TwentyEleven sounds bollocks.

Right, I might as well succumb to all this - "Hey, it's an arbitrarily dated day stemming from a religion you don't follow...how rejuvenated are you feeling?!" nonsense and write some stuff about it being the first day of the year.

How have you spent the first day of 2011? (Please read that as Two-Thousand-And-Eleven, not Twenty-Eleven or any other version as I'll hear your thoughts and be annoyed.)

I have not gotten dressed this year. I've not eaten dinner this year. I've not showered all year.

In my family, it's important on New Year's Day to emphasise everything you have not done that day as being something you've not done all year. You can do that ad nauseum. For example -

I can't believe I haven't blogged all year. Got it? Right, now take it away and bother someone else with it.


So far this year I've started and finished reading Michael McIntyre's autobiography. It's a charming read - it's not particularly funny and it's not particularly interesting but it's nice if you want to find out about his life. I can't imagine why you'd begin reading it if you didn't want to find out about his life. What with it being his autobiography and all. I've read it all in one day which bodes for it being written in a nice and friendly manner. I've read it with several films on in the background and a brief spell of 'The Diana Years'. Apparently she and Charles were happy between '82 and '83 and he touched her bottom a lot on their honeymoon.

My day was briefly interrupted in the middle when I declared I wanted a sandwich. My mother raised her head and asked why I didn't just make dinner for everyone. I thought this was slight overkill as really I just wanted a sandwich and I didn't think I could eat enough food for 5 people.

Nevertheless I went into the kitchen and began to cook. We were having what's known in my household as 'a tray' where we all gnaw on a flat wooden device used for carrying plates. A tray is where you basically just eat nibbles. So I was despatched to the kitchen to put the 'Chinesey bits' in the oven. I got the Chinesey bits out of their box, laid them on a tray and put them in the preheated oven. I read the box, it said cook from frozen for 10-12 minutes, and I cooked them from frozen for 10-12 minutes. Upon them having been cooked (from frozen) for 10-12 minutes I removed them from the oven and served them to my family.

They were instantly whipped from the living room and brought back to the kitchen where I was preparing egg mayonnaise.

"Are you sure that was long enough?" Enquires my Father.

"They were in for 10-12 minutes. From frozen. That's what it said on the box" I reply.

"Are you sure? I could have sworn it was 18 minutes."

I could have enquired at this point how on earth he got that idea into his head given that he's never cooked them before or seen the box, but I refrained.

"Are they not done then?" I ask coolly, perhaps as coolly as my half cooked Chinesey bits (not a euphemism sadly).

"I don't know, no one's tried them." Replies my Dad, switching the oven back on and hurling the offending Chinesey bits (sweet and sour parcels since you ask) back into the furnace.

Within seconds, every member of my previously dozing family were in the kitchen, bustling around and fixing dinner. What they had basically done was to look at some food I had cooked, nay, not even cooked - heated - decide without even putting them to their lips, that there was no way I could have read a box and heated Chinesey bits for long enough and that what was needed was an intervention.

Somehow, in the space of 10-12 minutes (give or take egg mayonnaise prepping time) I had petrified my family into cooking en masse to save themselves from the certain death of my undercooked prawns in filo pastry.

I should be hired out to cure laziness. Do it yourself or SHE'LL have a go... at which point I appear from a plume of dark red smoke, dressed like supernanny (ill fitting suit in horrific colour) and cackle maniacally over a box of Chinesey bits.

There'd certainly be limited benefit scroungers. I'm tempted to say I could solve this whole 'recession' issue. Cleggy, stick to your promises or there's tepid sesame toast coming your way...

No one likes a luke-warm prawn.