With the Chinese New Year celebrations in full swing, it will probably come as no surprise to learn that Crutch was born in the Year of the Dog, which might explain a few things -- the mug shot for this column for a start. However, to be fair, that photograph was taken after I'd had a bit of a rough night.
Being an honorary dog, it is understandable that I occasionally exhibit hound-like characteristics: wet nose, tendency to whimper when things go wrong, occasional involuntary dribbling, enjoying a little tummy tickle every now and again, and cringing in fear when confronted by anyone substantially bigger.
The previous time we experienced Year of the Dog, in 2006, there was a newspaper article headlined "Showing Their Age" featuring celebrities who shared with me the distasteful prospect of turning 60. Twelve years have passed since then, so this time around it is an even more scary landmark.
The problem is that people who were born in 1946 were supposed to never get old. In the US they were known as "Baby Boomers" while across the Pond we were cutely called "Bundles For Britain", conveniently plopping out shortly after World War II.
Among living showbiz veterans who share the "ancient honorary dog" status are actor Tommy Lee Jones, David Gilmour of Pink Floyd, Bee Gee Barry Gibb, Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt and Cher. It is frightening to think that I can still recall Sony and Cher singing I Got You Babe live on ITV's Ready Steady Go back in 1965 when Cher was a mere 19-year-old. I must say Cher has lasted the pace pretty well; better than me, anyway. The same can be said of dear old Dolly, who still looks cuddly.
More name-dropping
There are a couple of Year of the Dog celebrities who were actually born on the same day as me. First, there's Sylvester Stallone, who looks ridiculously fit and healthy for his age. Apparently his diet is chicken, rice and carrots with 30 vitamin pills every day. Can't say I fancy that.
The other gentleman who shares my birthday is former US president George W Bush. I don't think we have too much in common, apart from a rather limited vocabulary and the ability to stumble over long words.
Which brings us to Donald Trump who, despite being an honorary dog, does not have a hound in the White House, ignoring the words of Harry Truman who famously advised would-be presidents: "If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.''
I just can't imagine Donald Trump playing with a poodle on the White House lawn.
Paws for thought
Dogs have played an important role in the White House over the years. The "First Dog" becomes a friend and confidant of the president when no one else will listen. One wonders how many crucial decisions have been made after a presidential hound gave a friendly lick or wagged its tail at an appropriate moment.
Some of the dogs have enjoyed considerable status. Franklin D Roosevelt loved his Scottish terrier Fala so much they even shared the same bed. Every morning on FDR's breakfast tray there was always a juicy-looking bone, a nice touch by the butler. Warren G Harding was so attached to his Airedale terrier Laddie that the dog even had its own "cabinet chair". To the dog's credit, it slept through most of the proceedings.
Young at heart
There was a seminal moment when I realised that I had graduated from being a Young Dog to an Extremely Ancient Hound. It was about 15 years ago and I was in Beijing with some young Thai journalists covering an international golf tournament. One night we decided to go to a club, or what in my day we called a disco.
At the entrance we were greeted by a Chinese bouncer who had a certain resemblance to Oddjob from the James Bond movie. He took one look at me and said in good English to my Thai colleagues, "Are you sure he wants to go in?" pointing at me. Then he smiled and said to me quite politely, "I'm sorry, but I think it will be too loud for you."
Now that was humiliating. There I was, brought up on the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Who, Pink Floyd and assorted other loud rockers, being told that the music was too loud for me. Of course, what he was really saying was that he thought I was too old for his establishment.
Mind you, he had a point about the noise. We went to another club across the road which did allow old fossils like me to enter. After about two hours of pounding rap music, hip-hop and dreaded techno-pop, my head was ringing.
The next evening, I settled for the serenity of the hotel lobby and a Chinese lady warbling an out of tune The Girl From Ipanema.
In tune with the times
Speaking of old rock groups, perhaps some of them ought to adapt their big hits to modern times.
Rolling Stones: You Can't Always Pee When You Want
Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Hip?
The Who: Talkin' 'Bout My Medication
Herman’s Hermits: Mrs Brown You've Got A Lovely Walker
The Troggs: Bald Thing
The Beatles: When I'm Ninety Four
Commodores: Once, Twice, Three Times To The Bathroom
Contact Postscript via email at oldcrutch@gmail.com