48 Not Out

Friday 8th October is my birthday – I am 48 years old.

What an old git I am!

I have been wondering what to post about this particular birthday.

I could complain about how bits are drooping, how my dreadful hair is cranking up a gear to annoy me further by turning grey etc. but instead I have decided to have a bit of fun.

I dumped my date of birth into a couple of horoscope web sites to find out what makes me tick. Here are some of the results with my comments.

Your date of conception was on or about 15 January 1962 which was a Monday.

That’s a little too much information, thanks. An image has formed in my mind now that will probably haunt me for a few years.

You were born on a Monday under the astrological sign Libra.

I know that I am a Libran – a typical one according to Mrs PM (who says that I am the most indecisive person she knows). Whatever the negative aspects of my star sign are, I am happy that Librans are considered to be almost perfect. Librans are wonderful, friendly and intelligent people and loved by every other jealous star sign. We are also arrogant, conceited gits.

Or are we?

Talking of horoscopes, I also stumbled across this “dark horoscope” which basically tells me what is wrong with me as a Libran. Sadly, it confirms my worst fears – I am an indecisive old grump

Your inability to reach a decision in matters of personal action is legendary. You like to weigh all the alternatives and hear every side of an argument - but this may take time and opportunities may pass you by because of it. You also like to expand energy on people who may not deserve it. You want to help the underdog. You are also sensitive to criticism and may take mild statements of fact very personally.

Advice: Follow your instincts and act on them - stop sitting on fences. Don't blindly trust people; learn to be a little more discriminating in your offers of help. Learn to think for yourself and don't be swayed by persuasive tongues.

Crikey – should I follow that advice? I might if I believed the crap above it. I am indecisive, I have no doubt about that, but I think that is a good thing. Agonising over which gadget to buy, for example, usually bears fruit. And I think my choices have usually been great in other fields – so drop THAT in your toilet and flush it.

Your Life path number is 9.

I have absolutely no idea what this means. Maybe I have the mind of a 9 year old child?

Your fortune cookie reads: Your skill will accomplish what the force of many cannot.

Well that’s a load of old cobblers. I’m not James Bond or Rambo.

Your Life Path Compatibility:

You are most compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 3, 6 & 9.

You should get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 1 & 5.

You may or may not get along well with those with the Life Path numbers 2, 7 & 11.

You are least compatible with those with the Life Path numbers 4, 8 & 22.

I checked Mrs PM’s life path number and hers is 7. What does that mean – you may or may not get on well with the Life Path numbers 2,7 &11? It’s like saying “You may or may not be a woman”. Utter balderdash.

Your birthday falls into the Chinese year beginning 2/5/1962 and ending 1/24/1963. You were born in the Chinese year of the Tiger.

Many women have said to me “Hello, Tiger.”

Anyway, enough of that bollocks. Here are some more interesting facts about my birthday.

I share the same birthday as Matt Damon. People often mix the two of us up, and it’s rather annoying having to sign yet another “Jason Bourne” autograph.

I also share my birthday with Sigourney Weaver, alien fighter extraordinaire, and Paul Hogan, aka Crocodile Dundee himself.

I am also thankful that in dog years I am still under 7, which means that should I desire, I still have the energy to run around chasing cats and my tail (the latter of which I frequently do at work).

My lucky day is Friday – which is also the day of my 48th birthday – therefore I should have a lucky day (in theory). Lottery win this weekend?

My lucky number is 6, which some would say is also my mental age.

In terms of planets, I am ruled by Venus – which means I’m HOT, baby!!

I’m sorry about that last bit – I came over all Austin Powers for a second.

So who else is 48? I’ve had a poke around and discovered that the following celebrities are the same age as me:

Axl Rose, Amanda Donahoe, Cal Smillie, Carol Vorderman, Eddie Izzard, Emilio Estevez, Izzy Stradlin, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Jon Bon Jovi, k.d. Lang, Martin Clunes, Meg Ryan, Paula Abdul, Steve Carell and Tom Cruise.

So I’m not doing bad, am I?

I’ll finish off with three facts that nobody knows about me. Here they are (and don’t laugh):

FACT ONE: I WAS BRAD PITT’S STUNTMAN

You can surely see the resemblance between Brad and myself:


I was only the stunt double in one film and sadly it wasn’t Mr and Mrs Smith (as if he needed any help with Angelina Jolie).

No – I am afraid it was The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and here I am:


FACT TWO: I WAS THE THIRD PROCLAIMER


My wonderful singing voice was appreciated by the Scottish duo but unfortunately I couldn’t quite pull off the Scottish accent. They were cruel and they sacked me, even though I wrote thirty songs for them.

