How to ruin other people's attempts to get healthy

NEW Year is the time when tedious bastards decide they want to improve themselves. Here’s how to f**k it up for them.

Organise a party

Any attempts at detoxing are easily sabotaged by throwing a party in the middle of January. Everyone will be bored stupid with being good so even the merest hint of a drink or a smorgasbord of delicious cheeses will have them off the wagon in no time. And they won’t bother getting back on it as the month will be almost over anyway.

Tempt them with bacon

After they’ve ruined their attempt at Dry January, console them when they’re hungover the next day by cooking up a tasty bacon sandwich. They will weakly try to resist temptation as they’re doing Veganuary too, but, with the sinister charm of a drug dealer, you tell them that just one won’t hurt. Before they know it, it’s 4pm and they’ve just eaten a massive, delicious roast too.

Question their need to exercise

It’s boring if your friend says they need to get up to do Couch to 5K in the morning when you want them to get hammered with you at the pub, so make them doubt whether they should to be exercising at all. Tell them a made-up tale about your cousin’s girlfriend’s mate’s uncle who dropped down dead of a heart attack while jogging, and get another pint in.

Undermine their goals

Your only goal is to destroy other people’s goals. So when a friend tells you they’ve broken their best time while cycling, tell them about another friend who has already smashed that and more. Do it enough times and they’ll swap their exercise regime for sitting on the sofa watching The Real Housewives of Cheshire with you. As they should.

Beat them at their own game

Once you have fully demoralised your friend and they’ve thrown their trainers in the bin, embark on your own fitness journey. ‘Sorry, I can’t come shopping, I’m doing the Park Run this morning’ you’ll text them as you tie up your own running shoes. The high you get from f**king them over will be almost as good as a dab of MDMA and six pints of lager. Almost.

I am Avatar 2, and I am your only entertainment option this weekend

LET’S not f**k about. There are no nightclubs open. The bars are empty. Tired old pantomimes dominate theatres. It’s just you and me now.`

Other films? There are no other films. I’m on in ten screens of your 12-screen multiplex. You don’t want to know what’s on the others, but it was contractually obliged.

Telly? You didn’t fall for that ‘Golden Age of Television’ shite, surely? They all banged their big shows out last week, even Netflix. It’s a trickle of sewage from now until February.

Friends? Family? You’re sick of the lot of them. And forget the pub. Nobody’s there. Even cool bars on a Saturday night are like a Tuesday morning in Wetherspoons. You don’t like to think of yourself among those kind of people.

No, it’s just you and me now. It doesn’t matter that you can’t remember anything about my first instalment. In fact it might help. It doesn’t matter that 3D’s over or my reviews are shit.

I’m here and waiting, all three hours and six minutes of me, with my $1.5 billion worldwide takings. Don’t you want to know why? Aren’t you intrigued?

Put on the glasses and marvel at my spectacle. Drink in the tropical sunshine and the clear blue oceans. Forget that it’s January and you’ve paid £30 to see a film you weren’t bothered about. None of that matters.

Come. Slake your bottomless boredom. Make me the most successful film of all time. I am Avatar: The Way of Water, and I am all there is left.