From the books I’ve read (and forgotten) this year to the number of times my jokes bombed on stage
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s the end of the year looms up like the handle of a rake I’ve just stepped on, I recall the preceding 12 months as a period characterised by a steep erosion of trust and a sinking feeling that nothing is to be taken at face value. We subsist on a steady diet of lies, distortion and AI slop. Everything is getting stupider, including me.
That’s why, when it comes to examining the year, I choose to reckon with nothing but cold, hard numbers. Here, then, is how things stand for me, statistically, at the close of 2025.
66.6% Adult sons currently living under my roof. This is up sharply from 0% this time last year, and represents an abrupt reversal of a long-term trend: the outward migration of offspring.
