Nuala McKeever: So, who was Kirk McCambley?
So how will we remember the year 2010?
Looking back 12 months, it seems as if loads has happened. Hard to believe that this time last year most of us had never heard of Kirk McCambley and we all thought Iris Robinson was just a homophobe with expensive and somewhat dubious taste in interior decoration.
Back then her husband was still an MP, England thought they’d do well in the World Cup and students only massed on the streets in their hundreds late at night after drunken parties or, in the case of NI, to honour the patron saint of Ireland by getting paralytic and displaying less intelligence than the average baboon’s arse.
We were sick of the term Broken Britain but didn’t realise it would soon be replaced by the equally irritating Frozen Britain.
Petrol prices couldn’t get any higher until they did. Huge damaging leaks brought to mind BP rather than Julian Assange. When John Terry, Ashley Cole and Wayne Rooney said they were playing away from home, we thought they were talking about football. We said goodbye to Alex Higgins and hello to Mary Byrne. And Simon Cowell filled his boots while we filled the airwaves with complaints that our Roads Service couldn’t organise a p*** up in a brewery.
Some things never change.