Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Middle Age

I was flicking through the channels the other day in a vain attempt to find something interesting on television when I came across an old episode of Top Gear. Jeremy Clarkson introduced a piece: I want to talk about middle aged men. You're 35, maybe 40, and you have a bit of spare cash.... I forget the rest of the introduction as, well, I didn't actually hear it through the verbal abuse that was being hurled towards the TV. By me. Notwithstanding the fact that I would sooner value the opinion of a lobotomised baboon than the incredibly obnoxious Clarkson, but from where did he get the idea that 35 is middle aged? Is it? Have I missed something? Bugger. It was my birthday two days ago. Apparently I have been middle aged for precisely one year and two days. Wikipedia defines middle age thus:

Middle-aged adults often show visible signs of aging such as loss of skin elasticity and greying of the hair. Physical fitness usually wanes, with a 5-10 kg accumulation of body fat, reduction in aerobic performance and a decrease in maximal heart rate. Strength and flexibility also decrease throughout middle age.

Jesus Christ! Kill me now someone! I would do it myself but I probably wouldn't have the strength to lift the scalpel or the endurance to persevere with the lid on the bottle of paracetamol! Is this really what I am now? Well, no actually. I don't think I'm showing any of those symptoms, apart from a few grey hairs and I don't mind that. It is, after all, the only way I'm ever going to be able to give the impression that I'm wealthy and distinguished. I aim to look like George Hamilton by the time I'm 55.

My birthday celebrations weren't any more or less drunken than they normally are, so that's good. Shows that I'm not really getting older. My mum sent me sweets in the post. Do middle aged men eat Haribo? I think not. I went to the pub last night. The barmaid looked shocked - shocked, I tells ya! - When I told her how old I was. These are all good things. I'm not going into how much, or rather, how little I've done with my life in my 36 years. That just makes me depressed and, besides, I did that last year. Just for the record - I have a great life. It's just a bit pointless, that's all.

In addition to my big day a couple of days back comes an even bigger day today, the occasion of my finally getting to see Stevie Wonder play live. A report will be forthcoming shortly. That's if I'm not completely overwhelmed by being in the same (albeit very, very big) room as my musical hero, making me unable to remember anything.

One last thing - Whilst researching the opening paragraph to find exactly what it was that Clarkson said about middle age, I encountered a pleasing phenomenon. When you type "Jeremy Clarkson git" into Google you get 11,100 results. Take that, twat.