As the clock struck midnight and the fireworks ejaculated like an excited spaniel into the dark night sky, my world slipped from me, and I was visited by a wise old soul, who took the form of a tortoise.
This tortoise had a lot to say, and not a lot of time in which to say it.
It was also easily distracted.
I dismissed this visitation.
But this morning I awoke to some news that the tortoise had predicted. And now I find myself going back over everything it said would unfold in the coming year.
Admittedly some of its predictions were a little obvious.
“There will be anger on the Internet.”
“Train fares will rise.”
“Someone will do a fart live on the television.”
And some were a bit too vague to mean anything really.
“Little will become bigger.”
“Too many ten pence pieces.”
The one that really got me thinking this morning though was not the impending world war because of the assasination of an Iranian on Iraqi soil (you’d think the tortoise might have mentioned that one) – it was the fact that my coffee would taste a bit burnt.
Three other predictions stood out too.
First, a team in red will win a trophy.
Second, someone somewhere will mention that Curly Wurlies used to be a lot bigger.
And finally, most ominous of all, a company will fail because it didn’t heed the advice of someone of low rank who knew best how to run said company.