I’m considering creating my own niche calendar V

LADIMIR Putin’s 2019 Calendar made me see the possibilities.

The Russian President is shown riding bareback (him, not the horse), hunting, having a dip in a frozen lake, flying a plane and holding an automatic handgun like he knows how to use it. Which, as a former KGB officer, he does.

If he can do it, why not me? A hit calendar can be a nice little earner.

Ask Kylie and Cliff, who both have new ones out, along with Kelly Brook, Iron Maiden, Harry Potter, football clubs, tropical islands and Scottish Highlands, TV shows and cats, dogs, rabbits and assorted animals including chickens, and Donny Osmond. (Donny Osmond?).

If he is still marketable then I must be in with a chance, if only among friends and enemies who might want to use me as a dartboard.

The list of calendars on Amazon is comprehensive, from nostalgia to the Beano to Beryl Cook, although why anyone would want Glorious 70s, with a picture of John Travolta in his white suit on the front, is as much a mystery as Donny Osmond.

Vintage burlesque, unicorns and Disney. Oh yes, and Babes and Beige Underwear, which must be a niche collector’s item for sad bachelors.

The Spirit Guide calendar had me wondering whether it came with predictions: “Tuesday, March 5, win the Euro Lottery” which would be something to look forward to. But I can’t see the Tolkien one catching on.

Which Middle Earth calendar is he using? The one for elves, dwarves or men?

Or the King’s Reckoning that was adapted by Hobbits along Icelandic lines?

None of these Tolkien versions would be much use in planning the week, logging school holidays or booking a sunshine break.

“Why are we going to Blackpool in February, mum?”

“Because your dad thinks he’s Bilbo Baggins.”

My calendar would be much simpler, with pictures of yours truly doing macho things, like going out without a scarf in December, and a pithy comment for each month, stolen from the internet. “Crime in multi-storey car parks is wrong on so many different levels.” (Tim Vine).

And it would be an improvement on the Mrs Brown’s Boys’ Calendar my wife was given at the last Christmas gathering of the Honley Curry Club. Our club celebrates the occasion with a Secret Santa.

Everyone picks the name of another member from the hat and buys them a present, costing no more then a fiver. These are distributed anonymously at the event.

The calendar was great, with a smile a month until we get to November.

There is no November. It goes straight from October to December so we’ll miss Bonfire Night this year.

Putin’s calendar is available on ebay with free postage direct from Russia.

Mine will probably end up in the bargain bin at a pound store. But it will have November.

That’s the month the picture shows me faking a cardiac arrest to avoid shovelling snow off the drive.

In an office setting, chaps might wear ties, but increasingly more in the arts or less restrictive jobs, don’t.

DO wish scientists would give new planets better names than 2015 TG387.

This is said to be a “super Earth” at the edge of our solar system, way beyond Pluto. Come on, even Pluto got the name off a Disney character.

Why not call this one Gallifrey, after the home planet of Doctor Who?

It would catch the imagination, add a bit of romance to astronomy and allow Graham Norton to invite the delightful Jodie Whittaker back on his show to further confuse Americans.

“Jodie is the new Doctor Who whose home planet has just been identified on the edge of the solar system,” Graham would say.

The talented actress was a breath of fresh air on last week’s Yank ego dominated red sofa.

She had great fun explaining how her home village of Skelmanthorpe was known as Shat.

Think how she could reprise that to a new bunch of insular Hollywood stars, and add that a village pastime used to be shin-kicking and ear-lug biting, in her unaffected Yorkshire accent. “And this happens on Gallifrey?” “That’s right. Just outside Huddersfield.”