h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

So, another year slides into the mists of history, and we bid a fond hello to another landmark year in the calendar of failed science fiction predictions. No monoliths have been found on the moon, and no spaceships have been sent to Jupiter, and while Dan Dare: Pilot of the Future's time (c.1991) has been and gone with nary a stir, 2001 will occupy a similar place in such matters as 1984.

But that's mere nitpicking. On with the self-indulgent rambling.

Perhaps more importantly this whacky race that we call human has - once more - managed not to annihilate itself or contaminate the biosphere to a completely terminal level, although we can probably say "adios; we hardly knew ye" to a few species of plants, insects and shrews. I look forward with relentless optimism to an even better performance this year.

I also dare to hope for a better year for music, but it is a vain and desperate hope. I fear that the pop charts will once more be dominated by talentless yahoos of both sexes, prancing prettily though elaborate dance routines designed to detract from the stultifying mundanity of their musical 'stylings'. I fear that we will be swamped by another glut of T&A violinists, and pseudo-classical rubbish in the vein of 'Messiah 2000'. I fear that people wil start claiming that Westlife - or some other boy-band - will start being described as the new Beatles (again), despite the fact that they don't play their own instruments and have no talent. I fear that yet more teen sensations, manufactured by the dozen in the bowels of the music industry, untried by the gruelling apprenticship of the club circuits, will assail our ears with their droning. banal hymns to incompetence and barely-pubescent angst.

I dare to hope that the stunning Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon might take best picture at the Academy Awards, despite being in Mandarin.

I dare to dream.

The Prophet