Follow the links and look at these songs:

Letter From America

500 Miles

I'm On My Way

I didn’t write any of those.

Still, you can't help but like The Proclaimers - and I'm not saying that because I look like them.

I love the mantra "I'm on my way from misery to happiness today" - that's something I wish I really had written. I love the sentiment of that song.

FACT THREE: I AM THE STIG


Ignore Ben Collins; his claim to be Top Gear’s The Stig is utter bunkum.

I can reveal that I, the Plastic Mancunian, am the man behind the helmet. Here I am in action:



I don’t like scouts:



I have never crashed a car:



FACT FOUR: I AM A LIAR

Yes – the above three facts are utter bollocks.

The only truth is that I am 48 years old.

But you knew that anyway.

Astrology For Pets

My cats are fish.

Actually, that absurd statement is slightly misleading. Allow me to clarify it; my cats, Jasper and Poppy are Piscean cats.

When we acquired our cats, from the Cat Protection League, the woman who handed them over to us (after reading us the riot act and lecturing us on how to look after cats) told us that they were born on March 16th.

Of course, I couldn’t give two hoots but Mrs PM remembers their birthday every year. Why? Beats me! If we bought them a present, they would simply ignore it anyway. However, she does appear on the morning of their birthday and sings “Happy Birthday To You” to our stunned pets.

I’ll bet you are wondering why I am telling you the star signs of my feline masters? Why would you care?

I do have a reason; the other day I stumbled across the concept of pet horoscopes.

I am not joking and I swear I am not making this up. I discovered several web sites that tell you what’s in store for your pet dog or cat based on its date of birth. When I first saw it, I honestly thought it was a complete wind up. And I laughed. Boy, did I laugh. In fact, I’m still laughing at the moment.

Are these people serious?

I don’t want to regurgitate the exact words in case I breach some bizarre copyright but here are a few personality qualities for Piscean pets:

Your Piscean cat must have a diamond studded collar.

Piscean cats are very intuitive.

Piscean dogs are very confused.

Piscean dogs love walking on the beach.

Piscean cats are had to predict and are a wandering whirlwind of fur.

Take your Piscean cat to a beauty parlour.

Piscean dogs are excellent judges of character.

Piscean dogs are accident prone.

Your Piscean cat loves water

Your Piscean pet is often ill.

Your Piscean cat lives in a fantasy world of his own and has a vivid imagination.

Piscean cats are philanthropists

Piscean cats are full of self-sacrifice

Have I entered a crazy parallel universe? Who believes this nonsense? Am I alone in thinking that all this is the warped fantasy of a mind almost as weird as my own?

I would say words fail me but I am so incredulous that I can’t help pouring scorn on this bilge.

How on earth can Piscean cats love water? Cats absolutely detest water. This is an irrefutable fact that has been documented in many cartoons.

Are these people trying to tell me that roughly one twelfth of the cats in the world harbour a deep primeval desire to hurl themselves into the nearest river?

What utter nonsense.

As I stumbled through these predictions, I began to wonder whether cat horoscopes were restricted to the domestic variety. What about the big cats?

Can you imagine an accident prone lion? How about a panther with a vivid imagination? An intuitive lynx? Can you picture a tiger that loves a swim? A leopard who is a philanthropist, perhaps.

It is beyond belief.

Here is the horoscope for this week for Jasper and Poppy. And I say again – I am not making this up (again paraphrased):

How fantastic it is to dream about your fantasies and the plans to turn them into reality both for yourself and your loved ones. You will need your owner’s assistance but, be warned, everyone is in an extreme mood so you may fall at the first hurdle. Don’t worry about such delays as friends are anxious to deal with situations that they feel strongly about. Your turn will come. Your housemate has his own dreams and he needs to concentrate on them for the time being.

We’re talking about cats – bloody cats for crying out loud. If either of my cats could read, they too would dismiss this crap. I am certain of that. I can just imagine the cat conversation:

Jasper: Pops – have you read our horoscope.

Poppy: What’s a horoscope?

Jasper: I don’t know but I was trying to get that tight-fisted arse who blunders around our house to give me some more food, when I spotted him laughing at that computer thing he’s always messing about with.

Poppy: That scary thing, you mean?

Jasper: Everything’s scary for you. Anyway, I started to read over his shoulder and it said that I need his help to make my fantasies come true.

Poppy: You don’t mean ...

Jasper: Yes - my dream to fill this house with an endless supply of tuna fish and catnip and for that great oaf to let me sleep for 23 hours a day instead of the 20 hours I have to live with at the moment. I yearn to hunt mice in the house and consign that dog next door to the great kennel in the sky. And I want to be able to crap in the house - preferably on the oaf's bed.

