"ARE THERE any old people here?" asks Esther Rantzen, teeth flashing in a smile that half-blinds the first five rows. A smile that knows the answer is no, because by then even the seriously senescent in the RBS Main Tent are starting to think that maybe buying a thong could be just the thing, that they really ought to be swimming with dolphins or having fabulous sex or whatever it is today's sprightly septuagenarian is supposed to be doing.
A cheery soul, leg in plaster, pipes up. "Old age. Fluffy chin. Incontinence pads. Thinning eyebrows. Chubby ankles. Everything about it makes me laugh."
"How did you get your leg in a plaster?" asks the presenter.
"I ran away from a mous
e. But it wasn't a mouse. And I fell over." Old folks, eh? They say the daftest things. That's why Esther always made a beeline for them in her That's Life days. They never disappointed.
These days, her approach is different. She's a third-age cheerleader. She wants to help.
Those wedding photos where you always look such an old frump? Here's what you do. Try it at home. You stand up tall. Stretch that neck. Diaphragm in, tummy in to your spine. Shoulders back. Hands on hips, and turn to the camera, lowering one hip. There you go. Ten years younger, ten pounds lighter.
And because the audience secretly loves Esther, and quietly agrees with her on everything from ChildLine to Heather Mills, that's exactly what they do, all 500, even the handful of men. Which feels strange.
Martin Bell and Tam Dalyell aren't going gentle into that good night either. They're a two-man angry brigade. Angry that there's no money to keep open post offices in Edinburgh but there is to fund a needless war in Iraq; angry that Britain's voice in world affairs is now just an echo; angry that politicians are still patently not sleaze-free, without experience of a job in the real world, and too pusillanimous to stand up against dodgy dossiers and leaders with no sense of history. But the really odd thing is this: that on the evidence of last night's event, Edinburgh's haute bourgeoisie seems to agree wholeheartedly with them.
The full article contains 380 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
