and try and poison my roast swan.) 

The person who decided to put chocolate at the bottom of the Cornetto Cone. You have made generations of people really, really happy. CBE for you. Cornetto Brilliance… E… What does CBE actually stand for? British Empire? Seriously? Note to self as Queen: sort that shit out. 

My Uncle Peter. He drives big vans all over Europe. That’s dead hard. 

Hacker T Dog from CBBC. 

The inventors of the following: 

French Windows. (Probs the French that, innit? A knighthood for the French!)

Slippers.

Yorkshire Tea.

Yoghurt. 

(This is increasingly sounding like a list of wet dreams characters off The Archers have had…)

The next person to bring me more wine.*

*OBE for you, Dad.

Bill Turnbull. He was really good at doing the news and also he keeps bees.

Bees. CBE. CBeeE. C… Yeah. That. 

Justin Timberlake. (And not just because I have a bet with myself as to how many times I can slip him into my columns over this term. He’s like an Easter egg! Or a motif! Like silly trousers in Shakespeare! I am the Shakespeare of Justin Timberlake!)

Richard Ayoade. For services to sex appeal. 

Teachers. Doctors. Nurses. Surgeons. Paramedics. All you lot. 

The Queen (To say sorry for taking her spot).

Russell Brand. Because there’s always a bit of a rogue controversial one. Is there? I dunno. I never really look at who’s on the New Years’ Honours List.

Fatboy Slim. Because there’s probably like an Honours List party isn’t there? If there isn’t I’m now saying so that there will be, and it will need banging tunes, and Praise You has aged well. 

And last but by no means least – 

You. 

I’m knightifying you (is that the verb?), Sir Reader, MBE, CBA, LMAO, for services to keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. 

Peace