My parents are off to a seventieth birthday tonight.
For three hundred people.
That's not three hundred birthdays, it's one birthday and two hundred and ninety-nine friends and family (and to be honest, there's got to be a smattering of people the birthday girl really didn't want to invite, but felt obliged).
And it got me thinking, if the world was ruled by a Wizard and everyone got to rule for a day, under my watch I would say that when people turned seventy they would be allowed to throw obnoxiously large birthday parties.
Unless of course they'd spent their lives being arseholes or moaning old whinge bags, in which case I would turn them into something useful.
Like a traffic cone.
Or a hospital in a third world country.