We’re the responsible half million — and they treat us like idiots

I’M writing this on my 53rd birthday. No, it’s okay, don’t worry, this is still a political column. I’m not on the cadge.

I got loads of cards and presents, from all the people I would hope to hear from. If you want to drop me a line saying I don't look a day over 35, feel free. If, on the other hand, some of my other occasional correspondents feel moved to tell me that I've already outlived my usefulness, let me save you the trouble. I already know you can't please all the people all the time.

One of the things about birthdays, especially at the advanced and increasingly decrepit age I've reached, is that you fall to thinking as the day goes on. The occasional melancholy thought will creep in after all, in another 53 years I'll be 106, and what's likely to happen then? But mostly I've been thinking about how many of us there are, us mid-40s to mid-50s lot, and what it is we have in common.