I'm Getting Too Old For This Sh*t with Roger Murtaugh

So the weekend of debauchery went ahead much as planned, with a delightfully civilised meal with friends and colleagues on Saturday evening followed by karaoke until the early hours of Sunday morning. This, topped off with an epic game of laser tag (consisting mostly of us ganging up on prepubescents in order to claim the crown), and much fun was had all round.

Unfortunately, with the new term kicking off at school this morning, I awoke feeling far from fresh as a daisy. 

A three-day-in-the-making hangover was coupled with the aching joints that follow running around in the dark like a madman, pretending to be District Attorney Dredd (not long before the promotion), lead to a general realisation that I am indeed, getting too old for this shit.

As experienced by the cast of How I Met Your Mother, Murtaugh's law states that eventually we all reach a point in our lives when we simply cannot handle the frivolous activities we once enjoyed; whether they be busting some ass on the mean streets, or simply busting a move at 2am, eventually we all have to grow up, or at least deal with the consequences of desperately clinging on to our youths.

Of course, my clinging usually entails playing with Lego and watching copious amounts of Disney movies (my knowledge of which never fails to come in handy in my line if work - a brief verse of "Let it Go" always breaks a smile on even the most morose of children), but nonetheless, a good old fashioned outburst of stupidity, whether it be shooting the heck out of strangers, or a spontaneous slut-drop to Ke$ha, is sometimes very much in order.

I fear that in the coming future, my body's tolerance to my childish exploits will continue to lessen, but when all's said and done, it's a price I'm willing to pay for being awesome.

'Cause after all, you're never too old for anything.

Except possibly dungarees...