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Peter Wells takes little comfort from Steve Biddulph’s book.

Turning 40 is like supporting the Manly Sea Eagles: you remember the good times, but they are becoming a distant memory. While 30-something, it is easy to be a child at heart. Change the odd nappy, cook a dinner, iron some shirts, no need to take anything too seriously.

Now I’m offended when people suggest I’m too old for soccer (just because I recently snapped my cruciate ligament in a freak incident. No one tells Andrew Johns he’s too old for football).

I’ve begun to notice men on TV are dumb, weak and emotionally impudent. Apart from my Master and Commander DVD, I’ve given up watching.

Suddenly, my days of making easy cash sipping alcohol or discussing hair products in market research focus groups are over. They don’t want over 39s. My role as a consumer is insignificant.

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