“Negroni. Sbagliato … with prosecco in it.” Before October, it was an occasional order for the more discerning drinker. After October, it became one of the most Googled phrases in the world, the words stitched into caps and sweatshirts, the centrepiece of millions of social media views, calling card of LGBT people worldwide. One of the greatest things about the internet is its ability to transform seemingly innocuous or quotidian happenings into sources of deep intrigue, scandal or hilarity. It is, along with the acquisition of legitimate knowledge, what the internet is good for. It’s what makes it worthwhile, just when you think the rightwing trolls and people who copy tweets word-for-word are winning. How does all this correspond to the screengrab I have chosen as my photo of the year? A picture that my iPhone keeps throwing up as one of my key “memories” as though it were a seminal event in my life, despite it only existing for two months? Allow me to explain. Or try to. House of the Dragon was one of the biggest shows of the year, a spin-off from the immensely popular Game of Thrones. To promote it, HBO released a “getting to know you”-style interview between its British cast-mates Olivia Cooke (who plays Queen Alicent Hightower) and Emma D’Arcy (Rhaenyra Targaryen). One question was: “What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?”. And then, reading from her cue card, Cooke asked D’Arcy: “What’s your drink of choice?” “A negroni. Sbagliato … with prosecco in it,” they replied. It’s the way D’Arcy said it. The initial pause. The exaggerated-for-effect cut-glass English tones. The beat between negroni and sbagliato. A slight tilt of the head. A playful, seductive lean forwards on the prosecco elaboration. The unique cadence of the whole thing, a story in three parts. And Cooke’s response, in broad Mancunian tones: “Oooh, stunnin’.” You might think this short exchange would not send millions of people wild. And yet. It’s hard to fully explain the alchemy of this clip. But at this point I should say of its power: I had never heard of either Cooke or D’Arcy. I still have not watched House of the Dragon, and I’ve only ever seen three episodes of Game of Thrones on a houseboat, in Oxford, 10 years ago. And it still got me. Contributing factors probably include the genuine chemistry of the friendship and flirtation between Cooke and D’Arcy. The eager, approving nod Cooke does as she begins to say: “I was gonna say the same thing,” before D’Arcy adds the with prosecco in it twist and stops her in her tracks. The oversized, matching shirt-and-tie combination D’Arcy is wearing, like a schoolboy at prom. In a world of war, Liz Truss premierships and economic turmoil, we long for distraction, and the twinkle in D’Arcy’s eye, the enthusiasm of Cooke’s response, was it. Gay and bisexual women in particular quickly became obsessed with NSWPII (as I shall now refer to it). D’Arcy (who defines as non-binary) is hot, in the way that someone with a peroxide undercut and single-pierced ear is hot. And Cooke is hot in the way that someone who looks like Cooke is hot. The whole thing was just sexy as hell, at the same time as wholesomely fun and comforting (in a year that has not been particularly comforting one for gay people). “You can’t spell negroni sbagliato without LGBT,” fans joked. “Did you order a negroni sbagliato this weekend, or are you straight?” was a popular refrain. TikTok was awash with Campari-themed banter. Soon enough NSWPII went mainstream too. The New York Times published an explainer (as did the Guardian). Food and drink critics offered their negroni suggestions. There was debate as to whether “with prosecco in it” was redundant. (Case for: a negroni sbagliato is pretty much always made with prosecco. Case against: in Italian, sbagliato just means “muddled” or “mistaken”.) Google searches for “negroni sbagliato” increased 501%. My friend told me that she’d stood at a bar and watched the bartender, when asked to make a negroni sbagliato for probably the 50th time that night, slowly close her eyes, take a deep breath and scrunch up a receipt she was holding. My friends and I took to firing off riffs on NSWPII over WhatsApp. Especially useful and adaptable was the screengrab of Cooke’s “Ooh, stunnin’”. But, also, if someone asked if I wanted anything from Pret, they knew what was coming. If you are reading this with no prior contact with this meme, its impact may sound completely baffling. Equally, if you know what I am talking about, it makes perfect sense. For that is the joy of memes. They’re beautiful contradictions: in-jokes that a lot of people are in on. Every time Emma D’Arcy’s or Olivia Cooke’s face pops up on my lock screen in one group chat or another, it provides a little shot of happiness. Stunnin’. Hannah Jane Parkinson is a Guardian columnist