The Twins recap 2020: That was so f**ked up.

It’s the end of 2020 and gather in close because we have a genuine question.

What the actual f**k.

Was that. 

A year ago, depending on where you were in Australia, you might’ve been sitting in someone’s backyard with a glass of wine, watching as ash fell from the black sky into your sav blanc. For tens of thousands, there were no New Year’s Eve celebrations because THE APOCALYPSE HAD ARRIVED and we were stranded on beaches and in rural towns with no electricity/running water/f**king WiFi and how could things get any worse than this?

A Zoom call from the future. Post continues below. 

A bat (or a pangolin, depending on what you read) heard our rhetorical question and smiled to itself before going full Contagion and starting sh*t in a wet market in Wuhan. 

This year, your plans might be cancelled. Or Christmas Day is still tentatively going ahead, but some part of you is genuinely afraid you might kill grandma. 

NOW THAT’S THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT.

woooohooo 

Look. Usually we recap funny things. 

Like Married at First Sight - a show where fake experts match innocent humans who, statistically, are more likely to sue each other than maintain any kind of respectful relationship. 

But 2020 hasn’t been like Married at First Sight. It's been more f**ked up than the last three seasons put together which we didn't think was possible.

It’s January and we start to hear whispers about coronavirus. It sounds far away. Something about Wuhan and we nearly click on that news story but then we get a news alert that THE DUKE AND DUCHESS OF SUSSEX HAVE STEPPED DOWN AS MEMBERS OF THE ROYAL FAMILY AND HAS SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT AND GROUNDBREAKING EVER HAPPENED? (Yes.) 

A couple of weeks later, at the same time it’s sounding like Donald Trump is low-key about to start World War III, one of the best basketballers in the world, Kobe Bryant, dies in a helicopter crash, alongside his 13-year-old daughter. We are just nearing the end of January, and the memes start about how this year must be cursed.

Lol.  

It’s February and we get some good news. The Korean film Parasite wins four Oscars… making it the first film not in English to win Best Picture at the Academy Awards. Harvey Weinstein is finally convicted of rape. Celeste Barber executes the biggest fundraiser in history, only for some people to get real mad about the technicalities of where the money was going. It’s like Jesus always said: "Sometimes it’s best not to try at all…"

What's ur problem.  

There’s still whispers about a virus - officially named COVID-19 in February - and we’re not quite sure how seriously to take it. And then comes March. The month that lasted fourteen long and painful years. On March 8, Italy goes into total lockdown, and we watch viral videos of beautiful Italian men singing 'Imagine' from their balconies. This will bring us together, we think. It’s the world event we needed to show us what we’re truly made of. 

And then comes our lockdown. On Friday, March 13 Australia announces national restrictions and no one sings from balconies. We just punch each other in Woolworths and yell at people in Bunnings for asking us to put on a mask. We discover that at times of international crisis we really just spend heaps more time on TikTok and sleep a lot.

So emotive. So heartfelt.  

But the worst moment of March comes when celebrities decide to earnestly sing ‘Imagine’, and no, it's nothing like the Italians. As a globe, we are not yet united against this insidious disease. But you better believe that all six billion of us are united against these d*ckheads actually trying to sing into their iPhones and it is to date the most embarrassing thing any of us have ever seen.

This is just 

making it so much 

worse. 

It’s April and if one more person tries to do Zoom drinks or trivia, we’re going to cut a b*tch. We hate our faces because we’ve been looking at them on a screen far too much, and for the first time in our lives we think maybe it’s completely reasonable to go to a plastic surgeon and ask for one of everything, please. We’ve gone from passively watching TikTok to convincing ourselves that we, too, are a Savage. Everything is cancelled, including Easter. We have Zoom calls and everyone wants to leave five minutes in but we have nowhere to be. Global COVID cases surpass one million, and no one knows when or if a vaccine is coming. 

In May, a white policeman kneels on the neck of a black man for nine minutes. The world sees it on camera. It starts global protests, otherwise known as mass gatherings, during a deadly pandemic. Police respond to demonstrations about police brutality with more police brutality.

