What do George W Bush, Adolf Hitler, the Leech and you have in common? No, not that. Misshapen or mono-genitalia is a surprisingly widespread condition and there’s absolutely no evidence linking testicular envy to genocidal impulses. Not yet anyway. Chilean scientists are still rummaging through Pinochet’s trousers. No, the answer is we’ve all been Time magazine’s Person of the Year. Hitler in 1938, President Bush in 2004 and the Leech and every other wastrel on this environmentally buggered orb in 2006. The world is committed to nuclear weapons, religious zealots rule and Chris Moyles continues to exist, but hooray humanity! It’s a pity you missed the glittering awards bash, with Bono and Kofi Annan singing a saucy limerick in your honour and Bill Clinton hoping to goose you. But you were awarded a tiny mirror on the magazine’s cover for ‘transforming the information age’, simply by surfing the Interweb, making you and Gary Glitter two of 2006’s unlikeliest success stories.

The gulf between rich and poor is widening, with the man in the street even further from the billionaire Russian oligarch than ever before. But a meritocracy of mediocrity between common folk and equally common celebrities maintains the status quo, while doing surprisingly little for the fortunes of Status Quo. Plumbing a new depth for celebrity banalysis, BBC 2 has invited Britain’s favourite washed up soap actors, rock stars and cuckolded spouses to form a jury on The Verdict. Jeffrey Archer will lead the incisive legal minds hidden in the heads of Ingrid Tarrant, Patsy Palmer, Alex James and So Solid Crew’s Megaman, to hear a (completely) fictional rape case involving a professional footballer. Finally! Celebrity Rape Deliberations! Text the name of the novelist and convicted crim you’d like to vote off for attempting to perjure the trial!

Meanwhile, Cro-Magnon Mancunian Liam Gallagher thinks ordinary people are ‘ignorant’ for liking different styles of music, rather than just rock’n’roll. Granted, many bands favour a single sound, but only Oasis have pursued it so doggedly, right up to their latest album, which sounds exactly like their greatest hits. Music is in a true funk right now, and not in an exciting, James Brown jumping your bones type way, as a survey by digital download company eMusic found, with most listeners criticising shows like X-Factor and their manufactured output of steaming hot oral shit. This is hardly surprising when you consider that former ‘Celebrity Mother of the Year’, Sharon Osbourne, who raised a delightful pair of junkies, has been busily sharing her scatological obsessions. Firstly, by sending gift-wrapped turds to her critics. How can she produce such tonnage? Then, drunkenly pretending to be a toilet attendant at a posh London restaurant. Why? Because real jobs are funny! A genuine attendant should be invited to sit and pass judgement on Mrs Osbourne for that hateful whiny voice and her botched plastic surgery. Finding her guilty of crimes against ears, they should then sentence her to listen to Jon Culshaw’s ‘hilarious’ impression of Ozzy. Forever.