Maybe it's an occupational hazard. Maybe after 10 years of column-writing and 12 years of talk radio, it's only natural you become a dyspeptic curmudgeon.
While you're standing on the footpath, waving your stick and ranting at young whipper-snappers, popular culture passes you by.
I would have been one
of those Victorian gentlemen writing letters to the editor, forewarning the end of civilisation should horseless carriages take over the roads.
I would have predicted no one would ever pay money to see talkies and it goes without saying that I'd have been the fool who passed up the opportunity to sign the Beatles.
So it's not surprising I don't get the Twilight phenomenon. I started reading the book, knowing teenage girls were mad for it, but I didn't get it.
Bella is a moody, boring victim and Edward is a ladyboy.
Twilight's been compared to a modern day Wuthering Heights, but please. There's more passion and fire in Cathy's flickering grate than there is in the entire Twilight series.
Still, millions of people love the books and the Twihards are flocking in their droves to see the movies so what would I know?
My only plea is young girls don't spend the rest of their lives waiting for a pasty-faced sexless Edward to find them, rescue and adore them.
If the planet is filled with bitter spinsters 50 years from now, you'll only have Stephenie Meyer to blame.
