Well, here we are again. Another lap around the sun completed, another year of predictions to make that I’ll have to answer for in 12  months’ time. 

Last year I confidently predicted that Galway would sink into the sea under the weight of its own self-importance. 

Incredibly, it’s still there, bobbing along like a smug buoy in a Aran jumper. I stand by the prediction though. It’s only a matter of time.

Looking back at 2025, I also predicted Cork would win The Double. Technically I was referring to the Macra Young Farmer of the Year Awards (Dairy and Drystock categories), but everyone assumed I meant the football and hurling. 

And sure listen, we did win the League for the first time since 1998. We were six points up at half-time in the All-Ireland Final.

 I was already mentally composing the victory column. And then, well, you know what happened. Fifteen points we lost by in the end. Fifteen. P Diddy’s career  collapsed with less drama than that second half. 

The only Double Cork achieved in 2025 was a double helping of heartbreak with a side serving of existential despair. Will someone please think of the children?

But that’s all in the past now and 2026 awaits with its arms wide open, ready to disappoint us in brand new and exciting ways. So here are my rash and irresponsible predictions for the year ahead.

First up, Trump will continue to Trump. Having established his Strategic Bitcoin Reserve, which he’s calling a ‘digital Fort Knox’ (I am not making this up), I predict he will go one step further in 2026 and attempt to buy the moon. 

Not land on it, mind you, just buy it outright and rename it ‘Trump Lunar Resort and Casino’. 

Elon will be dispatched to stick a flag in it. The flag will say ‘Make Space Great Again’ and will be visible from West Cork on clear nights, right next to the lad from the REM song.

Ireland will take over the EU Council Presidency in July, which is a bit like being handed the microphone at a Taylor Swift concert. 

The pressure will be real. We’ll spend six months trying to explain the concept of ‘sure look, these things happen’ to confused Belgian diplomats. 

By December, I predict we’ll have muddled through, the catering will be out of this world and everyone will agree we’re great craic altogether.

Turning a corner

The housing crisis will enter its fifteenth consecutive year of being ‘about to turn a corner’. The Government will launch a new plan in January called ‘Building Homes, Definitely This Time, We Really Mean It 2030_finalversion.docs’. It will contain 47 action points, 12 working groups, and around 13 houses. 

The Department of Finance will release a report predicting the crisis will end in 2065, which they’ll later revise to 2085, and then finally to ‘sometime after the heat death of the universe, but we’re cautiously optimistic’.

In entertainment, Paul Mescal will continue his preparation for the Beatles biopics by wandering around West Cork in increasingly elaborate disguises. Having already been spotted in SuperValu Clonakilty last December examining avocados with the intensity of a method actor studying his craft, I predict he’ll spend 2026 lurking around Skibbereen in a mop-top wig, asking locals if they want to hold his hand. Will he be carrying an Oscar for Hamnet, I hear you ask? My prediction is no, but he might be carrying Jessie Buckley’s one. 

Cork hurlers will reach another All-Ireland Final because the GAA gods are cruel and enjoy watching us suffer. This time we’ll be eight points up at half-time against four players after a record breaking brawl in the tunnel before half time. You know how this ends.

Expect snow in July

The weather will continue its descent into complete chaos. Expect snow in July, a heatwave in November, and a tornado touching down in Bandon that will undo the roadworks that have been ongoing since the birth of the state. Met Éireann will introduce a new colour-coded warning system featuring mauve, taupe, and double red. 

Bitcoin will either hit a million dollars or crash to zero, depending on what Trump tweets on any given Tuesday. Either way, your cousin who won’t shut up about crypto at Christmas will remain completely insufferable.

And finally, Galway. I’m giving it one more year. The arts festivals have now merged into one continuous 12-month event called ‘Galway: A State of Mind’. Buskers are legally required to mention Yeats every 45 seconds. The sea levels are rising. The trad sessions grow longer. Something has to give. Mark my words, 2026 is the year the Atlantic finally says ‘enough’ and reclaims what is rightfully hers.

As for the rest of us, we’ll muddle through as we always do. Houses won’t be built. Politicians will say ‘Lookit’. Cork footballers will disappoint. And somewhere on the Northside of Dublin, a West Cork columnist will be proven spectacularly wrong about most of this by December.

But sure isn’t that half the fun? Happy New Year, everyone. Buckle up!