"Everything is pretty good until about 35.
"Thereafter, a whole series of things is going on. It's like having a car; when there are a few miles on the clock, things start to break down. Our resting heart rate increases and our muscle mass and strength decrease."
It's my 35th birthday today, and according to the Guardian, I am destined to become a gasping mess of wibbly gloop.
The last laugh is on me, of course: I'm already there.
Anyone fancy cake?