SARAH VINE: Meghan's a has-been and Gregg Wallace is a plonker - but you'll NEVER guess who I've named my demigod of the year...

By SARAH VINE FOR THE DAILY MAIL

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Anti-climax of the year: The Oasis reunion, in which millions of sad middle-aged fans (such as myself) queued for hours online to purchase tickets, only to encounter the digital equivalent of a middle finger. Then again, it's Oasis: what else did we expect?

Comeback of the year: Donald Trump, obviously. For surviving not one, but two, assassination attempts and proving that being cast as (and indeed being) a pussy-grabbing, riot-inciting convicted felon is no impediment to being the leader of the free world. Long live the American dream! Which leads us to . . .

Disappointment of the year: Kamala Harris. A limp word-salad with no dressing.

Fall from grace of the year: P Diddy, aka Sean Combs – or, as my children and their friends refer to him 'that noncy rapper'. Once the undisputed king of all things hip and hop, now languishing behind bars facing multiple accusations, including rape, sexual assault, kidnapping, drugging and sexual coercion. Such was the extent of his influence in the rap music world, there's no telling who else might be implicated – even the mighty Jay Z is being dragged into the whole sorry business. The trial is set to begin in May.

Overkill of the year: Taylor Swift. Sorry Swifties, your girl is getting a bit tiresome now. Also, those half-leg bodysuits are just silly.

Poor suckers of the year: Pensioners, farmers, the Waspi women – and generally just anyone who, in the few short months since the election, has found themselves sacrificed on the altar of Labour's barefaced lies. Which brings us to . . .

Hypocrite of the year: 'Two Tier' Keir Starmer and, by association, Lady Victoria aka 'Sponger' Starmer, for casting themselves as champions of 'working people' at the same time as luxuriating in the largesse of their multi-millionaire chum Lord Alli. See also 'Ange' Rayner and David Lammy. A masterclass in the first principle of socialist leaders everywhere: 'Do as I say, not as I do'.

Raver of the year: Deputy Prime Minister Ange Rayner, for having it large generally, but mainly in Ibiza where she showed, yet again, that being a committed socialist is no impediment to enjoying some VIP treatment.

Demigod of the year: Jeremy Clarkson, who not only won the title of 'sexiest man' for the second year running – pipping Spider-Man actor Tom Holland to the crown – despite having a face like melted wax, but also opened what appears to have become England's most successful pub – AND led the farmers' revolt against the Government's new inheritance tax laws. Not since Jilly Cooper's Rivals has such an incorrigible Cotswold cad come so good. Talking of which . . .

Guilty pleasure of the year: The new adaptation of Dame Jilly's deliciously trashy bonkbuster, Rivals. Every bit as naughty as I remember the books.

Short straw of the year: Kemi Badenoch won the Conservative leadership election to take on arguably the hardest (maddest?) job in politics, in other words preventing what's left of the party from ripping chunks out of each other while simultaneously trying to convince a disillusioned and jaded electorate that the Tories might, one day, be worth voting for again.

Excuse of the year: 'Fourteen years of Tory rule'.

Sex pest of the year: Porn star Bonnie Blue, who hangs around university campuses pestering 'barely legal' freshers for sex so she can upload the videos and make a small fortune on her Only Fans account. She claims to want to 'educate' young men about sex, but if she were a man she would (rightly) be branded a pervert.

Dirty secret of the year: Semaglutide, aka Ozempic, aka Wegovy, aka Mounjaro. After an initial moral panic, now it turns out practically everyone's on it – whether they admit it or not . . . usually not.

Attention-seeker of the year: Nigel Farage, for popping up at every available photo-opportunity and never missing a chance to tell us all how he's going to revolutionise British politics. He's even gone and won himself a seat in the Commons, as the MP for Clacton – not, it must be said, that he's been bothering the pages of Hansard unduly. Far too busy hanging out with Elon Musk at Mar-a-Lago. The Jeremy Clarkson of politics, and not to be underestimated.

Trouper of the year: The King, for carrying on despite his cancer diagnosis, and with a spring in his step to boot. See also the Princess of Wales.

Has-been of the year: The Duchess of Sussex, who having failed to launch her 'American Riviera Orchard' brand due to stultifyingly dull legal reasons, made various attempts to reclaim her A-list status via a series of mini 'royal' appearances, with lukewarm results. Could it perhaps be that the public has finally seen through her narcissistic fantasies of global stardom?

Gigantic fuss of the year: The Giovanni Pernice vs Amanda Abbington debacle, which wasted £250,000 of taxpayers' money on an internal BBC inquiry, while offering Abbington an excuse to go on a lot of chat shows and show potential casting directors how good she is at weeping on demand.

TMI of the year: Nicole Kidman, who has not stopped banging on about her sex life since her latest film, Babygirl, was announced. Okay, Nicole, we get it: you're 57 and have skin as taut as a drum. But spare us the details, for pity's sake.

Damp squib of the year: Rishi Sunak announcing a general election in the pouring rain – which he then lost spectacularly.

Plonker of the year: Gregg Wallace, for blaming 'a handful of middle-class women of a certain age' after he was forced to step down from his role presenting MasterChef following a number of complaints about inappropriate behaviour. His replacement is restaurant critic Grace Dent – ironically, a 'middle-class woman of a certain age'.

Mindless internet trend of the year: Oh, so many. 'Brat summer': something to do with a pop star called Charli XCX's latest album, which is called Brat – the singer herself defines it as 'a pack of cigs, a Bic lighter and a strappy white top with no bra' (isn't that just every teenager?).

'Very demure, very mindful', a phrase coined by a trans TikTokker called Jools Lebron in a video about how she styles her hair and make-up for work. Soon the entire world was in on the act – even Nasa posted on X, 'You see how Earth looks in space? It's very demure, very mindful.'

A baby hippo called Moo Deng who was born in a Thai zoo in July and whose antics – blowing bubbles, nibbling her handlers – delighted the internet.

And, last but not least, 'holding space' cadets Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, for their unhinged Wicked promo tour, which defied logic as well as gravity.

Political faux-pas of the year: Take your pick. David Lammy claiming Syria is 'next door' to Libya (they are separated by Egypt and Israel); Joe Biden referring to President Zelensky as 'Vladimir Putin' at a Nato summit in July. But I think my favourite is Keir Starmer calling for the 'return of the sausages' instead of hostages in his Labour conference speech.

Pushy Parent of the year: Beyonce, for encouraging her 12-year-old daughter, Blue Ivy, to perform alongside her on tour (on Christmas Day in Houston in the half-time break at an American football game). A child that age should be at home, surrounded by presents – not be on tour. Instead of which she's trussed up in sequins gyrating to her mother's distinctly adult-orientated lyrics. So weird. It's not as if the Knowles-Carters need the money.

And finally, my woman of the year: Gisele Pelicot, for courageously taking down her scumbag husband and standing up for abused women everywhere.

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