Andy Richardson: Farewell 2016, now bring on a New Year

Trump. Pokemon. Kim Jong-un. Here to stay.

The only bright spot of 2016 was Leicester City winning the Premiership and Bruno Mars releasing the best disco album since Michael Jackson's Thriller.

Oh, and James were pretty good at Wolves Civic Hall earlier this month. But if it wasn't for those highlights, we'd all have to arm ourselves with miniature jeweller's screwdrivers and start turning back the clocks.

It seems that 2016 has been the year of slim pickings.

There's every reason to think of it as being a stinker. A man with a comb over that made Arthur Scargill and Jack Charlton look like David Beckham will soon be installed as the Leader of the Free World.

And mobile phones are no longer used to send texts or make calls.

Instead they're used to follow little creatures called Pokémon and Pikachu – even if that means following them onto railway lines or into churches while brides and grooms are exchanging solemn vows.

Er, sorry vicar. I didn't mean to. But I needed the set. Pikachu – I love you!

Donald Trump was Time's Man of the Year.

Just like Adolf Hitler in 1938. Just like Joseph Stalin in 1939 and 1942. And just like Richard Nixon in 1971 and 1972.

Except Trump didn't dress as well as any of those.

Well, maybe his suits are as smart as Nixon's, but he'd have been out-catwalked any day of the week by his smartly-dressed but ethically-unsound European forerunners.

Trump earned election after people decided it was fine to build a wall that he no longer wants to build and saying he'd imprison a woman that he no longer wants to imprison.

Footage also emerged of him discussing his dating techniques. Apparently, you just gotta kiss 'em hard, then grab 'em. He was talking about women, of course, rather than, oh, I don't know, apples or Trump Steaks.

And I'm pretty sure he got that the wrong way round anyway. Grabbing them first is surely chronologically correct. Otherwise you're going to be kissing fresh air. Which, in Trump's case, would be unfair on the fresh air.

But politicians, eh? One minute they're promising you £350 million a week for the National Health Service, the next they're 'doing a Gove' and telling you that their best mate would never make a decent Prime Minister.

And yet we believe them every time.

Donald Trump has already made his New Year resolution. And it's to Make America Great Again. I'm unable to join Mr T in making a declaration of intent for the coming 12 months.

Doing so would involve breaking my own New Year's Resolution. I made it 24 years ago when I decided never to make a New Year's Resolution again. And I've faithfully stayed true.

Win-Win. No silly diets. No exercise five times a week. No pointless rules that will only be broken.

Donald Trump rang in 2016 by appearing on Fox News. I rang it in by running 10 miles. It's become a tradition.

Start the year by clearing my thoughts with a sober run through the streets of Shrewsbury.

My Asics Nimbus are waiting by the door until the morning.

All I need to do, as Elvis Presley famously sang, is make it through the night.

And that should be pretty easy. New Year's Eves used to be about rockin' out in Trafalgar Square.

And that was a laugh, except the long walk home wasn't, when the tubes got too full and when taxis were rarer than a white peacock. White peacocks, incidentally, are a thing; though you have to go to the grasslands of Australia and India to find them.

On other occasions it was long flights to California while nursing head-kicking hangovers after consuming cheap brandy from Asda.

Oh how I laughed when the customs man asked if I'd anything to declare?

"Yes, officer. Pay the extra. Always choose Remy Martin."

So it's time to bid a final farewell to the year that was.

It's time to say adios amigos to the year two thousand and sixteen. And the thing that I'll remember most is Bowie.

Bowie died.

That's the banner headline from 2016. As Stourbridge movie soundtrack writer Clint Mansell said: "Bowie created the world in which many people live."

So as we head into 2017, what do we do now? Simple. We turn to the wisdom of another rock music visionary, Joe Strummer, who said this: "The Future Is Unwritten."

It is. And that means we can write the future ourselves. Just like Prince did. Just like Bowie.