WHAT EVERYONE SHOULD BE TALKING ABOUT THIS WEEK

This New Year’s Eve, much of Team Dork is heading to the 100 Club in London to see in 2025 with Spector [Grab the last tickets here]. And some of us are staying at home. Where it’s warm. And our bed and kettle are nearby. And we don’t have to deal with a night bus or three. To help us out, Fred from Spector has put together a handy guide to making the best of NYE at home. Who are the real winners here, eh?

In the immortal words of Jamie T: “Why is it New Year’s Eve’s always shit”? By the time you reach legal drinking age, you’ve probably already sussed that it’s up there with Valentine’s and St. Swithins Day as just another notch on Clinton Cards’ corporate bedpost. You probably failed to get tickets to the immersive Peaky Blinders 4D masquerade ball or, indeed, Spector at the 100 Club, and now you’re staring down a terrestrial TV-shaped barrel and a space on the sofa next to your parents who were looking forward to an evening staring at their phones in silence without you stinking up the vibe.

In which case, here are five tips to stay alive until 2025.

1. Pool the last of the leftover Celebrations, Heroes, Roses and Quality Street

Arranging them in a straight line from inedible (Coffee Escape / Orange Creme) to vaguely edible (Crunchie / Strawberry Dream). Work through them in order so the evening vaguely improves with each lonely bite.

2. Don’t listen to haters who tell you the Hootenanny isn’t live

These celebrities are definitely spending the evening in Maidstone, probably at Joolsy’s gunpoint. Happy newgie boogy woogy!

3. Don’t text your mates

They’re probably getting lit at the local Tiger x 2 and don’t want a reminder of your existence. If they wanted to speak to you, they’d have invited you.

4. At 23:31 on the dot, start playing Eastenders Episode #1.2176 (1st October 2001)

So the last thing you hear in 2024 is Zoe Slater’s iconic “You ain’t my mother”, whilst ringing in 2025 with Kat Slater’s even more iconic “Yes I am”.

5. Open the window and “let the new year in”

A tradition started by Jed’s dad in 1990. If next year’s anything like this one, it’ll probably smell like disappointment (aka Lost Mary Watermelon Ice flavour), but it’s the first day of the rest of your life, and anything can happen. Believe in yourself, and this time next year, you’re going to be the life and soul of the party… Not sitting at home reading Dork.

BONUS! THE ULTIMATE DORK GUIDE TO A PERFECTLY IMPERFECT NYE AT HOME

Because sometimes the best parties happen in your pajamas.

Look, we get it. While half of Team Dork is living their best life at the 100 Club with Spector tonight (no, we’re not bitter, thanks for asking), the rest of us are embracing the noble art of staying in. And you know what? Between the guaranteed access to a loo without a queue and the distinct lack of £47 Uber surge pricing, we might just be the real winners here. Following Fred Spector’s sage advice for surviving the evening, here’s our extended guide to turning your NYE homebodying into an art form.

CREATE YOUR OWN FESTIVAL HEADLINE CLASH

Stage a battle of the bands between different rooms in your house. Kitchen disco featuring Sophie Ellis-Bextor in one corner, Taylor’s Eras Tour setlist in the living room. Bonus points if you recreate your favourite festival by playing some loud dance music over the top from the next room simultaneously.

HOLD A ONE-PERSON AWARDS CEREMONY

Present entirely made-up accolades to your favourite tracks of 2024. “Most Likely To Make Your Upstairs Neighbours Think You’re Having An Emotional Crisis” is a hotly contested category this year.

CURATE THE ANTI-HOOTENANNY

Create a playlist of songs Jools Holland would never allow near his piano. Think hyper-pop next to death metal next to that weird experimental jazz album you pretended to understand in June. Take a shot every time you imagine him wincing.

EMBRACE MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY

Stand by your window at 11:59, queuing up The Last Dinner Party’s ‘Nothing Matters’ while pretending you’re in an indie coming-of-age film. Stare pensively into the middle distance. You’re giving serious protagonist vibes right now.

STAGE YOUR OWN TINY DESK CONCERT

Transform your WFH setup into NPR’s famous corner. Perform acoustic versions of ‘Brat’ to your houseplants for an interesting challenge. They’re a very supportive audience, and their critique is always constructive.

Remember: while everyone else is posting grainy Instagram stories of overcrowded pubs soundtracked by Mr Brightside for the 83rd time tonight, you’re crafting memories that are weird enough to be genuinely worth remembering. Here’s to 2025, you magnificent hermits.