Oh, well done! You made it! 2017 and we're all still here. That is tremendous news.
To celebrate, why don't you take my arm and wander through all the food wonders the internet has to offer a thinking, hungry lover this bright new year? For here is the week in Instagram food porn, deep-fried and collated for your delight.
Back in the glory days of my nicotine addiction, I would regularly wake up with fingers the colour of Homer Simpson's scrotum, with a head like coconut matting and a cough like a steam locomotive. But, you know what? It's 2017. It's a new year. Maybe I'm ready for yellow nail varnish and a squeeze of lime.
By the time we're old, the Government will have cut funding to public services to such an extent that I imagine Greater London will just have a small pool of false teeth we share on a rotational, week-by-week basis. And I imagine it will look something like this.
Oh look Anne, Derek has made us all a lovely glass of twigs! How kind.
This reminds me an awful lot of the time I read about "sugared rose petals" in some florid 18th century novel and decided to start rolling the contents of my back garden in icing sugar to serve after dinner. I was like the unintentional Willy-Wonka-cum-Dr-Crippen of the Leeds Student body.
Well this doesn't look unlike a loaf full of sick, does it? And they say you can't go wrong with cheese and meat ….
I wonder what Sarah Lucas is up to these days? Dipping her nips in a soft boiled egg, hunched over the washing machine and reading Viz, I hope.
Oh look, it's the invasion of the man-eating chubby radioactive crabs you've been reading about in New Scientist.
I'm not one for big, showy engagement rings. No ice on this dice. No sir. But I would, perhaps, make an exception to any offers of marriage that ride in on the chariot of a hundredweight plate of sushi. Perhaps. I mean, hell, you can only stay a debutante for so long.
This cake looks precisely how I felt after changing the bed sheets this morning.
Fish fingers and potato faces: genuinely my dream meal.