Sunday, 22 May 2011


(I wrote this a while ago, I am no longer approaching 33 years of age, I'm looking at it in my inner rear view mirror as it recedes in to the distant past along with any hope of getting laid, being able to do a hand stand or getting on the bus for a half.)

I've never liked birthdays, well, I did when I was younger; you got given things for free. I remember on my 5th birthday getting an excellent book about dinosaurs, stangely, I don't recall having a 6th birthday, I think they must have forgotten that one. But what does it mean, symbolically and in the real world. What are you allowed to do after that you couldn't do before?

Starting at the beginning, obviously the day you're born is important because, ummm, that was the day you were born. Moving along... When you're one you can probably gurgle and vomit on yourself with more precision. On to two, Ummm, you might be crawling or something... Truth is, I don't know anything about babies other than they smell, leak and all look the same, which is to say; rather ugly.

So fast forward to ten, its important. You're into double figures. When you're ten, you can slag hell out of nine year olds and tell them they're crap. Also, you become criminally responsible. If a court can prove that you knew what you were doing, you get tried as an adult, (but not sentenced as one.) What this means is, if you steal a car, they'll probably send you on a character building safari in Kenya.

Moving along...

So: Thirteen, gosh you're a teen and all growed up. There isn't anything you couldn't do at 12 that you could do at 13. If you're Jewish, you'd be having your Bar Mitzvah, no idea what that means, I think its just an excuse for a party. If you lived in burkino Faso, you can pretty much do what the hell you like at 13; drink, hoor it up and get married.

Next milestone is 16... Oh the freedom, you can buy glue and scissors. You can get married, join the army (but not fight yet.) You can buy a lottery ticket... Oh, whats the other thing? Ummm, erm... Hold on, its on the tip of my tongue... Oh! Sex, you can have sex with someone else for a change! Yeehaw, in reality though, most of you have been learning about STI's first hand for a good year or so anyway, so its a bit of an anti-climax, (if you'll excuse the term.) Hold on, looking around, I might take that back...

While the age of consent for both straight and gay sex is now 16 in this country, its 17 for both in Northern Ireland. In Mexico its 12 (as long as your partner is of a similar age) and in Belgium all sex is banned... No its not, I made that up.

Onto 17, there's driving and riding a bike. I know, you can get a moped at 16 but whats the point, you'd be quicker walking...

Ooooh 18!! Fantastic, you can buy booze! Again this is a bit of an anticlimax because you've no doubt been boozing for a few years anyway. I suppose if you look young and can't get served, you'll manage it now. You can vote too, except if you live in Uzbekistan, in which case you'll need to wait until your 25. If you live on the Isle of Man, you'd have been eligible to vote for two years. If you've been daft enough to join the army, you can be sent to war. In Scotland you can now buy cancer sticks, (it used to be 16.)
The next one is 21, its more symbolic than anything, you're no longer a youth, shop assistants will no longer look THROUGH you, but AT you. Other adults (because that's what you are now: Old!) talk TO you, not AT you. If I hated one thing about being young, it was this, at least when you're older, people have to listen and they can't tell you what to do. You can also hire a car now, don't all rush out at once...

Now it gets a wee bit boring, the only thing that'll change are your insurance premiums, unless you're a complete tit in your motor they should go down. When you turn 33, (what a horrible boring age to be!) nothing changes, its just another tick on life's clock, one step closer to middle age, how boring.

Its just as well I'm not going to be 33, I'll only be 24 on my birthday. Yes, my parents lied all these years, it wasn't just my 6th birthday they missed out... I'm only 23, I had a hard paper round so look a bit older. Fuck, who am I kidding! I like being old, you get to drink & smoke, stay up late, eat crusty bread and buy as many sweets as you like, you can also say cock, bastard and shite and not get into trouble: Its definitely better than being 15.

That is all.

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Thanks for comment as always and I apologise if you have to jump through any hoops to do so. Its just that, I'm still being spammed by organisations who are certain I can't get it up or when it is up its not big enough or that I don't have anyone to get it up for.

Who knew blogging could be so bad for ones self-confidence?