Worldwide icon-chevron-right Europe icon-chevron-right United Kingdom icon-chevron-right England icon-chevron-right London icon-chevron-right Your shout: Eddy Frankel - 'This New Year, I resolve to be the same. But worse'

Your shout: Eddy Frankel - 'This New Year, I resolve to be the same. But worse'

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There's no point attempting to change in 2016. So why not simply embrace yourself, warts and all.

Resolutions are the worst. Okay, so they're not as bad as racism, or the refugee crisis, or Camden. But after that - the worst. Come New Year's Eve, when your dad pours your seventeenth glass of Aldi prosecco and asks what your resolutions are, you'll be screaming out for any options you actually have a chance of sticking to.

The thing is, when people make resolutions they try to change something fundamental about themselves. They attempt to go to the gym more, eat less chocolate or wear flares. But how about this: instead of changing and failing, why not simply ace the bits of life you're already pretty brilliant at? Like whingeing. Or hating coworkers. Or eating doughnuts. Because if you're going to do something, do it well. Make that whiney voice more nasal. Tell Greg in accounts he's a terrible father right to his stupid fat face. Eat just one more fried thing every day. Little changes that'll make a big difference. Soon enough you'll be smugly telling people, 'I've been working on my belly since New Year, it's really blossomed thanks to my doughnut regimen. It's like Atkins, but I'm not dead.'

You could resolve to say no more. Not 'no more', but 'no', more. You already say no to most things, right? Do more of that. And not just to requests, questions or social obligations; say no to everything. Say no to talking about weather in the lift. Say no to the gym. Say no to queuing for food. Say no to shagging. Say no to making dinner. New year, new you. And the new you doesn't want to do shit.

If you're a tight-fisted person become even more miserly. Pay less for things like beer. I mean, why spend a fiver down the pub, when you could sneak off every half hour, nab a crafty can from the offie, hammer it on the pavement and then head back in to your mates? Pioneer it. Introduce everyone to the concept. Become the person that invented the Can Dash. Your friends will sneer at first, but soon they'll see that while they're draining their Natwest ISAs dry, you're living in the beer-soaked lap of luxury. And it smells like Holsten Pils.

You know what else you probably are already? Mean. And being meaner still is easier than trying to be a little bit nicer. Personally, I'm planning to be even more of an arsehole to Chelsea fans in 2015. You know that annoying couple that's always going on holiday to fucking Hawaii and getting promoted at work and saying things like 'Congrats to my boo on being made senior VP at Dickhead Inc. So proud of you, babe!' and you fucking HATE them? But now they're going through a super-messy divorce, and the kids can't stop crying, and the wife is publicly stating how she faked all her orgasms, and the guy's responding with, 'Yeah, well me too, duh'? That's what Chelsea is going through at the moment.

Point being, you should rub people's faces in their misery - it's the only way you'll feel okay about yours.

Happy new year, idiots.􀀀 

Illustration: Nate Kitch

Want more ranting and raving? Read Kate Lloyd's column on why there's a special place in hell for the train home at Christmas.

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