Let's hope the Mayan calander's wrong

Happy 2012 to whoever can be bothered to read this section of finger vomiting. It's January and you can be excused for feeling a little worse for wear. Here are two new ideas that I am transferring to canvas very soon, titled 'Pick it' and 'I'm on a plane'. My silhouetted asexual beings are slumped and ready with their usual poor posture.

If there's anyone out there who has received a nasty knitted jumper, disgusting novelty tie or vulgar pair of socks, don't let these insensitive gifts sully the dark corner of your wardrobe. Try embracing the silver lining by constructing a makeshift scarecrow to deter any fashionistas from nesting in your guttering. Keep in mind that they particularly despise most blended fabrics.

In closing, if you haven't yet attended that first guilt-ridden Zumba class, let me save you the time, money and embarrassment of sweating profusely in front of strangers. You'll probably come to the cold realisation of no rhythm and even less willpower.