Poppy: Dream on, you fat idiot. The only thing the oaf does is wobble about the house like a pink elephant, scaring me and ranting about those little people he sees on that big box in the lounge. He’s useless. He wouldn’t help you even if he could.

Jasper: That’s what I thought. Horoscopes are utter bilge aren’t they?

My star sign is Libra and apparently I’m a romantic, indecisive flirt. All this twaddle has made me wonder whether Libran cats are as indecisive as I am, or whether male Libran moggies are romantic and buy flowers for their ladyfriends. I can’t help but picture that Tom and Jerry cartoon where Tom falls in love with the beautiful she-kitty next door. I am willing to bet that Tom is a Libran cat.

Also, would a Libran cat sit there in the garden watching a bird and a mouse and consume hours of time trying to decide which one to catch? I very much doubt it – a Libran cat would probably starve to death.

I struggle to believe my own horoscope so imagine my reaction to this craziness.

I’m sure that some people assume that it is a bit of fun – and maybe it is. I certainly had fun reading these horoscopes for pets, mainly because I am certain that there are people in the world who believe that their moggy can be adversely affected by the moon rising in Uranus.

The Flirt

When I was young free and single I often wondered why women used to punch me in the face.

Now, however, I know why: I think I may be a flirt.

Being a flirt is big trouble particularly if, like me, you have a face like that of an exceptionally ugly baboon (though some would say that I am more like the rear end).

I have always envied those handsome guys who can walk up to a woman, flash their most striking smile and capture her heart without saying a word. I’m more likely to make her flee the vicinity as fast as she can, screaming at the monster who has just leered at her.

Life has been difficult for me with women: I’ve had to overcome shyness, having crazy hair and a face that could scare elephants. As a young man, when I approached women and smiled, they usually passed out in pure terror. It was soul-destroying.

Yet despite this, I’ve managed to at least become friends with members of the fairer sex and have been in two long term relationships since my early 20’s.

Before that, however, when a woman talked to me, I assumed that she fancied me. This would inevitably lead me to subconsciously start flirting with her and, fuelled by her kindness or by too much alcohol, I would overstep the mark. Some women simply walked away, others refused to speak to me again. I imagine that being groped by a drunken orang-utan isn’t the most pleasant experience. Others turned to violence and battered me with the nearest blunt object.

I could never get the balance right and I never understood why. You see, I never thought I was a flirt, even when a woman was pounding my face with a cricket bat screaming “STOP FLIRTING WITH ME YOU GROTESQUE GORILLA”.

And of course the beatings have made my situation worse. Every time a woman kicked my face in, I acquired a higher degree of repulsiveness – it was as if I was being hit repeatedly with an ugly stick. My face mutated into a something horrific; I would catch a sight of myself in the mirror the next morning and frighten myself half to death before I realised that the reflection was me having been savaged by an irate victim of my flirtatious nature.

Over the years, I have become older (obviously) and wiser (less obvious). Having a steady girlfriend helped, of course, and since then I have reacted to women in a different way. I still try to make them laugh and ask probing questions in an attempt to understand them but I certainly don’t overstep the mark. Thankfully the beatings have effectively been reduced to zero and until fairly recently I believed this was due to my devotion to my partner. You see I didn’t think I was a flirt.

That all changed a few years ago when I was told by a female friend that I am definitely a flirt. We were talking about astrology and I said “I’m a Libran. I’m supposed to be indecisive and balanced.”

“Librans are also flirts,” she said. “And you flirt all the time.”

“Me? A flirt?” I said incredulously. “I am the opposite of a flirt.”

She then told me that I had basically flirted with her a number of times over the years I had known her. I was speechless and horrified.

“When? When exactly did I flirt with you? Name one single occasion!”

She told me that she had lost count. I was mortified.

“You don’t do it so much now,” she said quickly, trying to make me feel better. It didn’t work. I recalled those awful slaps and beatings that I had received as a young goon and it all began to make a weird kind of sense.

But am I a flirt? What are the signs of flirting for a man like me? Does my body language change? Here are a couple of ways that a man might flirt:

(1) Eye contact - staring into the eyes of a woman while having a conversation. I am shy but when I get to know a person I tend to do this, particularly with women.

(2) Touching – looking back, this is probably the reason I was frequently beaten up by women. I’ve always had the tendency to put my arm around female friends, touch them briefly on the shoulder or arm. This is not intentional; this is who I am. Even today after a few beers I will put my arm around mates, both female and male.

