Now, the object of a resolution is self-denial. And the logic is simple. Because you’re resisting something you normally want to do, you feel strong. Sometimes you feel cleansed. Usually, you feel improved. This is why giving up something feels good. But the truth is giving in feels even better. As Oscar Wilde put it, the best way of overcoming temptation is to give in to it. What he didn’t realise is how much better it is to give in after a period of resistance. A spot of denial whets the appetite and lends a sharper edge to temptation. The lapse, when it happens, is all the sweeter.

The critical question is what should one give up? The first prerequisite is that it has to be something that isn’t easy. Otherwise, you won’t acquire the halo of martyred sainthood during the first week. It also has to be something that isn’t good for you. Or you won’t reproach yourself when your resolve fails. But ultimately, it needs to be something that really doesn’t matter. Otherwise, when you give in, you won’t feel relieved, only guilty.

This narrows the scope pretty considerably. For smokers, I suppose, the easy choice is giving up cigarettes. They feel good whilst they succeed. Even virtuous. But when they stumble and give in, the joy of the first puff is even better.

I know people who give up puddings and chocolates. There are some who opt to give up alcohol. And even a small number who forsake meat. Quite frankly, none of this has ever tempted me. I like my desserts and tipple far too much to even contemplate the idea. And I’m a confirmed carnivore. More importantly, I’m not seeking sainthood. Only a week or two of self-inflicted but shortlived “torture”.

There was an occasion when I opted to stop telling lies. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not a proverbial liar, but I do tell the odd fib. Only wee little ones! And, if you think about it, giving up lying fits the requirement for New Year resolutions to perfection. It feels good when you do it, guilty when you start to stumble, and you’re mightily relieved when you renege and go back to telling porkies.

I didn’t even make it to the second day. In fact, the first was bad enough. Every little exaggeration had to be checked. After all, that too is a lie of sorts. Consequently, conversation became well-nigh impossible. I ended up so precise and measured in what I had to say — and so often did I have to correct myself to “unlie” an inadvertent lie — that I could barely speak. And let me tell you, if you can’t fib, you can’t tell a story. So, I literally had nothing to say.

Today, as 2023 gets underway, I’m not sure what New Year’s resolution to make. I like the feeling of saintly virtue when I deliberately deny myself something I like, but I can’t think of what it should be. Of course, I’ve got the rest of the day to make up my mind, but I have a feeling I’m going to fail. In which case, I’ll have 364 days to choose for next year. So, if you think of something suitable, would you let me know?

Happy New Year!

Karan Thapar is the author of Devil’s Advocate: The Untold Story The views expressed are personal