Age shall not weary us.Does this sound familiar? You have to wait half an hour for a bus then three or four come along as if they can't bear to be alone. Well that's what it's like here for me in Jakartass Towers. It seems that everyone and everything is conspiring to let me know that I'm passé. In fact it's got so bad that I'm not too keen on stepping out ~ even if I could find my
zimmer frame.
It all started last week when I was crammed in a new-fangled Busway bus, strap-hanging beneath a continuous stream of freezing air. To my pleasure, although it goes against the grain to say that, a young lad got up and offered me his seat. Do I look that ancient I pondered, as I sat down. Or did I look as weary as I felt?
Not as weary, I dare say as athletes such as professional footballers. They have to run around for as much as three hours a week chasing a ball, much like hunting dogs. You probably know by now that I'm an Addick and we Addicks are tremendously proud that 60 years ago Charlton Athletic won the FA Cup. You can see a commemorative page
here with pictures of our heroes. They were
real men with real names.
Remember in the old days, when footy players kicked a fecking ball made out of ten pound of clay stitched inside a steel-reinforced leather shell with laces made out of piano wire? Well, in them days, players could only survive the rigours of the game because they were called things like Albert, Arthur, Bert, Harry, Bill, Eddie, Bob, Jack and Tommy. Fecking tough names for tough men, them was.
And what do we have now? Jason, Wayne, Dean, Ryan, Jamie, Robbie. Fecking tarts' names, they are. Great big fecking girls. No wonder the ball's like a fecking balloon and shin pads is like slices of bread.Quite right, too. Charlton's current heroes include a hulk by the name of Herman, a Matt and a Dennis. That we're flirting with relegation must be down to the Three Darrens, the Myles and the Kelly.
Here's another wimp, an old man of 37 who's
limping towards the sunrise, as he puts it, and "actually embracing death". What's more, he's happy about it.
Well, they do say that you're as old as the one you're feeling but those of us considerably closer to our ancestors won't take much comfort from so-called 'wry humourist', Louise Evans. She has this to say:
If you have a penis you may want to read this when you are alone because it may come as a shock.
Great opening line, Louise. I told 'Er Indoors to leave me be and get dressed.
Viagra and hip and knee replacements have led to a boom in second and third marriages, allowing men of a certain age to leap from the bedroom to the golf course, porking and putting with glee.
Porking? Obviously Louise doesn't know that Jakartass is an avowed vegetarian and 'Er Indoors is a Muslim. There's no porking in Jakartass Towers, no ma'am, but there's loads of putting it about with glee.
It seems that men have a body clock, too, and once they pass 40 their sperm starts to lose its mojo. It seems that like their host, sperm have a use-by-date, too. Age affects all parts of the body so it's logical that sperm should become frayed and wrinkled. Frayed? Or afraid? And why should either concern us? What's more, I always thought that it was the mojo that had the sperm. No doubt Elvis' demise disproves everything I'm saying here, but
he sang:
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you.
Now that is a great song which was written by electric blues master, Muddy Waters. He also wrote a song just for real men like me,
Mannish Boy. So what if my toupee doesn't fit and my teeth got flushed down the toilet last week. Surely experience counts for something, Louise. Certainly, the
Music Man agrees with me that those of us past our supposed sell by date still have a role to play, at least whilst our faculties remain reparable.
I have decided not to prolong my roles on stage beyond the time when my reactions are going. Once my teeth, hearing and eyesight have all gone I will stop. Unless there is a non-speaking role in a bath chair.I am against
age discrimination. Just give me
age equality, and leave me be with a free bus pass and a guaranteed seat on a number 66. I see no reason why some young teenage thug should have to give up their place for me.
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