My third year at uni was the first point I even VAGUELY understood who I was.

By 28, I kinda knew who I was.

By 35, I knew.

At 40, I'm just about happy with who I am.

Going by my timeline tonight, a few of you young uns who need to hear that.

It gets better. Stick with it.

I mean, don't get me wrong. It's still shit. Life just is. I blame the boomers.

But it does get tolerable, and the number of days you don't hate yourself, or sit there terrified that you're an utter fraud and everyone else can see that, those days get less and less.

And, very occasionally - but certainly more frequently than it ever seemed possible back in the days that you try and forget - you have utter moments of love, satisfaction and human magic.

And they do make it feel worthwhile.

(Although final note: don't believe anyone who says the last bit is because of having children. Still think they're filthy liars. They just want the rest of us to suffer too. My advice is to buy their kids musical instruments. Then they leave you alone)

What happens in life is you eventually hit a point where you think:

"Well I've made it this far. The universe is fucking stuck with me now. I'm just going to be the nicest version of myself, and the world can shove everything else up its arse."

Weirdly it gets better after that

Unless you're Mark Francois or Jacob Rees-Mogg. In which case you hit the same point but inexplicably decide your going to be a massive bell-end.

Don't ask me how that works. But try to avoid that.

Here endeth today's Twitter philosophy lesson.

Your homework is to go watch Ugly Kid Joe sing 'Cats in the Cradle'.

NO WAIT.

Buy the best computer you can afford every five years and play whatever games make you happy on it. Even if it's just Minesweeper.

That's it. That's the advice.

Sorry. I lost my way for a moment there.

Also something about the number 42.