(3) Show that I am an alpha male – I am definitely not an alpha male; however, I have noticed this behaviour in others, particularly in pubs or social occasions when there are women involved. If a man fancies a women he will subconsciously make himself seem to be bigger and stronger than he is. I can’t see me ever being guilty of that – maybe I’m wrong.

(4) Complements – I see nothing wrong with complementing a woman but on occasion I have gone way over the top. For example I once said: “I’m not coming on to you but you are absolutely gorgeous.” I had had a couple of beers and she was a friend of a friend and about half my age. She thanked me politely and then turned away, much to the amusement of my mates. I have to say in my defence that it was a genuine complement and I definitely was not trying to chat her up. Had I been fully compis mentis I wouldn’t have said a word.

So am I really a flirt? I could try asking a female friend I suppose: “Am I flirting with you?”

The only problem is that she might say “YES YOU ARE!” and then slap my face.

So how about you, dear reader? Do you flirt? Have you been the target of a baboon-like flirt?

As for me, I’ve now decided to stop that nonsense; the self-examination I mean. If I flirt then so be it. I’ve just got to make sure that I wear full protection when I am out with female friends.

The Curse Of Libra

Many people ask me, “Why are you such an arse?”

I ignore that question.

Other people ask me, “Why can’t you make a decision?”

Mrs PM usually answers that for me: “Because he’s a Libran”.

Personally I have always struggled with astrology because I find it difficult to believe that every day one twelfth of the population suffer the exact same trauma.

Here’s my horoscope for today (snatched from a random internet astrology site):

"It may be difficult to find employment now; perhaps you are ill"

How mad is that? What does it mean exactly? Who the hell cares?

Mrs PM believes in this nonsense and reads my horoscope to me every day, interpreting the phrase “No, I do not want to know my horoscope” as “Yes please. Tell me what fate has in store for me today”.

She also believes that I am a typical Libran.

Here are some of the personality traits of every human being born between September 24th and October 23rd:

(1) Librans are diplomatic – I suppose I am diplomatic. For example, when introduced to a truly ugly person, I don’t say “AARRGGHH! Phone the zoo – one of their gorillas has escaped”.

(2) Librans are polite– I suppose I am polite. I don’t lick gravy off the plate and I don’t eat steak with a chisel.

(3) Librans are charming – Mrs PM might disagree with this one. I can be charming but I can also be downright anti-social, particularly to humans.

(4) Librans are romantic – I am romantic, although when I buy flowers for Mrs PM, she usually says “What have you done?”

(5) Librans are easygoing – This is true. I do like to take a chilled out approach to life.

(6) Librans love art – I positively HATE art – well modern art anyway (read about it here).

(7) Librans appreciate beauty – I love beauty, particularly female beauty. I’ve had to cut down on commenting on this though, particularly in front of Mrs PM. I don’t like pain.

(8) Librans are sensitive – I am sensitive. I’ve lost count of the number of films I’ve cried at. Now don’t laugh because I am baring my soul here – I blubbed like a baby when I first saw Star Trek II – The Wrath Of Khan. And I cry every single time. Imagine what I am like when I see films like Titanic and Ghost?

I also admit to being indecisive. I really have to weigh up the consequences of every single choice because I hate making the wrong decision. I hate upsetting people and tear my soul apart trying to find the right choice to please everybody.

I have just returned from a business trip in South Africa, with a female colleague. At the end of a hard day, we returned to our hotel and met up for our evening meal. There was a choice of restaurants. The conversation went something like this:

ME: What do you fancy eating?

MY COLLEAGE: I don’t know. What do you fancy eating?

ME: I don’t know. It’s up to you. What would you like?

MY COLLEAGUE: I’ll have whatever you choose. What would you like?

ME: I don’t know. What do you think?

MY COLLEAGUE: I’ll have whatever you prefer. What do you prefer?

ME: I don’t know. By the way, are you Libran?

MY COLLEAGUE: Yes

In fact, that is just a snippet of the conversation. We stood outside three or four restaurants for a good twenty minutes being totally indecisive. When we finally made a decision, we sat in the restaurant for a further hour, deciding what to eat. I pointed out that Librans were supposed to be indecisive and she agreed that she was. In fact, our personalities were very similar, uncannily so.

So it may be that I am a typical Libran. And that disturbs me. Why? Because if all Librans are the same then I share the same personality traits as a politician that I positively despise: Margaret Thatcher.

Yes, I share the same personality traits as Attila the Hen; a woman famous for being selfish, having no compassion and ruling the country with a rod of steel. She would be my nemesis.

So given the evidence, I’ll leave you to decide whether I am a true Libran or not. I can’t.