Fergus Finlay's 2021 predictions: Croke Park rebranded Ryanair Park, the Donald moves to Britain

Fergus Finlay channels a famous French astrologer and attempts to pick out some possible 2021 highlights

Fergus Finlay has been channelling the spirit of Nostradamus.

Every year at this time I have a go at predicting the future. Sometimes I rely on a witch’s brew, bubbled up deep in the forest. Sometimes Nostradamus and his book of prophecies, even though they’re five centuries old, help me out.

I have good years and bad years, to be honest. It was Nostradamus’ turn last year, and I can’t say he did me any huge favours.

I did predict that Dublin would win six in a row; that Mary Lou, despite doing very well in an election, would be deprived of government by a multi-coloured mixture of parties; that Boris would promise whatever he needed to in order to get his way; and that the orange president of the USA would make a futile bid to rule the world.

But hey, none of that took too much genius, did it? If, a year ago, I had actually predicted that the one topic of conversation in the entire world would derive from a new word called Covid, or that the most used phrase in the English language would be “you’re on mute”, you’d all have told me I was completely bonkers. I’d be celebrated as a mad genius now, of course.

There is some consolation in the fact that nobody in the entire world could have predicted how 2020 would turn out to be one of the most tragic and extraordinary in history. 

As I face the challenge of trying to predict 2021 for you, I draw courage from the knowledge that you are waiting for my sagacity and wisdom with bated breath. So here goes with just a few of the highlights of the future.

Early in the new year, Donald Trump announces on Twitter that “the most corrupt election in history” was stolen from him. 

He denounces the US Supreme Court for failing to make it right, and muses that someone “must have gotten to them”. When asked by a reporter if he intends to be present at the inauguration, he says there’s no way he’ll be there.

Donald Trump will put on a show at Joe Biden's inauguration.

So there is consternation at the inauguration of Joe Biden when Trump arrives at the last minute and makes his way to the podium. 

Although no seat has been reserved for him, he elbows former Presidents Clinton and Bush further into their seats and takes the last place in the front row. 

Just as Chief Justice Roberts is about to administer the oath of office, Trump leaps to his feet, grabs the Bible from the chief justice’s hands, and runs screaming into the Capitol Building.

He is later escorted to a private hospital by secret service agents, and the ceremony proceeds after a five-minute delay while another Bible is found. 

The Donald, meanwhile, is reported to be responding well to treatment, although one source describes him as constantly demanding access to his phone, where he is going to expose the conspiracy once and for all on Twitter.

Later in the spring, it is announced that the early phase of the vaccination programme has been a huge success in Ireland, now that all nursing home residents and every vulnerable member of the Dáil and Seanad (around 200 of them altogether) have received their two jabs.

 Supermarket Tesco will win the vaccination contract as it has the best fridges and is used to handling long queues.

Controversy erupts, however, when the Government announces that in order to save money, the mass vaccination programme, available to the rest of the population, is to be outsourced. 

After a secret tender operation, which the Government insists has been conducted entirely transparently, the contract for mass vaccination is awarded to Tesco. It seems it has the best fridges and is used to handling long queues.

Professor Luke O’Neill goes on radio and television to express outrage at this decision. “Those of us who know best about these things,” he says, “would clearly have chosen Lidl and Aldi. Their fridges are just as good, and they’ve had to keep their centre aisles empty for months because of the restrictions.” 

In the late spring, some small disturbance breaks out in the city of London as it becomes clear that many of Britain’s banks and financial services operators will not be granted access to European markets, because their regulatory arrangements don’t measure up.

A man with a double-barrelled name, carrying a large placard, is interviewed on the BBC, complaining that he and his colleagues have been forced to work for six-figure salaries. “The half a million commissions are all gone,” he says plaintively. “This isn’t what Boris promised us.” 

Throughout the spring and early summer, concern and frustration mounts at the fact that, like last year, the entire GAA season will have to be played behind closed doors. The GAA announces that its financial deficits have accumulated to such an extent that it has no choice but to offer the naming rights of Croke Park to the highest bidder.

Michael O'Leary will introduce charges to use toilet facilities at Ryanair Park - formerly known as Croke Park.

In late summer it is announced that Croke Park will in future be called Ryanair Park. 

A delighted Michael O’Leary announces that in celebration of this achievement, and once fans are allowed back in, tickets to all matches will be capped at €5 for adults and €2 for children under 12.

However, there will be a charge in future to use the toilet facilities in the stadium — €3 to stand up and €6 to sit down. 

When the media complain, O’Leary says he has no sympathy. “I have a simple suggestion,” he says. “Go before you come.” When it is later revealed that the company has plans to cover the entire stadium with a new roof, O’Leary is forced to deny that it is their intention to turn it into a hangar for their new Boeing 737s — at least not during the summer months.

In a surprise development in the autumn, which he describes as offering the potential for national unity in the United States, President Biden appoints Donald Trump as US ambassador to Great Britain. 

Trump refuses the offer at first, because he had never heard of the Court of St James, which is the official title given to all ambassadors to Britain. When he is told that the job goes with a house in Regent's Park, he accepts, and announces a plan to “buy the place”, and begins drawing up plans for a large casino on the grounds.

In return for accepting him, Boris is offered a unique trade deal with the United States. In future, all woollen jumpers sold in the States, especially in the colder states of the northwest, will be made from wool harvested from Falkland Island sheep. They’ll be marketed under the brand name Falklands Thatch, after Boris’s heroine, Margaret Thatcher.

Some of those things may happen next year — who knows? And if they don’t, well maybe instead 2021 will be the year we finally get on top of the pandemic and we all get a chance to return to normal — whatever that might be.

In any event, we discovered some positive things about ourselves this year. We proved our resilience. 

We proved our commitment to family and to looking out for each other a bit better. If we can hold on to that, and beat the virus, 2021 will be a happier new year for all of us.