Oh The Disappointments You'll Know: Why You Should Be Making The Most Of Your Quarter Life Crisis

Kids these days don't know they're born. 

Back in the bad old days grown ups would have to wait until they hit at least their mid forties before they were granted the reprieve from the responsibilities of adulthood known in clinical parlance as the Mid-Life Crisis. Counting down the days until they could blow all their savings on rent boys and the kind of beverages that are so fancy they demand a tiny umbrella to shelter under, they would drift through the mundane activities of every day life while the wife that sat opposite them at the dinner table began to look more and more like a stranger and the idea of stabbing her in the face with a fork when she asked if you'd taken the bins out for the fiftieth time became an increasingly attractive prospect, if only to add a little spice to Pork Chop Thursday.

The meal that says 'I don't love you anymore.'

 

 

Fast-forward to 2012 and a generation of stunted adolescent-adults stand, trembling, on the cusp of entering the mysterious and terrifying realm of the Grown Ups. Albeit several years too late. Way back when, your grand-pappy would have been working the mines aged six and dead from the black lung aged 11, having spawned an expanse of spiteful progeny to fight over who gets to marry mam now the old man's popped his clogs. At the funeral, with lowered eyes, his survivors – the under-10's – would discuss in whispers what a long and lucky life he had lived. Things were different back then. Some might say better.

Chimney sweep or child sex worker, often there was no distinction between these two terms and a two for one promotion on clean chimneys and sticky bedsheets was a firm (snarrrf) favourite with the customers.

This generation of stunted adult-children are luckier than any of their ancestors had ever dared to believe. Thanks to advances in medicine and the art of keeping people alive even when they're pretty much over this whole 'living' thing, those coming of age in these brave new times can look forward to not only one but two, three if you're lucky and rich enough, crises in which you are entirely justified to spend all your cash on coke and whores and Topshop shoes.

The phrase YOLO – You Only Live Once for the uninitiated or those who can't hear internet acronyms uttered in real life (IRL) over the low-level screaming that rattles around their skulls whenever they're put into close proximity to any one under the age of 18 – is bandied about a lot these days and with good reason. You do only live once, so forget planning for the terrifying black hole of your future and concentrate on getting good and fucked up before you have to spend your thirties working a job you hate to save up enough money for when you hit middle age and are rightfully entitled to another total breakdown blow out, this time with a spouse and dependent children waiting for you on the stairs as you stumble in at 6 A.M stinking of sambucca shots and sexual frustration because you are old and fat and no one will fuck you unless you pay them and even then it's doubtful you'll get it up.

So stop being a cry-baby loser and go out and boff a hooker, dickhead.

Your loved ones may find it hard to understand your actions during these difficult times. If this is the case get nude. It also helps if your wife is also a bird of prey, because they are far more tolerant than other species.