First things first. It is utterly pointless you reading this blog unless you are either ascending or have successfully scaled your forties. You simply won’t get it and it’s asthmatic tone. If you are none these things then leave as fast as your distressingly nimble legs will carry you. There is only sadness within.

So, if you haven’t already gone scurrying back to Hollyoaks to douse yourself in Lynx Deodorant, I must assume you are one of us.

So welcome, welcome my most beautiful freaks to this repository of regrets, this symposium of  shame.

If you heard the one about he constipated writer who worked it out with a pencil then pity me as I intend to use this blog.