What we haven't mentioned yet, are the daily pressers. We become unhealthily attached to Gladys and Dan and Anastasia and even Mark who has to field a lengthy question from a reporter about whether restrictions mean you actually can't stop mid-run to eat a kebab on a park bench while pregnant.

Image: Channel 7.  

Image: Channel 7.  

It’s June and we start seeing headlines about a locust plague and no. Not the locusts. We don’t have the time or energy for you. Joe Biden is announced as the presidential nominee which gives us mixed feelings. On the one hand, he’s an old white guy. On the other, he’s not Donald Trump. So… it’s play on.

It’s July and Melbourne re-enters lockdown. It’s the beginning of the longest and strictest lockdown in the world. People start out okay, making bread and getting into fitness routines, but a few weeks in we get a message from one of our Melbourne friends. She’s bleaching her dark brown hair. She’s confident in this decision, she’s given it a lot of thought. She sends photos once it’s done. She’s eating Hungry Jacks in bed while crying. We thought she was a vegetarian.

What could possibly be the matter? 

Ghislaine Maxwell is finally arrested for her alleged role in grooming Jeffrey Epstein’s victims. No one will ever learn to pronounce her name accurately, and she’ll forever be known as Giz-lane.

As millions of people in Victoria unravel, an explosion in Beirut at the beginning of August kills over 200 people. Kamala Harris is announced as Joe Biden’s running mate, making her the first woman of colour to be a vice presidential nominee. Trump labels her as Phony Kamala and honestly it’s just not that… catchy. 

Speaking of Trump, he’s interviewed by Norman Swan’s son Jonathan, and yes, he brought graphs. Does he understand them? No. But does he point to them? Always.

Look. 

Really. 

It does. 

Out of the darkness comes a ray of sunshine. A musical masterpiece is released by two of the greatest artists of our time. It’ll be the type of song we sing to our children in decades to come. A bedtime lullaby, to remind us of the worst year of our lives. It’s profound and clever. It’s called WAP, or Wet Ass Pussy. 

It’s September and Ruth Bader Ginsburg - who sat on the Supreme Court for 27 years, and was instrumental in fighting for women’s rights - dies. On her deathbed, she asks that she not be replaced until after the election. Trump is very respectful of her service to the US, and says soz lady, I’m replacing you with a very religious woman with seven children who may or may not speak in tongues. 

Trump and Biden also have their first presidential debate and it’s embarrassing for US politics but also the human race in general.

Unfortunately, with all his busy work replacing a woman who just died and personally attacking his presidential opponent, in October Trump contracts a little known virus named COVID-19. As does his wife. He keeps telling everyone he’s fine despite looking really sick, and people calculate the odds of him dying more openly than they should. No one once asks about Melania. 

Melbourne lockdown ends on the 26th and everyone yells F*CK YES and runs to the pub, while wearing a mask and keeping a safe distance from strangers. 

It’s November, and Melbourne Cup is weird because all the influencers get super dressed up just to stand on their front lawn.

Yay! 

So fun! 

So glad I put fake eyelashes on for this! 

A record-breaking number of Americans vote in the election, and as the votes come in, they look good for Trump. Memes start circulating about how we shouldn’t let one bad night ruin what’s been a great year and we laugh but honestly after 11 months it’s not very f**king funny. 

Thankfully Biden secures a lead and wins the election, but Trump calmly explains that the votes against him don’t count and he will, in fact, still be president, once he sues precisely everyone.

Listen to Mamamia Out Loud recap the year. Post continues below.

And that brings us to December. The weather is nice. Many of us are back in the office and there is a Christmas party in our diaries. Then Gladys starts arriving in our phones at 11am again and now everything is cancelled. 

There's a saying that there are decades where nothing happens; and weeks where decades happen. This year, a century happened. 

Is it all going to be okay? 

Eh, no. Not really.

But here's to the end of the worst year of our lives.